Family Commitments (Marcus Corvinus Book 20)

by David Wishart

  ‘How so?’

  ‘To begin with, according to Secundus, and he knew the guy personally, the claim that Justus was having an affair with Julia Livia is total garbage; Secundus was absolutely definite about that, and given their characters as we know them and the differences in their ages it doesn’t sound even remotely possible. The treason side of things is a non-starter as well; where loyalty was concerned – again according to Secundus – Justus was squeaky-clean, a career soldier up from the ranks with a first-rate military record stretching back all the way to Augustus’s time and the Rhine and Danube mutinies. He’d never put a foot wrong loyalty-wise in his life.’

  ‘Neither had Cassius Chaerea, dear, and his background was identical. That didn’t stop him being involved in the assassination of Gaius, did it? Quite the opposite.’

  I reached for my wine cup. ‘Come on, Perilla!’ I said irritably. ‘You’re quibbling and you know you are. Chaerea snapped precisely because he was the man he was, not in spite of it, and he’d good reason to, seeing how Gaius treated him; we saw that for ourselves at the dinner party. Claudius is no Gaius, nowhere near, he appointed Justus to the prefectship himself, and the guy had no grounds for resentment whatsoever. Quite the reverse. Plus there’s the family connection: Justus’s career began under Claudius’s cousin Drusus, when Drusus gave him his big chance to shine the time of the Pannonian revolt. A thing like that is important to a bred-in-the-bone soldier, you know it is, particularly if he’d started life as a humble squaddie like Justus had. It’d have taken a hell of a lot of provocation to cause him to turn against the Claudian family, and as far as we know he had zilch.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Perilla re-dunked the egg. ‘Yes, well, dear, I suppose you’re right. It was a quibble. Even so, as with Vinicianus, we are still left with the question of why.’

  ‘True. Oh, sure, the basic reason’s clear enough, association with Julia Livia; genuine association, I mean, not the sexual kind. Livia was Justus’s old boss Drusus’s daughter, so loyalty to the family would kick in again. Secundus didn’t say so, but I’d bet a gold piece to a used corn plaster that the guy took a proprietorial – avuncular, whatever you like to call it – interest in the woman, and he wouldn’t’ve just sat idly by if he’d thought she was being threatened. Which of course she was, and she knew who by.’

  ‘Messalina. Because of the succession issue.’

  ‘Right. And if Livia voiced her suspicions – certainties, rather – to Pomponia Graecina then the chances are she’d also tell Justus, who was in a far better position than Graecina was to get something done about it because he was a guy Claudius knew, respected and trusted. Maybe he even put together some sort of formal dossier which he thought he could use to pull the lady’s plug for her. Only they both underestimated Messalina’s hold over the poor sap: when they were accused of immorality and treason Claudius wouldn’t even go the length of giving them a hearing.’

  ‘It certainly all fits together, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah. Yes, it does. The only thing is, even if it’s right it doesn’t get us an inch further forward. That’s the really dispiriting thing about this case; we can theorise until we’re blue in the face, but we can’t actually prove anything. And even if we could, what good would it do? At the end of the day, if Messalina is your grey eminence it’d be suicide to take it further. Literally. However much proof we offered him, however nice a guy he is at base, Claudius would just give a hollow laugh and have us chopped out of hand without a second thought.’

  Perilla set the egg down and gave me a sharp look. ‘So what exactly do you want to do, Marcus?’ she said. ‘Give up?’

  ‘Uh-uh.’ I grinned. ‘No way. We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed, that’s all.’

  Bathyllus came in with the tray-skivvies. He eyed the practically-untouched selection of starters and sniffed.

  ‘You have finished, sir, have you?’ he said. ‘Madam?’

  I glanced at Perilla, and she nodded.

  ‘Yeah, little guy,’ I said. ‘It would seem so. Sorry about that. Things intervened.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Another sniff. He signalled to the skivvies, who began to remove the dishes, half-turned to go, then hesitated. ‘Incidentally, I was wondering if there had been any further developments. Where my brother is concerned, I mean.’

  As a bit of ham acting, it was perfect. Mind you, I didn’t blame him for pushing the question. Not at all.

  ‘I’m sorry, pal,’ I said gently. ‘Everything’s much as is in that direction. I want him to get in touch as badly as you do, but that’s not looking likely. Not in the near future, at least.’

  ‘No. No, I understand that,’ he said. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  He went out after the skivvies.

  ‘He’s very worried, isn’t he, Marcus?’ Perilla said. ‘You’re sure there’s nothing you can do?’

  ‘Absolutely zilch,’ I said. ‘Eutacticus knows where Damon is hiding, sure, but he won’t tell. And I can’t force him. I’d be a fool if I even tried.’

  ‘So what now?’

  ‘The gods know, lady. The gods know.’

  Yeah, well, maybe they did, at that. But if so they weren’t letting on, either.

  20

  It rained the next day, and I had sod all to do as far as the case was concerned anyway, so I gritted my teeth, took an abacus up to my study, and gave some badly-needed attention to the month’s accounts. I hate that side of things, but it has to be done on a regular basis at some stage, and with Perilla out in the litter on a shopping binge to the Saepta I’d no valid excuse.

  So the accounts it was, gritted teeth or not.

  I’d messed up the totals for the third time and was giving the balls on their wires one last chance to get it right before I reduced the little bastards to their common denominator when there was a tap on the door and Bathyllus edged in.

  ‘This had better be important, sunshine,’ I snarled, ‘because if it isn’t–’

  ‘You have a visitor, sir,’ he said.

  Uh-oh. This didn’t sound good: Bathyllus knew very well that interrupting me on an accounts day was a bad, bad idea, and he wouldn’t do it lightly. Besides, he had his Courier of Doom expression on again, and his tone had serious overtones added.

  ‘Yeah?’ I said. ‘And who would that be, now?’

  ‘Suillius Rufus.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s downstairs, sir. In the atrium. Shall I bring him up?’

  ‘No. No, that’s all right, Bathyllus.’ My brain had gone numb. ‘Tell him I’ll be right there.’

  Gods.

  I straightened the piles of tablets and flimsies on the table, more for something to do with my hands while I got my mental act together. There wasn’t any question of the subject of Rufus’s visit in general terms, sure, but for the bastard to come out into the open like this wasn’t a good sign. Not good at all.

  Well, there was no point in guessing, or in putting things off. I took a deep breath and went downstairs.

  Like I say, I hadn’t seen Rufus since that one time in Syria, over twenty years back, when he’d been in charge of the Third Legion under the province’s governor, Aelius Lamia. He’d lost a fair amount of his hair since then, and a lot of the muscle had turned to flab, but he was still a big guy, built like a gladiatorial Chaser and with the same don’t-mess-with-me air about him. Plus he had a certain fat-cat smoothness in the way he was dressed and barbered; “upwardly mobile” was right, except that when you thought of what he’d been moving through to get him looking like that, and how he’d been doing it, the phrase lost its positive connotations.

  When I came in he was stretched out on my usual couch like he owned it. Bathyllus was hovering in the background like a messenger in a Greek tragedy who’d strayed into the wrong play.

  ‘That’s okay, little guy,’ I said to him. ‘You scoot. I’ll take it from here.’

  Bathyllus scooted.

  ‘No offer of a cup of wine for an old acquaintance, Co
rvinus?’ Rufus said. ‘What happened to your duties as a host?’

  ‘Bugger them. You’re not welcome here.’ I sat down on Perilla’s couch facing him. ‘What do you want? Just tell me straight and then fuck off out of my house.’

  Rufus smiled.

  ‘Hardly being friendly, are we?’ he said. I didn’t answer. ‘And don’t mistake me, this is a friendly visit.’

  ‘Is that so, now?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Mind you, to be fair it is the only friendly visit I’m going to make. Don’t mistake me on that account, either.’

  ‘So what’s the reason for it? A warning? Lay off or else?’

  The smile widened. ‘Something like that, yes. Personally, I’d be delighted if you ignored it, but that’s up to you. Of course, if we could reach an agreement whereby you carried on your search for the missing slave and promised to hand him over to me when you found him that would be almost as good. Disappointing, true, but we can’t have everything we want, and I’m not absolutely sure you’d stick to your side of the bargain.’

  ‘Why do you want him in the first place?’

  ‘He has something we need very badly. You know that.’

  ‘“We”? You mean you and Valeria Messalina?’

  ‘We,’ Rufus said blandly. ‘Let’s leave it at that. Your assumptions are your own concern.’

  ‘Okay. So what is it, this “something”? At least you can tell me that.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think it’s really necessary. It’s not a necklace, at any rate. I’ll give you that much for free.’ I felt my right hand bunching into a fist and had to make a conscious effort to unclench it. ‘Naturally we’ll find your friend Damon ourselves eventually, but it really would be in your interests to co-operate in a positive way. Show a little goodwill. Because, Valerius Corvinus, and read my lips here, you are going to need a great deal of it in return.’

  ‘Yeah? and how’s that, then?’

  ‘Just to give an example, the most obvious one. I had a freedman, a blacksmith by the name of Ligurinus who ran a business down by the Latin Gate. You met him briefly, I think? Four days ago, in the Asinian Gardens?’

  ‘Yeah. So?’

  ‘So the poor man was stabbed to death, wasn’t he? Murdered, in fact.’ I said nothing, but my guts went cold. ‘Now, whether or not you were directly responsible for that I don’t know, and I don’t particularly care because whoever actually wielded the knife isn’t important to me. What is important is that prior to his murder you asked one of the public slaves for directions to the Shrine of the Nymphs, where the murder took place. We have the slave, and the slave’s description of the man he talked to, which believe me is surprisingly detailed for someone of his age and condition. As Ligurinus’s patron it would be my duty to bring his killer to justice in open court. Which, again believe me, I would be very happy indeed to do, if you’ll just say the word.’

  ‘You bastard,’ I said quietly.

  Rufus shrugged. ‘Ligurinus was only a freedman,’ he said, ‘and you’re a purple-striper, so under normal circumstances you’d probably get off with a hefty fine. Unfortunately, as it is...well, in the event I don’t think the emperor would be inclined to take a very lenient view of the matter. It would mean exile at best, and to somewhere a great deal more unpleasant than, say, Athens or Massilia. But I’m afraid it’s much more likely that Claudius would decide to make a proper example of you.’ He drew his finger across his throat. ‘Chkkkk! Get my meaning? So please, Corvinus, don’t agree to give up your investigations or to co-operate with us. It’d be such a shame if you did.’

  Oh, gods. The cold feeling in my stomach had solidified into a block of ice. He could do it, sure – in fact, he was right: bringing a charge against his client’s murderer, if the perp was known, was a patron’s duty – and with Messalina on the team if he wanted to get me chopped he could do that as well, easy as spitting.

  I was well and truly screwed.

  Rufus had been watching me closely. He must’ve seen what he was looking for, because he grunted in satisfaction, eased himself off the couch, and stood up.

  ‘I see I’ve given you some food for thought,’ he said. ‘I’ll leave you to digest it. Don’t bother to see me out, I can find my own way. Oh, and do give my regards to Perilla. It was the best thing I ever did, divorcing that vinegary bitch. You’re welcome to her.’

  He left, chuckling.

  Shit; what the hell was I supposed to do now?

  I was half way down the jug and still stone-cold sober three hours later when Perilla got back, accompanied by the litter lads carrying a fair proportion of the Saepta’s erstwhile stock.

  ‘That’s all right,’ she said to them. ‘Just put the packages down and I’ll deal with them later.’ Then, when they’d done so and trooped out, ‘Hello, Marcus. Did you have a nice quiet morning?’ She eyed the wine jug and sniffed. ‘Yes, well, I can see you did. Marcus, dear, I really do think you should–’

  ‘Suillius Rufus dropped by,’ I said.

  She stared at me. ‘What?’

  ‘Your ex husband. Publius Suillius Rufus.’

  She sat down on the other couch like someone had cut her strings. ‘Rufus?’ she said. ‘What did he want?’

  ‘To warn me off the case, naturally. Oh, and to threaten me with a murder rap followed by a quick trial and a short stay in the Mamertine if I didn’t feel like being warned.’

  The stare had turned to a look of horror. ‘Rufus is going to prosecute you for murder? Whose, for heaven’s sake?’

  ‘His freedman Ligurinus’s. You remember the guy in the Asinian Gardens that Eutacticus’s tame gorilla killed?’

  ‘But you had nothing to do with that! And in any case the man was a criminal and a murderer himself.’

  ‘You think that’ll make a blind bit of difference?’ I poured myself another cup of wine and sank half of it. ‘I was there, I was seen, they have the slave I asked directions from and he’s given them my description. Any court in Rome would convict me on that evidence alone, and quite rightly so because I wouldn’t have a fucking leg to stand on. Then with the emperor in their pocket Rufus and Messalina could peg me out for the crows without breaking sweat. I’d be dead in a month.’

  She was quiet for a long time. Then she reached over, picked up the wine cup and drained it.

  ‘So what are you going to do?’ she asked finally.

  ‘Give up the case.’ I took the cup back and refilled it. ‘What else can I do?’

  ‘Claudius knows you. And me. You’ve had dealings with him before. He’s a fair man, he wouldn’t even consider–’

  ‘Come on, Perilla, show some sense! The guy’s already sat back and watched his own kin chopped on that pair of beauties’ say-so, on even flimsier evidence than Rufus can bring forward. Justus, too, that he’d known and respected for years. He’s even signed the fucking execution orders with his own hand. What chance do you think I have?’

  ‘Oh, Marcus!’

  ‘Right. So that’s the ball game. We can’t carry on, not under these circumstances. The bastard’s got me cold, and he knows it.’ I emptied the cup and slammed it down on the table. ‘Fuck!’

  ‘Gently, dear.’ She sat back, frowning. ‘Now listen to me. It’s not the end of the world, far from it. You said yourself, Rufus will only bring the charge if you don’t give it up. And even if you did carry on, what would be the point? You’ve gone as far as you can go in any case, you know who was ultimately responsible for the man Oplonius’s death, and you also know there’s no possibility of bringing the perpetrators to justice. What more is there?’

  I poured out more wine; the jug was looking pretty empty now, but the wine still didn’t seem to be having any effect.

  ‘I still don’t know the who, the what, and the why, okay?’ I said. ‘Who Oplonius really was, what he had that Rufus and Messalina wanted, and why they wanted it. And I’ve never, ever given up on a case before I was satisfied that I’d gone as far as I possibly could. That answer your question?
’

  ‘Yes, it does. Still–’

  ‘Still, there’s a first time for everything, and this is it. Agreed; no arguments, no fucking arguments whatsoever.’ I sank most of the wine. ‘I’m not happy about it, not happy at all, but this stops now. It has to.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Thank you, Marcus. For being sensible for once.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘So.’ She smiled; a forced and brittle smile, mind, but even in my current mood I could appreciate the effort she was making. ‘If you like we could go down to Castrimoenium tomorrow, spend a month or so with Marilla and Clarus. See how young Marcus is doing. A spring break, yes?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I took a morose swallow of the wine. ‘Yeah, good idea. That’d be great. Not tomorrow, though, we’ve got Secundus and his new wife coming round for dinner. Make it the day after.’

  ‘Fair enough. That’ll give us time to send word we’re coming in advance. Marilla and Clarus wouldn’t mind us dropping in on them unexpectedly, I’m sure, but it’s just as well to give them a bit of notice. Also’ – she indicated the packages she’d brought back from her shopping binge – ‘I bought a few things to give them that I was going to put away for the next time we went through, or they came to us. A trip to the Alban Hills would fit in quite well.’

  ‘Okay. We’ll do it.’ I raised my voice. ‘Bathyllus!’

  He was straight in. He’d been listening, of course, probably from the moment I’d originally sent him out while I talked to Rufus, but I didn’t blame the little guy for that. He had a vested interest, after all.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ he said.

  ‘Send someone through to Castrimoenium to say we’ll be down in a couple of days, will you?’ It wasn’t too late in the day, and on horseback the trip wouldn’t take all that long. ‘And tell Lysias to have the coach ready. He’ll need a bit of notice as well.’