"You think Phineus is the murderer? But Phineus told you he was occupied with other people at the crucial times, so that's impossible."

"Phineus is a blatant liar," I prophesied.

Since no other delaying tactic struck me, next morning I did set out for the acropolis.

I crossed the Forum on its north side, in my hiking gear and with Nux at my heels. At one point I noticed Phineus outside a shop. He was deep in conversation with another man, one of his many contacts, no doubt; I put my head down and got by unseen. Then a voice hailed me. It was just Cleonymus, the freedman; he was sitting on the central rostrum on his own, waiting for the wine shops to open. His wife and their two companions were all asleep with hangovers, so he said he would come up the crag with me to see the views. Nux was wagging her tail at company, so I agreed. Cleonymus was wearing a massive belt buckle against his richly embroidered tunic, with such heavy gold bangles on his muscular forearms that I thought it a duty to remove him from the envious crowds.

We walked over to the east end, and climbed a short flight of steps which led to a row of about six individual temples to minor divinities. This town was certainly pious. Next we passed through some small shops, emerging opposite a much larger temple in the Roman style which had the standard air of an imperial family dedication. Its columns had elaborate acanthus-leaved Corinthian columns; belatedly it struck me that the florid Corinthian style of capital was actually named after this city. I had never liked it. Glancing back, I saw the more straightforward Doric Temple of Apollo, exquisitely outlined against the deep blue waters of the Saronic Gulf and a lustrous sky. Its Greek austerity tugged at my old-fashioned Roman core.

"That's handsome, but I don't take to Corinth, Cleonymus – too much religion and too much shopping."

"Oh you can never have too much shopping, Falco.

Over on our right where the land dropped away lay the theatre; to the left was a gymnasium where I knew Young Glaucus had already established his credentials. We passed a very old fountain, into which Jason's young wife was supposed to have thrown herself to quench the

pain of Medea's poisoned robe; beyond that was another fountain, a sanctuary of Athena, and a sanctuary of Aesculapius.

"So Turcianus Opimus could have brought himself here! Then he could have died where the Roman governor might arrange to ship him home."

"Epidaurus was even more beautiful – though not very peaceful when the sacred dogs all had a yap." Cleonymus had spotted the stone money box for donations; he dropped a silver coin in the slot. "Show willing." It was like his generosity in buying wine for everyone. He thought he should share his own good fortune. Few owners of a vast inheritance retain so much benevolence.

We soon felt we ourselves might have to offer the god of medicine some votive statuettes of lungs. The road took us upwards, its steep incline challenging our stamina. Nux chased to and fro around us, heedless of the slope, a small excited bundle of fur with ears pressed back by her own momentum and eyes turned to slits in the wind she created. Eventually I put her on a lead, fearful the crazed animal would leap off the cliff. As the views became ever more spectacular, I was less and less minded to climb giddily down the rockface to rescue Nux from some tiny ledge. The mad dog would probably topple me over into oblivion in the act of welcoming me.

Initially Cleonymus proved a surprisingly good walker, considering his wine intake, though it was soon clear I had more long-term stamina. We puffed up in silence for a while then got talking as we settled into our stride. I let him guide the conversation. He told me a little of his travels, before I asked how he and Cleonyma came to be hooked up with Minucia and Amaranthus.

"Oh we just met them on this trip."

We climbed on, then I prodded again. Helena Justina thinks Minu'cia seems a bit restless with Amaranthus."

"Minucia doesn't say much, but she seems to miss her family."

"She dumped a husband? Children too?"

"I believe so, Falco. Plus aunts, sisters – and a puddle full of ducks! She's a home-lover who made a run for it to prove she could," Cleonymus told me. "Now she's hankering to see dough rising in her own crock again."

"Will she leave Amaranthus?"

"They've been together quite a while, I think. Cleonyma and I think the sad events on this trip are having an unsettling effect."

"Sudden death makes you wonder about your own life expectancy… Was Amaranthus married too?"

"No, never. He's a loner at heart, if you ask me."

"So what's his background, Cleonymus?"

"Salt-fish export. He's made a packet from shifting amphorae of sea bass. Looking for markets got him started on travel; now he combines work and pleasure. He's a real sports aficionado too. He was hopping mad when we got to Olympia and he realised there were no contests."

"Was that mis-selling by Seven Sights?"

"According to them, no."

"And according to you?"

"Guess! The fact that the dates have been muddled up since Nero is now twisted around to become our own fault. We all convinced ourselves this year was next year, while Phineus claims he and Polystratus – do you know that slime-ball, by the way? – would never have deluded us…"

"Yes, I met Polystratus back in Rome. He tried to sell me the Olympic Games for next year, funnily enough."

"So now he does know the proper date," scoffed Cleonymus. "What was your verdict on him, Falco?"

"True salesman – idle, devious, full of sharp practice. He upset Helena Justina by treating her as if she was a miserly hag, holding me back."

"I'm not surprised." Cleonymus tweaked up the corner of his mouth. "Cleonyma nearly bashed him with her travel scroll box when we were booking, – he would have really felt it; Cleonyma has a lot of travel narratives." We saved our breath for the next few moments. "Pity she didn't do it," Cleonymus murmured, more obliquely than usual.

As the road wound upwards, the views improved but we sweated more. The crag was almost sheer; only this western side could be scaled at all, and it was hard going. High above, we could make out what must be the other Temple of Apollo, this one straddling the acropolis peak, together with scattered roofs and columns of several other temples. The effects of prolonged imbibing were slowing down my companion now. We paused, with the excuse of admiring the fabulous panorama. Nux lay on my foot, licking my insole through my bootstraps. She might be a street dog from the Seven Hills, but she preferred walking on the flat.

"Indus seems to enjoy a raffish reputation," I suggested to the freedman.

"Enjoy is right; he loves being the centre of intrigue."

"Has he confessed his history?" Cleonymus gave me the finger to the

nose which is the universal sign of keeping mum. "Oh go on! What's he running away from?" I begged.

"Sworn to secrecy, Falco."

"Tell me this at least. does it have a bearing on the deaths I'm investigating?"

"Absolutely none at all!" Cleonymus assured me, laughing.

Doggedly, I pursued the issue. "I'm having some trouble placing both of those caustic bachelors. Something about Marinus keeps you guessing too."

"He's looking for a new partner," Cleonymus said, rather firmly.

"Yes, he comes right out and says so. Helena thinks it's not quite normal."

"Normal enough for a professional fraud." I raised an eyebrow. After a moment, Cleonymus told me, "My wife and I have met him before. Marinus doesn't remember; his tracking system concentrates on single women, not married couples. It was a couple of years back; we ran into him on Rhodes. He was looking for a new partner then too – and he found one. Unfortunately for the lady."