Foreign Bodies

by David Wishart

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Some of the rumours mention a druid.’

  Oh, shit; again, particularly after that conversation with Nerva, I could see why worrying was an understatement. ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Like I say, the information comes from rumours, not factual reports, let alone records of sightings. But just the thought it might be true makes my skin crawl. Those bastards are pure poison, they’re attracted to trouble like vultures to rotten meat, and if you want to whip up support for a revolt among the local peasantry then bringing in a druid is the best way to do it. They’re almost impossible to find, too, let alone catch and kill, even if you know for certain they’re there, because no Gallic peasant is going to risk a druid’s curse by giving him away, even these days.’

  ‘They’re that uncivilized round about here?’

  ‘Corvinus, you go ten miles off the main road – less – into the sticks and most of the people you meet won’t have changed the way they live since old Julius’s day. Which means, in effect, more than nine-tenths of the tribe.’ Yeah, right: I remembered my goat-herder pal. ‘The only time they come into town, any town, not even a city like Augusta – if they ever do – is once every two or three months, to sell their produce or get what they need. And even then they do it through barter, not purchase. Oh, there’s been a clampdown on druids since the Divine Augustus’s day, of course there has, but there are plenty still around in the wilder parts of the country. And of course Britain is heaving with them. That’s another reason Claudius is so keen to invade, to stamp the buggers out at source. And, naturally, why they in turn have a vested interest in stopping him.’

  ‘You think it’s a concerted plan, then?’

  ‘I’m certain it is. Clever, too. The emperor will need at least four legions for the campaign plus the equivalent number of auxiliaries, they’ll all have to come from the Rhine force, which means almost half its strength, and even if he tries to plug the gaps by recruiting or bringing in troops from elsewhere it leaves us spread very thinly. Too thinly to spare the men needed to put the revolt down, as happened in Florus’s day. Claudius couldn’t risk leaving that much danger behind him. At best, he’d have to make do with a smaller force, which would jeopardize the invasion’s success, or delay things until the Rhine garrisons were more up to strength; at worst, he’d have to cancel the campaign altogether.’

  I sat back. Jupiter and all the holy gods! No wonder the guy was chewing his nails!

  ‘So how does this affect me?’ I said.

  ‘I told you; it doesn’t, not as far as I know. But that isn’t much, and like I said I don’t trust coincidences. We don’t have murders in Augusta, and although I can’t see why the Drutus business should be connected it’s just possible that it is. So keep what I’ve told you in mind, all right? And don’t spread it around, either, because that’ll only make matters worse. For your ears only, remember.’

  ‘You’ve got it.’

  ‘So. How are things going otherwise?’

  ‘Not well. The Drutus part of things … well, I’m not exactly played out there at present, although the options are fairly limited. The girlfriend wasn’t a great deal of help, as you know, but I might have a word with the owner of the tavern where the guy’s servant put up, see if he let slip anything useful. It’s a long shot, I know, but it’s all I have for now.’

  ‘Oh, that reminds me.’ Balbinus reached into his belt-pouch. ‘The coin Severa gave you.’ He took it out and handed it to me. ‘It’s definitely British, minted by a King Commius of the Atrebates tribe about forty years back. Or so one of my extremely knowledgeable clerks tells me.’

  ‘British, right?’ I looked at the coin again. ‘Significant, you think, in the light of events?’

  ‘That was my thought. It could be, of course, though in what way I’m not sure.’

  ‘Hmm.’ I slipped the coin into my own pouch. ‘I’ll see that Severa gets it back. If that’s OK with you?’

  ‘Perfectly. It’s your case, handle it as you please. The other side of things, the Cabirus business. No joy there either, I assume? I’m afraid I can’t report any success in finding you an informant myself.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I shifted on the stool. ‘That doesn’t surprise me; you’d have the same trouble I did. Comes of being Roman. Still, that’s not a total washout. I’ve had an offer of help from one of the native merchants. A guy called Segus. Segomarus.’

  ‘Segomarus?’ Balbinus frowned. ‘I don’t think I know him.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t. He arrived with us, but he’s not a regular. First time here, seemingly. He’s from Burdigala.’

  ‘Is he, by Jove? That’s right the other side of the country. What’s he doing in Augusta?’

  ‘Boning up on wine production and marketing with a view to developing Burdigala as the wine centre of the west. Or so he says. He comes from a family of wine shippers.’

  ‘And he’s offered off his own bat to help you get information about the Cabiri?’ Balbinus was still frowning. ‘Corvinus, you know your business best, of course, but if it were me I’d be asking what his motivation is. Altruism isn’t a very highly developed trait among Gaulish merchants, particularly when it’s shown towards Romans.’

  I grinned. ‘Don’t teach your grandmother to suck eggs, pal,’ I said. ‘The thought had crossed my mind. Still, like I say it’s all I’ve got at present, and I’ll take it and be grateful, thank you.’

  ‘Fine.’ He shrugged. ‘Oh, one more thing before I let you get on. Nothing whatsoever to do with either of the cases.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘It occurred to me that I’d been very remiss in my duty where your wife was concerned. It can’t be much fun for the poor lady to be stuck here without any women friends. And of course it’s not quite right for her to be going around the city unchaperoned apart from her maid, either.’

  Well, I’d agree with him there, particularly with Smarmer dancing attendance at every available opportunity. Not that, the good doctor aside, Perilla would think in those terms, mind: she kept a careful distance from the usual society bubbleheads back home, and given the choice between having one foisted on her to keep her entertained out here and going her own way she’d choose the latter every time.

  ‘So what do you suggest?’ I said.

  ‘Well, I was talking to Julius Secundus yesterday. He’s a member of the local senate, bit of a dry old stick – he’s sixty, if he’s a day – and it occurred to me that his wife might be willing to take Rufia Perilla under her wing, as it were, while she’s here.’

  ‘Ah … right,’ I said cautiously.

  He must’ve noticed the tone, and no doubt the look on my face, because he laughed. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Corvinus,’ he said. ‘Secundus may be a dry old stick but Julia Optima most certainly is not. She’s a good twenty-five years younger than he is, and distinctly, ah’ – he paused – ‘feisty. It’s no secret who rules the roost in that household, and it isn’t poor Secundus, bless him. Still, having met your wife I think the two would get along splendidly. What do you think yourself?’

  That sounded better. Mark you, if the lady was as feisty as Balbinus said she was then there was always the risk of a major personality clash. If she set her mind to it, Perilla could be hell on wheels to get on with. Still …

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘We’ll give it a try.’

  ‘Splendid! If Julia Optima agrees then I’ll ask her to call in at the residence after breakfast tomorrow morning, if that’d be suitable.’

  ‘Great. I’m sure it would be.’ I stood up. ‘Thanks, Balbinus.’

  ‘Don’t mention it. I’m just sorry I didn’t think of it before.’

  ‘Oh.’ I paused on my way to the door. ‘One last thing. The address of the tavern that Drutus and the servant were staying in.’

  ‘Yes, of course, you’ll need that, won’t you? It’s easy to find. Just by the amphitheatre, hard by the gate in the wall. You can’t miss it, it’s the only one in that part of town.’
/>   ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Thanks again.’

  I left.

  SEVENTEEN

  As per our new bargain, Bathyllus was waiting in the residence’s lobby with the welcome-home cup of wine. I took off my cloak, handed it to him, and carried the wine-cup through to the atrium.

  Perilla was lying on one of the couches, reading a book roll. She looked up, saw the wine, and said: ‘Hmm.’

  ‘Cut it out, lady!’ I stretched out on the couch opposite her and set the cup on the table beside me. ‘I’ve had one cup of wine today. One! And that was hours ago.’ A slight exaggeration, but still.

  ‘I wasn’t criticizing, dear, only observing.’

  ‘Yeah. Right.’

  ‘And congratulations, by the way. You’re doing excellently. Very abstemious.’ I grinned and took a sip. ‘So. How was your day? Any luck?’

  ‘In a way.’ I told her about Segomarus’s offer.

  She frowned. ‘Are you sure that’s such a very good idea? You don’t know the man at all, do you? How do you know he’s reliable? Or even honest?’

  I told her exactly what I’d told Balbinus. ‘I don’t. Far from it. But I’m getting nowhere fast on my own, and it’s likely to stay that way. Beggars can’t be choosers, and I need all the help I can get.’

  ‘If you say so, Marcus. Still, I do wonder if he has some sort of ulterior motive for volunteering.’

  ‘He might well have. In fact, I think it’s more than likely. But I’m not going to find out what that is unless I play along, am I? And if he is on the level then what have I got to lose?’

  ‘Hmm.’ A different hmm this time, contemplative rather than disapproving. ‘Very well. But be careful.’

  ‘Aren’t I always?’ She sniffed. ‘Anyway, the Cabirus problem is taking a back seat at the moment.’ I told her what Balbinus had said about the agent provocateur and the druid; he’d told me not to spread it around, but I reckoned Perilla was safe enough.

  Her eyes widened.

  ‘But that’s dreadful!’ she said. ‘He really thinks there might be trouble?’

  ‘It’s a definite possibility, yes.’

  ‘And that there could be a connection with the Drutus murder?’

  ‘Again, it’s possible. Murders just don’t happen here, seemingly, and it’s too much of a coincidence to dismiss out of hand, particularly since there doesn’t seem to be a reason for this one. Apropos of which, the implication is that the perp wasn’t a local. Not a real local, I mean.’

  ‘Who, then?’

  I shrugged and took a sip of the wine. ‘Could be anyone,’ I said. ‘There’re enough outsiders around. Our pal Segomarus, for one, since we’re obviously having doubts about him already. Motive aside, I could make some sort of a case.’

  ‘Namely?’

  ‘If he was the perp then it’d be sensible by his lights to make contact – friendly contact – because he’d know I was looking into the business. That was curious enough in itself, if you like. The only other time we’d met, if you can call it meeting, at the baths in Lugdunum, he made it clear by the way he acted that he wanted nothing to do with me. Oh, sure, he explained it away by saying he was rushing off to the latrine to answer a sudden call of nature, but that could easily be pure hogwash. And on the trip through from Lugdunum young Titus Cabirus said he didn’t speak Latin, which was complete garbage.’ I frowned. ‘That was another curious thing. Either Titus was lying for reasons I can’t fathom or it was an impression the guy wanted to create himself. Only then, of course, he had to back-track if he wanted to get pally with me. He had a pretty lame excuse for that side of it, as well.’

  ‘That’s as may be, dear, but your Segomarus couldn’t possibly be the murderer.’

  ‘Yeah? How do you make that out?’

  Perilla sighed. ‘Marcus, he arrived with us. That was the previous afternoon, only hours before the murders. And he’s a complete stranger; you said this was his first visit to the province.’ I hadn’t, and to be fair he hadn’t, in so many words, either, but it was a reasonable assumption: even if he’d been fudging, Balbinus hadn’t heard of the guy, and he’d know the regular merchants both here and in Durocortorum, if not personally then at least by name or reputation. ‘He wouldn’t have had either the time or the knowledge to set things up. Besides, how could he have had any connection at all with Drutus, which he’d need if he wanted an excuse for decoying him outside the city walls after dark? Let alone to furnish a reason for killing the man in the first place? Assuming he’s telling the truth about Burdigala and the wine-growing side of things – and you’ve no reason to disbelieve him there, because there’s nothing to suggest he isn’t, quite the contrary – he would have come the southern route across Gaul to Massilia. Nowhere near Durocortorum, where Drutus was based. And Drutus, according to Balbinus, confined his trading to this north-east corner. I’m sorry, there are just too many objections for the theory to make sense.’

  Bugger; she was right. Even so …

  ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Leave all that for the moment. Let’s take it from the other end, Drutus himself. The more that you think about the guy, the more of a puzzle he is.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘On the face of it, he’s an ordinary merchant, right? We’ve got Balbinus’s personal assurance on that. Nothing special; trades in hides between Durocortorum and here, then up to the Rhine border and the garrison at Moguntiacum.’

  ‘Yes. So?’

  ‘So out of the blue he tells his long-term woman friend, on very short notice, that he’s got a piece of business to take care of, nature unspecified, who with unspecified, but transacted after dark. Obviously there’s something dodgy about it, even more obviously because he’s found with his throat cut next morning half a mile outside the city limits. Not exactly what you’d expect of an ordinary merchant, yes?’

  ‘Marcus, I know all that already. And I agree completely. Of course it’s suspicious; what else could it be?’

  ‘Yeah, but that’s not all. He has in his possession an unusual gold coin.’ She had her mouth open to say something, but I held up my hand and she shut it. ‘OK. Today I find out from Balbinus for certain that it’s British, and also that someone is currently playing silly buggers stirring up trouble among the locals. Probably at the instigation of the powers-that-be across the Gallic Strait who’d rather not be invaded at present, thank you very much, and want to create a diversion to take the pressure off. Also that there’s a bastard of a druid, sent no doubt by said powers-that-be, skulking around somewhere out in the sticks doing his best to work up the peasants into a killing frenzy. You with me so far?’

  She sighed. ‘Of course I am, dear. You don’t have to make such a meal of it. You’re saying that Drutus is Balbinus’s agent provocateur, the business he had was with this druid, and that the coin was his means of proving his bona fides.’

  ‘That’s about it, yeah.’

  ‘Nonsense.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s complete and utter rubbish from beginning to end.’

  ‘Is that so? And just how do you come to that conclusion, clever-clogs?’

  She pulled back her thumb. ‘First, it goes completely against what we know of Drutus from Balbinus.’

  ‘Balbinus could be wrong.’

  ‘You think so? Has he given any indication of being either stupid, or unobservant, or a poor judge of character?’

  ‘Uh, no, not exactly, but—’

  ‘So what you’re saying is that Drutus had a deep-seated and long-standing hatred of Romans, deep-seated and long-standing enough to cause him to want to play the traitor and foment a revolt against them, and that neither Balbinus nor his governor – who also knew the man personally – never for one moment suspected it?’

  ‘Well, if you put it that way—’

  ‘I do. Two.’ She held down the index finger. ‘How would he go about it?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Marcus, you don’t just go around buttonholing peop
le in wineshops and telling them it might be a good idea to rise up against the Roman oppressors. Not unless you’re a complete idiot. Drutus might be well known and liked in Augusta, but he was still an outsider and he’d have no real influence, which would be what he’d need to get anywhere at all; remember, here in Gaul the tribal factor is still very important, and he wasn’t a Treveran, he’d no protection of the sort that, evidently, from your own experience, the Cabiri family have. The best he could expect would be indifference, and the worst, if he talked to the wrong person, betrayal to the authorities and an appointment with the public executioner.’

  ‘Jupiter, Perilla, I never even mentioned wineshops! Allow the guy a little subtlety, for the gods’ sakes!’

  ‘Very well. None the less.’ Middle finger. ‘Three. Drutus hasn’t been anywhere near Britain, and has no connection with it. He’s a native of Durocortorum, and all his business is in this part of the province, hundreds of miles from the Gallic Strait.’

  ‘Come on! Who’s free-wheeling here now? We don’t know that for sure. He could have—’

  She ignored me. Ring finger. ‘Four. If he needed the coin to prove his credentials to the druid, then why deliberately leave it with his woman friend before he went to the meeting?’

  ‘Ah, now that is a problem, I admit, but maybe he—’

  ‘Five.’ She bent down the last finger. ‘If he and the person he was meeting were on the same side then why did he and his servant end up dead? No, dear, I’m afraid it just won’t do.’

  Fuck. She was right again, though; like with Segomarus, there were too many objections.

  There was something there, mind. I could feel it.

  ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘Let’s call a truce, shall we?’