‘Fine. Give us a double portion.’ I thought for a moment. ‘No, make that a triple. And some olives, bread, and sausage. Two lots of those’ll be enough.’ The olives and sausage were mainly for me; Agron would account for most of the cheese, which was fair because he wouldn’t make too much of a dent in the Massic.
The wineshop door opened, but it wasn’t Agron, just a guy with the look of a stevedore. The build and muscles, too. I turned back to the counter, laid some coins down, and picked up the jug and the two cups to take them to one of the side tables.
The big guy moved towards the bar. There was plenty of room to pass, but as we drew level he deliberately lurched sideways. His shoulder caught mine. It was like colliding with a bullock, and I spun round, spilling half the wine.
‘Jupiter, pal, watch where you’re going, right?’ I said to his back.
He stopped and turned. He gave me a long stare. Then he grinned.
‘Is there a problem, friend?’ he said.
Uh-oh. Without taking my eyes off him, I set the wine jug and cups down slowly on the nearest table and straightened.
‘Because if so,’ he went on, ‘then you know what you can fucking do about it.’
He took a step towards me and raised his fist, just as the door opened a second time. I steadied myself.
‘Having trouble, Corvinus?’
I risked a quick glance over my shoulder. Agron was standing there, frowning. He’s a big lad, Agron, and he filled most of the doorway. Then I looked back at chummie. He lowered his fist, and I relaxed.
‘Just a little accident,’ I said. ‘No harm done.’
Agron’s eyes never left the stevedore’s. ‘So long as you’re sure,’ he said evenly. ‘That’s OK.’
Chummie pushed past me, heading for the door. After the barest hesitation, Agron stepped aside to let him through.
Yeah, well, we’d certainly caught the attention of the rest of the punters. You could’ve heard a pin drop as I picked up the cups and half-empty wine jug and went back to the bar.
‘Fill it up again, would you?’ I said to the landlord. He took the jug without a word, filled it, and handed it back.
‘On the house,’ he said.
I nodded. ‘Thanks.’
‘So.’ Agron was standing beside me. ‘What was that all about?’
‘Search me.’ I filled one of the cups and drank. ‘I’d never set eyes on the guy until two minutes ago. Who was he?’ I asked the owner.
‘Name of Nigrinus.’ The landlord set the plate of cheese, sausage, and olives on the counter and added a hunk of bread. ‘Sextus Nigrinus. He and his brother’ve been in here a few times, but I don’t encourage either of them. They’re both bad lots.’
‘Nigrinus?’ I said sharply. ‘Connected with the Porpoise?’
‘Yeah. The brother is, anyway. Titus. He’s the captain. You know him?’
‘No, we’ve never met. I’ve just heard the name.’
‘Sextus is no sailor. The two of them used to work the Porpoise together, but he throws up in a flat calm. Now he takes what jobs he can at the docks. I’m sorry about that, sir. We don’t have trouble like that in here, usually.’
‘Forget it, pal,’ I said. ‘Not your fault.’ I picked up the jug and my own wine-cup and carried them to the table I’d originally been heading for. Agron followed with the rest of the stuff.
‘OK, Marcus,’ he said when we’d got settled. ‘So what is going on?’
‘Just a case,’ I said. ‘It’s complicated.’ Jupiter! If there was no accident with the amphoras – and the quay-master had been pretty certain that there hadn’t been – then how did the Porpoise fit into this? Not to mention why and how I’d been so conveniently and rapidly targeted. Because that was what had just happened. It couldn’t be a coincidence; no way could it be a coincidence. ‘And it’s getting more complicated by the minute. Don’t ask. Just don’t.’
‘Fine.’ Agron filled his cup and took a bit of the cheese. ‘Even so, if you need any help-’
‘Actually, pal, there is something you can do, if you will.’ I took a swallow of wine. ‘I need to talk to a guy named Siddius. Gaius Siddius. Up to nine days ago, he worked as a dockside crane-man, but he was sacked for being drunk and the quay-master didn’t have an address. You think you can trace him for me?’
Agron shrugged. ‘I can try, sure. That’s all you have to go on?’
‘That’s it.’
‘Then it won’t be easy. But I can put the word out. If he lives locally – which he probably does if he’s a dockhand – one of my dockyard mates might know him. There again, if he’s a crane-man, not just your usual unskilled labourer, and he’s taken another job, the possibilities are limited.’
‘He’s not particularly skilled. Not from what the quay-master told me.’
‘In that case, he could be anywhere.’ He took another slice of cheese. ‘Never mind, leave it with me and I’ll do my best. It’ll take time, sure, but if I can find him I’ll get in touch.’
‘Great. Now just forget it for now, OK, pal? The case can wait, and I reckon my brain deserves a break.’ I refilled the wine-cups. ‘How are Cass and the kids?’
We batted it around for a bit, until the wine and nibbles gave out; like I say, I don’t see much of Agron usually, except when Cass bullies him into a shopping trip to the big city and we put them up. Finally …
‘You want the other half?’ I said, holding up the empty jug.
He shook his head. ‘Some of us have work to do. You staying over?’
I grinned: like I say, although Agron and Cass had a pretty big flat, as those things go, and I’d be made very welcome, overnighting with five young and very voluble kids in close proximity isn’t my idea of fun.
‘No, that’s OK, thanks,’ I said. ‘I’ll be getting back.’
‘Fair enough.’ He stood up. ‘We’ll call it a day, then. You left your horse in the stables next to my yard, right?’
‘Yeah. But I’ve got another bit of business to see to first. You go ahead.’
‘Regards to Perilla and the youngsters. And I won’t forget about this Gaius Siddius.’
‘Sure. Thanks, Agron.’
He left.
OK; so back to the harbour office. If that run-in with Sextus Nigrinus had been no accident – which it hadn’t – then his brother and the Porpoise figured somewhere along the line. Whereabouts and how, let alone why, I’d no idea, but six got you ten there was some connection. Certainly I couldn’t leave Ostia without following the thing up as far as I could.
‘Good afternoon, sir.’ The freedman clerk I’d talked to earlier smiled at me. ‘Did you find Arrius?’
‘Yeah, no problem, pal,’ I said.
‘And he confirmed what I told you about no accident being reported?’
‘Yeah.’
‘So. How can I help you this time?’
‘That other ship you mentioned berthed at Quay Twenty-five. The Porpoise.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘The captain’s name is Titus Nigrinus, right?’
‘Just a moment and I’ll fetch the appropriate record. Ten days ago, wasn’t it?’
‘That’s right.’ I waited until he came back with the flimsy. ‘Whose was the cargo?’
‘Captain Titus Nigrinus, yes.’ He ran his finger down the page. ‘A single-owner shipment. Eight hundred amphoras, which would be the ship’s full capacity. Five hundred of oil, three of wine. Belonging to a Marcus Correllius.’
‘What?’ I stared at him.
Shit!
TWELVE
It was late when I got home, and Perilla had gone to bed. Bathyllus was still padding around, though, buffing up the brasses, and since I’d told him to have the furnace lit just in case I managed the trip in a oner, I was able to have a long, luxurious steam in the bath while he sweet-talked a tray-load of cold cuts out of Meton. The accompanying half jug of wine went in with me; after fourteen miles in the saddle on top of the previous fourteen, that was a priority.
Not that I was going to do much thinking while I sweated; I’d had plenty of time for that on the ride back, and it’d got me absolutely nowhere. However you sliced it, the business with the amphoras just didn’t make sense. On the one hand, if it hadn’t happened, like the quay-master was convinced it hadn’t, then why had Tullius gone to the trouble of inventing it? Or, since the only evidence for it had come from Annia, why had she? And most important of all if it hadn’t happened, then why – leaving aside the interesting question of how he’d known I was shoving my nose into things in the first place – should my wineshop pal Nigrinus tail me and try to beat my brains out?