Back at the Decumanus I crossed the junction to a run-down row of fishmongers." There was no chance of me and mine eating with Maia and Petronius this evening. Taking Rubella's part against me was utterly hypocritical. The vigiles may look down on private informers, but when it suited, we were good enough to help them out with their clear-up figures. Petronius Longus damn well knew that. Stuff him. I would take home something to cook up myself for a supper with my own brood. It was a few days since we had enjoyed my mother's mullet. I decided I was ready for pan-fried sardines. They were a favourite of mine, and easy to prepare even in an apartment with limited facilities. Back in the old days at my dilapidated Fountain Court rental, I ate sardines all the time. The stall I chose had been here for a century. Surely soon some emperor who wanted to look good would provide new premises with smarter fish tanks and big marble slabs. In the meantime, they gutted fish on a wooden table which they scrubbed each night. The produce was fresh and the stallholder friendly. I asked if he had known the scribe's aunt.
Oh, Vestina was a regular until she got too creaky. Then she used to send her maid, unless she had her visitor. He would help her along here herself."
Her nephew? Diocles?" A woman appeared from the cramped living quarters in the rear. Elderly and nosy, she was introduced to me as the stallholder's mother. It was no surprise. They shared similar squashed noses. That was a terrible night," she said, clearly referring to the fire.
Can you tell me about it? I heard there were problems getting help."
Of course there were. We all hate fires."
Vigiles too far away to fetch?"
Oh much too far. People around here would never go to them," said the son, betraying the Ostians" suspicion of the men from Rome.
Who do you call on? The builders" guild?" He shook his head. Not unless we're desperate." As I raised my eyebrows in query, the mother rushed to moan about the guild. Nasty lot. Looking after themselves, you know."
How's that?" The son gave the mother a warning look and she subsided. I stuck it out, now looking into the crayfish bucket as if I was considering a starter course tonight.
I wouldn't want to say anything bad," murmured the mother, helping me to flip good specimens into a piece of sacking. Then she went ahead. The firemen go into people's houses and come out with their knapsacks filled."
They help themselves to valuables?"
Famous for it," said the son, now willing to blacken them. And worse."
Worse?"
Well, nothing can be proved, but some say when the builders' guild are putting a fire out, they don't try very hard." I pretended to look blank, so he explained. If the property is completely destroyed, there will be a nice profit, putting up a new building. They would rather obtain a contract than save a house or business."
I noticed a lot of empty plots over the other side of the junction. Is that builders on a redevelopment plan?"
Could be. No sign of much happening. I reckon it will be years before they start."
Any hint of foul play in all this? Do the builders ever deliberately help fires to start?" Both mother and son swore they had never heard it suggested. They had a less cynical attitude than me. So the night Vestina died, who did turn up to fight the flames?"
Locals," said the fishmonger. We had to get water from the baths, and they were closed so that took time."
Wasn't there a vigiles guardhouse hereabouts?"
Oh them!"
Would they not turn out?"
No, Diocles asked them." The son had been terse; the mother elaborated. They just laughed at him. He begged in vain."
First most of us knew, he was running about from place to place screaming for help."
Well, you know why he was so upset," said his mother. I turned to her and she said flatly, It was all his fault. He was always feckless; some men are, you know. He caused the fire."
Accident?" I asked her, still thinking that Petronius Longus would wonder if the scribe was an arsonist.
Oh yes. He let a lamp fall off a shelf, he admitted it. The poor man was hysterical about that. His aunt had been such a nice woman quite cultured, you know; she had worked for an empress when she was a young girl. I think Vestina and Diocles were the only family each other had, freed slaves but perfectly respectable, with royal connections. He was left all alone when he lost her. And such a terrible way for her to go…"
Have you ever seen him back again? Has he been this year at all?"
Oh no. I don't expect he'll ever come here again," said the fish monger's mother. He wouldn't want to remember what happened, would he?" I sorted out more crayfish thoughtfully. Some were just large prawns but they would still be tasty. Now I had the full picture, my anxieties about Diocles were leaping up again. Whatever work motives had brought him here, he was asking for mental anguish. Or were his motives personal?
I'm worried about him," I told them. He stayed in lodgings by the Marine Gate this summer. Then he disappeared suddenly."
He'll be dead in a ditch," said the fishmonger's mother. He couldn't take the nightmare any longer, if you ask me. He'll have done for himself. I can see him now, his torment was shocking. Tears streaming down his face, all blackened from the fire where he had tried to get back in the house. People had to drag him away. There was nothing he could do, the heat had got too intense. So he sat in the street then, whimpering to himself, over and over, the bastards, the bastards," He meant the men who laughed at him, those ones in that guardhouse. He meant, they could have come to help when he begged them, but they just let Vestina die."