have to squeeze out commissions like drips from a dry cow -' The look on his face stopped me. 'What about warning the yachtsman Crispus in Neapolis?'
‘Fancy bearding him on his boat?'
‘Not much; I get seasick, and I can't swim. But I want real work to wrestle with.'
'Sorry,' he shrugged, crabbily offhand. 'Anacrites is looking forward to the seaside breezes serving that writ.'
'So Anacrites gets to gambol in the playgrounds of the rich, while I do three hundred miles on the back of a frisky mule then take a sock on the jaw when I tell Gordianus how he was bereaved? Caesar, am I at least empowered to negotiate for his return? What you call offering 'a favour he cannot forget'? What if he asks me about it? What if he tells me what he wants?'
'He won't, Falco - well if he does, use your initiative.'
I laughed. 'What you mean, sir, is that I have no meaningful authority; if I do win him over some snooty court chamberlain may thank me, but if anything goes wrong I am all on my own!'
Vespasian nodded drily. 'That is called diplomacy!'
'I charge extra for diplomacy.'
'We can discuss that if your attempt works! The challenge,' he explained more quietly, 'is to find out from Curtius Gordianus why his brother Longinus has got himself killed.'
Into his last apple now, he queried, 'Are you free to leave Rome at once? How are you coping with the Pertinax estate?'
'Quite a good house clearance! The luxury stuff has all been dispersed; we're doing table sales in flea markets now: lots of jugs with loose handles and dented custard pans. Even the best homes turn up basketfuls of blunt old knives with none that match -' I stopped, because from what I had heard this sounded like the kitchen sideboards in Vespasian's family house before he became Emperor.
'Getting good prices?' he asked eagerly; I grinned at him. The Imperial skinflint's idea of a good price was pretty steep.
'You won't be disappointed, sir. I'm using an auctioneer called Geminus. He treats me like a son.'
'Anacrites thinks you are!' Vespasian tossed across. It startled me that Anacrites was so sly. My father left home with a red-headed scarfmaker when I was seven years old. I had never forgiven him and my mother would be mortally insulted if she thought I dealt with him nowadays. If Geminus was my father, I didn't want to know.
'Anacrites,' I told Vespasian shortly, 'lives in his own romantic world!'
'Hazard of his job. What do you think of Momus?' 'Not much.'
Vespasian grumbled that I never liked anyone; I agreed. 'Pity about Longinus,' he mused on the verge of concluding our interview. I knew what he meant; any Emperor can execute people who don't agree with him, but leaving them free to attack him again takes style.
'You do realize,' I complained, 'the brother Gordianus will think you ordered today's inferno? When I turn up with my happy smile he'll suppose I'm your private exterminator - or am I?' I demanded suspiciously.
'If I wanted a tame assassin,' Vespasian answered, letting me insult him as if he was pleased by the novelty, 'I'd use someone who makes fewer moral judgements-'
I thanked him for the compliment, though he had not intended it, then I left the Palace cursing the chance of a contract bonus which I had lost through the priest Longinus finding himself a fiery end. To qualify for the middle rank, I needed four hundred thousand sesterces invested in Italian land. Vespasian paid my out-of-pocket expenses, plus a meagre daily rate. Unless I could earn some extra, this would bring in a bare nine hundred a year. It cost me at least a thousand just to live.
Despite the dangers of the streets at night, I hoofed it back to the Pertinax house. I managed to reach the Quirinal with nothing worse than a bruised arm after a drunk with no sense of direction crashed straight into me. His sense of direction was better than it looked; as we pirouetted madly he relieved me of my purse: the one I carry full of pebbles for footpads like
‘Fancy bearding him on his boat?'
‘Not much; I get seasick, and I can't swim. But I want real work to wrestle with.'
'Sorry,' he shrugged, crabbily offhand. 'Anacrites is looking forward to the seaside breezes serving that writ.'
'So Anacrites gets to gambol in the playgrounds of the rich, while I do three hundred miles on the back of a frisky mule then take a sock on the jaw when I tell Gordianus how he was bereaved? Caesar, am I at least empowered to negotiate for his return? What you call offering 'a favour he cannot forget'? What if he asks me about it? What if he tells me what he wants?'
'He won't, Falco - well if he does, use your initiative.'
I laughed. 'What you mean, sir, is that I have no meaningful authority; if I do win him over some snooty court chamberlain may thank me, but if anything goes wrong I am all on my own!'
Vespasian nodded drily. 'That is called diplomacy!'
'I charge extra for diplomacy.'
'We can discuss that if your attempt works! The challenge,' he explained more quietly, 'is to find out from Curtius Gordianus why his brother Longinus has got himself killed.'
Into his last apple now, he queried, 'Are you free to leave Rome at once? How are you coping with the Pertinax estate?'
'Quite a good house clearance! The luxury stuff has all been dispersed; we're doing table sales in flea markets now: lots of jugs with loose handles and dented custard pans. Even the best homes turn up basketfuls of blunt old knives with none that match -' I stopped, because from what I had heard this sounded like the kitchen sideboards in Vespasian's family house before he became Emperor.
'Getting good prices?' he asked eagerly; I grinned at him. The Imperial skinflint's idea of a good price was pretty steep.
'You won't be disappointed, sir. I'm using an auctioneer called Geminus. He treats me like a son.'
'Anacrites thinks you are!' Vespasian tossed across. It startled me that Anacrites was so sly. My father left home with a red-headed scarfmaker when I was seven years old. I had never forgiven him and my mother would be mortally insulted if she thought I dealt with him nowadays. If Geminus was my father, I didn't want to know.
'Anacrites,' I told Vespasian shortly, 'lives in his own romantic world!'
'Hazard of his job. What do you think of Momus?' 'Not much.'
Vespasian grumbled that I never liked anyone; I agreed. 'Pity about Longinus,' he mused on the verge of concluding our interview. I knew what he meant; any Emperor can execute people who don't agree with him, but leaving them free to attack him again takes style.
'You do realize,' I complained, 'the brother Gordianus will think you ordered today's inferno? When I turn up with my happy smile he'll suppose I'm your private exterminator - or am I?' I demanded suspiciously.
'If I wanted a tame assassin,' Vespasian answered, letting me insult him as if he was pleased by the novelty, 'I'd use someone who makes fewer moral judgements-'
I thanked him for the compliment, though he had not intended it, then I left the Palace cursing the chance of a contract bonus which I had lost through the priest Longinus finding himself a fiery end. To qualify for the middle rank, I needed four hundred thousand sesterces invested in Italian land. Vespasian paid my out-of-pocket expenses, plus a meagre daily rate. Unless I could earn some extra, this would bring in a bare nine hundred a year. It cost me at least a thousand just to live.
Despite the dangers of the streets at night, I hoofed it back to the Pertinax house. I managed to reach the Quirinal with nothing worse than a bruised arm after a drunk with no sense of direction crashed straight into me. His sense of direction was better than it looked; as we pirouetted madly he relieved me of my purse: the one I carry full of pebbles for footpads like
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