what passed for one in this piss-poor village, hardly more than a loose construction of boards and thatch that threatened to collapse in the buffeting wind. He stood at the bar, bracketed by a couple of leather-skinned fishermen. Galeo’s family were Greek-speakers from southern Italy, nevertheless he struggled to understand the local patois.
He lifted his arm to pour the last dregs of undrinkable wine down his throat, when over the rim of his cup he saw the man coming through the door. The size of him! There was no mistaking him: the monster who had confronted him and his fellow lictors when the governor invaded Fabia’s house.
And, at the same moment, the man saw him. Unlikely that he recognized him, but he was a stranger to the village and that was enough. The man turned and fled. Galeo tossed his cup aside, lowered his head, and charged after him into the wild night.
Chapter Thirty-four
The 11th day before the Kalends of December
Didymus’ round face beamed with delight. The little man bowed, folding himself nearly in two, as he greeted Pliny at the door. “What a pleasure to see you, Governor! We’re honored by your presence. I felt when we last spoke that I might have interested you in investing with us. You won’t be sorry, sir, you won’t be sorry.” He put out his left hand to touch Pliny’s shoulder confidingly; the stump of his right arm pointed the way within.
The bank occupied the ground floor of an undistinguished brick building on the waterfront. The upper story, Pliny assumed, was the family’s apartment. Nothing about it advertised the fortunes concealed in its vaults, the prominent names recorded in its ledgers.
Inside, half-a-dozen clerks hunched over tables, counting sums with their fingers. A rack of scrolls occupied one wall. It was in every way a smaller version of the counting room in the treasury building.
Pliny was ushered into an inner office, seated in a comfortable chair, and offered a cup of wine by a young slave. Didymus stood, rocking on the balls of his feet, his eyes gleaming, his feathery brows going up and down. Of course there would be no more investments in ships’ cargoes for the next few months, he said, but there were many, oh many, other attractive opportunities in the meantime—luxury goods brought overland from the East; slaves, always a sound investment. Was there something the Governor was particularly interested in? Pliny was noncommittal. For a while they discussed interest rates and the deplorable waste of funds on ill-advised building projects, to which Didymus nodded in vigorous agreement. Pliny wondered if Didymus’ vault was quite secure. Oh, Absolutely! Would the Governor care to inspect it?
The little man led the way back into the counting room, pulled aside a drapery at one end of it, revealing a heavy door, and produced a large key. As the door swung open, a big brown rat raced across Pliny’s foot.
“Forgive me, sir, forgive me!” Didymus exclaimed. “We’re infested with them, I’m afraid. So near the wharves, don’t you see.”
Pliny put his head in and took a quick look around. It was much smaller, of course, than the vault at the treasury, and lined with brick instead of dressed stone, but it had the same metallic smell of stale air. The chests of coin, as far as he could see, were not government issue. He expressed himself satisfied. “And may I ask the names of your principal investors?”
“But, sir,” Didymus’ face registered alarm, “that would be quite against our rules of confidentiality. You know about poor Glaucon already but I’m afraid I simply can’t disclose any other names.”
“I ask,” said Pliny in a mild voice, “because a certain Sophronia has complained to me that you have refused to return a deposit of hers. Perhaps you knew that she was close to the late procurator?”
The Cupid’s bow mouth drew back in a deathly smile. “That woman! I’ve told her to be patient. I’ve every intention of returning her money. Honestly, I’m surprised to hear you defending that infamous creature.”
“But her money, I suppose, smells as sweet as anyone’s?”
Didymus clapped his hand to his forehead. The clerks had stopped working and were staring at them. “The fact is, sir, I’ve had losses this year. Two ships in which I was heavily invested went down this summer. I have several creditors. She will simply have to wait her turn. Reason with her if you can, sir, I beg you.”