The latest book in the popular Marcus Didius Falco series - a classic noir tale of gangsters, gladiators, and romance.

The Jupiter Myth

By Lindsey Davis

Warner Aspect

Copyright © 2002 Lindsey Davis
All right reserved.
ISBN: 0-446-69297-2

Chapter One

It depends what we mean by civilization," the procurator mused.Staring at the corpse, I was in no mood to discuss philosophy. Wewere in Britain, where the rule of law was administered by the army.Justice operated in a rough-and-ready fashion so far away from Rome,but special circumstances meant this killing would be difficult tobrush aside.

We had been called out by a centurion from the small local troopdetachment. The military presence in Londinium was mainly to protectthe governor, Julius Frontinus, and his deputy, the procuratorHilaris, but since the provinces are not manned by the vigiles,soldiers carry basic community policing. So the centurion attendedthe death scene, where he became a worried man. On investigation, anapparently routine local slaying acquired "developments."

The centurion told us he had come to the bar expecting just a normaldrunken stabbing or battering. To find a drowned man headfirst downa well was slightly unusual, exciting maybe. The "well" was a deephole in a corner of the bar's tiny backyard. Hilaris and I bentdouble and peered in. The hole was lined with the waterproof woodenstaves of what must be a massive German wine container; water camenearly to the top. Hilaris had told me these imported barrels weretaller than a man, and after being emptied of wine they were oftenreused in this way

* * *

When we arrived, of course the body had already been removed. Thecenturion had pulled up the victim by his boots, planning to heavethe cadaver into a corner until the local dung cart carried it off.He himself had intended to sit down with a free drink while he eyedup the attractions of the serving girl.

Her attractions were not up to much. Not by Aventine standards. Itdepends what we mean by attractive, as Hilaris might muse, if hewere the type to comment on waitresses. Myself, I was that type, andimmediately as we entered the dim establishment I had noticed shewas four feet high with a laughable leer and smelled like old bootliners. She was too stout, too ugly, and too slow on the uptake forme. But I'm from Rome. I have high standards. This was Britain, Ireminded myself.

There was certainly no chance of anyone getting free drinks now thatHilaris and I were here. We were official. I mean really official.One of us held a damned high rank. It wasn't me. I was just a newmiddle-class upstart. Anyone of taste and style would be able tosniff out my slum background instantly.

"I'll avoid the bar," I joked quietly. "If their water is full ofdead men, their wine is bound to be tainted!"

"No, I'll not try a tasting," agreed Hilaris in a tactful undertone."We don't know what they may stuff in their amphorae ..."

The centurion stared at us, showing his contempt for our attempts athumor.

This event was even more inconvenient for me than it was for thesoldier.

All he had to worry about was whether to mention the awkward"developments" on his report. I had to decide whether to tellFlavius Hilaris-my wife's Uncle Gaius-that I knew who the dead manwas. Before that, I had to evaluate the chances that Hilarishimself had known the casked corpse.

Hilaris was the important one here. He was procurator of finance inBritain. To put it in perspective, I was a procurator myself, but myrole-which involved theoretical oversight of the Sacred Geese ofJuno-was one of a hundred thousand meaningless honors handed out bythe Emperor when he owed someone a favor and was too mean to pay incash.

Vespasian reckoned my services had cost enough, so he settled upremaining debts with a joke. That was me: Marcus Didius Falco, theimperial clown. Whereas the estimable Gaius Flavius Hilaris, who hadknown Vespasian many years ago in the army, was now second only tothe provincial governor. Since he did know Vespasian personally,then (as the governor would be aware), dear Gaius was the emperor'seyes and ears, assessing how the new governor ran the province

* * *

He did not need to assess me. He had done that five years ago whenwe first met. I think I came out well. I wanted to look good. Thatwas even before I fell for his wife's elegant, clever, superiorniece. Alone in the Empire, Hilaris had always thought Helena mightend up with me. Anyway, he and his own wife had received me back nowas a nephew by marriage as if it were natural and even a pleasure.

Hilaris looked a quiet, clerkish, slightly innocent fellow, but Iwouldn't take him on at draughts-well, not unless I could play withmy brother Festus' weighted dice. He was dealing with the situationin his usual way: curious, thorough, and unexpectedly assertive."Here' s one Briton who has not acquired much benefit from Romancivilization," he had said on being shown the corpse. That was whenhe added dryly, "I suppose it depends what you mean by civilization,though."

"He took in water with his wine, you mean?" I grinned. "Better notjest." Hilaris was no prude and it was not a reproof.

He was a lean, neat man, still active and alert-yet grayer and morehaggard than I had remembered him. He had always given a slightimpression of ill health. His wife, Aelia Camilla, seemed littlechanged since my last visit, but Flavius Hilaris looked much olderand I felt glad I had brought my own wife and youngsters to see himwhile I could.

Trying not to show that I was watching him, I decided he did knowthe dead man at his feet. As a career diplomat, he would also beaware of why this death would cause us problems. But, so far, he wasnot mentioning his knowledge to me.

That was interesting.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Jupiter Mythby Lindsey Davis Copyright © 2002 by Lindsey Davis . Excerpted by permission.
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