The River God's Vengeance(81)

“That would be no good,” I told him. “I don’t want a standoff. Not only would he not attack me, he wouldn’t admit anything either. I need all the evidence I can get if I am going to convict a man like Aemilius Scaurus.” I glanced toward the angle of the sun. The morning was warming nicely. “Well, at least we will have a fine day for a little boat trip on a backed-up sewer. Let’s go see if we can catch a ride.”





13


OUR CRAFT THIS TIME WAS A fiat-bottomed barge that nosed in at the base of the Aventine. Before boarding, we waited for two or three passengers to step off. One of them, coincidentally enough, was the high priestess of Ceres.

“Revered Cornelia!” I said, helping her step ashore dry-shod. “Is there to be a sacrifice this morning?”

“No, Aedile, it is just that my house is full of clients from the lower City and is dreadfully crowded. I have decided to move into the guest suite of the temple for now. I trust you enjoyed a restful night.” She smiled prettily.

“I cannot praise the accommodations highly enough.”

“You seem extraordinarily cheerful on so dismal a day,” she said.

“There are days when the service of Senate and People is even more satisfying than others. Today is one of them,” I assured her.

“I suppose it must be so. Please feel free to call upon the hospitality of the temple at any time, Aedile.”

“Rest assured I shall, revered lady.”

Hermes and I stepped aboard and greeted the other passengers, mostly people who preferred a boat ride to walking long distances to avoid the water. Some were priests who had morning sacrifices to perform.

“Where to, sir?” asked a bargeman. There were two of them poling the clumsy craft in the stern, while another stood in the bow with his pole ready to fend us away from walls and push away fioating wreckage.

“The theater,” I said, pointing to the hulking building.

“The whole lower part’s fiooded, sir,” the man told me.

“I am a plebeian aedile, and I am assessing fiood damage,” I said. “Just drop me off there.”

There were a number of craft plying the streets and plazas and squares that morning. With the bright sunlight and still air, it might almost have been pleasant, like boating on the Bay of Baiae, had it not been for the appalling stench that permeated everything. If anything, it was even stronger than the night before. Here and there I saw chains of bubbles coming to the surface and bursting, spreading an ever fouler smell. Queasily, I realized that these were the gases of decomposition coming up through the street drains.

The barge made a couple of stops to discharge passengers, then we were nearing the theater. The towering facade, with its triple rows of arches, each bearing a sizable statue, dwarfed everything nearby, looming like a palace of the gods set down among mortals to remind them of their insignificance.

The bargeman steered his craft right into the main entrance, going in perhaps twice the length of the barge before scraping bottom. I wasn’t looking forward to stepping into that water, but I told myself that here, so near the river, perhaps it was clean. At least the little tunnel was relatively free of the overpowering stench, so I could always hope.

I took off my sandals and handed them to Hermes to stuff into his satchel, then gave him my toga to roll up. Then I gritted my teeth and stepped off the bow of the barge. The cold water came to somewhat less than midway between my ankles and knees.

“I can’t wait for you, Aedile,” said the bargeman. “I have these other passengers to deliver. Do you want us to return?”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be here,” I told him. “I’ll fiag someone down from an upper fioor when I need a boat.”

Hermes jumped in without raising too much of a splash, and we watched the bargemen work their craft back out of the passageway, using their poles to push themselves away from the walls. There was something decidedly odd about the sight, and it wasn’t just the incongruity of a boat in a theater. The symmetrical decoration of the walls revealed that the water was higher on one side than the other.

Hermes had noticed as well. “The water looks like it’s tilted.”

“It isn’t the water,” I told him. “The building isn’t sitting level. I should have expected it. We know what it’s built of. Come along.”

We sloshed along through the muddy water, alert for swimming rats, of which I saw a few. Something leapt and splashed in the water.

“What was that?” Hermes asked, startled.

“I don’t know, but I hope it was a fish.” No sooner did I say these hopeful words than the building emitted a huge, creaking groan that seemed to go on for minutes. “Don’t be alarmed,” I said to Hermes, thoroughly alarmed myself, “you’ve been in the Circus just after the sun comes up. The heat makes the wood complain.”