ODE TO A BANKER

I glanced back at Petro. He interpreted swiftly: `Fiduciary – the placing of trust: transactions – sounds like money, to me.'

`Bank deposits!' I whipped around to face Lucrio. `Did Avienus investigate the Aurelian Bank?'

Lucrio sat up slightly. `Not that I know.'

`You were the agent. The obvious person to approach.'

`Sorry; I can't help you, legate,' he avowed; discretion was part of his business mystique, so I expected nothing else.

`The bank won't help us,' I sighed, turning again to Turius. `So let me try out my theory on you – let's suppose Avienus started to write an economic history of some sort. He put together material to illustrate aspects of the Roman social structure, perhaps how private finances have affected class movements, or some such idea. Sounds fanciful to us, the general public, but you know what historians are… Perhaps he looked at the ways private individuals can advance socially by improving their financial status. Or perhaps he was interested in commercial investment.. Anyway, at some point, probably a few years ago, he must have grazed a little too close to the Golden Horse.'

There were indrawn breaths. I spun back towards the other row of seats and tackled Lucrio again: `The word in the Forum is that your set-up has a good reputation nowadays – or did have, before you liquidated yesterday – but that was not always the case. When Chrysippus first arrived in Rome, he was a shady loan shark.'

Lucrio prepared to argue, then had second thoughts. `Before my time, Falco.'

`Lysa?' I asked, springing it on her. She was glowering. `Anything to contribute?'

Lucrio was dying to look at her, but Vibia sat in his way. Lysa, his dead patron's ex-wife, his own future bride, merely turned on me a formal expression of disdain.

`Saying nothing, Lysa? Another strong believer in commercial confidentiality! You won't send me a libel suit if I say, there must have been dirt, and Avienus found it. It looks as if he played it right, blackmailing Chrysippus – not too greedy – just asking for a permanent retainer. That explains why there was no pressure to produce his history. It was in the bank's interest if he never produced his expose! He survived very comfortably that way. It could have lasted for years -'

`This is pure speculation, Falco,' Lysa challenged.

`Sounds convincing though!' I grinned back at her. `When Avienus did pile on demands, he was given an enormous "loan". For some reason, Chrysippus lost patience eventually, and called it in.' I paused. `But perhaps it was not Chrysippus who did that…' I turned again to Lucrio. `You asked for the repayment, in fact?'

Lucrio had already told me so. I forced him to repeat that in the normal course of his duties as the bank's agent he had demanded repayment. He had not contacted Chrysippus first.

`So Chrysippus had no chance to stop you. You were unaware of the blackmail – Chrysippus had kept it a secret even from you, his most trusted freedman. Well, perhaps the bank's sordid history had happened while you were still a slave. Is that right, Lucrio?'

`I don't know what you are talking about, Falco.'

`My dear Lucrio, it is to your credit if Chrysippus thought you too honest to be made aware of his bank's vile past.' Lucrio looked ambivalent about being called honest; I hid a smile.

`This is quite unacceptable!' exclaimed Lysa. She made an appeal for Petronius Longus to intervene, but he only shrugged.

As a courtesy to him, my employer, I said, `I will explore all this later.' Petronius nodded and signalled me to continue.

`Your allegations are unfounded!' insisted Lysa angrily.

`I'll justify them.'

I then said I wanted to complete my enquiry into why Avienus died. `It may look as if the blackmail led to murder. When Lucrio pestered Avienus for the loan repayment, Avienus lost his temper. He met Chrysippus here, not to discuss his history, but to complain about Lucrio and threaten that all would be revealed. Chrysippus for some reason refused to help; perhaps by then he was tired of being blackmailed. Avienus could not stand to lose the money – so he battered Chrysippus to death.'

`Is that what you really think?' Vibia asked, eager (apparently) to have her husband's death explained that way. Lysa, on the other hand, made no comment.

I gazed at Vibia for a moment. `What – and then Avienus killed himself at the Probus Bridge, in remorse?' I smiled derisively. `Oh, I doubt it. There was nothing to link him to the killing; if he did it, he would probably have got away with it. But he had sustained blackmail for a number of years against a shrewd businessman – who must have tried plenty of threats and counter-measures. Avienus knew how to keep a cool head. When I saw him, he was perfectly calm about his meeting with Chrysippus. My impression was that he felt confident of his position, and satisfied with his lot.'

`So what did happen?' demanded Vibia. I suspected her of knowing more than she admitted, so she was pushing it, I thought.