I showed Laesus the notebook we found in the Temple of Hera.
'Look at this list: Nones of April, Galatea and Venus of Paphos; four days before the Ides, Flora; two days before May, Lusitania, Concordia, Parthenope, and The Graces… Mean anything? I think these are ships. I think it's either a docking list, or, more likely at that time of year, a record of sailings…'
Laesus looked at me with those bright black robin's eyes of his. 'Nothing I recognize.'
'You said you used to sail to Alexandria yourself!'
'This doesn't mention Alexandria!' Laesus argued, with a pinched appearance at being caught out in his own professional sphere. 'It was a long time ago,' he admitted, understandably shamefaced.
I grinned at him remorselessly. 'A long time, and a lot of wine jugs if you ask me! Alexandria was a hunch.'
'Well, leave me the list and I'll ask around-' I shook my head, tucking the notebook away in my tunic.
'Thanks; I'll keep it. It may be nothing important anyway.'
It says much for his lopsided charm that although I feel queasy just peering into rock-pools I almost agreed to travel in his ship with Laesus round to Rhegium. But you can die of being seasick; I preferred to stick on land.
I made Laesus a present of my goat. I guessed she might end up barbecued on the shore. I felt bad about it afterwards. But there are two things a private informer is better not lumbered with: women and pets.
I never mentioned she was sacred. Killing a sacred beast brings horrible misfortune but only, in my experience, if you know what you have done. When you don't know you don't worry, so you stand more chance.
The goat went with Laesus quietly: a fair-weather creature-like most of my friends. I told her if she had to be eaten by a sailor, I could not entrust her to a nicer man.