an audience. Why was Balbus’ murder—for few now doubted that it was murder—still unsolved? Why had he brought the Persians in for questioning only to let them go? Was another Mithridates loose in their midst? Could he protect them? Because if he couldn’t then, by the gods, they would protect themselves!
Time was running out. Pliny knew he was on the verge of losing control of the city and the province. It had been a mistake to summon the Persians in such a public way; he blamed himself for what had happened to them. But who was this Persian who had poisoned Glaucon and his family? Was it perhaps no Persian at all but someone else, some personal enemy of Glaucon’s, who wanted to shift suspicion onto the foreigners? And what was the connection between Glaucon’s death and Balbus’? That there was a connection he was convinced.
***
Once a semblance of order had been restored in the city, Pliny made inquiries as to where he might find Glaucon’s brother and learned that he was still at the family’s house, overseeing the rituals for purifying it from the pollution of death. He sent Galeo after him.
Theron was a handsome man in his early fifties, some five years older than his brother. He looked older than that now. Grief had aged him. His skin was grey, his eyes pouched and exhausted. And he plainly wanted nothing to do with Pliny.
“I apologize for invading your home, Theron. It was necessary to question your mother without delay.”
“My mother died early this morning.”
“Then all the more so. I am truly sorry. I want you to help me find their killer.”
“It was the Persians, of course. Why are you protecting them?”
“Did your brother have any dealings with the Persians or a particular Persian?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Did your brother have enemies that you know of?”
“None. Everyone who knew him liked him.”
“Tell me about him. What sort of man was he?”
Theron looked at a loss for words. “Well he—I mean, a good husband, good father. Loved food. Loved sport. Horses and dogs. Lots of friends—even some Romans, though I don’t know why.”
“I’m told he was a tough competitor in the wrestling ring. Injured his opponents. Perhaps he killed someone? Could there be a grudge?”
“But that was years ago,” Theron protested.
“Would you call him an intelligent man? I know this is painful but please be frank.”
“You mean books and so forth? No, he wasn’t much for that. When we were boys he would escape from our tutor every chance he got.”
“Well then it’s curious that I found this among his effects.” Pliny produced the astrological handbook. “A bit abstruse, I would think, for the non-mathematical mind. I’ve spent a little time with it and I can’t make much out of it myself.”
Theron leaned over and peered at the scroll. “I’ve never seen this before. You say it was Glaucon’s? He never said anything to me about stargazing.”
“Well, we have a small mystery then.” Pliny set the scroll aside. “Did your brother by any chance have dealings with Vibius Balbus?”
“What, the procurator? No. Why should he?”
“Did he interest himself in provincial affairs? Taxation, for instance?”
“I told you, he liked hunting and living well. He left politics and business to me.”
Pliny was silent for a moment, considering how he would phrase his next question. “Would you say your brother was a man who could be easily led? I mean into doing something that he might have regretted later? Might even want to confess?”
“Confess? Confess what? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Look, my brother is a victim, not a culprit. I warn you—”
“Calm yourself, please. I know this is difficult for you.”
“Do you?” Theron shot back. “Those children”—he swallowed hard—“were as dear to me as my own. His wife and mine were like sisters.”
“Then help me avenge them. Somewhere there is a door waiting to be unlocked and a key that fits it.”
Theron answered him with a bleak look. “I’ve no key.”
“But we haven’t begun to look. You say Glaucon left politics and business to you. What sort of business do you engage in?”
Theron shrugged, “We sell a part of our crop. We export dried fruits from our orchards. When we have spare cash we invest in construction, sometimes in trading ventures, or our banker does for us. We do well enough.”
“Your banker. And who might he be? I only ask because in going through your brother’s papers I noticed a receipt for the deposit of three minas of silver with a