Then get there and arrest them. You've got impostors, using a fake guardpost to defraud the public of bribes. Isn't impersonating the vigiles a crime?" Taking a bribe was a crime too, though that was theoretical. The gang I met would never have succeeded in their ploy, had the real vigiles been lily white. They were behaving as the public expected. Brunnus could not be bothered. Frankly, we have more exciting things on. You must have been dreaming, Falco." I pulled up and smacked myself around the ear. You're right. I must have seen some ghost troopers left behind decades ago by the Divine Emperor Claudius… Forget I mentioned it." Now Brunnus looked worried. But it would not affect him long. Brunnus had a thrilling afternoon ahead, plotting joint exercises with Marcus Rubella and Petronius Longus of the Fourth Cohort. Relegated to the role of an outsider, I found myself something else to do. If the men who had threatened me the other day were nothing to do with the vigiles, I was free to challenge them. The vigiles were accountable to the community; as a private informer, I was accountable to no one, but I had a social conscience. I could back it up with intellect, cunning, and if needs be fisticuffs. I marched off to confront the bastards, all set to wreak havoc. No use. I walked along the Decumanus to where I had seen the fake patrol house. At the same time, I kept one eye out for the crass chariot Theopompus drove; it made me feel better to be looking for him, and Marcus Rubella could not stop me using my eyes. The empty shop near the Temple of Hercules was now completely abandoned. The impostors were no longer to be seen. They had packed up and vanished. I was relieved Brunnus had not sent an enquiry team, or I would have looked stupid. But the old crusts still lay on the rubble-strewn floor; liquor fumes still hung in the air. So did the rank smell of deceit. The fraudsters had been here. Now they were hunkered down somewhere else, preying on new people in a new locality. I would find them eventually. And next time, I would put them out of business.
Back at the Decumanus I crossed the junction to a run-down row of fishmongers." There was no chance of me and mine eating with Maia and Petronius this evening. Taking Rubella's part against me was utterly hypocritical. The vigiles may look down on private informers, but when it suited, we were good enough to help them out with their clear-up figures. Petronius Longus damn well knew that. Stuff him. I would take home something to cook up myself for a supper with my own brood. It was a few days since we had enjoyed my mother's mullet. I decided I was ready for pan-fried sardines. They were a favourite of mine, and easy to prepare even in an apartment with limited facilities. Back in the old days at my dilapidated Fountain Court rental, I ate sardines all the time. The stall I chose had been here for a century. Surely soon some emperor who wanted to look good would provide new premises with smarter fish tanks and big marble slabs. In the meantime, they gutted fish on a wooden table which they scrubbed each night. The produce was fresh and the stallholder friendly. I asked if he had known the scribe's aunt.
Oh, Vestina was a regular until she got too creaky. Then she used to send her maid, unless she had her visitor. He would help her along here herself."
Her nephew? Diocles?" A woman appeared from the cramped living quarters in the rear. Elderly and nosy, she was introduced to me as the stallholder's mother. It was no surprise. They shared similar squashed noses. That was a terrible night," she said, clearly referring to the fire.
Can you tell me about it? I heard there were problems getting help."
Of course there were. We all hate fires."
Vigiles too far away to fetch?"
Oh much too far. People around here would never go to them," said the son, betraying the Ostians" suspicion of the men from Rome.
Who do you call on? The builders" guild?" He shook his head. Not unless we're desperate." As I raised my eyebrows in query, the mother rushed to moan about the guild. Nasty lot. Looking after themselves, you know."
How's that?" The son gave the mother a warning look and she subsided. I stuck it out, now looking into the crayfish bucket as if I was considering a starter course tonight.
I wouldn't want to say anything bad," murmured the mother, helping me to flip good specimens into a piece of sacking. Then she went ahead. The firemen go into people's houses and come out with their knapsacks filled."
They help themselves to valuables?"
Famous for it," said the son, now willing to blacken them. And worse."
Worse?"
Well, nothing can be proved, but some say when the builders' guild are putting a fire out, they don't try very hard." I pretended to look blank, so he explained. If the property is completely destroyed, there will be a nice profit, putting up a new building. They would rather obtain a contract than save a house or business."
