Scandal takes a Holiday

Ah you're as helpful as a goat with three livers to a novice augury taker," I commented. Helena caught the woman's eye. It has endless possibilities, but no obvious story to tell," Helena explained, then both women sneered at my joke. I busied myself with the baggage. There were unwashed tunics, as Helena had prophesied. I have smelt worse; public scribes who work in government offices do know how to use the baths. Diocles" laundry had been sitting around for a month, then placed in a poultry hut. There was never a chance of sweet scents of balsam.

Did you believe Diocles was in Ostia to work?" Helena had a quiet persistence which people never felt able to challenge. The landlady hated answering so many questions, yet she was drawn in.

He said so."

Did he tell you his occupation?"

Some sort of record-keeping, I think."

Seems right." I confirmed the half-lie, having dug out a bundle of note-tablets. They looked almost empty. Just my luck. Diocles was a scribe who kept everything in his head. Witnesses can be so selfish. I did find one name. There is someone down here called

Damagoras." Looks like an appointment… Do you know this Damagoras?"

Never heard of him," said the landlady. At least she was consistent.

VII

Helena and I walked slowly back. This time we went straight up the Decumanus. I was carrying the scribe's laundry and other possessions, collected together in his cloak. Apart from the whiff, which was a strange mixture of male sweat and old mortar, being in possession of what was clearly a clothes bundle made us a muggers' target. Dresswear is the most popular item for thieves. Half the vigiles' case-work comprises reports of filched tunics from changing rooms at the baths. I bet you didn't know that. Wrong! I bet you have been a victim at least once. There is no such thing as a bath house with good security. Look no further than the owners. Most proprietors are taking your ticket money with one hand while they feel the nap on your garments with the other, prior to a transfer of ownership. Many have a cousin who is a fuller. Your prized tawny tunic will be re-dyed bull's blood red, making it impossible to identify, while you are still strigilling off your chosen body oil and moaning that the water isn't hot enough. I take the dog to guard my togs. Since Nux guards clothes by lying on them, the disadvantage is that I get clean only to end up smelling like my dog. Nux is never clean. However, unlike one unfortunate man we passed in Ostia, I have never had to scuttle home naked, covering my assets with a borrowed hot-room water scoop. The Decumanus was the short route back, but it was full of other people. The nervous nude had his own problems dodging jibes and guffaws. We were little better off. All the porters with handcarts had bagged the shady pavement, the roadway was crammed with wagons and the hot side of the street was baked. Diocles" property was not heavy, but it included a little folding stool, washing gear, a half-empty wine flagon and a stylus box; the knotted cloak was an awkward shape to manoeuvre in the confined spaces of a main road with its afternoon traffic jam. Helena was no help. She was carrying the tablets, and as an insatiable reader that meant she was already searching through them as she walked.

His doodles are useless. He must just scribble a memory aid like

Tomorrow, without saying what for… This Damagoras you found is the only name." There were about five bound sets, each with four or six double sided wooden tablets, so keeping her grip on all these writing-boards, while struggling to open them one at a time, kept Helena busy. She dropped a couple once, but that was because a water-carrier barged her. Helena stooped to retrieve the fallen tablets, thwarting any helpful" passers-by who might have pretended to help pick them up for her while palming the odd one. As she bent down, a lecherous snack-bar waiter clearly planned on goosing her, but Diocles" bundle made a good guard, under cover of which I kicked the waiter. He reeled back with his empty drinks tray. Oblivious, Helena carried on reading. Juno, this man was a bore… here he's added up a bar bill. In the last set he sketched what looks like a grid for solo draughts." The bar bill came to so little it could only have been cold stew and a beaker for one. The scandal scribe dined out alone. At least that saved us feeling frustrated about untraceable meetings with anonymous contacts. The apparent board game could have been a map for a rendezvous, but if so, Diocles had missed out all the street names. That was no help.

Maybe he was the kind of sad bastard who spent his leisure time drawing imaginary cities," I speculated gloomily. Nothing I knew about him suggested he was King of Atlantis in his spare time, however.