Sejanus

15

It was quite definitely murder: the back of Celsus's head had been smashed like an eggshell. Shit. This I felt really bad about; when I'd left him I'd told the poor bugger he was safe. Sure, I'd meant 'safe' as far as I was concerned, but it still left a bad taste, like any broken promise.

We were in the garden of the house. I hadn't been out here when I'd visited, of course. Although it was bigger than I'd thought it would be it was seriously run down and there were no statues worth talking about. If Celsus had been lying when he claimed he was broke then he certainly hadn't spent any ill-gotten Spanish gains on impressing the neighbours.

'When was it done?' I asked Lippillus's opposite number, the head of the Third Region Watch; the Third handled the Isis and Serapis and Temple of Peace districts, which took in both the Esquiline and the Caelian.

'Some time between mid-morning and noon.' Libanius Clemens indicated the stone bench and the blood-soaked book beside it: although the body itself had been removed for tidying up no one had touched the bookroll. 'He liked a quiet read in the mornings, seemingly. His chef found him when he came for the dinner instructions.'

I glanced at the book's title, miraculously unsplashed with bits of Celsus: The Pirates' Prisoner, one of the more lurid Alexandrian romances and not exactly adult reading. The poor guy should've stuck to getting all his thrills second-hand. Mid-morning was right. It would've left plenty of time for Ganymede to have got over from the Esquiline to the Janiculan and have a go at parting my own hair for me. And he would've succeeded if it hadn't been for the pseudo-Felix and his tame mountain.

'Celsus was a bachelor,' Clemens said, 'so there was no one else in the house, barring slaves. We'll have them tortured, naturally.' He glanced at Lippillus, who was frowning. 'They must've seen or heard something. It may even have been one of them who did it.'

'The killer came over the back wall and left the same way.' Lippillus's voice was level. 'You can see where the ivy's been pulled down in that far corner. And the flowers in the flower bed have been trampled. We're out of sight of the house. If any of the slaves saw anything it had to be the gardener, and that poor bastard's lying in the slave quarters with a poisoned foot. Torturing slaves isn't going to get anyone anywhere.'

'Is that so, now?' Clemens picked the book-roll up and set it carefully on the bench. 'Let's just get one thing clear from the start. A narrow-striper's been murdered, this is my ward, and I'll do things my way, okay? I may stretch the rules and allow you and your nosey aristocratic friend here in as a favour, but that doesn't mean I want your advice.'

Hey! I was beginning to take a positive dislike to this arm of the law.

'Not even if we can give you a description of the guy responsible, pal?' I said.

Clemens looked up sharply. 'What?'

'The man you want is just short of six foot, late twenties, heavily built but running to fat. Close-cropped straight dark hair, thick nose and lips.' Clemens was staring at me. 'Probably Asiatic Greek. And he has severe problems with body odour. Is that enough for you, or do you want me to draw you a picture?'

I must've sounded pretty pissed off because the stare had turned into a scowl. 'How do you know all this?' he said.

'Because he nearly put me underground a couple of hours later on the Janiculan. With an iron bar. Identical weapon, identical method. Or maybe you think that's coincidence.'

'Maybe. That depends if you can prove a definite connection.'

'Hell’s bloody teeth!' I turned away, furious: it was guilt, sure; if he hadn't talked to me Celsus would still be alive, and the poor sap hadn't been a real villain, just a weak character caught up in something too big for him. 'No, I can't prove it. But there would be reasons.'

'Reasons,' Clemens said slowly. 'Okay. I'm ready to listen if you'd care to spell them out.'

'No.' I shook my head. 'I can't do that.'

A shrug. He turned away. 'Then we go by the book and torture the slaves.'

Lippillus looked at us, from one to the other. 'Clemens,' he said, 'This is high-level stuff. Political. Believe me, the slaves had nothing to do with it.'

'Sure I'll believe you. Once you give me the evidence.'

'For the gods' sakes!' Lippillus turned away in disgust.

I'd had enough of this. I grabbed at Clemens's throat. 'Okay, pal. You want to know who killed Celsus? Who really killed him? The real murderer's name is Lucius Aelius Sejanus, Commander of Praetorians and the Wart's best buddy. Now go ahead and torture your slaves and if you're very unlucky, friend, you might just get that nugget of information out of one of them yourself. In which case then pity help you when he finds out you've got it!'

'Marcus, this isn't helping,' Lippillus muttered. I ignored him.

Clemens's eyes had widened, and his face had gone the colour of milk. Not just because I had a fistful of his mantle, either. Sejanus's name tended to have that effect on people.

Lippillus leaned forward and laid a quiet hand on my arm.

'That's enough,' he said. 'Now put him down or I'll have to arrest you for obstruction.'

He would, at that. Yeah, well, maybe I shouldn't've lost my temper. It wasn't Clemens's fault, he was only doing his job as he saw it. I relaxed my grip, and the guy sat down hard on the blood-soaked bench. His laundress wasn't going to like that, not one little bit.

'Sejanus?' His voice was a sick whisper.

'Sejanus. You still want me to give you reasons?'

'No. No.' He passed a hand over his mouth. 'We'll take them as read. Holy Jupiter! You're sure?'

'Sure I'm sure.'

'Oh, gods! Oh, good, sweet Jupiter!' He licked his lips. 'So what should I do?'

'What Laco tells you,' Lippillus said. Laco was the overall Watch Commander for the city; an okay guy in his way, but definitely a political appointment with his own fish to fry. 'And, believe me, that will be to drop this case down the nearest sewer and put the lid back on fast.'

Clemens nodded. He was shaking, and his face was a sickly grey now. I could smell the fear.

'One more thing,' I said. 'Find me Ganymede.'

The Watch Head simply stared.

'Clemens is okay.' Lippillus walked with me as far as the front door. 'He just plays by the rules. And he's right about the slaves. Celsus was a purple-striper. These things you don't skimp.'

'Yeah, I know.' The door slave opened up for me. He was only a kid, and he looked scared to death, as well he might. He knew the laws governing murder investigations as well as I did, and with his dead master being a knight there wasn't any leeway. 'I know. I just don't like waste, that's all.'

'Nor do I. So we'd best find your friend quickly, just in case Laco isn't as sensible as I think he is.' Lippillus paused. 'By the way, what colour tunic was your Janiculan pal wearing when he hit you?'

'Ganymede? Blue. A dirty blue, pretty much patched, under a leather jerkin.'

'He'll need another patch, then, when he gets home.' Lippillus held up a scrap of torn material he'd been holding in his hand. 'I found it caught on one of the rose bushes in the bed near the wall.'

'Uh-huh.' It was dark blue wool, about an inch square. 'You didn't think of passing that over to Clemens, I suppose?'

'I wouldn't rely on any help from Clemens, Corvinus. Like I said, if he's got the slightest inkling of the truth Laco'll shut this investigation down so fast it'd make your head spin. I'll do the digging myself.'

'You think that's wise?'

'Not really. But that's how it has to be. Now he knows Sejanus is involved, investigating officer or not, Laco or not, Clemens won't touch the case with a forty-foot pole. I won't be stepping on any sensitive toes.'

'That wasn't what I meant. At least, not in that sense.'

'Yeah. Still, it has to be done and someone's got to do it.'

'But…'

'Marcus.' He looked me in the eye, as far as a five-foot dwarf can manage something like that. 'Understand this. I don't like murder in cold blood, and I like still less the thought of covering it up, whoever's patch it's on. Besides, it's my job. With the description you gave I should be able to lay my hands on the killer without too much trouble.' He stood with one hand on the door jamb. 'I'll keep in touch. Stay safe, right?'

'Yeah. You, too, pal.'

He went back inside. It was building up for rain as I rejoined Patrician Street and headed for the eastern end of the Subura and home. Stay safe. I didn't like the way things were going; I didn't like it above half. Celsus's death and the attack on the Janiculan showed that however careful I'd thought I was being I'd been noticed, and Aelius Sejanus wasn't one to let the grass grow under his feet. This investigation could turn very nasty, very quickly, and not just for me. Clemens's attitude may've verged on the spineless, but I couldn't fault his caution. Maybe I should've told Lippillus to leave things alone too. After all, it wasn't his fight, slaves or no slaves. Maybe I should still tell him…

I almost turned round and went back to Celsus's house, but I didn't. I should've done; but by the time I realised that it was too late.