I had learned to live with Croton's lack of amenities. I went straight to the Temple, tied my nanny in the portico, then marched up to Gordianus in the sanctum.
'Thanks for the chance of a bathe!' I cried. 'I admit that by now I'd sell myself into slavery to some one-eyed Nabataean camel-drover if he promised me an hour in a hot steam room first! Sir, we need to talk about your being here-'
'Domitian Caesar approved my travel leave-'
'I meant, whether Croton is safe for you. The Emperor will uphold your leave of absence.' He looked surprised.
'Imperial policy is to support Domitian Caesar's official acts.'
'What about his unofficial ones?' he laughed bitterly.
'Oh the policy is to tut at him fiercely-then smile and forget!'
We walked outside to the steps.
Gordianus moved slowly, drugged with exhaustion after his bereavement. He sat and sagged like sour dough in a crock, almost visibly shrinking, then gazed at the ocean as if he saw in its shifting lights and currents all the world's philosophies-saw them with a new understanding, but a deep new distaste.
'Yours is an unenviable job, Falco!'
'Oh it has its attractions: travel, exercise, meeting new people from all walks of life-' The goat strained at the end of her string so she could chew my tunic sleeve. I held her off with both hands; she bleated with a foolish look.
'Acts of violence and announcing misery!' Gordianus scoffed. I watched him over the goat's forelock, while I stroked her wide white ears; she knelt down and settled to munching at the end of my belt. 'Falco, what do you know about this mess?'
'Well; let's be discreet! There are many people-apart from supporters of the late, not-much-lamented Emperor Vitellius-who view the new Imperial dynasty less than wholeheartedly. But it's clear the Flavian circus is here to stay. The Senate fully ratified Vespasian. He is half-way to becoming a god, so all wise mortals are putting on a more reverent face… Are you willing to tell me what your brother intended saying to the Emperor?'
'He was speaking for both of us. We had, as you put it, put on a reverent face for the Flavians.'
'That's hard,' I sympathized, falling in with his low mood. 'So your brother's accident must seem a bitter blow-'
'His murder you mean!'
'Yes-so tell me, what could he have intended to say to the Emperor that someone wanted to prevent so badly?'
'Nothing!' snapped Gordianus impatiently. I believed him. Which meant one thing: it was something Longinus had only found out after he returned to Rome… While I was pondering, Gordianus frowned painfully. 'You must reckon we had only ourselves to blame.'
'Not entirely. Curtius Gordianus, you can die by misadventure in a thousand ways. A clerk in the Censor's office told me once that lead pipes, copper saucepans, mushrooms cooked for elderly men by young wives, swimming in the Tiber, and women's face creams are all deadly dangerous; but perhaps he was a pessimist-'
Gordianus rocked on the step restlessly. 'My brother's suffocation was deliberate, Falco. And a horrific way to die!'
I stated at once very quietly: 'Asphyxia is very swift. As far as anybody knows, it is not a painful death.'