'Yes, sir.' He stood up and looked towards the living-room door which opened on to the empty lobby. What I'd assumed was the empty lobby. Then he said, in a louder voice: 'We're ready for you now, sire.'
30.
I was standing myself as he came in. If I'd known I'd be entertaining royalty I would've put on a mantle and got Meton to lay on cakes. Bathyllus would kick himself when he found he'd slept through this; a visit from a genuine Caesar would've satisfied the little snob's society cravings for the next five years.
'Valerius Corvinus!' The emperor's grandson strode across the room with his hand outstretched. 'How very lovely to meet you! I'm sorry about the unorthodox circumstances, but I thought I'd come and thank you personally.'
'Uh...sure,' I said. 'Don't mention it.' Not the most original of lines, but what can you expect under the circumstances?
Not a good-looking young man, Gaius Caesar. In fact he reminded me of a tall balding goat: hairy in all the wrong places with a face like he'd been sat on hard as a baby. He was beaming as he shook my hand.
'What a beautiful lobby you have,' he said. 'Most...ah...lobby-like.'
'Yeah. Yeah, it's okay.' I remembered, right at the last moment, to close my mouth when I'd finished using it. 'Would you care to sit down?'
'Thank you.' He threw himself into the other chair. 'Is that wine over there by any chance?'
'Sure.' I reached for the jug, but Felix beat me to it.
'Allow me, sir,' he said, and poured. The perfect butler. Eat your heart out, Bathyllus! I thought.
Gaius lifted the cup. 'Thanks, ah...'
'Felix, sire.'
'Of course. Felix.' He turned to me. 'What do you think of my two spies, by the way, Corvinus?'
'I'm impressed.' I looked at Felix. He smirked.
Gaius was nodding. 'They do a good job,' he said. 'Mind you we had a terrible time dragging...Lamprus, isn't it?' He gave Felix an enquiring glance and got a nod in return. 'Dragging Lamprus away from his damned library and persuading him to help. These academics are such stick-in-the-muds, aren't they? And once they decide to write a treatise they simply will not take a holiday!'
'Ah...treatise?' I looked at the man-mountain in sudden horror.
'You mean you didn't know? He didn't tell you?' Gaius was grinning. 'Oh, how simply marvellous! What was its title again, Lamprus?'
'"On the Concept of Being and Non-Being as expressed by the Milesian Philosophers", sire,' Lamprus said. 'And I don't happen to like holidays all that much.'
I goggled at him. 'Being and Non-Being?' I said.
'To on kai to mé on, if you want the Greek, sir.' The mound of hair and muscle chuckled into its beard. 'I'm afraid I was playing a joke on you, even if it did serve as a little practical experiment as well. Very childish, of course, but I couldn't resist it. You have my apologies.'
'That’s okay.' I sat down and poured myself a cup of wine. 'Forget it.' Jupiter! They certainly made a pair, these two. Whoever the hell they really were.
Gaius was swinging his leg over the chair-arm, perfectly at ease. 'Now we've got that cleared up,' he said, 'perhaps we'd best get down to business. I really am grateful to you. Terribly grateful.'
'From the sound of it you were doing okay on your own, sir.' I took a deep swallow. Maybe things would seem more normal if I was drunk.
He smiled. 'Oh, we weren't doing too badly. We knew Sejanus was hatching a plot, of course, but we didn't know the precise details because we started at the other end and found ourselves up against a blank wall.' He took a swallow of his own wine. 'Mmm! This Setinian is rather good. Much better than Grandma Antonia's.'
'Help yourself.' I indicated the jug. 'A blank wall?'
'Our sources told us that Sejanus had co-opted a slimy little ex-city judge called Paconianus and his friend Latiaris to destroy me with Grampa Tiberius, but that was as far as we could get. The pair have been so careful over the arrangements you wouldn't believe! Very frustrating!'
Latiaris. Now that name rang a bell. Felix was looking at me, an expectant smile on his face. Who the hell was...?
Of course! 'Latiaris was one of the four who set up Titius Sabinus!' I said.
'Quite right, sir!' Felix beamed at me like I was a performing monkey who'd finally managed to perform. 'Oh, well done! I knew you'd get there eventually. You see my reasons for mentioning the name now?'
'Sure.' Gods, what an idiot! I'd taken it from the wrong end myself. Felix hadn't been pointing me at Sabinus per se after all, he'd wanted me to think about the prosecutors. And I hadn't, because like the accusers in all the trials they'd simply been 'friends of Sejanus'. 'Next time just draw me a picture, pal. That way something might get through.'
'Actually, it was quite lucky you didn't solve Felix's little clue,' Gaius said. 'As I say, Paconianus and Latiaris were being terribly careful. You might have traced a link between them and Servaeus, but I doubt it. Instead working from the other end you've given us all the information we didn't have. Not only about the precise nature of the plot but also the name of the assassin and the date. Personally I think that's first-rate, my dear, and so much better than just finding mouldy old Paconianus.'
'There's more good news,' I said. 'You needn't worry about Silanus any longer. The guy's bowing out.'
Gaius's interest sharpened. 'You're sure about that?' he said.
'Yeah.' I told him about our interview.
'So Silanus thought he was doing it for me?' The prince frowned. 'A dreadfully stupid man, isn't he? And a positive danger.' He and Felix exchanged glances. Lamprus had glazed over; probably he'd decided the conversation wasn't stretching enough and had gone back to solving the problem of human existence.
Something touched the hairs on the back of my neck. 'Appius Silanus is no intellectual giant, sure,' I said carefully. 'But his heart is in the right place. And he knows better now.'
'Yes, that's true.' The smile was back. 'Perhaps you're right, Corvinus. I'll think about it. The date, by the way, is interesting.'
'Yeah?' I took a swallow of wine. 'How's that?'
'You know that I've been living in poor but honest obscurity with my grandmother since the old empress died?' I nodded. 'Well, Sejanus has been dropping hints that I might be invited to Capri shortly, and on a permanent basis.'
'Uh huh.' He was right, that was interesting. 'Did he give a reason?'
'Oh, yes.' Gaius threw an arm over the back of his chair. 'He said that Grampa Tiberius felt he should have his beloved family around him in his declining years. Such of them as he'd left alive and at liberty, at least. And that I'd be much more...comfortable was the word he used, on Capri than at Rome. For which, of course, read isolated from my treasonous friends and wellwishers.'
'So the plan was that you arrive on Capri, closely followed by Silanus with his poison-pen letter. He tries to stab the Wart and then says he did it all for you.' I nodded. 'Yeah. That fits in nicely.'
'It does. Sejanus would have me bang to rights, as I believe they say. Caught' – Gaius gave a shudder – 'in fragrante delicto, and ripe for the plucking. Nasty but neat. Oh, dear, the man really is such a clever bastard, isn't he?'
'Yeah.' I was thinking hard. 'Yeah, he is. Still, it may solve one problem.'
'Oh? And what's that?'
'My ticket to Capri.'
'But why should you want to go to –?' Gaius's brow cleared. 'Oh. Yes, but of course you would. I'm sorry. Now I'm the one who's being stupid.'
Uh-uh; that I wouldn't believe. Prince of the Blood or not, Gaius was a smart cookie. He just didn't look very far outside his own interests.
'I've got everything now,' I said. 'Or at least I think I have. In any case, it's all I'll get. My only problem is delivering it to the emperor, and I have to do that personally.'
'Part of your agreement with Great-Granny Livia, I suppose?' He smiled. 'Oh, Corvinus, don't look at me like that, my dear! Of course I know! The old harpy told me about it herself years ago.'
'She told you?'
> 'Oh, yes. We used to have such cosy chats about all sorts of things after Mother was exiled and she became my guardian. After all, if I was to be emperor one day I had to know what was going on, didn't I?'
'You...ah...you're going to be emperor,' I said as neutrally as I could manage.
'But naturally!' Gaius's eyes widened. 'At the very least! I've known that since I was a child.'
'"At the very least"?' I glanced at Felix, but he was carefully looking the other way. Lamprus was still communing with the celestial spheres. 'Uh...correct me if I'm wrong, sir, and no offence, but I sort of thought being emperor was top of the ladder.'
'Not in my case.'
'Ah.' Jupiter with little bells on! And Lippillus had said his brother Drusus was the crazy of the family! 'Fine, fine.'
'Besides,' Gaius went on, 'Thrasyllus said so. About the emperor part, anyway. And Thrasyllus isn't wrong, ever.'
Oh, yeah. The Wart's tame astrologer, the one Livia had been so impressed with. I edged my chair back a little. If the guy started talking about little green worms coming up through the floor I wanted room to move.
'Did Thrasyllus give you a date for this?' I said carefully.
'No, the old meanie. And he wouldn't say how long I'd last or who'd come after me, either. I told him I'd hand him over to the torturers and have them crack his crystal balls for him unless he made that my accession present, but he just said he'd be dead himself by then so I could do what I liked and sucks to me.' Gaius laughed. 'It's all silly. Don't let's talk about it. Now. How are we going to get you into Capri?'
My brain had gone numb. 'Capri?'
He sighed and held out his cup. Felix rushed over with the wine. 'Corvinus, now don't you go stupid on me, dear! You were the one who mentioned the place, after all. You'll need a passport, of course, and you can't go as yourself, not with this treason thing. And an ordinary slave or freedman is really out, because you're so obviously Roman-stroke-Italian the guards wouldn't be fooled for a moment. Felix?'
The little guy was topping up my cup on the rebound.
'A consultant of some kind, sire?' he said. 'One of your personal retinue?'
'Mmm. That's a possibility.' Gaius took a reflective sip of his wine. 'A hairdresser, say. My professional hair stylist. Sejanus would love that, he's always getting nasty digs in with Grampa about me being too soft.'
'That would be admirable, sire,' Felix said.
They were both looking at me like I was the ape in Lucullus Gardens. I cleared my throat.
'Yeah,' I said. 'Okay. Whatever. So long as you don't expect me to do any barbering.'
'My dear man, I wouldn't let you anywhere near my hair!' Gaius chuckled. 'Very well. That's settled. I'll make the arrangements when necessary, and Felix will be in touch.' He stood up. 'Now we'd better be getting back, I suppose. Grandma Antonia will be worrying.'
'I'm sorry, sire,' Felix murmured. 'One more thing. You were going to tell Valerius Corvinus about...' He paused.
'What? Oh. Oh, yes. Silly of me. Our most recent acquisition.' Gaius set his cup down on the table. 'You said you had everything you were going to get for Grampa, Corvinus. Not so, my dear, not so at all, not by a long chalk. I really think you should talk to the cook at...' He turned to Felix. 'Where is the place?'
Felix smiled at me. 'The Plum Tree, sir. It's a wineshop off Cattlemarket Square, near the Temple of Fortune.'
'Yeah. I know the district,' I said. 'A talk about what?'
'The man's name is Lygdus,' Gaius said. 'And you'll come as a surprise to him, by the way, because he doesn't know we've dug him up, so do tread very carefully, won't you, love?'
'Sure.' The name didn't ring any bells at all, not even faint ones. 'You want to tell me who he is?'
'No.' Gaius smiled slightly. 'We'll leave that part as a surprise. A sort of thank-you present for services rendered. Don't mention my name, or Felix's, just get him somewhere he can't run and whisper one word to him. I think you'll enjoy the result.'
'Yeah? And the word?'
The prince's smile broadened.
'Stibium,' he said.
I got him to repeat it, but I'd heard it clear enough the first time.
'And what the hell is stibium when it's at home?'
'You don't know, Corvinus? Then think of it as another surprise. Lygdus certainly will.'
31.
I felt a bit chary about walking the streets during daylight hours, especially since to get to Cattlemarket Square I'd have to go past the centre of town, but I kept to the alleyways on the river side of Tuscan Street where you're about as likely to see a pig playing a tambourine as a striped mantle. The Plum Tree wasn't easy to spot, but I finally tracked it down: a scabby-looking cookshop squeezed between a pork-butcher's that seemed to deal mostly in fly-covered tripe and a tenement I didn't dare lean against in case I knocked it over. There were no customers outside, which didn't say much for the culinary standards or the quality of the wine. I couldn't see any sign of the eponymous tree either, but there was a stump of wood sticking out of the pavement by the door so maybe they'd just kept the name for luck. It sounded better than the Wall-Eyed Sicilian, anyway, which from the look of the owner was another possibility.
The guy with the strabismus was shifting the grease on an outside table with a rag that might've started life as a breech-clout. When he saw me hovering he came over so fast that he blurred. Business must be bad right enough.
'You want to sit inside, sir?' he said. 'Pork liver rissoles, fresh today. Best Himeran wine, five years old.'
I took out my purse. 'Maybe later, friend,' I said. 'After I've seen your kitchen.'
He stared at the coin I held up –it would've paid for a meal three times over, easy – and his jaw dropped.
'You what?' he said.
I gave him my best smile. 'Call it a hobby. Some people look at statues, some people collect paintings. Me, I like looking round kitchens.'
The Sicilian gave me a hard stare, then shrugged, put the cloth down and held out his hand.
'Suit yourself,' he said. 'Follow me.'
'There's more.' I didn't move. 'I like to look at them alone, in private, and for an indefinite amount of time. Without interruptions.'
The wall-eye shifted. 'You serious?'
'Sure. I find it's much more satisfying that way. It conserves the ambience.'
His good eye was still on the coin. 'Shit!' he murmured. 'Capuans!'; then: 'Go ahead, pal, straight through the back. Don't mind me, I just own the place. Take as long as you like and enjoy.'
'Thanks.' I flipped him the silver piece and went inside.
There weren't any customers there, either, and from the looks of the room I wasn't surprised. Even the punters who hang around Cattlemarket Square have some standards, and they'd have to be drunk or desperate to patronise the Plum Tree. Cockroaches scuttled off the tables in dozens as I came in, but maybe they weren't so choosy. I followed my nose. Kitchen this way.
A tall thin guy was frying rissoles on a skillet. He turned round.
'Lygdus?' I said.
The skillet rang on the floor. He stared at me, his eyes wide.
'The name's Myron,' he said at last.
Too late, too nervous. 'Sure,' I said, 'and I'm Cleopatra's grandmother.' I'd already checked the place out. I was standing right across the only exit, and there was no one else here but us, the rissoles and the cockroaches. 'You and me are going to have a little talk, friend. About something called stibium.'
It must've meant more to him than it did to me, because his eyes went up under the lids and he crumpled. I stayed put in case it was a trick, but he was out for the count. I moved over to him, lugged him onto a stool, and slapped his cheek.
'Come on, pal,' I said. 'Wake up.' I noticed an old slave mark on his forearm: the initials DC.
His eyelids flickered open and he wet his lips with his tongue.
'How did you find me?' he whispered.
'Call it divine intervention. You okay now?'
&n
bsp; 'Yes.' He was shaking so hard his teeth were rattling. 'How did you know? It's been...' He swallowed, and the whites of his eyes showed again.
I had to go easy here. Damn Gaius, he could at least have given me some sort of a hint, but the name Lygdus and this whacky stibium stuff was it. If the word was Latin I'd never heard it, but probably it was one of the considerable number of Greek words that I still didn't know even after ten years of being bored to death by Perilla's philosopher pals. Sure, the guy was terrified and he had beans to spill. Trouble was, I hadn't the slightest idea what jar they came from.
'Never mind how,' I said. 'I know. And the emperor's going to find it pretty interesting too when I tell him.'
He gave me a look of pure horror. 'You'd tell Tiberius? Please, sir, it wasn't my idea, I only did what I was told. It was Eudemus and the mistress.'
Eudemus? Who the hell was Eudemus? A Greek, sure; but freedman? Slave? And the mistress... I tried not to let the puzzlement show in my face, but I needn't've worried: Lygdus was past playing games. The guy was in shock.
'Eudemus said there was no way of detecting it,' he said. 'None! He wasn't even suspected, none of us were, the death was put down to natural causes.' He was practically babbling. 'How can anyone know now, after eight years?'
I sat back, my brain numb. That made two of us in shock now. Oh, shit. Oh, Jupiter Best and Greatest. The mistress. Death by natural causes. Eight years. DC. All that could add up to just one thing.
He was talking about the Wart's son Drusus.
While he gibbered away I tried to remember what I knew already. Drusus had suffered from a chronic illness, something intestinal that had nearly carried him off ten years before. He'd survived that bout, only to succumb to a second attack two years later, and everyone had believed – still believed – that the death was natural. There was no question of poison at the time or subsequently, not so much as a hint or a wineshop rumour; I remembered Lippillus saying that when we'd first talked two months ago. Only now it transpired that the guy had been murdered after all. More: from Lygdus's mention of the mistress one of the murderers had been his wife Livilla. Who, much later and after a great deal of badgering on the Wart's new deputy's part, had finally been betrothed to Sejanus...
Sejanus (Marcus Corvinus Book 3) Page 21