Sejanus (Marcus Corvinus Book 3)

by David Wishart

  'Uh huh. He also said you'd refused to state your business.'

  'I'm Rubrius Fabatus's head gardener. Was, anyway, as of three days ago.'

  'Is that right, now?' I said slowly, my brain buzzing. It explained his loamy aftershave, anyway. And other scents. Some really keen gardeners have a private arrangement with the slaves who muck out the public privies, and Festus smelt like one of the keenest. But it didn't explain how he came to be here. I'd just made the Rubrius connection myself. 'Fabatus's gardener, eh?'

  'Ex-gardener.'

  'Whatever. Before we start splitting hairs you care to tell me, one, what your connection with Felix is, and two, why you think I might be interested?'

  He grinned. I'd seen more teeth on a garden fork. In better condition, too. 'Yeah. I can manage that. Your answers are one, none whatsoever – up to three days ago, that is – and two, because I can give you a cast-iron link between my ex-master and Aelius Sejanus. That do you?'

  Bloody hell! Forget the buzzing; my brain had gone numb. I got up and poured myself a cup of wine from the jug on the table beside him.

  'Thanks. Don't mind if I do.' Festus leaned over, took the cup from me and sank it in one. 'Good stuff. Pity about the water.'

  Silently I filled another cup, topped his up again and took mine back to the couch where I'd been sitting. This Festus was definitely getting up my nose. Literally and metaphorically.

  'The price is five gold pieces,' he said.

  I nearly dropped the cup. Shit! I could've bought the guy himself for that, easy!

  'One,' I said. 'If you're lucky.'

  'Five, or there's no deal. I'm laying my neck on the line here.'

  Well, I supposed he had a point. Although why anyone would touch his neck with anything shorter than a ten-foot pole I couldn't imagine.

  'This had better be good, chum,' I said. 'Especially with the damage you're doing to my wine cellar.' He didn't say anything; just grinned. 'Okay. Five. If and provided that I decide the information is worth it.'

  'Oh, it's worth it.' He downed the second cup and poured himself another. 'You mind?'

  'Go ahead.' I could see now how he'd managed to bulldoze Bathyllus. By comparison, rhinos were thin-skinned. 'Feel free.'

  He sipped at this one. Not a fool, then: he wanted to keep sober, which was wise. 'To answer your first question first,' he said. 'This weird guy in a lemon tunic –'

  'Felix.'

  'Right. Felix comes up to me three days ago when I'm out seeing to to the manure. He says how would I like to make a lot of money and get my freedom into the bargain – guaranteed freedom – for coming round here and telling you what I know.'

  '"Guaranteed" freedom? Guaranteed by who?' And why the hell should Felix bother? I thought, but I didn't say it out loud. It might've confused the issue.

  'That I'm not telling, but believe me you don't get better. I'm no cabbage, Corvinus. He gave me proof; real proof. But the deal's off if I snitch so don't waste your breath asking.'

  'Okay. Forget it.' Well, it would've been nice to know, but I could live with that. For the moment. 'Carry on.'

  'How he knew I knew anything I don't know, and I don't care.' He sipped the wine. 'That's some smart little bugger, your pal. Maybe he reads minds. But he was right, I did have something to sell. Only I couldn't do anything with the information myself. Get me?'

  'I get you.' I sipped my own wine. 'So after talking with Felix and with his guarantee in your pocket you went over Fabatus's wall. Did a runner.' Jupiter! Whatever Felix's guarantee was backed by, like Festus said it had to be one hundred percent, cast-iron genuine: we both knew what the chances of a slave escaping successfully were, and what would happen if the poor bastard got caught. That wasn't pleasant, not pleasant at all.

  'I did a runner.' Festus took a swallow of Setinian. 'Felix gave me somewhere to go, somewhere safe where the food's good and the drink's better. I'm not complaining, and I'm not greedy. You get a decent crack at freedom, you take it, whether it pays or not.' He shifted on his chair. 'And if you can have money as well then you're laughing. Right?'

  'Fair enough.' Well, at least he had realistic priorities. And garden slaves were the bottom of the domestic ladder, one step higher than the chickens and one under the pet monkey. Who was I to sneer?

  'Now your second question,' Festus said. 'The link with Sejanus. For that we've got to go back a couple more days. I've got this hide I built myself at the bottom of the garden. Doesn't look like much even close up, which is the idea. I go there for some peace and quiet, or when I'm wanted real bad. You know?'

  'Uh-huh.' The way he described it I wouldn't've been too anxious to dig him out myself, even if I knew he was in there. Not without gloves and a good set of nose plugs.

  'Okay, so this day I was in the hide when I hear the master coming. He's got that bastard Crito with him, the head slave, and somebody else.' He paused. 'Hey, I hear that Crito got his finally. You responsible for that?'

  'No, it was an accident.'

  'Pity. Crito was a sod. If you'd asked anyone in the household to put him under we'd've done it gladly. Congratulations, anyway.'

  'You care to get back to your story?' I knew what was coming. Sure I did. 'Tell me about this "somebody else". He got a name?'

  'Wait. That's your answer, Corvinus, the five gold pieces' worth. Be patient, okay?'

  'Fine.' I settled back. I could wait. It looked like Felix had done my job for me, and five gold pieces was cheap at the price. 'They were discussing a murder, right?'

  'Two murders. A guy named Vibius Celsus and yourself. I sat tight because I knew if I stuck my nose out it'd be bye-bye Festus, but I could hear everything clear. See it as well, because there're chinks in the hide I made special for that sort of thing. The – someone else – says you both have to go, Celsus because he knows too much and he's soft as butter, you because you're too nosey by half and a real pain in the arse.' He paused and grinned. 'His words, not mine.'

  'No offence, I've been called worse. Go on.'

  'He doesn't want to deal with things himself, right, because he's too big a wheel and if things go wrong he's in the shit up to his eyeballs with no way to go but down. He wants to borrow Crito, because he's used him before. And the master owes. You still with me?'

  'I'm with you. Fabatus agreed?'

  'Yeah.' Festus spat on the floor: Bathyllus would have a fit. 'The master's got no balls. Never has had, and he'd lick any arse in range to make consul. Even city judge. Sure he agreed. Fell over himself. Crito wasn't too happy, but with the pressure these two were putting on him he didn't have much option.'

  That was something I hadn't thought of. Maybe I ought to feel a bit of sympathy for Crito. Not that I could manage it, mind. 'And?'

  'That was it. They went back to the house. I gave them a good hour then slipped round to the rose garden to do a bit of mulching. Two days later your pal Felix turns up.' He was watching me closely. I got up, refilled my cup, and sat back down again. 'So. What do you reckon? A good five gold pieces' worth?'

  'Yeah, I suppose so. Only you haven't given me the important name yet, your "someone else". Maybe I can do it for you. The someone else was Sejanus, right?'

  Festus spat again, scornfully. 'No, it wasn't him. Aelius Sejanus wouldn't do his own dirty work, even I know that. And if it had been I'd've asked you for more than five measly gold pieces. But the guy was the next best thing. I told you, he's a cast-iron link.'

  'Okay. So who was he?'

  'Sejanus's stepbrother. Seius Tubero.'

  21.

  Tubero!

  I sat back. I'd dismissed Seius Tubero, or rather I hadn't even considered him in the first place. Not because he wasn't a double-dyed crook, or prime treason material: I'd known he'd been working for Sejanus ten years back when as a city judge he'd quashed the investigation into Regulus's murder. No, I'd ignored Tubero because Celsus had cited him along with old Cornelius Lentulus as his father's collaborator in the Sacrovir scam and I'd bracketed the
two together. Which was exactly what Serenus had intended people should do.

  It made sense. Now I was starting at the other end, with Tubero's involvement in the Gallic scam proven fact, it made a lot of sense. Celsus had said that the choice of Lentulus and Tubero had been his father's, not his, although he'd gone along with it. I'd assumed that the idea behind choosing them was to destroy Celsus's credibility as a prosecutor; which was true enough. But that was only half the story, seemingly. The scam had another purpose as well, and with that Serenus had been more successful than I'd given him credit for.

  It was slick as virgin oil, for a start. To have accused Tubero alone of involvement with the Sacrovir revolt would've been disastrous for everyone concerned. If Serenus had turned state's evidence and gone for the guy properly he might've succeeded in taking Tubero down with him, but he wouldn't've lived much past the trial. The consequences for Tubero were equally obvious: no one knew he'd been involved, not even Celsus; he'd kept his nose clean and covered his tracks well. A direct accusation from a confessed traitor backed – as it would be backed – with hard evidence would undo all that careful planning. For Sejanus's part, the last thing he'd've wanted was for one of his shady operations to be brought out into the open, when even the Wart might start to think about treason in more general terms.

  Messy, right? And in no one's interests.

  So Serenus hadn't accused just Tubero. What he'd done was to have his son name Lentulus as well; and that made all the difference because the poor old duffer was patently – even blatantly – innocent: by all accounts he hadn't had marbles enough left to spearhead a trip to the bathroom, let alone a full-scale conspiracy. It was a beautiful double-double bluff. Serenus had saved his neck with the senate and with Sejanus at the same time by saying to him in effect: 'I've got the goods on you, but I'm not going to use them because I'm not stupid. It's a standoff. Let's agree to leave each other alone.' He'd succeeded as far as he could realistically have expected to; Sejanus hadn't put any pressure on the Wart to have him chopped, as he could well have been for a second treason offence; in fact, he'd persuaded the emperor to intervene on the side of clemency. Even so, Tiberius had smelled a rat and at least made sure he was convicted. And that was how matters stood until I'd gone barging in to Celsus's life and forced him to break the bargain...

  Yeah. I regretted that now; or at least I regretted that it'd been necessary. I'd killed Celsus just as surely as if I'd smashed his silly head in with the iron bar myself. I just hoped that in the end his death wouldn't be wasted.

  Festus was looking at me, a half smile on his face.

  'Okay, Corvinus,' he said. 'Contract fulfilled. So hand over the cash and I'll be on my way.'

  I took the key of the strongbox I kept by the shrine of the household gods out of the bureau, unlocked it and gave the guy his five gold pieces. He grinned, spat on them for luck and turned to go.

  'Wait a minute, pal,' I said. 'We haven't finished yet. I may need you later.'

  He slipped the money into his breech clout. 'What for?'

  'That's a valuable chunk of evidence you have tucked away in your skull. If this ever comes to a trial you'll need to repeat it to the proper authorities.'

  'You kidding? You know how they take statements from slaves.' He made a stretching movement with his two hands. 'And on a runaway they wouldn't even call time when they had what they wanted.'

  'If your guarantee of freedom is as good as you say it is, pal, torture wouldn't be an issue. You'd be a free man, and it'd act retrospectively.'

  I could see him considering: he may've been just a garden slave but he was honest by his lights. He'd made a reasonable point, too: in a court of law a slave's evidence against his master is inadmissible unless it's given under torture.

  'Yeah. Yeah, I suppose that's right,' he said at last. 'Okay, you've got it.'

  Jupiter! I thought, That must be some guarantee, if the guy's that ready to bet his life on it holding! 'So. How do I contact you?' I said. 'If and when?'

  'Felix knows. But remember, I'm only willing to talk if I don't suffer for it.'

  Well, I couldn't expect more. Of course it begged the question of whether I could find my friend in the lemon tunic when I wanted him.

  'Another five gold pieces,' I said. 'If and when it happens. Deal?'

  He grinned again: he hadn't expected that, which was why I'd made the offer.

  'Deal,' he said; and left.

  When I came out of the study Perilla was in the atrium. She had a letter in her hand, and she could've modelled for Athene just before she zapped Arachne into a spider.

  'Just who exactly is Marilla, Marcus?' she said. 'And why is she making assignations?'

  I stared at her, eyes popping and jaw sagging. 'What?'

  'Here. Read it for yourself.' She passed the letter over.

  Someone was crazy here, and it wasn't me. 'Lady, I don't even know anyone called Marilla,’ I said. ‘Let alone–'

  'Read.'

  It was a note rather than a letter. Three lines:

  Valerius Corvinus, I have to get away. Father will be in Tibur for a few days, and it may be my only chance. The south-west corner of the garden wall, this evening at sunset. Please come. Marilla.

  The 'Please come' had been underlined twice.

  'Perilla, I swear...' I began. Then I remembered. Marilla. The beautiful Spaniard with the frightened eyes. Sextus Marius's daughter. 'Where did you get this?'

  'Her maid brought it a few minutes ago. Bathyllus gave it to me because you were busy.' She sniffed. 'He didn't know the contents, of course.'

  'Uh-huh. Where's the maid now?'

  'I sent her down to the kitchen. Corvinus, I am waiting for an explanation.'

  If it hadn't been so serious I would've laughed, because I'd never ever seen Perilla jealous before and she was greener than a ripe fig. However, this was no time for playing around. I explained to her just exactly who Marilla was. And what I suspected the sleeping arrangements were in the Janiculan villa.

  'Oh, Marcus!' She sat down on the couch. 'The poor child!'

  'Yeah.' I read the note again. Melodramatic stuff, the kind of thing a teenage girl might've written. Sure, it could be genuine. And if I was right about her relationship with her father she could well be desperate enough to catch at any chance of escape that offered. Maybe that was why she'd come down to Marius's Carthage room that day, to check me out.

  There again, the girl might not have written the note at all. And the Janiculan at sunset would be the perfect place for a murder.

  'We'd better talk to the maid,' I said.

  She was no chicken, that was for sure: sixty if she was a day, and the motherly type. Her name was Brito.

  'It was on my advice, sir,' she said firmly. 'Completely. She's only thirteen.' Sweet gods alive! Was that all? She'd looked older than that: mid teens, anyway. 'I've been terrified for months now since the first time it happened that the poor thing would do away with herself when I wasn't there to stop her. She may yet.'

  'But why me?' I said. 'I never even spoke to the girl.'

  'We don't often get visitors, sir. And she told me you had a kind face.' I didn't dare look at Perilla. 'Will you help? Please?'

  She sounded genuine, I'd give her that. But even if she was...

  'Look, let's be sensible about this,' I said. 'Marius may be a bastard, but he's the girl's father. Her legal guardian. If I help her to escape it's tantamount to kidnapping a minor. You know what the penalty is for that?'

  'Why can't she just report him to the city judge?' Perilla said. 'Or have a member of her family do it for her?'

  'Because there isn't anyone, madam.' Brito was outwardly calm, but her hands twisted together in her lap. 'The master's a widower, she's an only child, and the rest of the family's in Spain. Besides, she's frightened. Ashamed, too.'

  'Shit, it's not her fault.' I stood up. 'I'll bring the charge myself. Once the authorities know what he's been up to the guy'll get a one way trip off t
he Tarpeian Rock with plenty of hands willing to do the shoving.'

  'Will he?' Brito said quietly. 'Are you sure, sir?'

  I sat down again. Yeah. She was right. Marius had everything going for him. He was socially respected, from a good provincial family, and a big wheel financially, not just in Spain but at Rome as well. Probably all over. And, most important of all, he was a pal of Sejanus's: protected – I'd used the word myself. Try to charge a guy like that with incest on a teenage girl's say-so and it wouldn't even make the courts. Worse, for the prosecutor it would be a direct ticket to an island.

  'We have to help,' Perilla said. 'She's just a child.'

  'Yeah, I know.' I sighed. 'But it isn't as simple as that. You say the family's in Spain?' Brito nodded. 'So she'd be our responsibility, at least for the time being. And like I say, it's kidnapping.'

  'Aunt Marcia would take her.' Perilla's courtesy aunt Marcia lived in retirement up in the Alban Hills near Caba. You didn't even see many goats, that far out.

  'Uh-uh,' I said. 'It's too risky.'

  'Marcus, please!'

  I'd never seen Perilla so upset. I swallowed.

  'Yeah, okay,' I said. 'We'll give it a try.'

  She hugged me. Brito was beaming.

  'You won't regret it, sir,' she said. 'I promise.'

  Maybe not. But I wasn't taking any bets.

  22.

  I wasn't taking any chances, either. This could still be a set-up. I rounded up four of my beefiest slaves (shades of the Sunshine Boys, but they'd long gone to flab) and made sure they each had a knife and a nice heavy stick with enough lead in the end to make a serious impression on anybody that got in its way. Then I stuck my own knife into its wrist-sheath and took my cavalry-length sword from its oilskin wrappings. All strictly illegal, of course, inside the city boundaries; but what we were planning was no evening stroll along the Saepta. And if Brito turned out not to be the kind-eyed old biddy she seemed and I got jumped –still a distinct possibility – then I wanted to be ready for the bastards.