Foreign Bodies

by David Wishart

  Jupiter; a lunch break? Things were certainly more laid back in the provinces than they would be at home. Still. ‘You know where I’d find him?’ I said.

  ‘Sure. He’ll be in the cookshop round the corner.’

  Yeah, well; that was a bit of good news, anyway. After a morning spent traipsing around Lugdunum I could do with something to eat myself. Even if I did have to pass up on the wine accompaniment. I nodded my thanks and went in the direction he pointed.

  The cookshop was halfway down the side street. I went in. Obviously a popular place, which was fair enough given that it was bang in the administrative centre of town. What few tables there were were pretty full, and most of the clientele looked like they were clerks from the nearby government offices. There was one guy, though, twenty max, dressed in a military uniform, sitting on his own at a table in the corner. I made my way to the counter, ordered up a plate of bean stew, and carried it over.

  ‘Titus Cabirus?’ I said.

  ‘Yes.’ He looked up in surprise. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘The name’s Corvinus. Marcus Corvinus. You mind if I join you?’

  Like most people I’d talked to that day, his eyes had gone to the stripe on my tunic.

  ‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘You’re the one from Rome, aren’t you? Looking into my father’s death?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right. I only wanted to introduce myself and have a quick word, that’s all. If you don’t mind.’

  ‘Of course not. Pull up a stool.’ I put my bowl of stew down on the table and sat. There were the remains of a plateful of sliced sausage in front of him. He took a piece and chewed. ‘So. When did you arrive?’

  ‘Yesterday. But I went round to your mother’s this morning. And I’ve talked to your Uncle Quintus.’

  He frowned. ‘You haven’t wasted much time, have you?’

  ‘True.’ I scooped up some of the beans with my spoon. They weren’t bad; cooked in a good stock, with sage, carrots and onion. No wonder the place was popular. ‘Still, it’s let me see a bit of the city. And I like to get things clear in my head as quickly as I can.’

  ‘If you’ve already talked to Mother then there’s not much I can tell you. I wasn’t home at the time. Not until sunset.’

  ‘So your mother said. You were on duty?’

  He hesitated. ‘Yes. Yes, I was.’

  ‘And you’ve no theories of your own?’

  Another frown. ‘Theories?’

  ‘About why your father was murdered. Who might’ve done it, even.’

  ‘No. It’s a complete mystery.’ He picked up another piece of the sausage. ‘There’s a man called Julius Oppianus who—’

  ‘Yeah, I know. I’ve seen him this morning too.’ Well, where the perp was concerned, as far as the vox pop. went Oppianus seemed to be up there on his own. Or at least his was the only name everyone had mentioned.

  ‘Gods, you have been busy.’

  ‘Actually, the interview didn’t take all that long. He practically threw me out after five minutes.’

  He grinned. ‘That’s Oppianus, all right.’

  ‘So.’ I lowered my eyes to my plate and took another spoonful of the stew. ‘What sort of man was he, in himself? Your father?’

  The barest smidgeon of hesitation. ‘He was OK.’

  ‘You got on well together?’

  ‘How do you mean?’ There was a definite edge to the question. ‘Why shouldn’t we get on?’

  ‘It’d be natural enough for there to be a bit of friction. You’re the elder son. He might’ve expected you to follow him in the business.’

  ‘Maybe he did, at first. But when I told him two years back I wanted an army career he didn’t make an issue of it. Besides, he had my Uncle Quintus. They were managing it pretty well between them. They didn’t need me.’

  ‘He told me you wanted to move to a legion eventually.’

  ‘Nothing secret about that. Or surprising.’ There it was again; I had the distinct impression that, as far as young Titus was concerned, his uncle wasn’t exactly flavour of the month and he’d prefer that I dropped the subject. Odd; Quintus Cabirus had seemed perfectly OK when I’d talked to him, and there hadn’t been any hint of friction with his nephew on his part. Quite the reverse. ‘I don’t want to spend the rest of my life here in Lugdunum. The army’s the best option.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ I spooned up more of the stew. ‘There’s nothing to keep you? Barring family?’

  ‘Such as what?’ A definite note of suspicion there.

  ‘I don’t know. Girlfriend, maybe?’

  ‘No. No one special.’ He was scowling now. ‘Look. What the hell does all this have to do with my father’s death?’

  ‘Nothing. Just making conversation.’

  ‘Then mind your own bloody business, OK?’

  Gods! ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. Maybe I was a bit out of turn.’

  He took a deep breath and shrugged. ‘Forget it; I’m sorry, too. No harm done.’ He stood up. ‘Now, I’m afraid I have to be getting back. I’ll see you around, Corvinus.’

  ‘Yeah. No doubt. Nice to talk to you.’

  He left.

  Parts of that had been curious. Very curious indeed. Whether or not they had anything to do with the case, mind, was another thing entirely.

  I finished up the bean stew and set off for home.

  SIX

  Evidently, with the governor away on walkabout, we had the residence to ourselves. Which sounds better than it was, because as I say the place had been built on, or adapted to, an imperial scale – or at least a provincial imperial scale, which wasn’t quite so grand – and I had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that we were rattling around like two dried peas in an empty bucket. A gold-plated bucket, mind, but still. Not that the place was empty, of course: even with the staff Gabinius had taken with him on tour and the local conventions re the employment of skivvies there was more bought help around than you could shake a stick at. As I mounted the steps at the front, the door-slave in his natty green tunic almost bounded off the stool he was sitting on and yanked the door open for me.

  ‘Thanks, pal,’ I said to him, and went inside.

  Bathyllus was waiting in the seriously large frescoed and mosaic-floored vestibule: evidently the move to foreign parts hadn’t adversely affected his skills in precognition any. No welcome-home cup of wine, mind; Bathyllus had had firm instructions from Perilla where that side of things was concerned, and no one – but no one – bucks the lady when she’s really set her mind on something.

  ‘Good afternoon, sir,’ he said. ‘Did you have a productive morning?’

  Smarm, smarm; the amount of oil in his voice would’ve kept a decent-sized bath-house going for a month. Bathyllus was vicariously enjoying this upgrade to a five-star lifestyle to the full, that much was obvious. Not that I hadn’t expected it: Bathyllus was to snobbery what fish sauce was to braised sturgeon, and my promotion to personal imperial rep, however temporary, put the cap on it. If that isn’t an unfortunate mixture of metaphors. He’d probably been waiting for an opportunity like this all his life.

  ‘Oh, hi, little guy,’ I said. ‘What happened to the local staff?’

  ‘The governor’s major-domo has accompanied him on his tour of the province, sir. We came to an arrangement before he left.’

  ‘“Arrangement”?’

  ‘I pointed out to him that, since you currently hold the rank of imperial procurator, your own major-domo should outrank his deputy. He appreciated my point of view at once.’

  I was grinning. I’d met the guy – his name was Euthymius – briefly the previous day, when we’d first arrived, and he’d definitely been the unassuming, inoffensive type. No match, in other words, for our Bathyllus on the make. If there had been a skirmish over roles and proper protocol – which I’d guess was likely as tomorrow’s sunrise – then Bathyllus wouldn’t even have had to break sweat. It was just lucky for Euthymius that he’d escaped when he did. Otherwise we might
be cleaning blood off the walls.

  ‘So,’ I said, ‘you’re in charge, right? Downstairs, I mean. For the duration.’

  ‘That is the case, sir.’ Smug as hell.

  ‘Fine.’ I handed him my cloak. ‘Congratulations. The mistress at home?’

  ‘No, sir. She went out just after you did. With the Lady Caninia and Domitius Crinas. I understand that they are making a tour of the local sights, plus a number of the better emporia.’

  I winced; Smarmer hadn’t wasted any time, had he? Still, you had to keep up appearances in front of the domestics. And at least, as I said, the lady would be chaperoned.

  ‘Great,’ I said.

  ‘Licinius Nerva, however, is waiting for you in the conservatory.’

  ‘Yeah? Where’s that?’

  ‘I’ll show you, sir. If you’d care to follow me.’

  I did, marvelling: set Bathyllus down in King Minos’s labyrinth and he’d know his way around it in ten minutes flat. He’d probably have the skivvies shovel up the Minotaur dung, hose down the floors, polish them till they shone, and make the brute wipe its hooves – or whatever – before he let it in again, into the bargain.

  The conservatory was at the back of the residence, forming a good half stretch of the northern end of the peristyle garden. Nerva was sitting in one of the wicker chairs under a potted palm, with a jug and assorted wine-cups on the small table beside him.

  ‘Ah, Corvinus,’ he said. ‘How did things go this morning?’

  ‘OK.’ I pulled up another chair, sat down, reached for the jug, and then remembered. Damn! ‘I made a start, anyway.’

  ‘You talked to Diligenta?’

  ‘Oh, yes. And to her sons. Quintus and Oppianus, too.’

  He laughed. ‘My, you have made a start! Any ideas?’

  ‘Not a lot, so far. We’re not at that stage yet. Mind you, I’m not as sure as you and the governor seem to be – or anyone else, for that matter – that Oppianus is in the clear. Far from it.’

  ‘Yes, well, if you’ve talked to him yourself I can see why you’d get that impression. Not an easy man to get along with, Julius Oppianus. If he wasn’t who he is he wouldn’t figure at all in the local community. But the Gauls are a very status-conscious race, family status-conscious, I mean, and where someone from Oppianus’s background is concerned they’re prepared to make allowances.’

  ‘Yeah. I can see that they’d have to,’ I said drily. ‘Incidentally, on that score I was wondering if you could give me the name of someone on the local side I could talk to. A colleague of Cabirus’s. Someone currently on the Council, for preference.’

  ‘No problems there. Your best bet’s Julius Biracus. He’s one of the two chief magistrates, house on Boundary Marker Street halfway to the Western Gate. He’s known the Cabiri ever since they came to Lugdunum.’

  I made a mental note. ‘So,’ I said, ‘what are Oppianus’s chances, actually? Of replacing Cabirus as officiating priest at the Assembly?’

  ‘Pretty good, especially with it being less than a month away. I don’t know if a formal decision’s been made – you can check with Biracus about that – but I’d say it’s pretty much certain. His grandfather having done the same job for the emperor’s father at the original dedication would weigh pretty heavily, too, particularly since it’s more than likely that Claudius will come over for the ceremony himself.’

  ‘Will he?’

  ‘I’d be surprised if he didn’t, what with the British campaign coming up, probably early next year. He’s a smart man, Claudius, and he knows how important the Assembly is to the Gauls. Not just here in Lugdunum, but all over. Plus, unlike his predecessor, he knows how to work a crowd when he wants something from them, and being a Lugdunan by birth, as it were, he’s off to a good start. Like the governor told you, we need all the goodwill we can get when it comes to screwing extra money and supplies out of the local population, which like it or not he’ll have to do if the thing’s going to happen. When he took over a year and a half ago the public treasury was looking pretty empty.’

  ‘You know that for a fact?’

  ‘Given that my father’s in charge of it, yes, I do.’

  Spoken off-handedly, and without a trace of side; top Five Hundred high-flyer was right. Yeah, well, he’d have to have some considerable clout, to be allowed to bring his wife out on what was presumably his first overseas posting, and a daddy who was top man at the Treasury would fit the bill nicely. Still, he wasn’t a bad guy, Licinius Nerva.

  ‘Besides.’ He picked up his wine-cup and took a sip. ‘There’s something funny going on at the moment, up nearer the Rhineland.’

  ‘“Funny”?’

  ‘Odd. Or there might be, rather, it’s that uncertain. Nothing serious, touch wood, but definitely something to keep an eye on, particularly since things might get a little sticky public relations-wise in the next few months.’

  ‘Namely?’ I said.

  ‘I’m sorry, Corvinus.’ He set the cup down again. ‘I’m telling tales out of school. No offence, but it’s none of your business, or your concern. To tell you the truth, it’s not properly mine, either. Forget that I spoke.’

  ‘Come on, pal! Spit it out or clam up, one or the other.’

  He hesitated, then shrugged. ‘Fair enough. You’re the emperor’s personal rep, and I’m sure the governor wouldn’t mind. In any case, how do I know what’s relevant or what isn’t where your job here’s concerned?’

  ‘True. If it’s any consolation, I have the same trouble deciding that myself.’

  ‘Very well, then. Someone may be – may be – trying to stir up trouble among the local tribes.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said: it’s not definite, no more than a rumour so far, and a faint one at that. And it’s not my – or even my governor’s – direct concern, because it only affects Belgica, and that’s Governor Hister’s patch. But it would make good political and strategic sense. If there were trouble of that kind before the British campaign got underway then troops would have to be deployed from the Rhine garrisons to deal with it. Which might well affect the emperor’s plans. You see?’

  Yeah, I did. Shit; it was Florus and Sacrovir all over again.

  ‘The thing is, we had a curious incident ourselves two months ago. Oh, just the one, there’s been nothing since. But the Belgic business put me in mind of it. And the governor, of course; Gabinius is no fool, and he’s careful. He has to be, in his job.’

  ‘What kind of incident?’

  ‘A dead wolf dumped overnight in the middle of Market Square.’

  ‘A wolf?’

  ‘You get them in the woods around here. They’re pretty common, particularly in the winter and early spring, when the game’s thin on the ground in the wilder parts and they come down from the mountains after the farm stock. But you see the implication; what could be the implication.’

  I nodded. Yeah; that much was obvious; it would be to any Roman. The wolf is Rome’s animal, as the eagle is Rome’s bird. A dead wolf, left in the middle of a Gallo-Roman town … well, work the metaphor out for yourself.

  ‘Of course,’ Nerva went on, ‘it could just have been a prank, and probably was. Gauls are really into practical jokes and cocking a snook at authority, and their sense of humour can be pretty gross. Anyway, we – the governor, I mean – decided to ignore it at the time; no point in stirring things by over-reacting, and after Gaius’s little PR exercise here two years back we’ve enough ruffled feathers locally to be going on with for a while. As you’ll have gathered from Laco, Gallic wounds take a while to heal.’

  ‘But now there’s the Belgic business, right?’

  ‘Yes. Which, like I say, might be nothing but a mare’s nest in itself. Like I say, forget I mentioned it. You’ve got your own problem to solve, and I’m probably jumping at shadows in any case.’

  ‘So what’s Gabinius—?’

  ‘Hello, Marcus. Did you have a successful morning?’

  I turned: Perilla was bac
k, with Caninia in tow. ‘Oh, hi, lady,’ I said. ‘Not too bad, thanks. How was yours?’

  ‘Very enjoyable. We didn’t do much, just pottered around the shops in the centre. Caninia took me to a little jeweller’s on the Hinge, and they had some lovely silver brooches. I got one for myself and another for Marilla, beautiful workmanship, and so cheap. Plus a few other bits and pieces.’

  Yeah, I’d bet: we’d probably need an extra luggage cart when the time came to go back home; when Perilla shops, she doesn’t pull any punches. Ah, well; at least I wasn’t directly involved.

  ‘That’s nice,’ I said. ‘How about Crinas? I understand he tagged on as well.’

  She coloured. ‘Not for the whole time. But yes, he did join us in the early stages.’

  Bathyllus was hovering, doing his perfect butler act. Perilla pulled up a chair.

  ‘Hello, Nerva,’ she said. ‘Bathyllus, a barley water and honey, if you would. Caninia, the same for you?’

  ‘Lovely.’ Caninia sat down in the chair next to Nerva’s while Bathyllus shimmered out. ‘So how is the murder investigation going, Valerius Corvinus?’ she said. ‘Do tell.’

  ‘Caninia, I thought we agreed—’ Nerva murmured.

  ‘No, that’s OK,’ I said. ‘Anyway, like I told you it’s very early days yet. I’ve seen Julius Oppianus and the family, just to talk to, but that’s about it.’

  ‘Oppianus is a real old snob, isn’t he?’ Caninia said. ‘Not to mention a complete crashing bore. I met him at one of those formal drinks-and-nibbles do’s just after Publius and I arrived, and all he wanted to talk about was how important his family had been before the Romans came, and how things have gone downhill in the district ever since. Not exactly Lugdunum’s most prepossessing citizen, is he, and he didn’t like poor Claudius Cabirus at all. Do you think he did it?’

  ‘Caninia!’ That was Nerva again, of course.

  ‘It’s a simple question, dear.’ She gave him a dazzling smile. ‘He is the most obvious suspect, after all.’

  ‘I’m sure Valerius Corvinus doesn’t need your opinion.’

  ‘I wasn’t giving an opinion. I was only asking.’