All the other names on my list were dud throws of the dice. Pa introduced me to people who knew some of them, but the men I needed to talk to, the husbands who had paid up ransom money, had all left town. Most originated overseas, and had gone back there. Perhaps now they would never return. To the kidnappers these victims were just faces in the throng, but if traders were rich enough to fleece, they had had something to offer Rome. The city was losing valuable commerce. I was more angry about the human cost, though. People at the Emporium all spoke of pleasant, knowledgeable commodity traders, good family men, which was why they travelled with their wives. When Helena and I chased up addresses, we felt the victims had left a strong aura of distress and fear behind them. After some thought and discussion with Helena, I walked over the Aventine to the Twelfth District to the vigiles headquarters of the Fourth Cohort. I went alone. Petronius Longus would not thank me. I was going to see Marcus Rubella. Rubella was the cohort tribune, Petro's loathed superior. I generally found him not so bad, if you could ignore a few flaws. he was an ill-qualified, over-fastidious, self serving rule-stickler who tidied his desk and ate raisins all day. Rubella was a fellow Petro and I never wanted to go for a drink with, which was just as well, because he never asked us. I was better-known among the rankers from the other half of the cohort, those who patrolled the Thirteenth, my home district, but even in the Twelfth my face was familiar. Barracking met me; I returned the banter, then I was allowed in to see the tribune at once. Rubella never had much going on in his office and he knew I only went to see him if there was some big event I could not handle by myself. He was aware that if Petro had been here in Rome I would have consulted him instead.
Marcus Rubella, I have been working in Ostia. I believe the Fourth is off there soon."
On the Ides. So what can't wait, Falco?"
I've stumbled on a scam. It must have been going on for some time; the other cohorts have failed to get a grip Rubella bared his teeth, shark-like, as if he saw through my flattery. He enjoyed thinking his lads had an opening to show up their rivals. I outlined the kidnappings, never suggesting they went back in time too far. Pardon me for sounding like a schoolboy's arithmetic problem, but if seven cohorts are working four-month shifts in rotation, then they must each return to the out-station every two years and four months. I happened to know that Rubella had joined the Fourth, as a new appointment by Vespasian, three or four years ago, so I had to create a pretty panorama where all members of the glorious Fourth had kept their ugly noses blown the last time they served at Ostia and no hint of these kidnaps could have reached their tribune then. The whole point of me being here in Rubella's office was to stir him to action now. It worked. After I described the situation, Rubella decided to implement the officers" answer to everything. a special exercise. In order to lend it gravitas and impetus [and in order to escape the burning heat of Rome in August] Rubella would head up this exercise himself. Hades. Rubella was coming to Ostia. Now Lucius Petronius would really hate me. I carried out one last task during my flying visit to the city. I was supposed to meet Helena at our house, but after I left Rubella, I took a long detour and made my way down to the Forum. I checked the Daily Gazette column; of course it told me Infamia was still on holiday. Then I went to see Holconius and Mutatus in the Gazette office. Neither was there of course. Most of the Gazette's readers are away in July and August. Nothing of note happens. Everyone is at the coast. Everyone with any money goes into the hills for cooler air, or south to the sea.
You could create a special edition called the Neapolis Exciter," I fantasised to the slave who was slowly plying a damp sponge around the otherwise deserted rooms. Seaside gossip. Sandy Surrentum secrets. Baiae bathing-pool outrages. Hints that there may soon be a shortage of scallop omelettes, unless senators on holiday curb their maritime villa banquets."
Market day in Pompeii is Saturn day," replied the slave glumly. It sounded as if a Campanian Companion had already been considered and rejected as too boring. In Nuceria it's Sun day, in Atella it's Moon day." I told him I took the point. As I was leaving he revived suddenly.
Falco, how is Diocles? Is he still at his auntie's?" I paused. This was unexpected. The gentle Fates had handed me a bonus. Holconius and Mutatus gave me the impression that was just a ruse. I thought Diocles didn't really have an auntie." The slave looked scornful. Of course he does. He goes to see her every year."
How come you know?" The slave looked swanky. People talk to me." He probably wanted to be an investigator when he was freed. If I failed to find Diocles, there might be a job going.
So, Auntie what?"
Auntie Vestina."
Know where she lives?"
Near a temple."
Portus or Ostia itself?"
Ostia."
Ostia is a very religious town, my friend; any clue to which temple?" All the slave could come up with was that water had something to do with it. Well, that should be easy in a town on a river-mouth, down at the coast. I gave him a half-denarius. He didn't know he could have just put an end to my nice little summer commission. Infamia was no longer missing; he was swanning on a sun bed while a loving relative plied him with cool drinks and home-made olive pate. All I had to do now was locate the right temple, collect Diocles from his Auntie Vestina, and bring him home again. Ah, if only it had been that easy.