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XXV

I rejoined Helena Justina, who had stayed with her new friends, the colourful foursome. I pulled a face, to express my feelings about Volcasius, but they were too polite to comment. I guessed that in private they said how dreadful he was; in public, since they had to endure him as a companion, these expert tourists appeared forbearing.

Helena looked amused by my plain loathing of the loner. She had more urgent things on her mind, though. 'Marcus, listen! Cleonyma and Minucia have been telling me about the day when Valeria went on the Pelops tour.'

The two women shuffled closer together like schoolgirls and looked reluctant. But eventually Minucia confessed in a near-whisper. 'It's nothing - but when we were going around the site, that big brute, Milo of Dodona, spoke to her.'

I leaned my chin on my hands. 'Milo? What did he say to Valeria, any idea?'

'She was embarrassed. There was a lot of whispering; she tried to get rid of him.'

'So what was his game?'

'Oh, he wants sponsors for a statue of himself.' Minucia did not yet know Milo was in the past tense. 'He had been around asking all of us. Valeria was a kind-hearted girl and he picked up on that. She had no idea how to get rid of him. She and Statianus had no real money. Milo was wasting his time there.'

'Was there anything sexual in his interest?' I asked frankly. 'Or in her interest in him?

Cleonyma shook her head. 'No, no; he's an ugly bastard.'

'Marcus has seen him,' Helena interposed.

'Worse,' I said. 'I've been thrown on my head by him.' Cleonymus and Amaranthus winced at my heroics. 'Some women like the idea of being crushed in the strong arms of a well-developed lover,' I suggested. The women to whom I propounded this coy theory heard it in silence, implying they were all admirers of intellect and sensitivity.

Cleonyma inspected her fingernails; even Helena straightened her bangle with a very refined motion. 'We suspect Milo invited Valeria to meet him. Was that in your hearing?'

Cleonyma and Minucia glanced at each other, neither wanting to tell me.

'Come on, ladies; this is important. I can't interrogate Milo, by the way, because he's died on me.'

Looking shocked, Cleonyma pressed a hand against her lips then muttered through her fingers, 'He was trying to lure Valeria to the palaestra to hear some poet reading his work.'

The palaestra would be used as an auditorium by authors of celebratory odes. During the Games, philosophers and panegyrists would hang around there like midges. We had even dodged a few during our own visit. 'Valeria was a literary type?'

'Valeria was just bloody bored!' Minucia muttered hoarsely. 'We all were, Falco. There is nothing for women at Olympia - well, not unless you're a girl in the leisure industry; they make as much in the five nights of the Games as they can in a year!' I did wonder briefly if Minucia had special knowledge of this service industry.

'Had you been to Olympia before, Minucia?'

'Amaranthus gave me that awful pleasure once. He's athletics mad.' He looked proud of it. Minucia carried on bitterly. 'The Games were on - well, never again! The tent city was full of fire-eaters and floozies, drunks, acrobats, puppeteers doing lewd shows - and the bloody poets were the worst. You couldn't go out without stepping on some seedy hack, spewing hexameters!' We all looked sympathetic, to allow Minucia to settle down. She was still remembering. 'There was even a bloody man trying to sell off a goat with two heads.'

I sat up. 'I know that goat! I nearly bought him once.'

'No, you didn't.' Helena smiled dreamily. 'You wanted to buy one whose head was on backwards.'

'He was called Alexander, because he was great.'

'At Palmyra. But, darling, he only had one head.'

A silence fell. Nobody could decide whether we were being serious. I brooded to myself about the goat, and my lost chance to become a travelling sideshow at festivals.

'Valeria should have learned her lesson. She had been to one recital with us,' Cleonyma told me. For all her flamboyant outward style, she took a grave interest in the girl's fate. 'We all went, to fill in an hour, the afternoon before. Phineus laid it on; he told us the orator would be really good. We soon learned better! The horrible fellow called himself the New Pindar, but his odes were old tripe.'

'If Valeria went to the palaestra to hear Milo's poet, why has nothing ever been made of that?'

Again there was an awkward silence. This time it was Cleonymus who filled me in. 'What the girls don't want to tell you, is that this Milo of Dodona came to the tent the next morning. He appeared not to know that Valeria had died - and we thought that was genuine. He was complaining that he had waited outside the palaestra for her, but she never came.'

'You believed his story?'

Helena leaned forwards. 'If Milo killed Valeria, why draw attention to himself, Marcus?'

'We thought he was a big stupid mutt who just wanted a statue of himself as a champion,' Cleonyma said. 'We sent him packing. There was no reason Valeria's husband had to be upset any more than he already was.'

Cleonymus agreed. 'Statianus was in serious trouble, and we wanted to protect him. Bad enough him being accused by the quaestor, when we thought he was innocent. The locals were all prattling about Valeria's low morals - which again was unjust. She was a silly girl, and she should have sent the wrestler packing. But we did not think she'd slept with him, or ever intended to. So, why bring Milo into it?'

Helena asked them, 'Was the quarrel she had with Statianus on the last evening over Milo?'

'We think it may have been,' murmured Cleonyma. 'She told him she was going to listen to the poet, and at Milo's invitation. Statianus - understandably - refused her permission.'

'He should have tied her to a bloody tent pole to make sure!' Amaranthus scolded.

I said I disapproved of subjugating wives in most circumstances - but I agreed that this would have saved Valeria's life. To myself I was wondering whether, if Valeria had stayed at the tent that night, the killer would have found himself another woman to prey upon. Was it purely coincidence that he had killed one who was travelling with Seven Sights? 'Were there any other groups visiting Olympia off season, by the way?'

'You are joking!' scoffed Amaranthus. 'Anyone with sense is going next year.' His voice expressed longing and Minucia glared at him balefully.

'So people in this party were unhappy with your itinerary, at that point?'

''Unhappy as muck, Falco,' Cleonymus told me. 'Most of us had expected the Games, on Seven Sights' say-so - and we were livid.'

Amaranthus joined in. 'Phineus keeps muttering promises for next year, but he's a cheapskate. He took us to Olympia now, when it was quiet, to save on costs.'

'Exactly!' snapped Cleonymus. 'He could have put us up at the main guesthouse, or got us into that villa of Nero's - very nice! But dear Phineus chose to cramp us in tents, because he got them for nothing. All along, it's been the same. Our food has been appalling, the donkeys have been mangy, the drivers are shite - when he provides any - and now we've ended up stuck here, only one grade down from being thrown into jail on trumped-up charges.'

'And still some people think that Phineus is wonderful?' I asked drily.

'We're captives,' Amaranthus groaned. 'People are scared they will never get back to Italy if they complain.'

Both couples seemed to feel that they had said too much now. After a few more neutral comments, they became restless so I let them go. They departed, the men seeking out a good souvenir-seller Phineus had told them about; they joked that they hoped he was better than the awful orator their tour guide had recommended at Olympia. The women scuttled on a quest for a public convenience that would not flood.

This left Helena and me, with the trio who were patiently waiting. Helvia, and her two male companions. We went across to them, pulled up seats, and although we all laughed because by now it was unnecessary, we introduced ourselves.

XXVI

As we settled into our new positions, I noticed that the Sertorius boy was lurking about, hiding behind a pillar as if pretending to stalk us. Then I spotted the girl too, making a better job of being unobtrusive. On her own, she would have got away with it. Helvia took it upon herself to shoo them off. Indus, the shorter male, said the brats had been a menace from day one. He once caught the boy going through his things. Indus' expression as he recalled this incident seemed to confirm he was a fugitive, scared of discovery.

As an assembly of five, we fell naturally into two sub-groups. Helena attached herself to the widow and was soon discussing Helvia's travelling. To go overseas we knew she must possess funds, though not as lavish as those enjoyed by Cleonymus and Cleonyma. A decent friend used to accompany her, a woman her own age who spoke several languages, but after an unfortunate experience in the souk at Alexandria, that ended. Now Helvia brought instead a little slave girl, who was always the first in any party to be struck down by the foreign food, and who lost Helvia's luggage every time they hit a new port.

Helvia had chosen to travel with Seven Sights because she wanted to meet new men. She came right out with this. Helena wondered whether the married ones might be a problem - or those travelling alone, who were married but failed to mention it? Helvia seemed surprised by this suggestion. When she glanced in alarm at Indus and Marinus, they were much amused. I guessed that already on this trip each had made it plain to Helvia that he was not interested in her (or thought he had.) With that cleared up, they had convinced themselves it was safe to be friendly with the widow. I would not have felt so confident.

Marinus fancied his chances as a raconteur. This was a real nuisance. We were trying to elicit cold facts from people who were unused to being questioned and my patter was geared to stop them telling lies. I was less efficient at interrupting this stream of anecdotes about lost participants (got up late, missed the mule train, missed the boat, just lost their way, locals handing out wrong information, guides who were ignorant, abusive, too clingy, or who reneged and left hapless travellers on their own in the middle of deserts, earthquakes, civil wars, or simply in the middle of Arcadia, which, despite its reputation for temples and a pastoral ambience, apparently contains nothing of interest.

We had already taken in a great deal of information, and a seafood lunch; I was helpless. Soon Marinus was even sidetracking himself, with a long, shocking tale of an innocent family, who had never been abroad before, being abducted by a psychopath (on a dark night on a remote mountain pass, naturally. When he launched into an incident with a crocodile, even Indus joined in. He was a hunched man, with long, lank hair and dark skin lesions. He had kept quiet until that point, perhaps because of the aspersions that Aulus had cast. If he was on the run for some sort of fraud or political disgrace, he would not want to attract my attention. But now he too set off on reminiscences.

'The worst thing I've seen is feeding time at Crocodilopolis. The poor chief croc there is supposed to be a god. You bring him hampers of stuff-bread and cakes, and wine to wash it down. He waddles out all covered with perfumes and jewellery, though looking apprehensive, if you ask me. The keepers wrench his jaws apart and force in the goodies - and sometimes he has hardly gobbled up one load when a new crowd arrive and bring him more to gorge on. When I saw him, he was so fat, he could hardly move. Can't say the priests were exactly slender either!'

'Of course they have their teeth drawn. declared Marinus.

'Do you mean the priests?' Looking over from where she sat with Helvia, Helena found her voice, stopping the flow of stories with this deadpan jest. 'Marcus, did Indus and Marinus have any intimate conversations with Statianus? Were they able to entice anything out of him?'

'Sadly, not much there to entice,' Marinus apologised, giving in and returning to our real subject. 'Nice boy - but when the brains and spirit were handed out in that family, they must have passed him by.'

'Sad for Valeria?' Helena asked Helvia.

'No, they were well matched, in my opinion. Valeria was a sweet little thing, but scatty.'

'A bit lacking in judgement?'

'Utterly. She was fresh from the nursery, Helena. I don't think her mother can ever have taken her on so much as a morning drive to meet a friend and drink mint tea.'

'Her parents were dead. She had a guardian, Helvia, but you know how that works - so often a formality. I suspect she was brought up solely by slaves and perhaps freedwomen.'

Helvia sighed. 'With hindsight, I feel dreadful that I never took her under my wing.' More tartly, she added, 'Well, she would not have wanted me. In her eyes she was a married woman, travelling with her husband; she knew nothing, but thought she knew everything.'

'Was she rude to you? Not give you the respect due a widow?'

'A little dismissive.'

'She was rude to you, Helvia!' Indus spelled it out. 'She was rude, at one time or another, to most people.'

'But probably had no idea she was doing it,' Marinus defended Valeria. The scatty girl must have been his type, I reckoned. Was it significant? 'She was outspoken even to her husband. She had a sharp tongue. If her killer propositioned her, she would have straightaway let rip with a riposte.'

'Perhaps that helped madden him?' I suggested.

'She could be a superior little madam,' Indus agreed. 'What was she? Nineteen, with no background and no real money. Neither of them had any clout. As newly-weds, they attracted a lot of attention; we made a fuss of them. They could have sat back and enjoyed it, and had a really good time. Instead they rubbed people up the wrong way; they insulted the guides, irritated us, and were fractious with each other. It was nothing too much, but just what you don't want when you are on the road in uncomfortable conditions.'

'So,' I said, 'they had alienated people. When the girl first went missing, Statianus had to look for her himself; then when he was accused of her murder...?'

'Oh that was when we rallied. It was not his fault. That idiotic magistrate needed a kick up the posterior.'

'So do you people know where Statianus has gone now?' Helena asked them, still hoping for news of her brother too. But they all shook their heads.

We seemed to have extracted as much as they could tell us, so we enquired about the two men themselves. Marinus owned up immediately that he was a widower, on the lookout for a new wife. We joked that since Helvia was in the same position, many would think that a neat solution.

'Oh Marinus is out of the question. He talks far too much!' Despite her wispy hair and uncontrolled drapery, Helvia was absolutely blunt.

'I do,' Marinus admitted without rancour. 'And I am hoping for a ladyfriend who owns half of Campania!' Helvia cast her eyes down, as if defeated.

'What about you, Indus?' Helena slipped in. 'Are you on the lookout for a wealthy new wife, or looking over your shoulder for some over-officious auditor?' She made it humorous. Indus took it that way - apparently.

'Oh I like to be a man of mystery, dear lady.'

'We all think he is a runaway bigamist!' giggled Helvia. So the rumours about Indus were openly mentioned - and he liked to let those rumours hover.

'You know the old maxim; never confess - and you'll never regret.'

'Deny and you'll get a black eye!' I retaliated.

After a few moments' silence, Helena sat up slightly. 'Statianus and Aelianus are missing; so is someone else,' she said. 'We were told you had a third man travelling by himself - whom nobody has mentioned at all. Wasn't there a Turcianus Opimus in your group? Our information is that he says this is 'his last chance to see the world.'

The silence lingered.

'Has nobody told you?' Helvia seemed wobbly.

The two men glanced at each other. It was rather ominous. Indus puffed out his cheeks, blew air awkwardly, then said nothing. Helvia by now was twisting her transparent stole between both hands, apparently distressed. We looked to Marinus, who always had too much to say, and screwed out of him the fatal words. Turcianus has died.'