XXXI

LAST NIGHT Petro and I had summoned Lucrio to an interview today. Although Petro had given him an hour at which to arrive, we were prepared for him not to show, or at least to turn up late. To our surprise, he was there.

We all became extremely friendly by the light of day. We had all had time to adjust our positions.

Petro and I had, in the Roman way, appropriated the only chairs as the persons in authority. Lucrio did not care. He walked about and calmly waited to be put through the grinding-mill. He was constantly masticating nuts of some sort; he chewed with his mouth open.

He was a definite type. I could imagine him in his younger days, turning the contractual tricks – cutting corners and boasting about deals with his brash friends, all belt buckles and big-bossed cloak brooches. Now he was maturing; changing from loud to subtle; from risky to absolutely dangerous; from a mere chancer to a much smoother operator, able to guide clients into lifetimes of debt.

Before I came to the patrol-house, I had been to see Nothokleptes. He had given me some interesting information about Lucrio's past. Petronius started the interview by agreeing that, since the tunic-thief had returned to jail of his own accord after he thought about the consequences, he would now release Lucrio's slaves (sending them home without letting Lucrio talk to them). Unbeknown to him, they had been well grilled. Fusculus had volunteered to come in on the day shift; after they had been starved all morning he took them bread and unwatered wine, and `made friends' with the six of them. That had been productive too.

`Your documents have all been returned to you, Lucrio, so that's in order,' said Petro, taking charge, while I just wrote notes in.an ominous manner. `I would like to discuss the general situation and management of the Aurelian Bank. Chrysippus set it up, with the aid of his first wife, Lysa. Did he come from a financial background originally?'

`Old Athens family,' Lucrio asserted proudly. `He was in shipping insurance; most of that business is conducted in Greece and the East, but he could see there was a gap in the market so he and Lysa moved here.'

`He specialised in loans?'

`Cargo loans mostly.^,

'That's risky?'

`Yes and no. You have to exercise your judgement – is the ship sound? Is the captain competent? Is the cargo likely to fetch a profit and will there be another available for it to carry home? And then -' He paused.

Petronius, in his quiet way, was on top of the subject: `You make a loan to a trader to cover the cost of a voyage. Insurance. If a ship founders, there is no obligation on the trader to repay the loan. You cover the loss. And if that ship returns home safely, the banker is repaid – plus an enormous profit.'

`Well, not enormous,' Lucrio demurred. He would.

`Because of the risk of miscarriage in a storm, shipping lenders are

exempt from normal rules on maximum interest?' Petro went on. `Only fair,' said Lucrio. `We end up paying for all the voyages that come to grief.'

`Not all of them, I think. You protect yourselves as much as possible.'

`Where we can, legate.'

`Tribune,' Petro corrected him briefly, assuming Rubella's title without a blush.

`Sorry. Just a form of words.'

My friend Lucius Petronius inclined his head loftily. I hid a grin. `This protection of yours,' he continued, worrying away, `it can take the form of limiting the period of the loan?'

`Routine condition, tribune.'

`So a journey you are insuring must be completed within a specified number of days?'

`During good sailing weather. There will normally be a date for completion of the voyage written into the contract.'

`So if the ship sinks, you as lender do pay the costs – but only provided the journey has been undertaken in the right period? But if the ship delays sailing until after the loan's expiry date, and then it sinks in the drink – who is liable?'

`Not us!' exclaimed the freedman.

`You, of course, like that,' Petronius returned, rather coolly. `But the owner does not. He has lost his ship and its cargo – and he still has to repay your loan.'

`He loses twice over. But that's his fault.'

`Well, his captain's.'

Right – for dilly-dallying. These are the rules of the sea, tribune. It's traditional. Was there some reason,' enquired Lucrio, very politely, `why you were interested in this aspect?'

Petronius folded his arms and leaned forwards on them. I knew this action. He was about to bring out the gossip we had acquired. `You have a client at the bank called Pisarchus?'

Lucrio managed to retain his affable, unflustered dodger's attitude. `Of course this is confidential – but I believe we do.'

`Big debtor?'

`Not too clever.'

`He lost two different ships, both sailing out of time, last winter?'

`A foolish man. Now he needs to readjust his investments rather sharply.'

`Does he have anything left to invest, though?' asked Petronius.

`Well, you could have a point there!' chortled Lucrio, treating the reference to big debts as a big joke.

Petro remained cool. `Shippers are notorious for having no personal capital. A little mouse has been squeaking to me that Pisarchus is in severe distress over his losses, that he may not be able to repay what he owes, and that Chrysippus and he had a quarrel.'

`My, my!' marvelled Lucrio. `Somebody must have been pulling really hard on this little mouse's tail. I hope no naughty members of the vigiles have been asking questions of my slaves without clearing it with me?'

That was when I moved in and took over. `No, we learned about Pisarchus from a private source.' Nothokleptes. 'It is freely available gossip in the Janus Medius.' This must have been the first time in history Nothokleptes had given me something for nothing. `I hear the odds there are on Pisarchus as the killer, in fact. My interest centres on him too. I'm wondering if he was the man with the sour mood I myself saw at the scriptorium, the very morning Chrysippus was killed.'

Lucrio shook his head, sorrowing. `I'm grieved to hear that, Falco. Pisarchus is one of our oldest clients. His family has dealt with the Chrysippus trapeza for generations back in Greece.'

I flashed a smile. `Don't fret. Maybe it's not him. Still, it has given us a clear picture of how your trapeza operates.'

`Nothing illegal.'

`Nothing soft, either!'

`We have to protect our investors.'

`Oh I'm sure you do.'

I let Petronius resume the questioning. `Let's clear up one tricky item, Lucrio…' Now he would definitely try out the stuff that Fusculus had squeezed from the slaves. `I have a tip that you and Chrysippus went through a crisis once?' Lucrio looked annoyed. Petronius spelled it out: `You have been the bank's freedman-agent for a number of years. Before that, while you were still in service as a young slave – this must have been before you reached the age of thirty, when you could be freed – you were given a portfolio to manage on your master's behalf. It was the usual situation: you were allowed to run the fund and to keep any profits, but the capital – what is called the peculium still belonged to your master and had to be returned to him in due course. Now tell me – was there not a problem when you were first manumitted from slavery, and had to hand back the peculium and render an account of your management?'

Lucrio had stopped casually pacing the room, though he continued chewing nuts. `It was a misunderstanding. There were queries on the figures; I was able to answer all of them.'

`What sort of queries?' insisted Petronius.

`Oh – whether I had mixed up the peculium float.'

`Mixed it with your own money? Had you?'

`Not intentionally. I was a lad, a bit slapdash – you know how it is.