Sejanus (Marcus Corvinus Book 3)

by David Wishart

  Which brought us to the next problem.

  'Marcus, I'm coming with you,' she said.

  'Like hell you are!' Jupiter! Here we go again, I thought. I knew I'd lose in the end, but it was the principle of the thing.

  'Corvinus.' Perilla's voice changed to pure ice. 'You are not going on some nocturnal slash-and-bash this time.' Gods! Where did she pick up that language? Not from me, that was sure. 'The poor child will be nervous enough already, and to be lugged through the middle of Rome at night by four hulking Gauls and a stand-in for Spartacus won't help matters.'

  Yeah, well, she had a point. About the Gauls, anyway. 'Brito'll be with her, Perilla. And she said I had a kind face.'

  'Hah!'

  'Don't "hah!" me, lady! I know what I'm talking about here. This thing may be on the level, but if not you're a liability. I can't watch you and my back at the same time.'

  She sighed. 'Don't argue, please. And don't be ridiculous. We'll be taking a small army with us. Plus enough weapons to hold off every footpad in Rome. And I have infinite confidence in your abilities to maim in my defence should the occasion arise.'

  'Uh, yeah.' I wasn't quite sure how to take that last one. 'Still...'

  'Good. Then that's settled. We'll need both litters. And wrap up well, we don't want you clanking.’

  We left the litters on the path and stole across the rough ground to the corner of Marius's wall, both muffled to the eyeballs in heavy cloaks for extra secrecy. Personally I'd've thought two mysterious hooded figures crawling about the Janiculan in the dark with a ladder and four seriously-weaponed gorillas in tow would've looked suspicious enough for anyone, but then I felt pretty silly about this whole business. If you listened hard enough you could just about hear the squeak of the Alexandrian bodice-ripperist's stylus. It wasn't a full moon, anyway. That was a plus. Alexandrian novelists love full moons, but when you're being sneaky they can be embarrassing.

  When we got closer I could see why Marilla had specified the south-west corner of the garden. We wouldn't need the ladder. A fresh-fallen tree had knocked a major chunk of masonry down from the garden side, and what was left of the wall couldn't've been any more than six feet high, tops. Also, because the tree was still in place there were branches to clamber up on the other side.

  I motioned the Gauls to wait. 'Okay,' I murmured to Perilla. 'You want to go for it while I keep watch?'

  She nodded and put her mouth to the crack in the broken brickwork under the trunk. 'Marilla?' she whispered. 'Are you there?'

  There was a movement beyond the wall, and Brito's voice said:

  'We're here, madam, and ready. I'll help her up.'

  The tree branches rustled and the girl's face appeared through them. She looked like I'd imagine a dryad might: a lovely, dark-eyed dryad who was scared half to death and trying not to show it.

  'Valerius Corvinus?' she whispered.

  'Yeah, that's me, princess. Jump and I'll catch you.'

  'Let me just get Diana first.'

  'Who the hell's Diana?'

  'My sparrow.'

  Oh, yeah. The birdcage she'd been carrying when I first saw her on the balcony.

  'Gods alive! You got a menagerie waiting behind that wall, bright-eyes?'

  'Marcus!' Perilla snapped.

  'Yeah, okay.' I sighed. 'Go ahead, princess, let's have the sparrow. But just leave the pony behind, right?'

  The face disappeared and the branches rustled again. A moment later she was back with the wicker cage.

  'Can you reach if I hand her down to you?'

  'Sure.' I stretched up and took the cage. The bird fluttered. 'Okay. Now you.'

  She was feather-light, no heavier than a bird herself. Good bones. And she was trembling.

  'Don't worry, princess,' I said gently. 'That's you out for keeps now. Go with Perilla to the litter.'

  She went, and I handed Brito down with her bundle. It was comfortably small. At least she'd been sensible over the packing.

  'No problems?' I said.

  'No problems, sir. And the Three-Faced-Mother bless you.'

  'Sure.' I picked up the birdcage and gave it to one of the Gauls. 'Here, sunshine. You're in charge of pets. Guard it with your life.'

  . . .

  We lit the torches when we were well clear of the Marius place and headed for the Sublician and home: a litter without torchbearers stands out like a sore thumb on the night streets, and I didn't want to attract any attention either from would-be freelance entrepreneurs or the local Watch squaddies. Bathyllus had performed his usual psychic trick and was waiting for us at the door. I sent the Gauls off minus the birdcage to play with their marbles while Perilla sneaked Marilla inside suitably wrapped: Poplicolan Street was deserted, like it usually was at this hour, but there was no point in taking chances.

  When I came into the living-room myself, Marilla had just taken off her cloak.

  'I want to thank you, Valerius Corvinus,' she said in a precise voice. The scared look had gone, but she still looked pale. Beautiful, sure, but every inch a thirteen-year-old trying to act grown up. 'You too, Perilla. You could get into terrible trouble over this, I know.'

  'That's okay,' I said. 'Our pleasure. Don't give it another thought.'

  'Sit down and drink this, dear.' Perilla took the cup of hot honeyed wine from the tray Bathyllus was holding and gave her it. 'You're safe now.'

  Marilla sat down on the couch and cradled the cup in both hands, taking little sips. The grown-up image was evaporating fast, but she seemed more comfortable without it. Like it was something she was glad to be rid of.

  Suddenly she looked up.

  'Where's Diana?' she said.

  'Here.' Perilla set the cage on the table beside her. 'Safe as well. Brito, perhaps you'd like to go with Bathyllus to see about a bedroom.'

  'Everything's ready, madam.' The little guy was smiling; we'd told him the whole story before we left, and got his gracious approval. 'I've put our guest in the west wing. And the bed's been aired. Would you like some dinner?'

  'Marilla?' Perilla asked.

  'No. No, I'm not hungry.' The wine was doing its work and there was more colour in her face. 'Or tired. If I could just sit a while, perhaps?'

  She was like a kid asking for permission to stay up late. Perilla smiled.

  'Yes, of course, dear,' she said. 'As long as you like.'

  'I'll take your things upstairs anyway, mistress,' Brito said. 'You'll be all right while I'm gone?'

  'Oh, yes.' For the first time the girl tried a smile. 'Yes. Perfectly. Thank you.'

  The maid left with Bathyllus. I poured myself a cup of Setinian from the jug he'd brought with the honeyed wine and sat down on my usual couch. Perilla took the chair next to me.

  'How long have you had Diana?' she asked.

  'Only about two months. My last sparrow died. That was Sophocles, he was a male and I'd had him almost a year. Brito gave me Diana. She bought her in the market.' The girl paused. 'Perilla, what are you and Valerius Corvinus going to do with me?'

  The words had come out in a rush. Perilla waited a moment and then said: 'There's a very nice old lady called Marcia. She has a villa in the hills, and she's very fond of birds and children. She would be very glad to have you, for as long as you wanted to stay with her.'

  'She wouldn't mind that I've...' She made a slight movement with her hand. 'I mean that I'm not...'

  'No, dear,' Perilla said gently. 'She wouldn't mind that at all.'

  Jupiter, I'd get that bastard the Rock if it was the last thing I did! 'You have any family in Spain, Marilla?' I said. 'Someone we could get in touch with?'

  She hesitated. 'An uncle. Father's brother. I don't like him much.'

  'Anyone else?'

  'No. There's no one else.'

  Uh-huh. Well, scratch that one. I took a swallow of wine. We couldn't've risked contacting the uncle straight away in any case, but it would've been nice to know he was waiting in the wings. As it was, this looked like being a tough
one. 'Never mind, princess,' I said. 'It doesn't matter. And don't worry, we're not going to hand you over anywhere you don't want to go.'

  I could feel the tension go out of her, but she said nothing and sipped her hot drink. Then, suddenly, she yawned and covered her mouth, almost spilling the wine. Perilla reached forward and gently took the cup from her.

  'I'm sorry,' Marilla said. 'I think I may be tired after all. Do you think I could go to bed now?'

  'Of course.' Perilla was smiling. 'I'll show you where it is.'

  Marilla stood up to follow her, swaying slightly. Yeah, well, the poor kid had had an exciting evening, and the hot wine on top of it had obviously finished her off.

  'Sleep tight,' I said.

  'Thank you, Valerius Corvinus.' She smiled. 'I was right, wasn't I? Despite what Perilla said in the litter?'

  'Yeah? Right about what?'

  'You do have a nice face.'

  Perilla snorted, and I grinned. 'The best,' I said. 'I'll see you in the morning.'

  'Mmm.' She paused, her hand on the banister. 'Oh, I almost forgot, and it's important. Very important. I promised myself I'd tell you if I got the chance, because you looked like you'd care.'

  'Care about what?'

  'It's my father. He's planning to murder the emperor.'

  23.

  Jupiter! That was an exit line, if I'd ever heard one; but the kid was dead on her feet and it could wait till morning. I didn't sleep much that night, though. Nor did Perilla, although for different reasons. I felt her getting up two or three times – quietly, so as not to disturb me – and heard her padding off along the corridor towards the west wing: there's a squeaky board that way, and you can always tell. Marilla must've been tidily asleep, because she came straight back.

  I didn't raise the subject over breakfast, either, because the lady would've had my head. Marilla would tell me in her own time, no doubt, and then we'd decide what to do about it. The kid was looking a lot better this morning, anyway; brighter, and a more healthy colour. She could pack it away, too; I had to send Bathyllus off for a second cheese omelette and more bread rolls.

  I'd left the two of them alone and gone out to sit in the garden. It was an hour later when she finally came through, and she'd got her grown-up face on.

  'Valerius Corvinus?' she said.

  'Hi, princess. Everything okay?'

  'Yes. Yes, thank you.' She lowered her eyes. 'But I'd like to talk to you, please. About my father. And about what I said last night.'

  'Pull up a chair.' It was another beautiful spring day, and the flowers were out. Marcia's garden in the Alban Hills would be nice, now, as well.

  She sat down. 'Do you mind if I start at the beginning?'

  'Start any place you like. But don't feel you have to tell me everything, okay?'

  'No, that's all right.' Her eyes were still lowered. 'It doesn't only concern me.'

  I waited. Finally, she said: 'My father's mad. You know that, don't you?'

  'Uh, yeah...well...' That was putting it mildly, but I couldn't exactly say so.

  'He hates Rome. He hates Romans. Everything you've done, everything you are, everything you stand for. He told you, that day you came, that he had Carthaginian blood?'

  'Yeah.'

  'He's very proud of that. In fact, it's more important to him than anything else.' She paused. 'Except for me, of course. I was his Ta'anit-pene-Ba'al, his Face of the Lord. But you know that already, don't you?'

  I said nothing. She'd taken on that peaky, inward, too-old-for-her-years look she'd had the night before.

  'Did he tell you the myth of Keret?' She still wasn't looking at me.

  'Uh, yeah. He mentioned it, anyway.' I remembered the slab we'd been discussing when she'd come in: the old Phoenician carving showing a guy in a kilt carrying a knife.

  'Do you remember it?'

  'No. Not the details.'

  'Keret was the king of Sidon, the mortal son of the Great God El. His kingdom was attacked by the forces of the moon-god Terah. Keret tried to resist, but the moon-god's forces were too powerful for him, and he was defeated and his kingdom occupied. On El's orders he took a wife. He had a son by her: a magical son who sprang from her womb crying: "I hate the enemy!" And the son drove the moon-god's forces from the kingdom.'

  She'd recited it like she'd learned the thing by heart. Probably she had. A magical son, to drive the enemy from the kingdom. Sure. That made sense. And I could hear Marius now, talking about his daughter: 'She will breed perfect sons. Marvellous sons. Magical sons...'

  'Uh huh,' I said slowly. 'I understand. You don't have to say any more.'

  'It's all right.' Her fingers were picking at a stray thread in her tunic, and I noticed that the nails were bitten to the quick. 'There's a...special magical potency about a child got in incest. Or so Father thinks.' She finally looked up, and her eyes weren't those of a child now. 'He had his reasons, you see.'

  'Yeah. I see.' I did: Jupiter, the poor kid! She was right, the bastard was mad. Barking mad. He'd wanted to breed the Messiah from his own daughter in the belief that by doing it he'd throw us out of Spain. Africa. Wherever.

  Marilla was still picking at the thread. 'That was for the future,' she said. 'In the meantime he worked against Rome in any way he could. I don't know the details but he used to tell me bits of it. He wanted me to be proud, you see.' Her voice was bitter, and not young at all. 'He said he'd make you tear yourselves apart.'

  Yeah. And that's what we'd done. That's what we were still doing. We'd been doing it for years.

  'You have any names?' I asked gently. 'Names or faces? Of people your father's involved with?'

  'No.' She shook her head. 'Not many, anyway. In Spain there was a man called Seius Quadratus. An ex-slave, I think. He used to visit my father quite often. I called him Uncle Seius because he asked me to, but I didn't like him. He touched me.'

  I whistled silently. I'd never heard of the guy himself, but with that name he'd be a freedman of Tubero's. So. I'd got my link at the Spanish end. 'Anyone else?'

  'Not in Spain. There were others but I can't remember them. I was too young.'

  'Okay. How about here in Rome?'

  'We didn't have many visitors. There was Crito, of course, the man who came the same day you did. He came quite regularly, two or three times a month.'

  As soon as she said it I remembered. That was where I'd heard the name before. Just before I'd left, Marius's slave had told him that Crito was waiting to see him downstairs. He must've come straight round after murdering Celsus, and then gone out after me. And Festus had said that Tubero had used Crito in the past. Uh huh. So. Another link in the chain. I sat back.

  'Anything else you can tell me?' I said.

  Her brow furrowed. 'There was a soldier five years ago. A Gaul. Father gave him money, a lot of money. I don't know his name, but I think it was for giving evidence in one of the trials. I was only small at the time, but I remember because Father said the emperor was furious about it. He was so pleased that he bought me my first pony.'

  Aemilius. The guy who Lippillus had told me had insisted on repeating the slanders that had made the Wart lose his rag so spectacularly at the Montanus trial. Shit! I'd got Sejanus cold! At least as far as his involvement in the western scam went. And when Tiberius found out his buddy had been behind that bit of bad-mouthing he'd feed him to the lampreys personally.

  Marilla was looking at me anxiously: a child with too-old eyes, desperate for praise. 'Does this help?' she said. 'I'm sorry, I can't tell you much more.'

  'Yeah, princess. It helps. It helps a lot. Thanks. Now what's this about your father planning to kill the emperor?'

  She squirmed in her chair. 'I don't know much about that, just the plain fact. He isn't going to do it himself, but he's in touch with the people who are.'

  'Tiberius is on Capri. He has been for years.'

  'Yes. I know. But I don't think that matters.'

  I stared at her. Capri was like a fortress, naturally
defended, with just one possible landing place. Nobody got in or out without Tiberius knowing about it, and with his permission. And of course everyone who was there already had been carefully vetted six ways from nothing; the paranoid old bugger made sure of that. So if it didn't matter that the Wart was squirrelled away in his self-constructed bastion then Marius – Sejanus – must have someone in place on the inside. And in that case we were looking at a whole new can of worms.

  'You know when this is supposed to happen?' I asked casually.

  'Yes. The twenty-eighth of July.'

  I goggled. 'The twenty-eighth of July? Jupiter, you know the date?'

  She nodded. 'Father said it was a lucky omen. The twenty-eighth of July was the day the Romans were beaten at Amtorgis.'

  'You don't say?' Yeah, well, history never was my strong point. 'Remind me about that, will you?

  'Amtorgis is a place in the Baetis valley,' she said carefully, like a schoolgirl repeating a history lesson of her own. 'The battle happened in Carthage's second war with Rome after the Spanish troops in the Roman army went over to the Carthaginians. Your general Publius Scipio was killed, his army was destroyed, and you lost all of Spain south of the Ebro.'

  Uh-huh. I could see how the symbolism of that little anniversary would appeal to a nationalistic screwball like Marius. I'd noticed the 'you' from Marilla, too. Well, it was how the kid had been brought up, I supposed. If you can call what she'd been through bringing up. The twenty-eighth of July was a whole three months away, sure, but that didn't necessarily make things any easier.

  'Marilla,...' I began. Then I looked up. Perilla was coming towards us through the portico. She looked frightened. Badly frightened.

  'Marcus,' she said quietly, 'I think you'd better come. It's your Uncle Cotta.'

  Cotta was standing in the atrium.

  'Hey, Cotta, how're things?' I said; and then I saw what Perilla had meant. His thin, weaselly face was pale. Either with fright, or fury, or possibly both.

  It was both.

  'Marcus,' he said, 'what the hell have you been doing?'

  I temporised. 'Uh...how do you mean?' Shit! We'd been rumbled! I'd known this would happen. I just hoped there were enough honest men left at the top to give me a fair hearing, because if I couldn't successfully plead extenuating circumstances for kidnapping Marius's daughter then I was dead. Maybe literally.