Read Online Graveyard of the Hesperides by Lindsey Davis - Free Book Online Page A

man in a one-armed unbelted tunic had stuck his head out of a room, looking to see who I was. The occupant of the other room zipped back his door curtain too; he was naked. He had an extremely hairy chest; I tried not to look any lower down. I fancied I heard females in the background, though with these narrow doorways people inside the rooms were hidden. Judging by how the two men looked, anyone they had lured in here could not be picky.
    Though startled, I managed to accost them: “Nipius and Natalis, I presume? You work here when the bar is open? Well, I am Flavia Albia, looking into the unpleasant finds the workmen dug up yesterday. I suggest you both put your clothes on straight away, and come downstairs to help with my inquiries!”

 
    XI
    By the time they sloped down to the courtyard, I was sitting down, looking cool. Being enthroned while others stand is a sign of superiority in Rome, though waiters never subscribe to such etiquette. A waiter can be lying on the dirty ground pushing a wedge under a wobbly table leg, but he will still behave as if you are an upstart slave, unreasonably complaining, whereas he is of royal birth. You can stand up, sit down or cavort like a dolphin with hiccups, but you won’t obtain respect. All waiters in any establishment occupy the position of power. Julius Caesar must have had his nose put out of joint every time he fancied a half flagon of house red while he was out shopping.
    All right. I concede that old pomposity Caesar may never have nipped out for an onion—not even to gain a few minutes’ peace from Calpurnia’s nagging him about her dreams.
    Nipius and Natalis gave me their What do you mean, you expect faster service? faces. They had been waiting at tables so long, it was their first line of defense.
    â€œSo!” I positioned my note tablet on one knee, stylus in hand, fully composed. “Which of you is which?”
    Grudgingly, they told me. In daylight, I was looking at two semi-mature cheeses. Not exactly cave-ripened until their fine flavor knocked your head off, but they were theoretically old enough to have been here when Rufia was on the payroll. Both were easily twenty-five and probably more, so by my very rough timeline they would have been lads in their first employment. Nipius was taller, with joined-up eyebrows and pustules. Natalis was heavier with only half as many spots, the hero with the chest fur; its wiry black hairs were peeking now over the neck of his crumpled workwear. It would be the only tunic he had, clearly bought when he was slimmer. He was no advert for bar snacks.
    They were in similar green tunics, like a uniform; Natalis had put ragged brown braid on the hem of his. At least, he’d persuaded some girlfriend to do it. Nipius expressed whatever personality he possessed via a piece of string around his neck, from which dangled a big pebble with a hole in it. He must have expensive tastes. Natalis had probably learned that a necklace would snag in his chest hair so he wore copper bracelets instead. He had had them so long he didn’t notice the verdigris.
    I decided I wouldn’t trust either of these scallywags to serve up the drink I had asked for or to remember my complimentary pistachios. Nor would they would go back for the nuts, even on the third time of reminding. But I bet they would still demand a tip. They gave the impression they might be aggressive about it.
    I could see that, in the way of waiters, they were wondering if there was any point trying to flirt. I gave them the frosty treatment. “I am doing this for Manlius Faustus, the contractor. He is a magistrate, a busy man, and he is my fiancé. I shall take down your story, then see what he wants to do about you.” There could be no harm suggesting they might find themselves in trouble. “You both work at the Hesperides when it is open? How long have you been here?”
    They confirmed that they had started as lads. “So