The racing snob went out in his cloak almost immediately. I gulped down my tipple and followed him. He met Florius at the Pantheon, obviously a regular rendezous. I stood back, but neither was keeping watch for trouble. Shading my eyes against the glitter of the gold tiles on the domed roof, I observed them without them even once looking in my direction. They had a short chat together, fairly unexciting and perhaps even routine business, then the charioteer strolled off again. Florius sat among the forest of columns in Agrippa's confrontational portico. He appeared to be working out figures on a note tablet. I walked across the open area in front of the temple, then slid up to talk to him.
Florius was a mess. He. was a shapeless lump, too heavy for his own good and unkempt with it. His baggy tunic had spots of dried fish pickle down the front. It was untidily hooked up over his belt, from which hung a fat hide purse so old its creases were black and shiny and stiffened with use. His boots had been handsome kneehighs once, but their complex thongs were mud-splashed and needed grease. His feet were badly misshapen with corns; the thick toenails had been hacked short, apparently with a meat knife. His brown hair looked as if it had been cuts in tufts by several barbers over several days. He wore his equestrian ring, plus a haematite seal and a couple of other heavy gold lumps. This was hardly for personal adornment; his fingernails were ferociously bitten, with ragged cuticles. His hands looked in need of a wash.
This neglected bundle received my greeting without alarm. He put away his notes, which looked like details of form. (I craned for a look, hoping they would be lists of stolen goods nothing so obvious.) He was sharp enough in his obsession; as I had approached the temple I had seen him scribbling away with his stylus so rapidly that in minutes his little squiggly figures filled a whole waxed board. I determined not to ask him about racing. He was clearly one of those mad devotees who would bore you to death.
A gusty wind had driven a sharp rain shower over the Plain, so I suggested we take shelter. He clambered to his feet and we strolled inside the temple, passing the statues of Augustus and Agrippa in the vestibule. Though I rarely entered the Pantheon, it always had a calming effect on me. The gods looked out peacefully from their niches in the lower drum while clouds covered the open circle in the roof.
`Wonderful building,' I commented. I liked to reassure my subjects with some casual chat a few pleasantries about the beauty of concrete before suggesting that they had better talk or I'd tear their liver out. `They say it's the first piece of architecture that was designed from the inside outwards instead of the other way. Don't you think the proportions are perfect? The height of the dome is exactly the same as its diameter.' Florius took no notice. That did not surprise me. The Pantheon would have needed four legs and a bad-tempered, pockmarked Cappadocian rider before Florius raised a flicker of interest. `Well! You're a hard man to catch up with, I must say!' He looked nervous. `Your friend seemed to be protecting you. Have you been bothered by any unwelcome visitors?'
Florius cleared his throat. `What do you want?' He had one of those light, over-cheerful voices that always sound unreliable.
`I'm Didius Falco. A special investigator working on your father-in-law's case.'
He exclaimed in considerable anguish, `Oh no!'
`Sorry, does this bother you?'
`I don't want anything to do with it.'
I took a chance. `I sympathise. When you discovered what kind of family had tricked you into marriage, you must have felt really trapped.' He said nothing, but made no protest, `I've come to you because I realise you're different.'
`I don't know anything about what my father-in-law does.'
`Have you seen him?' I asked pleasantly.
`Oh don't get me into this!' he pleaded.
`You have? How long ago was that?'
`Five or six days ago.' Interesting. It was only a week since we put the big rissole aboard the Aphrodite at Ostia. Florius had spoken without intending to co-operate, but now he decided to ditch Balbinus anyway. `I'm not supposed to tell anyone.'
`Of course not. It's very unfair of him to put pressure on you this way.'
`Oh I wish he'd just go away.'
`I hope he will do soon. We're working on it hourly.'
`Oh?' Florius seemed puzzled. `I must have misunderstood. I thought you said you were a special investigator. But you're with the vigiles?'
`Can it be that you don't think the vigiles are pursuing matters energetically?'
`My father-in-law reckons they do what he likes,' he answered flatly.
That was bad news for Rome. I was supposed to be looking into this. Rubella would be overjoyed. I broached the issue carefully: `Look. This is just between us.' He looked grateful for the confidence. A simple soul. `The vigiles are themselves the subject of a probe at the moment. Obviously I cannot be too specific, but my role includes reviewing them… Perhaps you can help.'
`I doubt it!' The great booby just wanted to hide his head in a sack.
`I don't suppose Balbinus mentioned names?' `No.'
`Did he say anything about his escape from the ship?'
`The ship he was supposed to leave on? No.' `Can you tell me what he wanted with you?'
`He only wanted me to tell him how Milvia was. He's very fond of her. Actually, he wanted me to tell her he was home again, but I refused.'
`If he's so close to her, why didn't he come to your house?' `He was afraid people might be watching it.' `Does Milvia know he's here in Rome?'
`No. I don't want her to know. She's my wife, and I want to keep her out of all this. He doesn't understand.'
`Oh he wouldn't, Florius. He's been a villain all his life. His wife is as bad. They wanted Milvia to have a respectable place in society, but that doesn't mean they really think there is anything wrong with their own way of life.'
`Well it's made them rich enough!' snapped Florius.
`Oh quite. Do you know where I can find Balbinus?'
`No. He just appeared one day. I used to spend time in the Portico of Octavia; he found me there. So now I come here just to get away from him.'
`I'm very glad to hear your attitude.' There was no harm in putting pressure of our own on him. `It's wise, Florius. I expect you realise your position could be awkward. There are people who keep saying you may work with Balbinus in some kind of partnership.'
`That's nonsense!' His fists were clenched. I sympathised. Innocence can be hard to prove. `I answered all their questions before the trial happened. They assured me there would be no more trouble.'
`Of course… Going back to Balbinus being here now, is there a system set up for you to contact him?'
`No.' Florius was exasperated. `I don't want to contact him; I want to forget he exists! I told him not to bother me again.'
`All right. Calm down. Let me ask you something different. Was it Balbinus who gave you the glass water jug, the one all the fuss has been about?'
`Yes.'
`He approves of you then?'
`No, he thinks I'm nothing. It was a present for Milvia.'
`Did you tell her that?'
'No. I took the damned thing home, then I had to be vague about it. I don't want her to know he's here. I don't want him to give her gifts paid for from his illegal activities.'
`Pardon me, but you and Milvia seem to have a strange relationship. I've been trying to meet you at your house, but you're never there. You hate your wife's family, and you seem to have little to do with her, yet you stay married. Is this for purely financial reasons? I thought you had money of your own?'
`I do.'
`Are your gambling debts exorbitant?'
'Certainly not. I've been very successful.' He might support the Whites, but clearly he did not bet on them – unless he bet on them losing. But no one would give him long odds. `I'm just about to buy a training stable of my own.'
I whistled jealously. 'So what's with Milvia?'
He shrugged. Complete disinterest. Amazing.