ODE TO A BANKER

`Too hard. But if Lucrio is behind this death at the Probus Bridge, if he actually wants it made public that he has rough-handled a client, then he has stepped well outside normal practice. His reason must be special too.' Nothokleptes was leading me somewhere.

`What does that cryptic pronouncement mean?'

`There is a curious whisper that the "suicide" had made threats against the bank.'

`What threats?'

That was all Nothokleptes would say. Possibly, it was all he knew.

He could not say which enforcers the Aurelian Bank patronised – apparently there were debt-collecting specialists aplenty but he thought he could find out for me. He promised to send word as soon

as possible, then he scuttled back to the barber's chair.

I had a sour taste as I walked back across the Forum. I went to the baths, as I was in the area. At the gym, Glaucus commented that I was taking him through a training exercise as though I wanted to break somebody's neck. He hoped it was not his. When I said no, it was a banker's, he lowered his voice and asked me if I could confirm that one of the big deposit-takers was about to liquidate. Glaucus had heard from his customers that people in the know were withdrawing their deposits and burying their money in the corners of fields.

I said that would help thieves, wouldn't it? And did he know which fields?

He had genuine anxiety. After I limped out, I decided on an early lunch, at home. I skirted the Palatine, keeping on the flat as much as possible; Glaucus knew how to punish me for cheek: I staggered round the end of the Circus, and then walked slowly up the slope of the Clivus Publicius.

It was weeks since I had been at the Chrysippus house. I liked to keep an eye on scenes of unsolved deaths. And it was still rather early to reappear at Fountain Court, so on an impulse I went into the house. As usual, a slave on the door merely nodded when he saw me enter. He probably knew me and knew that I was being allowed to borrow the Latin library. Still, I had come without an appointment and once indoors, I could have wandered anywhere.

Without a clear idea of what I wanted, I walked through the little lobby and into the library I had used as an interview room. For a moment I stood, soaking in the atmosphere. Then, hearing a slight noise, I crossed to the room-divider, which had now been pulled across, dragged open a peeking-in space and surveyed the Greek section. I was amazed to see Passus. I had thought all the vigiles had been pulled from this case. (Was Petronius wanting somebody to spy on me?)

Passus was seated at a table, intently reading. My empty stomach must have let out a gurgle, because he looked up and flushed rather guiltily.

`Passus!'

You made me jump, Falco. The chief just reminded me I was supposed to catalogue these scrolls for you.'

Great gods, I had forgotten all about that. `Thanks. Found anything? You looked totally absorbed.'

He grinned shyly. `I must admit I started reading one and found it interesting.'

`What is this great work of literature?'

`Oh, it seems to be called Gondomon, King of Traximene -just an adventure tale.'

`Who wrote it?'

`Well, that's what I'm struggling to find out,' Passus told me. `I sorted out most of the scrolls, but I'm left with some that were badly mangled and messed-up. I am having to piece them together and I have not yet found the title pages of the last couple. They may have been ripped off in the fight.'

He had the furtive air of a reader who had been thoroughly hooked; he could hardly bear to break off and talk to me. Immediately I left him, he would plunge into the thrilling scroll again. An author's dream.

Grinning, I walked back quietly through the lobby. There I was in for a second surprise, one that seemed far more significant. Coming here as an unexpected visitor had certainly paid off in the main reception area two women were taking leave of each other, embracing like sisters. One had a slight air of reserve, yet she permitted her effusive companion to kiss her, and herself returned the salutation quite naturally.

Which was odd – because the women were Vibia Merulla and Lysa, the woman she supposedly ousted from the Chrysippus marriage bed. I made a quick choice between them. Both were tricky, but one was more experienced. I always like my challenges to be as difficult as possible. When Lysa's covered litter left the house and Vibia disappeared up a staircase, I set off hotfoot to follow Lysa.

XXXVII

THE OLD lady with the shopping was out again, still trying to be knocked down by thieves; as she blundered vaguely down the hill, I had to dance around her. I caught up with my quarry near the bottom of the Clivus. Calling Lysa's name as I ran down the street persuaded the litter-bearers that I was a safe acquaintance and they set down their burden so I could speak to her. I pulled aside the modesty curtain and leaned in through the half-door.

`Lysa!' I saluted her, grinning as I got my breath. `You're looking lovely! Are you a bride yet?'