Enemies at Home Read Online Free Page A

specimens, so I guessed this loon had turned out badly and been dumped on the aedile, who seemed an oddly docile nephew.
    The boy was about sixteen, podgy, sullen, and he smelt. In a city where baths were so plentiful, with many free even for slaves, Dromo must pong on purpose. He certainly didn’t copy his horrible hygiene from his master. Up close, Faustus was sweet and fresh, I happened to know. ‘You can use him as a messenger, Albia. Somebody has to bring me your daily action notes.’
    ‘Who says I am sending you notes?’
    ‘I do.’
    In our one previous case together, we had both enjoyed the way the magistrate tried to play the stern monitor and I kicked against it. Now I stared him in the eye until eventually he ducked his head like a submissive dog, allowing himself a tight smile.
    I told him he ought to smile more often. ‘It makes you look rather appetising.’ He tried to ignore that, though he came close to blushing. The man was fun to tease, although I suspected no one else ever did it. He had been unmarried for years and from the little I knew about the uncle he lived with, his only visible family, Tullius was not the type.
    Of course he was entitled to progress reports. It was a routine part of my service. ‘Daily’ might be pushing it, but I was not foolish; until we apprehended the killer, I wanted somebody else to be aware of my movements. Faustus knew it would not give him supervision rights.
    Or maybe he thought it did. He would soon learn.
     
    The long stroll over from the Aventine confirmed that Rome really is built on Seven Hills, and they are highly inconvenient. Three, the Quirinal, Viminal and Esquiline, are steep ridges that run down in parallel and dominate the northern part of the city, getting in your way whenever you try moving about. Most easterly is the Esquiline, which lies mainly outside an ancient fortification, the so-called Servian Walls; the rampart overlooks an area that was once unhealthy and full of graveyards, though now some parts have been reclaimed and fancied up. People who think themselves quite grand nestle alongside workshops with unneighbourly trades and the destitute.
    On the city side of the old embankment lurks Nero’s Golden House, a madman’s playground that once covered the Forum and beyond. Down at the bottom of the Esquiline stands the Temple of Minerva Medica. Up at the top is the Market of Livia, named after the Empress who also built an elegant Porticus in this region, full of fountains and an enormous vine that covered all the walls. Livia’s Market is by the Esquiline Gate, where the main road that runs under the arch arrives from the once-rough district called the Subura.
    On this road, the Clivus Suburanus, Faustus and I found the Aviola apartment. It took us several tries, asking where Aviola lived, so he was not well-known in the district. Faustus played things unobtrusively but when I despaired of his approach, I walked into a bar and mentioned the robbery and deaths; all the gossipy waiters rushed to point out the crime scene.
    It was a discreet house with several shops fronting its pavement, between which staircases led to upper levels. As was common in Rome, a substantial building had been divided internally then leased out in as many lucrative units as possible. The best suite occupied most of the ground floor, including an enclosed courtyard. This had been rented for some years by Valerius Aviola, I guessed expensively. Here he had brought his new bride after their wedding. Here they had died, before passion or economic rationale had had any chance to grow jaded.
     
    Our first contact was the household steward, a freedman called Polycarpus. He looked as if his geographical origins were somewhere eastern, with chin stubble up to his cheekbones as if he came fresh from the desert. Even so, he spoke adequate Latin and had absorbed all the Roman myths about masculine superiority. He ignored me, but was perfectly pleasant when Faustus explained