In at the Death

23

Perilla was in the atrium, having her hair done.

‘Oh, hello, dear,’ she said. ‘How did your talk with — ’ At which point she saw the state of my tunic. The streets of Rome might be okay to walk along, most of them, but rolling about in them is a bad, bad idea. ‘Marcus! Not again!’

I held up both hands. ‘Yeah, yeah, I know. But no damage this time, lady, it’s just dirt. I, uh, took a bit of a tumble.’

‘We’ll finish later, Chloe,’ she said to the maid. The girl nodded and scurried out, taking her curling-tongs with her and giving me a scared glance over her shoulder. New staff. She’d get used to it. ‘Marcus, you do not take a tumble in a litter! What happened, and where’s your mantle?’

‘That’s okay. I left it with the lardballs. They not back yet?’

‘No. Or not to my knowledge. And don’t change the subject.’

The buggers had probably stopped off at a wine-shop to refuel. I didn’t use them often, and they took every chance they could get to jump the wall. Well, I didn’t blame them. It was a nice day.

‘Look, I just banged into a bag-lady on Staurus Incline, all right?’ I said, and took a swig from the wine-cup Bathyllus had provided me with. ‘I wasn’t looking where I was going. It’s easy enough done.’

‘Marcus Valerius Corvinus!’

Ah, well, it was a fair cop. ‘Remember the two fake stonemasons?’ I said.

‘Yes, of course I do.’

I gave her the basic outline. When I’d finished, she said: ‘They were following you? Why? Who sent them?’

‘Jupiter, I don’t know! But I’d give it good odds, lady. And they’re not interested in conversation. Unfortunately, I had my chance and I blew it all over the shop. No bones broken, though. Seriously.’

She sniffed. ‘All right. What happened with Domitius Ahenobarbus?’

I told her the details. Such as they were. ‘He’s covering. The gods know for what, but he’s covering, and he’s scared.’

‘Ahenobarbus is scared? Be serious, Marcus! He’s one of the most powerful men in Rome!’

‘Even so.’ I took another sip of wine. ‘It’s a scam. It has to be. And in that case, of course he’s scared. Imperial or not, if he’s stepped out of line the Wart will nail his skin to the senate-house door if he has to get off his deathbed to do it. And if he doesn’t then Gaius’ll do it for him.’

She was quiet for a long time. Then she said: ‘Marcus, I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all. It’s beginning to turn very nasty.’

I knew what she meant; to be honest, I didn’t like it either. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: you don’t mess with imperials, even when they’re second-rank ones, and if someone of the calibre of Domitius Ahenobarbus had something private cooking then lifting the lid of the pot and dipping your spoon in was a bad, bad idea. Still, the job had to be done, and I had enough problems without worrying about Perilla worrying, as it were. I put the wine-cup down, went over and kissed her.

‘Look, lady,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a charmed life, all right? And I’m on the right side of the fence. The guys who should be sweating blood — and I’ll bet they are — are the ones who had young Papinius thrown through a window. Who they are, and why they did it, I don’t know, but I have to find out, okay?’

She rested her forehead against my chest for a moment. ‘Yes. Yes, I suppose you do,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, dear. I won’t mention it again.’ A pause; then, like she was asking a doctor for a verdict that she knew already: ‘Do you think there’s any possibility that Ahenobarbus could have been involved? Directly involved, I mean? In Papatius’s death?’

I went back to my couch, taking my time doing it. That was a question I’d been trying not to ask myself. Still, it had to be faced. ‘It’s possible,’ I said carefully. ‘In theory, anyway. Leaving out the whys and the wherefores.’

‘His own son?’

‘That wouldn’t count much with him, Perilla. He’s a callous bastard, Ahenobarbus, Papinius was nothing to him but a by-blow and I doubt if he’d think twice about having him killed. If it became necessary, if he had a good enough reason.’

‘And you think that he might have had?’

I took another gulp of the Setinian. ‘Maybe. You could argue for it, anyway. Certainly he got the kid his job on the commission; he did, not Allenius, although Ahenobarbus fixed things publicly so it’d appear otherwise. There must’ve been a reason for that besides paternal affection, which like I say just isn’t that bastard’s bag. Six gets you ten having Papinius to hand on the staff was an essential part of the scam.’

‘But, Marcus, you said it yourself. Papinius was nineteen years old, hardly more than a boy. What use could he be to someone like Ahenobarbus?’

‘I don’t know! Jupiter, lady, if I’d got that far I’d have the whole thing!’ I swallowed another mouthful of wine. ‘In any case, whatever it was it went wrong. Badly so, and my bet is that it was the kid’s fault. Maybe he got cold feet, maybe he blabbed to someone out of turn, maybe he just made a mistake. Whatever happened, he became the weak link. Which is where Mucius Soranus comes in.’

‘There is one major problem, of course,’ Perilla said.

‘Yeah? What’s that?’

‘Whatever Papinius was involved in would be illegal, wouldn’t it? Certainly dishonest.’

‘Naturally it would. That’s the whole point.’

‘But if Papinius knew that — well, surely you’ve been insisting all along that he was fundamentally an honest young man? I thought that was axiomatic.’

‘No problem there. In fact, things make more sense that way. Okay. Scenario. Imagine you’re the kid, right? You’ve just landed your first responsible public post and you’re on the ladder a good step higher than you’d expected to be. How do you feel?’

‘Very proud. Over the moon. And desperate to do well.’

‘Fine. At that point, completely out of the blue, one of your top bosses — your top bosses, the emperor’s own nephew — calls you into his office or wherever and tells you you’re his son. How does that grab you?’

Perilla was looking thoughtful. ‘I suppose I’d be totally dumbfounded. Unless I’d suspected it already, naturally.’

‘Yeah, right. Still, the qualification doesn’t signify. Young Papinius was no bonehead, and he hadn’t led a sheltered life, either. He must’ve heard rumours, and what with the timing of the divorce and his legal father’s attitude to him and his mother over the years he’d have to have been thick not to put two and two together. But he couldn’t’ve been sure. Now he was. We know he was, because Cluvia told us he was really proud of his family, and of his father in particular. That’d make no sense where Allenius was concerned — up to that point Papatius had scarcely even mentioned him — but if he meant Ahenobarbus it makes sense in spades. Okay?’

‘Yes. Go on.’

‘So.’ I refilled my wine-cup. ‘Ahenobarbus calls you in and hits you with the whammy. He also tells you that he’s directly responsible for getting you the post. Like you say, you’re totally gobsmacked. Then — this is the clincher — he says he’s got a very special job for you within the commission. Very important, very hush-hush. How do you react?’

Perilla smiled. ‘Again, I’d feel proud and privileged; too much so — which is clearly where you’re leading, Marcus — to ask any questions.’

‘Right. Only like I say, you’re no bonehead. You’ve got stars in your eyes at present, sure, but over time when the glitter begins to wear off your brain kicks into gear and you begin to think about what you’re doing.’

‘And it doesn’t seem so innocent any more.’

‘Right. So what happens then?

‘I…begin to have second thoughts.’

‘Fine. Only problem is, you’re in the scam — you know by now that it’s a scam — up to your neck. You want out but you’ve nowhere to go. You can’t blow the whistle on Ahenobarbus, because you’re a no-account nineteen-year-old kid, and who would believe you against him? Added to which, he’s your father. Your real father. Maybe you even think of what it’d do to your future political career. You’re honest in yourself, sure, but for someone like you a career is your life. Balancing honesty now against your whole future is a tough decision for a nineteen-year-old to make. So what do you do?’

‘I confide in someone. Someone older, someone neutral.’

‘Yeah. Not your mother, because you don’t talk, and what could she do anyway? Not Allenius; definitely not Allenius. Not Minicius Natalis either, because he’s in thick with Prince Gaius, and Gaius for all his faults is Official with a capital O. So who?’

She was twisting the lock of hair beside her ear. ‘Lucia Albucilla,’ she said.

‘Bang on the button. Albucilla’s perfect. She’s a woman, so she wouldn’t matter — ’

‘Thank you, dear.’

‘- she’s been around, she’s experienced, smart. She’d know what to do. Best of all, you’re in love with her.’

‘Marcus, you do not know that!’

‘It’s a fair assumption.’ I took another mouthful of wine. ‘So you tell Albucilla the whole story. Only then — ’

‘Albucilla takes it directly to her friend Soranus.’ Perilla frowned. ‘You’re right. It works.’

‘Whereupon Soranus zaps you with a demand for fifty thousand sesterces or he does his duty as a responsible citizen and peaches to the Wart and you’re up shit creek without a paddle. Without a sodding boat.’

‘Of course, there is still one more problem.’

‘Yeah? What’s that?’

‘You’re going to tell me that Papinius went to Ahenobarbus and made a clean breast of things, after which Ahenobarbus paid off the loan he took out from Vestorius. Aren’t you?’

I blinked. ‘Uh…yeah. Yeah, more or less. Or that Ahenobarbus found out some other way. It comes to the same thing.’

‘Very well. In effect, then, Soranus had already been paid off. So why should Ahenobarbus subsequently kill Papatius? What reason would he have?’

‘Perilla, the kid had become a liability! He’d blabbed once, he obviously wasn’t happy about what he was involved in, and he could well blab again, to someone higher up the ladder this time who might just believe him. Ahenobarbus couldn’t risk that. He had to cut his losses.’

‘Then if he didn’t balk at murder, why not kill all three of them together — Papatius, Soranus and Albucilla — and solve the whole problem at a stroke? Plus save himself a considerable amount of money.’

‘Lady, that’s silly! Ahenobarbus might be an imperial, he’s certainly ruthless enough, but he’s no fool. Three suspicious deaths at once? All of bona fide aristocrats? You think that wouldn’t get noticed, maybe even on Capri?’

‘There would be nothing to link them to him, not directly. And surely it would depend on how important whatever he wanted to cover up was. Also — well — why should the deaths be suspicious? If he could successfully disguise Papatius’s murder as a suicide — which he would have done if you hadn’t become involved — what was to stop him doing the same for the others?’

‘Same answer. Three suicides at once would get noticed.’

‘Accidents, then. A mixture. Anything. And don’t quibble, you know I’m right.’

I sighed. Yeah, well, she had a point, and as far as Soranus was concerned if that bastard hung up his clogs I doubted if there’d be many tears shed, quite the reverse. Maybe the same went for Albucilla: from what I’d heard of her the lady wasn’t exactly a universally popular and respected pillar of society. And certainly it would explain why, when I’d talked to them, they’d both given the impression of pissing their pants about something. Knowing you’d made a guy like Domitius Ahenobarbus seriously peeved wouldn’t be exactly conducive to peace of mind and a good night’s sleep. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Point taken.’

‘Another thing it doesn’t explain is the peripheral detail.’

‘Uh…come again?’

‘Balbus and Carsidius, for a start. Marcus, they’re honourable men! Oh, yes, perhaps honourable only in senatorial terms, but that’s amply sufficient here. For your theory to work, they’d both have to be hand-in-glove with Ahenobarbus, and if he were engaged in some sort of illegal activity then that doesn’t make sense. Not to me, at any rate. Both of them lied to you over the bribery issue, and in neither case — unless they were involved with Ahenobarbus in a cover-up — was it necessary.’ She straightened a fold in her mantle. ‘I’m sorry, but if that’s your theory then it has too many holes.’

Bugger. Right again, and I couldn’t even put hand on heart and say there was a scam to cover up in the first place. Stymied. I sank the last of the wine in my cup. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Let’s leave that aspect of things for now. Where do I go next?’

She sniffed. ‘I would’ve thought it was obvious.’

‘Really?’ I reached for the jug. ‘Where’s that?’

‘Acutia.’

I shrugged. ‘Okay. Although on present showing I can’t exactly see the lady being willing to spill any beans. If she is involved somewhere along the line, then — ’

‘Marcus, why must you always be so direct?’

‘Fine, Aristotle. In that case, you tell me.’

‘You’ve got your Caelius Crispus. I’ve got Sergia Plauta.’

‘Who?’

‘Your mother’s friend. The dowager; remember?’

‘Oh, yeah.’ I’d never actually met Plauta myself — Mother’s pals can be pretty wearing at close range — but I’d heard both Mother and Perilla talking about her. Sergia Plauta was your echt blue-blood society matron, six steps to the right of Sulla and a force to be reckoned with in the honey-wine-klatsch set. ‘You reckon she can help?’

‘I’ll be very surprised if she can’t. Plauta’s the biggest source of female gossip in Rome. She’s also — and I don’t often use the term, Marcus — a complete cat. Yes, I think she could help a great deal. If properly approached.’

‘Not directly?’

Perilla smiled. ‘Not directly. Leave it to me, dear. I’ll invite myself round tomorrow.’

‘Hey, that’s great!’ I refilled my cup and took a slug of the Setinian: the world was suddenly a brighter place. ‘See if you can find out — ’

‘Excuse me, sir.’

I turned round. Bathyllus had oozed in on my blind side.

‘Yes, little guy, what is it?’

‘A slave has just come with a message. From Mucius Soranus.’ That with a slight sniff: like I said, Bathyllus has standards. He’d probably had the poor bugger disinfected at the door.

I set down the wine-cup. ‘Is that so, now?’ I said carefully.

‘Yes, sir. The gentleman wants to meet you. Tomorrow morning at dawn. In Pompey’s theatre.’

‘He what?’ I goggled. Perilla was staring.

‘That’s what the man said. I did think myself it was a little odd, but — ’

‘Jupiter’s bloody immortal balls! At dawn? He say what it was about?’

‘No, sir. I asked, of course, but he didn’t know. He’d only been told to take the verbal message.’

‘Don’t go, Marcus!’ Perilla said.

Yeah, that was my first reaction too. A dawn meeting at Pompey’s theatre just didn’t make sense. If everything was on the level then the bastard could’ve asked me round to his house at a civilised hour, although given how we’d parted on the last occasion I couldn’t think what the hell he’d have to say to me. Something stank like a week-old codfish.

‘The guy’s still here? The slave, I mean?’ I said.

‘No, sir. He delivered the message and left. I said you’d want to speak to him personally, but — ’

‘Okay. Okay, Bathyllus.’ I waved him away. ‘You did your best. Go and polish your spoons.’ He exited. ‘Gods!’ I reached for the wine-cup.

‘Marcus, you aren’t going to go, are you?’ Perilla said.

‘Sure I am. What choice do I have?’

‘For heaven’s sake!’

I was thinking. I’d go, sure — I had to, it might be important — but I wouldn’t go alone. No way would I go alone, not the way things were shaping. Forget Placida this time, she was too unreliable. Half a dozen of my biggest lads with weighted sticks were another matter; and Soranus’s message — if it was Soranus’s — hadn’t mentioned anything about a solo interview.

If the meeting was above-board, though — and I’d put that in the flying pigs category — then it was going to be interesting.