The Mammoth Book of Roman Whodunnits (48 page)

Read The Mammoth Book of Roman Whodunnits Online

Authors: Mike Ashley (ed)

Tags: #anthology, #detective, #historical, #mystery, #Rome

BOOK: The Mammoth Book of Roman Whodunnits
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“You bought one of them?” I said.

Calvus shook his head. “Not then. I was still bargaining at the buckle stall. But I was listening all the time. Nicodemus – that’s what he called himself – sold off the cleavers next. I wanted one of those, but they disappeared more quickly than the knives. Then the hatchets went. By the time I’d finished my business and could get across, there was only one knife remaining in the box. It had a carved bone handle and a wicked blade. He didn’t even try to sell us that. Somebody wanted it, but Nicodemus shook his head. That knife was not for sale at all, he said. It was the only one like it in the world, forged in the fires of Vulcan himself.”

“You believed that?”

“Of course not, but then he picked it up and started cutting things. It was incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life, and I’ve owned scores of knives. Straight through a chicken, bones and all, as if it was a piece of honeycake.” Calvus gazed glumly at the stone flagstones on the floor. “I don’t know what came over me, but I wanted that knife more than I’ve ever wanted anything. And Nicodemus knew it. I offered him all the silver in my purse, but he just smiled and shook his head, and made as if to put the knife away.”

“So you made him an offer?” I began to see where this might lead.

“A hundred denarii,” Calvus admitted.

I gasped. The fact of agreeing on a price – however high – made that a contract enforceable in law.

Calvus shuffled his still-shackled feet. “Of course, it was more than I could realistically afford. But I did want that knife. I had the money saved, to buy a slave, but I wasn’t carrying it with me in the market-place – it’s always full of pickpockets and thieves. I’d left it, hidden in my mule-pack at the inn, where my relatives could keep an eye on it, but where I could get it if I needed it. And I was desperate to have that knife. Perhaps it really was a magic blade. Certainly it put a spell on me.”

I thought I could see what was coming next. “But when you went to get the coins he switched the knife?”

Calvus looked at me indignantly. “I am not quite a fool,” he said. “Of course I realized that he might do that. But equally he couldn’t let me take it till I’d paid. In the end he offered to put it in the box, under my very eyes, and get one of the townsfolk to sit on it – in full view of everyone – until I came back. I couldn’t see the flaw in that. I even picked out the bystander – a young man I slightly knew – so there was no possibility of fraud.”

“But . . .?” I said. There had to be a but.

“I don’t know how he did it to this day, but somehow he played a trick on me!” Calvus groaned. “I got the money: came back: he opened the box and gave me the knife – the only one there was. I was delighted. But when I got back to the inn and went to use the blade – merely to cut a piece of barley-loaf – I knew at once that it was not the same. Oh, it looked identical – ornate carved handle and everything – but it hardly cut. I took it to the ironsmith straight away – his shop is not so very far away – and he tried to grind a decent edge on it – but to no avail. It was just useless, and I’d paid a hundred denarii for it! I’ve discarded better knives than that!”

I was beginning to feel quite sorry for the man. “So what did you do then?”

“Went back and confronted him, of course – he was still packing up his things – but the crowd had drifted off by then and he just laughed at me. I was not going to put up with that. I called on the
aediles
, the market police, to have him charged before the magistrates that day.”

I nodded. Though a vendor is not liable under the law for the quality of what he sells, a purchaser can sometimes get his money back if he can prove that he was wilfully deceived. “What happened?” I said sympathetically. “Did he avoid arrest?”

That is not unknown. It is the responsibility of the man who brings a case to ensure that both he and the accused appear in person at the town
curia
before noon on the appointed day, otherwise there’s no case to be heard. Not as easy as it sounds, if the accused is reluctant to appear!

Calvus surprised me. He smiled, a little bitterly. “Oh, I’d paid the
aediles
. It cost me something, naturally, to have it all rushed through like that, but they seized him and dragged him in before the trumpet blew. They made very sure of that.”

I could imagine that. The market police are armed, and – since they are on the first step to higher things – anxious to be noticed by the authorities for their efficiency. They would ensure that Nicodemus came to court “before the trumpet blew”.

That was often the hardest part of all. The Romans have this convention of dividing the hours of daylight into twelve equal parts and calling the resultant divisions “hours” – (and the same thing for the hours of darkness too). But since most of us humbler citizens have no water-clocks, “the start of the seventh hour” is hard to calculate. So, to mark the official middle of the day, a trumpeter comes out onto the court-house steps and blows – and if you come in after that, you’re late. But it seemed that hadn’t happened here.

“Did he find some legal quibble, then? Persuade them that they needn’t hear the case?”

“On the contrary,” Calvus said bitterly, “They heard the case. I lost, that’s all.”

“But you had witnesses?”

“That was the trouble, in the end. Nicodemus didn’t deny the knife was valueless. Instead he turned the whole case on its head. That was the knife that I’d contracted for, he said – contracted properly in front of witnesses – ‘Do you solemnly swear to buy this knife for one hundred denarii?’ – Which, of course, I had. He didn’t ask me to swear the contract till I brought the money back. So technically it was
that
knife that I’d agreed to buy, whatever it was like! The magistrates simply laughed at me and threw me out of court – and I had to pay the
aediles
all the same. It cost me every coin I possessed.”

I frowned. “But you did pay?”

“Of course.”

“Then I don’t understand. This was months ago. Why are you in prison now?”

He gulped, and I thought for a moment he was going to cry. “This is a much more serious affair. They arrested me today. I’m charged with robbery on a public road. Nicodemus’s revenge, I suppose.”

No wonder he was looking so distraught. If they found him guilty now, that was a crucifying offence. It cost me the remnants of the wine, which he seemed to require to fortify himself, but in the end I got the story of the day.

Calvus had been at his Glevum market stall, as usual – when who should come into the market-place, but Nicodemus, with his box of knives. Calvus was busy with his customers and couldn’t leave the stall, but he watched, and it was exactly the same as in Corinium. In no time at all a crowd had formed, and Nicodemus was selling off his knives. Even the patter was identical.

Calvus watched till he could bear no more. The memory of Corinium was still raw. He left his brother-in-law to mind his stall again and made his way to where the cutler was. Nicodemus was selling hatchets by this time – but Calvus noticed there was still a single knife left in the box.

“The same knife?” I interrupted.

“I’m sure of it. The box had been repaired, but the knife looked just the same. I would have known it anywhere – that carved bone handle – it was a work of art. I intended to wait till he began to show it off, and then announce that it was not for sale.”

“Because it had been forged in Vulcan’s furnaces?”

“Perhaps it was. The way it sliced through everything, it was miraculous. But then someone started bidding for the knife, although the hatchets had not all been sold. The price went up and up, just like before. I don’t know what came over me – I was still furious at being made to look a fool. I started shouting that he was a cheat, and people turned to look at me. But the man bidding for the knife was too intent. Then Nicodemus looked up himself. He didn’t even recognize my face. It was too much. I strode over and picked up the coloured blanket from the ground, tipped up the box, and sent the whole stand flying.” Calvus looked animated, even now, recalling it.

“So
he
called the
aediles
, this time?” I suggested.

Calvus shook his head. “He had no need to call them, they were there. And I was ready with my story too – and then Nicodemus realized who I was. And that’s when he sprang his next surprise. He claimed that after the trial in Corinium, when he’d won, he’d gone off to the baths to celebrate before he set off for an
oppidum
, a little village several miles away. But no sooner had he started on the road, than someone came up behind him silently, held a dagger to his ribs and pulled the outer folds of his turban down around his eyes, so that he
couldn’t see. Then his attacker dragged him off into the trees, stripped him of his purse, pulled off his robes, and left him tied up against a tree. When he came back to his handcart again, he found it had been ransacked, and his knife-box broken into and dashed on the ground.”

“It had two compartments, I presume?”

Calvus stared at me. “How did you know that?”

“What other explanation could there be? And what about the knife? The proper knife, that is?”

“He must have had it hidden somewhere else. In any case, it seems it wasn’t found. He had it this morning in the market-place, so who knows where it was? But his purse was taken, and he was attacked. And of course, he claims that it was me.”

“And was it?”

Under the bruising Calvus turned an ugly shade of puce. “I’ve been telling them all morning that it wasn’t me. I don’t have a dagger, anyway. But of course, I’d half-condemned myself by shouting out – in front of everyone in the market-place today – that he’d cheated me in Corinium. And then I turned his knife-stall upside down. That made me seem a violent man. And then he said he recognized my voice.”

“Does he have any proof that he was robbed that day?”

Calvus laughed bitterly. “Apparently. A soldier from a passing unit heard his cries – that’s how they came and found him stripped and tied up against the tree. The whole detachment thought it was hilarious. No doubt they could be found as witnesses. Oh, Nicodemus was attacked, all right.”

I was calculating rapidly. “And what time did you leave Corinium?”

He looked abashed. “That is the trouble, citizen, I can’t be sure. A little after the trial finished I suppose. After I’d spent my money at his stall and paid the fine, there was no point in
staying any more. In any case, I’d hired a mule – and I had to return that before the town-gates closed.”

“That might be important. Where did you hire the mule?”

He gave me the name. Stortus Maximus. I knew the man. He kept a hiring stable just outside the walls. Most of his animals were old and wheezing – as he was himself – but they were cheap. And Stortus was a decent sort of man. He bought his mules and horses broken-down, but he looked after them – some of them went on for years and years. And he was honest too – the town wags said he lacked the intelligence to cheat.

“Very well,” I said. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll go and talk to Stortus now. And Calvus, when they question you again, give them the answer but say as little as you can. Otherwise you’ll talk yourself to death.”

He had turned pale now. “What do you mean?”

I looked at him. “You say you had no dagger, Calvus, but you had a knife. You spent all your money on it, didn’t you?”

He looked sullen. “That! It would hardly cut a loaf o’ bread.”

“But a man could hardly see that from behind. Take my advice, Calvus, watch your tongue. Nicodemus is a cunning man. He’ll twist your words, just as he did before. Now, I must go if I’m to save your skin. Guard!”

The warder was opening the door, almost before the word was out. “All right, Citizen? He isn’t causing any trouble here?”

I shook my head. “Not at all. But you may show me out and take him to the cells.”

From the pathetic look on Calvus’s face, he must have hoped I’d somehow contrive to free him then and there. But naturally there was no chance of that. I left him to his miserable lot, and made my way – with some relief – back to the freedom of the world outside.

The soldier at the gate grunted a greeting as he let me out. “There’s a message for you from His Excellency. You’re to call on him, and tell him how things stand.”

“I will,” I promised, but I did not go direct. I went first to where Stortus kept his mules.

It was a tumble-down affair, merely a sort of large roofed wooden shed, with a lean-to shack at the back of it. Stortus was with his animals, as usual, giving them fresh water and grooming down their coats, although he stank like a manure-heap himself.

He listened to my question carefully. “It is a long time ago,” he said. “But let’s have a look. Calvus the butcher – let me see. I gave him old Fatty, I’m sure of it.” He went over to the wall, close to a stout little mule with baleful eyes, and looked at a series of scratches he had made. “Here we are. Just before the Ides of Augustus. Just as I thought, he brought it back on time. That’s before the shadow reaches the eleventh hour, on the sundial on old Gauss’s tomb out there.”

He gestured, through the open door, towards the monument. The dead town-councillor had ordered the dial to be built so that every time men looked at the time, they would recall his name.

“That’s the time I close the stable door, and settle my beasts for the night. If anyone brings in an animal after that, I charge them for an extra day. That makes them prompt, of course. Naturally, it’s more difficult when it’s cloudy, like today. Then I just have to guess. All in the contract that is. Here you are, that’s my mark for him. Two days – he had it overnight. So he was back in time. That’s definite. And it was sunny weather then, as well.”

I thanked the old man, slipped him an
as
or two and hurried off, almost as glad to be away from him as I had been to leave the prison earlier. I hoped my tunic hadn’t absorbed
the smell, as I hastened to the centre of the town, where my patron still maintained a suite of rooms over a wine-shop near the square. I thought of going home to put my toga on, but decided that there was no need for it. I had been visiting the prison, and was already late.

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