Germanicus

38

I compromised with Perilla, the deal being that I'd behave for three days and after that Trio was mine, so long as I promised to go easy and take Agron along as a babysitter. A fair bargain. Even so, I nearly didn't make it, fitness-wise; after three more days on a diet of chicken soup and wine-flavoured water I wouldn't've backed myself arm-wrestling a five year old.

We took a litter: the Pincian's way up in the north of Rome and Trio's place was off Pincian Street itself, near the old gate in the Servian Wall. From my first view of the property it was obvious that social lightweight or not the guy wasn't doing too badly, which made me wonder straight off where the money had come from.

The slave who opened the door was young, pretty faced, fair haired and well groomed, and he wore a natty little tunic that showed a lot of thigh. Uhuh. So that was another angle I could follow up later. If Trio's taste in domestic servants ran that way then he might have more in common with Regulus than I'd thought.

'What name, sir?' The kid's look travelled from my face to the purple stripe on my mantle and then past me to Agron.

I pushed past him with Agron following. 'Just tell your master I've come about his meat deliveries. He'll know what I mean.'

Goldilocks wasn't happy, that was for sure. 'If you'd care to wait here, please,' he said, 'I'll ask if he's at home.'

'You do that, sunshine.' I looked around. Nice mosaics and a lot of good marble, all new and in the latest style. Wherever the money had come from it had only just arrived.

A minute later the slave was back. 'Follow me,' he said. No 'please' or 'sir' this time, and he didn't even look at Agron.

Trio was in his study. He was a pudding of a man in his mid thirties with eyes as shifty-sharp as a third-rate horse dealer's and no smile. He didn't get up from his desk to shake hands.

'Close the door behind you, Flavillus,' he said. 'I'll call if I need you.'

The kid left. I sat down uninvited on the reading couch while Agron took up a stance by the door. Trio's eyes shifted between us and settled on me. His lips pursed.

'Now,' he said. 'Maybe you'd like to tell me what you want.'

'I think you know that already, pal,' I said.

'I'm not a mind-reader. My door slave mentioned something about meat deliveries. I assume that was a joke, although I can't quite see the point of it.'

'No joke.' I sat back against the wall. 'I understand you had a visit a couple of days ago from a mutual friend. A butcher by the name of Carillus.'

'Then you understand wrongly. I have no butcher friends. And Flavillus didn't catch your own name, by the way.'

'I didn't give him it. Corvinus. Valerius Corvinus. You know that too. And I'm not mistaken about Carillus, Trio, because he was followed here. You're telling me you don't know him?'

He gave me a long considering look before he answered. 'No. I know Carillus. A freedman of Calpurnius Piso's whom I prosecuted several months ago. If you say he's a butcher then I'll take your word for it, although I wasn't aware of the fact myself. In any case I haven't seen him since the trial.'

'You're lying, sunshine,' I said cheerfully. 'I told you, Carillus was followed here. Did he tell you he'd just tried to kill me?'

There was a long silence. Then Trio heaved himself to his feet, his face flushed.

'I'm not used to being called a liar in my own house,' he said. 'I'll let it pass this once, because you've obviously been ill and perhaps you haven't fully recovered yet. But I must insist you either tell me the reason for your visit or leave immediately.'

I glanced at Agron. The big Illyrian leaned his back against the door. I heard the panels creak.

'Sit down, Trio,' I said.

He didn't move, but a muscle on his cheek twitched. 'Tell your friend to stand aside, please.'

'When I'm good and ready. But first I'll tell you what I know and then we'll take it from there. If you're wise you'll listen.'

It was touch and go. Sure, he could've shouted for the slaves — there'd be beefier specimens around than Goldilocks — or he could've tried to get past Agron on his own, in which case Jupiter knows what would've happened. An innocent man would've done both, but Trio wasn't innocent. He sat.

'Very well,' he said. 'Tell me.'

I hoped the relief didn't show on my face. That bit had been tricky.

'Okay,' I said. 'Let's start with the letter.'

The eyes were inscrutable. 'What letter?'

'The one Piso wrote the night he died and gave to Carillus to deliver.'

'Carillus admits this? You've talked to him, I assume.'

'He claims what Piso gave him was the deed to a slaughterhouse he'd just bought. And the only other letter extant — the suicide note — was found with Piso's body the next morning.'

'Then I don't see the problem.' Trio tried a smile. On that face it was as out of place as a whore at a Vestal's supper party. 'Carillus showed you the deed in question, presumably?'

'Sure he did.'

'And the emperor read out Piso's other note to the senate. So both pieces of paper are accounted for.'

'Yeah. Unless Carillus was lying. The letter I mean was addressed to Piso's lawyers. Only it never reached them.'

'That has nothing to do with me. I was acting for the prosecution.'

'Sure you were.' I smiled. 'That's the point. If Piso did give Carillus a letter to deliver — and I think he did — then it came to you. The question is whether it got sidetracked, or whether Piso meant you to have it in the first place.'

He went very still. 'Now why would you think that?' he said.

'Because you were a double. You were on Piso's side from the start. Or at least he thought you were.'

'That's nonsense. I brought the original charge. And I think, Corvinus, that you had better leave after all.'

'Later. You ever hear of a thing called a steam engine?' I used the Greek word.

I'd caught him on the wrong foot. 'A what?'

'A steam engine. Maybe not. One of these clever-clever gizmos the Greeks dream up for fun every now and then that don't lead anywhere. My uncle took me once when I was a kid to meet a crazy Alexandrian philosopher who fooled around with hydraulics and water organs. He'd worked out that if you heated the water in a closed system until it boiled and led the steam through a pipe you built up a head of pressure that would turn a wheel at the far end.'

Trio's eyes narrowed. 'Young man, fascinating though this is I don't see the relevance.'

'Oh, it's relevant. The guy's problem was there was no way to control the pressure. If it built up too high it blew the boiler or ruptured the seals in the pipe. So he fitted a weighted plug and that got blown out instead before the whole thing went up. Trouble was, one day the plug blew and smashed his skull. Served him right for being a smartass, I suppose.' I smiled again. 'That was you, Trio. You were the plug in the boiler. It was your job to take the pressure off before it blew the case apart. You see the relevance now?'

Trio stared at me, but this time he didn't say anything.

'I didn't think of it until I found out you were tied in with Carillus,' I went on. 'But it's the only explanation that makes sense. Agrippina and her cronies had a carefully-prepared case. If they'd been allowed to bring the charge themselves they would've done a proper job of it and not pulled any punches. Things could've got nasty, with all sorts of embarrassing shit floating to the surface.'

'Embarrassing to whom?'

'To the emperor, of course. Who else?'

I had his full attention now. 'And why should Tiberius be embarrassed?'

'Come on! You want me to spell it out for you? You know as well as I do.'

'Humour me.'

'Okay.' I was still smiling. 'Piso and the emperor had a private agreement. Tiberius didn't trust his stepson further than he could throw him, and he'd told Piso to keep an eye on him for signs of treason. Maybe even given him the authority to take drastic measures if he found he was right.'

'These drastic measures being?'

'To put the guy away, naturally. Which is what happened. Only it leaves the Wart in a difficult position, right? Agrippina and her Syrian pals who've been involved in the treason plot won't take Germanicus's death lying down, and they're out for what revenge they can get. Once Piso's back in Rome they're going to make as big a stink as they can. Which will be pretty big because they have the Wart over a barrel.'

'Go on.' Trio was watching me through narrowed eyes.

'Tiberius is stymied. He can't claim squeaky-clean Germanicus was a traitor because he's got no real proof and no one would believe him anyway. On the other hand, Piso will expect him to get him off the hook because he was only obeying orders. So the Wart does what he can with a bad job. He makes sure the guy who brings the charge is a secret sympathiser who'll do his best to pull the teeth from the prosecution's case, and he also makes sure Piso knows it. Then to guard his own back he steers the question away from the death itself to Piso's own actions after the event, but to keep Piso playing the game he gets his agent — you — to dangle the hope of a last minute pardon in front of him. Only it's a double- cross, and Piso gets chopped with the Wart's blessing. You following all this, or do you want me to draw you a picture?'

'Piso committed suicide.'

'Like hell he did. That brings us back to the letter. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wasn't addressed to you after all.'

'That,' Trio grinned sarcastically. 'is the first bit of sense you've come out with so far.'

I grinned back. 'Oh, Carillus still brought it to you all right. Whether you were supposed to have it or not. But let's say you weren't. Let's say Piso had had second thoughts. Maybe he distrusted you, or the Wart himself, I don't know and it doesn't matter. Anyway he decides to spill the beans by giving the whole story to his lawyers, on the reasonable grounds that if Germanicus and his pals were crooks then in using armed force to retake his province he was only doing his duty as a responsible governor. He seals the letter and gives it to his faithful freedman Carillus, who takes it straight to your greasy little paws. You read it and the guy's goose is cooked.' I paused. 'How am I doing?'

Trio's face was impassive. For a long time he didn't say anything. Finally he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.

'All right,' he said. 'Let's say for the sake of argument that you're correct. Except for the fact that Piso's suicide may have been…assisted.' Yeah, okay, I could take that. The suicide note at least had sounded genuine. 'Wouldn't it be far better to leave things as they are? After all, as you've described it, the situation has turned out not too badly. A traitor to Rome has met a well-deserved end, and the matter has been settled without undue fuss or bloodshed. The emperor has done as much as he could reasonably be expected to do to help a faithful subordinate who is also a personal friend, but has been unfortunately constrained by political realities to sacrifice him for the sake of the common good. Tiberius is an experienced general, Corvinus. He knows that to win a battle one must be prepared for casualties, even be ready to send men one knows personally to certain death if the situation demands it. Piso himself would be the first to admit this. And if my own role was as you've outlined it then I have done nothing to deserve censure. I acted from the most honourable of motives and with full, albeit clandestine, official backing.'

'Sure. So tell me why Regulus died.'

He hadn't been expecting that, especially after the fancy lawyer's speech. The eyes blinked. 'Regulus?'

'Piso's lawyer. The guy Carillus knifed at the Gemonian Stairs. That wasn't his own idea. So why did you put him up to it?'

'I know nothing whatsoever about Regulus's death. And I certainly didn't arrange his murder.'

I knew bluster when I met it, even quiet bluster. The guy was rattled. Not before time, either; my ribs were starting to hurt. I shifted my position on the couch.

'Regulus's death doesn't fit the pattern, you see,' I said. 'Piso's, sure. Like you say, he was a necessary casualty, although getting Carillus to cut his throat with a sword was one touch too many. But you slipped up badly with Regulus.'

'This nonsense has gone far enough.' Trio stood up abruptly. 'I want you to leave. Now.'

'Not until I've finished, pal. We've just got to the interesting part.' I glanced at Agron. He'd stood like a statue all the way through this. Now without a word he came forward and pushed the guy back into his chair. Trio sat glaring, and breathing hard. 'Regulus died a traitor's death, with a hook through his gullet. Tiberius had no reason to have him killed, and certainly not like that. So who did Regulus betray? And how? You, or whatever bastard you're really working for?'

Trio said nothing. If looks could've killed we'd've been dead meat.

'You want me to sweat him, Corvinus?' Agron growled.

The hell with my promise to Perilla. I was pretty angry myself now. I stood up, my hand pressed to the aching wound in my ribs. 'Yeah, why not? Go for it.'

Suddenly, without warning, Trio shouted: 'Flavillus!'

Agron's huge hand pressed over the guy's mouth; but he was too late. In the atrium beyond, feet thudded across the marble. The door was thrown open: only Flavillus, but there'd be a few other, bigger reinforcements along soon. Ah, well. Maybe I had been too optimistic, at that.

'Let him go, Agron,' I said.

Trio's face was livid. A red mark showed where Agron's fingernails had bitten into the pasty cheek. He stood glaring at us while his pretty home help shifted in embarrassment from foot to foot.

'I hope you've made a will, Corvinus,' he said softly, 'because you're dead. Dead and buried.'

Yeah. Still, I'd got what I came for, and you don't make fish sauce without flattening a few anchovies. I pulled myself up straight and tried not to wince as I made for the door.

'Maybe so, sunshine,' I said. 'But I've been threatened before and I'm still around. And I think maybe the emperor just might want to have his pennyworth to contribute before all this is over. In which case you'd better have your own will made out. I'll see you around.'

We left. Trio didn't say goodbye.