Sejanus (Marcus Corvinus Book 3)

by David Wishart

  'Right. Thanks a lot, pal.' I tossed him the coin. He grabbed it, spat on it for luck and tucked it into his tunic.

  Surdus fitted his name: he was deaf as a post. I had to shout into his good ear for five minutes solid before the message got through.

  'Hasta and Pertinax?' he said. 'They've a load of charcoal for the Aventine. Should be along any minute now, with the cart. They needed it for the wedding.'

  'Yeah? What did they need a cart for?'

  'What's that?' He held his hand to his ear.

  'I said: WHAT DID THEY NEED A CART FOR?'

  'Who told you they needed an apartment? It's good of you to offer, sir, but they live with their father. He has...'

  'CART, for Jupiter's sake! CART! WHY DID THEY NEED A..!'

  'Pardon?'

  Jupiter with bells on! 'Okay. Okay, granddad,' I muttered, turning away. 'Forget it. I wasn't really interested anyway. Just curiosity.'

  'What's that?'

  'I SAID FORGET IT, I WASN'T... Hell, never mind.' I was looking down Latin Road towards the gate. Suddenly I froze.

  Someone was coming through: a big guy in a dark tunic. He caught sight of me, did a double-take, turned and ran back the way he'd come.

  Shit! Ganymede! I pushed old Surdus aside and dodged round the line of wagons, with a sick feeling in my stomach. I'd seen the guy run before, and I knew I didn't have a hope in hell of catching him, not with that much of a start. However, I had to try. I couldn't let him get away this time...

  I'd almost reached the gate when someone shouted beyond it. Then there was a scream and a horrible crunching noise, like a bundle of sticks breaking slowly. Uh-oh. I'd been through this before, ten years back. That time it'd been messy: a scythe. It just went to show that sometimes history does repeat itself; or maybe it was just a warning that you should always think twice before running blind round corners. I slowed to a walk, knowing there wasn't any reason now to hurry.

  He'd been looking over his shoulder, obviously, and the incoming cart had knocked him down and rolled over his back before they could stop it. It may've been empty, but the iron wheel had done a thorough job. He lay half underneath, pinned down and still twitching. The two youngsters on the box were staring at what was left of him in horror. The cart oxen, on the other hand, didn't look too concerned. My sympathies were with them: the bastard had deserved all he got. I was just sorry I hadn't been the one to give it to him.

  I bent down to inspect the body: Ganymede, right enough. His back was broken, and his ribs. He'd stopped twitching now, and you didn't get deader. Then I looked up.

  'He ran straight out in front of us, sir!' The first lad – the driver – said. He was shaking. His mate had leaned to one side and was being quietly sick onto the ground. 'We couldn't do nothing about it! Honest!'

  Yeah, well, there was a certain poetic justice here. Sophocles would've approved.

  'Hasta and Pertinax?' I said.

  The kid swallowed, and nodded.

  'You recognise him?' We'd got Ganymede out from underneath the wheel and laid him beside the gate.

  Hasta and Pertinax looked at each other, then shook their heads. I felt sorry for them: they were just kids, no more than sixteen, and without enough whiskers between them for one decent shave.

  'I've seen him around, sir, sure.' That was Pertinax, the one who'd lost his dinner over the side of the cart. He was still looking pretty pale. So was his brother, although some of it could've been the hangover. 'But I don't know who he is.' He swallowed, with a sidelong look at Ganymede's remains. 'Was.'

  'Never mind, son,' I said. 'Don't let it worry you.' Ah, well. Maybe one of the other carters could help. Problem was, the sun was down by now and most of them had left. Delivery schedules don't wait for corpses, seemingly, and like Valens had said carters don't hang around when they scent trouble. At least Ganymede wouldn't be parting any more scalps this side of the Styx.

  Just then Surdus came up with his wax tablet. He'd been checking the carts out of the gate. Now, it seemed, his work was over for the night and he had time to indulge a little personal curiosity. I stepped aside and he looked down at what the two youngsters had left of our killer.

  'What about you, granddad?' I asked him. 'You any ideas?'

  'What's that?'

  Jupiter! It had to be Surdus, didn't it? I put my hand to his good ear and yelled:

  'DO...YOU...KNOW...WHO..?'

  He stopped me with a beautiful smile.

  'I can't hear you, sonny,' he said. 'I'm a bit deaf. But if you want to know who this is his name's Crito. Rubrius Fabatus's head slave, from the villa up the road.'

  Rubrius Fabatus I didn't know at all; but Crito, now. Crito was different. That name rang a faint bell.

  Who the hell had mentioned a Crito?

  19.

  By the time I got back home Marcina had been in touch. Lippillus had woken up.

  'Thank the gods!' I said when Bathyllus told me. 'First thing tomorrow morning you buy the biggest ram you can find and send it round to the temple of Asclepius with my compliments. Okay, little guy?' Junia Torquata would've been proud of me. Instant conversion. But if Asclepius had swung this then he deserved more than just a thank you.

  'Yes, sir.' Bathyllus was beaming all over his face. 'Although I don't think Asclepius is fond of rams.'

  'Yeah? What, then?'

  'Cocks, sir.'

  Ah, well. To each his own. 'Whatever. A pair. Five. Do it, little guy, but make sure they're the best you can get.'

  'Isn't it marvellous news, Marcus?' Perilla appeared from the direction of the dining room. She was radiant.

  'Yeah, the old guy certainly worked his fillet off for us.' I hugged her and planted a smacker dead centre between nose and chin. 'When did it happen?'

  'About an hour after you left. Latinius came round to tell us.'

  'He...uh...he say what he was doing at the time? Lippillus, I mean?' It didn't much matter now, of course, with Ganymede – Crito -–part of history's glowing pageant, but I was curious.

  'No, he didn't.' Perilla had turned icy. 'And Marcus, if you even think of bothering either him or Marcina with...'

  'Okay. Okay.' I held up my hands, one of which was occupied with the cup of Setinian Bathyllus had poured for me. 'Just a thought. Forget it.'

  'Damn right I'll forget it!' Jupiter, but the lady was peeved! 'If it wasn't that he'd asked for you specially I'd...'

  'He asked for me? Really?'

  'Marcina did mention it. But she also said that although you'll be welcome in the morning one word out of place and she will personally murder you. And frankly, Corvinus, if she doesn't then I will.'

  I swallowed. 'Point taken, lady. No crime, not a whisper. You have my solemn pledge.'

  'Good.' Her voice thawed. 'Sarpedon is delighted. He says the chances for recovery now are much better.'

  Hey, great! If the old misery-guts was actually showing a bit of optimism then Lippillus was really out of the woods. I drained the cup and got Bathyllus to pour me another.

  'So.' Perilla straightened her mantle. 'How did you get on at the Latin Gate?'

  'I found the guy who did it. He's dead.'

  Her eyes widened. 'Oh, Marcus!'

  'Nothing to do with me. Or not much, anyway. It was an accident.' I told her the story. 'So now I've got two more names to add to the list. Rubrius Fabatus and Crito.' There was that itch again. Who the hell had I been talking to recently who'd mentioned a Crito..?

  'Do they mean anything to you?' Perilla made room for me on the couch. I lay down and put my free arm round her shoulders.

  'Uh-uh. Fabatus is obviously rich enough to have a villa outside the city boundaries, but he's just a name. At the moment, anyway. Crito, now...' Shit, where had I heard that name? Or was I imagining things? I shrugged. 'Ah, forget it. It doesn't matter. I'm just glad Lippillus is going to be okay.'

  'He isn't, yet.' She snuggled against me.

  'Oh yes, he is. Asclepius has got his cocks, or he will hav
e tomorrow. He wouldn't back out of the deal now.'

  'Marcus, I'm not sure you should be flippant about these things.'

  'Who's being flippant? It's good old Roman practice. Contract fulfilled, both sides. Even a Greek god like Asclepius has to understand basic business etiquette if he wants to stay solvent this side of Corinth. Speaking of which,' I kissed her, 'bed. I've had a long day.'

  'What has bed got to do with contracts?'

  'Nothing, so far as I know. It's what's called an anacoluthon.'

  Perilla was laughing. 'Corvinus, that's nonsense! That isn't an anacoluthon! An anacoluthon is...'

  I never did find out what an anacoluthon was; but by the time we'd come up for air it didn't seem all that important.

  Lippillus still looked like death warmed up, but at least he was awake and sensible.

  'Hey, Corvinus!' he said as I edged cautiously round the bedroom door. His voice was barely a whisper. 'Thanks for coming.'

  The room was pretty crowded already. Sarpedon was there, but he'd finished doing whatever doctors do for recovering patients; I could see he'd left some evil-looking mixture in a cup by the bed. And Marcina, of course, had followed me in. No sharp instrument at the ready, as far as I could tell, but if I broke my promise she'd probably use her bare hands.

  At least she looked like she'd had a night's sleep, and if she hadn't been exactly friendly when she answered the door the temperature was a whisker or two above freezing. Maybe I'd come through this after all. If so, then it was more than I deserved.

  'How's things, pal?' I eased myself on to the stool next to the bed.

  Lippillus gripped my arm. 'Marcus, listen! The man you're after is called Crito. He's head slave to Rubrius Fabatus, who's got a suburban villa down the Latin Road just before the Asinaria crossroads.'

  'There.' That was Marcina, and sounding jaundiced as hell; but she wasn't talking to me. 'Are you happy now?'

  'Yeah. Yeah, I'm happy.' Lippillus's lips barely moved. That long speech must've taken a lot of his energy. 'You got all that, Marcus?'

  'Sure,' I said softly. 'Don't worry, pal. I already found him. The bastard won't be swinging iron bars around any more, ever.'

  'He's dead?'

  I nodded. 'Came off second best in an argument with a cart.'

  Lippilus's lips twitched. 'That's that, then,' he whispered. 'One more thing. Fabatus is a friend of Sejanus's. Minor league, but maybe...'

  'Decimus, that's enough!' Marcina snapped. 'You are not going to tire yourself out over nothing! And Corvinus, I want you to leave, please. Now.'

  'I agree, sir.' Sarpedon had been watching us, frowning slightly. His tone might be more polite than Marcina's, but he wasn't taking any prisoners either. 'I recommended that you be sent for because the patient was fretting. Now I think it would be advisable for you to go. In fact, I insist on it.'

  'Okay.' I stood up. 'No arguments. And I'm sorry, Marcina. This wasn't my idea.'

  She didn't answer. I turned back to Lippillus.

  'Take it easy, right, pal?' I said. 'And don't worry, everything's under control.'

  His hand lifted, but his eyes were already closing. I slipped out.

  Sarpedon came with me. And Marcina, which was more of a surprise. She shut the door quietly behind her.

  'Corvinus, wait a moment, please.' She laid a hand on my arm. 'I've got something more to say to you.'

  Uh-oh. I waited while she saw Sarpedon out. Then she turned to face me.

  'I want to apologise,' she said.

  'Uh...pardon?'

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 'I know that Decimus was hurt directly because of you. But I also know how...single-minded he can be at times when he thinks he ought to get involved in something. And you've helped a great deal, especially with Sarpedon. Decimus would have died if it hadn't been for him.'

  'Marcina, it was the least I could do. It's nothing, believe me.'

  'No.' She shook her head sharply. 'It is not nothing! I hate to think what all this cost...'

  'Jupiter, Marcina!'

  '...but the least I can do is be grateful. I am, Marcus. Very.'

  'Yeah, well, you don't have to be. Like you said, it was my fault.'

  'You would've done the same if he'd been hurt on a Watch case, wouldn't you?'

  This was getting embarrassing. I wished now I'd left with Sarpedon. 'Yeah, but...'

  She cut me short. 'That's my reason for apologising. I was angry, naturally. I'm still angry, with both you and Decimus. But that's not to say I can't see things in perspective. Decimus is very lucky to have you as a friend. As am I.' She tried a smile, the first one I'd seen on her face since the attack. 'There, now. That's over, and I'm glad.'

  I smiled back. 'You and me both.'

  The smile widened. She even laughed. 'Quite. But do leave Decimus alone, please. For a few days, anyway. Although you may be able to keep off touchy subjects I doubt if he can.'

  I felt the black mood that had been pressing down on me for days lift. Not altogether, but enough.

  'Don't worry, lady,' I said. 'You'll get no hassle from me.'

  I left, whistling.

  So. Crito's master Rubrius Fabatus was a friend of Sejanus's. Well, that didn't come as a surprise, but it was nice to know it for certain. I walked along Racetrack Road towards the Publician Incline. Another glorious day: spring was definitely in the air, and it looked like being a good Spring Festival. I turned round, but there was still no sign of Felix and Lamprus. Maybe their boss, whoever he was, had called them off, but I doubted it.

  Lippillus had said that Fabatus was minor league, and that made sense. Sejanus wouldn't've risked a direct connection, not in the strong-arm department. But it meant that I had to prove another link in the chain if I wanted to tie him in with what was going on, and I had to go careful while I did it. There wasn't much point in barging in on Fabatus and accusing him to his face, because with Crito safely dead he'd simply deny everything and run straight back to tell tales to his boss. Which wouldn't do me much good at all. There had to be a better way.

  Okay. So just exactly what was I after here? I'd got a long-dead Julian plot involving laundered money from the east being used to finance a smear campaign against the Wart at home. Sejanus had been party to that as the Wart's agent, first setting the Julians up and then knocking them down in the Wart's interests. Also – and crucially for me – in his own, because with the top Julians gone or discredited he was a prime contender for the immediate succession and he could use his growing prestige to build up the political support he needed. Even where that support worked against the emperor's – and the empire’s – best interests. It was this second side that I had to concentrate on, because I'd bet a gold piece to a poke in the eye that it was the side the Wart didn't know about. If I could get enough evidence to show Tiberius where his deputy's true loyalties lay, and that they posed a threat to Rome, then I had a fighting chance of toppling the guy. The problem would be separating that off from the legitimate stuff.

  I wasn't just whistling at the wind, I knew that. There was the Germanicus case, for a start. The Wart hadn't known the whole story there, that I knew for certain. And since I'd been back in Rome Sejanus had done his best to make sure I didn't dig any deeper into his affairs than I had already. Celsus had known something, sure. He'd pointed me at Marius, who hadn't figured at all in the Julian scam up to now except for that double-finesse with the botched treason charge; and Celsus had died as a direct result. Then there was Felix and his pet hulk, and the business with Sabinus. That angle I still had to work out, but it was important. Sure it was.

  The dirt was there waiting to be dug, just under the surface. All I had to do was recognise it for what it was.

  There was a hot pie seller on Racetrack Corner. I bought a meat pasty from him and bit on it as I turned up the Incline for home.

  Fabatus. How the hell was I to handle Fabatus?

  20.

  I was in my study the next day working through my
accounts when Bathyllus knocked on the door.

  'Yeah? What is it?' I said, grumpy as hell; arithmetic has never been my strong point, and this visit to Rome was costing us an arm and a leg.

  'I'm sorry to disturb you, sir.' Bathyllus had on his prim disapproving expression. 'There's a man outside who wishes to see you.'

  Man, not gentleman. But it must be urgent for the little guy to break in on the accounts. Disturbing the master when he's beating his head against an abacus is a hanging offence in the Corvinus household.

  'This man got a name?' I said.

  'He wouldn't give it, sir. Or tell me his business.' A sniff. Bathyllus was seriously peeved; and no one, but no one ranking below a consul seriously peeves Bathyllus and lives. Whoever he was, the visitor had guts. He was lucky to be still breathing.

  'Is that so?' I said.

  'That's so, sir.' He paused. 'If it's of any relevance he told me to tell you that Felix had sent him.'

  I almost dropped the pen I'd been chewing the end off.

  'He told you what?'

  'I didn't recognise the name either, sir, but I thought...'

  I was stuffing the accounts books into the bureau drawer. 'Wheel him in,' I said. Gods! What the hell was this?

  I saw what Bathyllus had meant as soon as he appeared. Our surprise visitor was no gentleman. A slave, probably; not even a freedman. He was so filthy I could've planted carrots all over him; got a good crop, too.

  'Okay, Bathyllus, you can go,' I said. The little guy gave another sniff – justified this time, the atmosphere had turned pretty heavy all of a sudden – and left.

  'You Marcus Valerius Messalla Corvinus?' The guy was confident enough, I'd give him that.

  'Yeah.' I wondered whether I should've taken out the dagger I keep with the family strongbox, but apart from posing a general risk to health he looked harmless. Weedy, if that isn't a bad pun. 'That puts you one up on me, pal. You didn't give my slave your name.'

  'Festus.' Uninvited, he pulled up a chair and sat on it. I said nothing, but I could imagine Bathyllus throwing five different kinds of fit at once. 'The little bald guy with the sniff tell you Felix sent me?'