In at the Death

17

I got the litter guys to drop me at the back gate, paid them off and went inside and through the garden to Alexis’s hut. He was still up and waiting: I could see the line of lamplight under the door. I pushed it open.

‘Hey, Alexis!’ I said. ‘Sorry I took… For shit’s sake, you stupid dog, it’s me!’

Owoo-oo-oo! Owowow-oo-oo-oo!

All I had time for was one fast backward step. Not fast enough. Both paws got me square in the chest and I went arse over tip into the rhododendrons.

‘Leave, Placida!’ Alexis pulled at her collar while I tried to fend off the slobbering muzzle. ‘I’m sorry, sir, she’s just saying hello.Are you all right?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.’ Well, I would be if my cut arm wasn’t screaming in agony. Still, there was no point in complicating matters. I picked myself up while Alexis held the brute clear. ‘How was your day?’

‘Not bad, sir. We had a lovely walk, didn’t we, Placida?’

‘What?’

‘No problems at all. She was as good as gold all the way. I took her as far as the third milestone, let her chase some rabbits among the tombs, like you said. Then when we got home I smuggled her in and fed her and she’s been flat out on the floor ever since.’

‘Ah… Well done, Alexis,’ I said weakly. ‘I knew I could depend on you.’

‘You’re welcome, sir. Same thing tomorrow?’

‘Sure. If you don’t mind.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind at all.’ He scratched Placida’s head. ‘She has a lovely nature.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, right. Uh…goodnight, pal.’

‘Goodnight, sir.’

Bloody hell! Even so, it looked like Operation Ditch Placida had been a resounding success. I fastened on her lead, let her drag me to the garden gate then doubled back round to the front door. Bathyllus was still up, not that I’d expected otherwise, and I sank the first cup of Setinian gratefully while Placida nosed around checking whether our lobby had been invaded by any strange canines in her absence.

Bathyllus must’ve noticed the state of my tunic — there were half a dozen lamps burning in the lobby — but he didn’t comment.

‘Meton’s left a plate of cold meatballs for you on the dining-room table, sir,’ he said. ‘And the mistress is waiting for you in the atrium.’

Bugger. I swallowed: this was going to be tricky. ‘Okay, little guy,’ I said, handing him the bag of cardoons. ‘Pass these on for me, would you?’

‘Yes, sir.’

I filled the cup, took another fortifying gulp, and went through to the atrium.

‘Hi, Perilla,’ I said. ‘Nice evening?’

She looked up from her book. Hell: four large candelabra fully equipped with lamps. No chance; no chance. Bathyllus had followed me in, too, and he was hovering at the edge of the lamplight like a third actor who’s hoping he’s in the wrong play.

Perilla set down the book-roll. ‘Oh, good, you’re back,’ she said. ‘Now you can tell me why you — ’ — which was when she saw the bloodstain on my tunic sleeve, plus the rest of the extensive collateral damage, and her eyes widened. ‘Marcus! What on earth — !’

‘It’s just a cut,’ I said hurriedly. ‘It looks a lot worse than it is.’

She was already half way across the room. ‘Bathyllus, get Sarpedon!’

‘Yes, madam.’ He turned.

‘Hang on, Bathyllus,’ I said. Sarpedon was our family doctor, one of the best in Rome. He wouldn’t take kindly to being hauled out of bed for what was basically a minor clean-up job. Besides, he charged a fortune. ‘I’m okay, lady, honestly. All it needs is a bit of vinegar and water.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ She reached over. ‘Take your hand away! Let me look!’

‘Uh-uh. I’ll do it,’ I said quickly: concerned Perilla might be, but she’s no gentle-handed nurse. I peeled back the tunic sleeve. Luckily although thanks to Placida the cut had started bleeding again it didn’t look too bad.

Perilla examined it. ‘That’s a knife wound!’ she said.

‘Possibly. Possibly. But — ’

‘Bathyllus! Fetch a basin, a sponge, vinegar, linen dressing and a bandage!’ The little bald-head shot off like he’d been greased. ‘Now, Marcus. You are going to sit down and explain. And this had better be good.’

Here we went. I stripped off what was left of the tunic and sat down on the couch. ‘It’s no big deal. I got mugged. Or at least partly mugged. On the Old Ostia Road.’

‘Partly mugged?’

‘We were interrupted by a couple of stonemasons. At least they said they were stonemasons.’

‘What do you mean, “said”?’

‘They weren’t. They were army.’

‘Oh, come on!’

‘Lady, I know, right?’

‘And where was Placida in all this?’

Hell. ‘Ah…’

‘Marcus, you may be silly enough to go walking on the Aventine after dark; in fact, having lived with you for almost twenty years I know you are. But I would’ve expected even an Aventine mugger to hesitate before getting involved with a dog of that size — ’

‘Yeah, well, she — .’

‘- unless, of course, you’d also been silly enough to leave her behind this morning with Alexis.’

Shit. ‘You knew?’

‘No. At least, not until ten minutes ago when I heard her howling at the bottom of the garden and watched you sneak her out the side gate. That made the inference fairly obvious. Marcus, how could you have been so stupid?’

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘It’s a fair cop. But she had a good run with Alexis out the Appian Road. Better than she’d’ve had with me.’

‘That’s not the point, and you know it. Well, it serves you right, that’s all I can say.’ Bathyllus came in with the basin and the fixings and put them down on the table beside me. ‘Thank you, Bathyllus. Arm out.’

I held it over the basin while she sponged the cut clean…

‘Ouch!’

She sniffed. ‘Marcus, if you won’t have Sarpedon then don’t complain. I’m doing my best. Also, I’m not feeling particularly sympathetic at present.’

Gods! ‘Look,’ I said I’ve been mugged once already this evening. Once is enough.’

‘Partly mugged. And as I say it serves you right.’ She put on the dressing, held the end of the bandage up for Bathyllus to slit and then tied the two ribbons together. ‘Comfortable?’

‘No.’

‘Good.’

I leaned forward and kissed her. She was shaking.

‘Wine, Bathyllus,’ I said. ‘Unwatered, and another cup. No arguments, lady, it’s medicinal.’

He buttled off.

When he’d gone, Perilla sat back against me and closed her eyes. ‘You could have been killed,’ she said quietly.

‘Yeah. Right,’ I said. ‘But I wasn’t.’

‘Not this time. Next time you may not be so lucky.’

‘If I have Placida with me?’

‘It’s not the dog, Marcus. You know it isn’t.’

‘Yeah,’ I said, and kissed her again. ‘Yeah, I know.’

We sat for a while. Then she opened her eyes and said in a more normal voice: ‘Why are you so sure that your two stonemasons were army?’

‘Because they were too good. Trained professionals. They went through the muggers like a dose of salts. Also, one of the bastards died and they didn’t even bat an eyelid, and with your ordinary tunics that isn’t natural.’

‘Hmm. How old were they?’

‘About the same age as me. Mid to late thirties.’

‘Very well. There’s your answer: old enough to have got their discharge. There’s no reason why they shouldn’t be ex-army and stonemasons as well, is there? Did you ask them?’

‘No, but — ’

‘Then don’t look for unnecessary complications.’

‘Discharged soldiers get their severance pay in land.’

‘Which they can then sell. Just because they’re veterans doesn’t mean to say they’re natural farmers. And soldiers are trained to work with stone. It might even be a family business one of them’s gone back to.’

I frowned. She was right, sure. And I hadn’t asked. Even so…

‘You think it was just an ordinary mugging?’ She was twisting her hair. ‘Or had it something to do with the Papinius business?’

I’d been wondering that myself. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘It could’ve been coincidence, sure. Like you say, the Aventine’s no place to be alone after dark. All the same, now that I know for certain that the kid was murdered I wouldn’t like to lay odds.’

She sat up. ‘You’re sure about that?’

‘Oh, yes. No doubts now whatsoever.’ I told her what Lautia had told me, plus highlights of the Caepio interview. Half way through, Bathyllus came back with the wine, plus a half jug of ready-watered stuff on the side. Perilla sipped at hers while I took a gulp before topping up the cup from the jug.

‘Then who was responsible?’ Perilla said.

‘Jupiter knows. Maybe this Carsidius, for all Caepio says. He’s the most likely bet.’ I took another swallow. ‘That was odd. The guy was adamant Carsidius wouldn’t’ve done it, but he wouldn’t tell me why. And he’s got beans to spill himself, that’s definite.’

‘But why should Lucius Carsidius kill the boy? Marcus, his factor’s right, Carsidius is a well-respected senator, even I know that. He is not the sort of man to go around killing people. Or having them killed.’

‘Turn the bribery on its head: Carsidius was fiddling his damage claim, Papinius found out and told him he intended to report it. The well-respected senator angle’s no barrier, lady, not where peculation and rooking the government’s concerned. Broad-stripers’ve always looked on that as a traditional right, not a crime. And if Carsidius had a reputation to consider it would’ve made the threat of exposure even worse.’

‘Bad enough to go the length of murder?’

‘Why not? They’re all callous bastards at root, especially the so-called respectable ones. Remember Lamia?’

Perilla closed her eyes briefly. ‘Yes, Marcus’ she said quietly. ‘Oh, yes.’ Aelius Lamia and his senatorial sidekick Arruntius had been instrumental, when Sejanus fell, in having the guy’s children executed. One of them was a twelve-year-old girl, and since executing an under-age virgin is against the law Bastard Lamia together with oh-so-honourable pride-of-the-fucking-senate Arruntius had told the public strangler to remove the latter half of the legal stumbling-block before he carried out the order. It was the reason — then — that we’d left Rome, and I’d sworn I’d never come back. The lady still had nightmares, off and on. Lamia himself was long dead, but Allenius had told me that Carsidius and Arruntius were friends and soul-mates. He’d meant it as a character reference. Me — well, it just made my gorge rise.

‘But Balbus said Papinius was taking bribes,’ Perilla said. ‘Or do you think he was lying after all?’

‘I don’t know.’ I took an irritable swig of wine. ‘Maybe. It’s a possibility. Maybe it’s a cover-up and Balbus is in it too. I wouldn’t put anything past these senatorial bastards. One sniff of scandal and they close ranks and lock shields like a legionary tortoise.’

‘A cover-up for what?’

‘The gods know. I’m talking through my ears here. The only thing I’m absolutely certain of at this point is that the kid’s death was no suicide.’

‘Marcus, be careful. I have a bad feeling about this. I don’t think your muggers were ordinary Aventine knifemen.’

‘No, lady. Neither do I.’ Well, it’d explain my own gut feeling that someone had been tailing me for the last couple of days. Mind you, I didn’t believe in my altruistic stonemasons’ deus-ex-machina act either; that was just too neat to be coincidence. I finished the wine at a swig. ‘The hell with it for now, anyway. I’m starving, it’s been a long time since lunch and Bathyllus mentioned something about meatballs.’

‘Oh. Oh, yes, they’re on the dining-room table.’ Perilla got up. ‘By the way, where’s Placida?’

I looked round. ‘She was right behind me, but I haven’t seen her since…Shit!’

I leapt off the couch and ran through to the dining-room.

No meatballs. No dog, either, just an empty pate licked clean and a few breadcrumbs. Hell. The end to a perfect day. I went back to the atrium, stomach rumbling.

‘Have they gone?’ Perilla said.

‘Like the snowfall on the river. Bugger!’

‘Never mind, dear. A heavy meal last thing at night isn’t good for you anyway.’

‘A plateful of meatballs isn’t a heavy meal, lady. And I’d’ve liked to’ve been given the option. I hope the brute has heartburn.’ Ah, well. The joy of pets. And I had had my dog-free day; I couldn’t grudge her half a dozen of Meton’s meatballs in return. ‘Bed?’

‘Bed.’

Tomorrow I would track down Carsidius.