Germanicus

20

Twenty days later, we stepped ashore at Antioch's port of Seleucia in the middle of a major earthquake. At least that's what it felt like. The weird thing was that although the ground was jigging about like the lid on a soup pot the buildings seemed to be holding together okay, and none of the locals who turned up on the quayside trying to sell us things were paying any attention. But then that's Greeks for you. It'd take more than an earthquake to stop these guys turning an honest drachma.

Normal people planning a foreign trip arrange things the other end months before they put the door-key under the mat and stop the oil deliveries. We'd had ten days max, which meant we were starting cold. Theon had suggested that we use his cousin's guest house south of the city on the Daphne road as a temporary base, which seemed a good idea. So we left most of the baggage and one of the skivvies behind for collection later and took a ferryboat the fifteen miles upriver to Antioch itself. We got there late in the afternoon and disembarked at a landing stage just beyond the Bridge Gate.

'Isn't it lovely, Marcus?' Perilla was looking round her as I supervised the unloading and dickered with the carriers for the last stretch to Theon's cousin's place. We were smack in the middle of the Old Town, where most of the buildings dated back to the original founding of the city. Honey-coloured marble, shady porticoes. Lots of greenery and water, too, and at Rome you only get those two things together with the scum on the Tiber.

'Yeah. Great,' I said, wrestling with a rogue optative.

'So wonderfully Greek. I really feel we're on holiday.'

Personally I was feeling pretty sour. Dickering in street Greek with a pack of evil minded sharks who wilfully misunderstand your stress patterns isn't my bag, added to which I had serious problems with the exchange rate and I hadn't had a cup of wine since breakfast. There's a lot to be said for foreign travel, no doubt, but for an amateur it can be a real bummer. I wished I'd brought Bathyllus after all. With his organisational genius the little guy would probably have made all the arrangements telepathically while we were somewhere west of Crete.

Perilla stopped soaking up the local colour and came over.

'Having problems?' she said.

'You could say that.' Jupiter! I was being eaten alive here! Meton was no use either; he'd wandered off to check out a fish stall. Take that bastard away from his kitchen and he'd got no more idea than a dowager in a cathouse. 'Problems describe what I'm having pretty well.'

Perilla frowned. 'But it's simple! What was the name of Theon's cousin's guest house?'

'Uh…the Three Bay Trees. Two. Two Bay Trees. Cedars.'

'The Two Cedars. Fine.' Turning to the gang of carters who were squabbling over us, she pointed at random. 'You, you and you. You know the Two Cedars? On the Daphne road?'

The guys looked at each other and swallowed. I didn't blame them. When Perilla's in this mood you just grin and nod and go with it. Unless you can run for cover, of course, which these bastards couldn't because there wasn't any. Her stress patterns were pretty good, too.

'Yes, ma'am,' they said.

'We'll need two carriages and a wagon. Any problem?'

'No, ma'am.'

'A tetradrachm each. And you can keep the change. If you drive carefully and don't break anything.'

'Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am.'

'Don't mention it. The rest of you can go.'

Five seconds later with the exception of our three carters the landing stage was empty, apart from a sandal or two that'd got left behind in the rush. Even the birds had shut up. Perilla turned back to me.

'There,' she said. 'Everything all right now?'

'Uh, yeah. Yeah. That about does it.'

Shit.

We left the city by the Daphne Gate. Even I'd heard of Daphne, and Theon had waxed lyrical about it on the boat. It's one of Syria's most famous tourist spots, a little town in the hills five miles south of Antioch with a precinct of Apollo and more greenery and springs than you can shake a stick at. The walk there's popular in summer, too, and your average tourist — or Antiochene, for that matter — won't go far without stopping off somewhere on the way, which means that the road's lined with places offering everything from a cup of chilled fruit juice to full bed and board with ten course banquets and a dozen dancing girls as optional extras.

No one with any regard for his skin or his stomach stays in an Italian guest house. If the owner doesn't get you the fleas will, and doing the tour of the kitchens is about as safe as a walk through a plague pit. The Syrian Greek variety's different. It puts ours on a par with a shack on the Danube. Even on this scale the Two Cedars, when we finally got to it, was top-of-the-market stuff: a long, two-storey building with a flat roof and a first floor balcony running its length, set in a grove of trees a stone's throw from the river. Round the side I could see a garden with a stream and tables shaded by trellised vines. Cool in summer, just as good in spring, especially with a jug of cold crisp white wine and a plateful of the local olives served by…

Served by…

Jupiter and all the holy gods!

'Marcus?' Perilla said.

'Hmm?'

'Would you mind getting down and letting me out, please? When you've finished ogling the waitress, of course.'

'Uh…yeah. Yeah, okay.' She was a big girl, though. Lovely ankles, too. I liked the Cedars already.

We unloaded. I paid off the carters and watched them hare back down the road towards town like their postilions had been struck by lightning. Meanwhile Perilla was talking to a little fat guy with ringlets. Presumably Theon's cousin.

'I've taken half the first floor, Marcus,' she said when she'd finished. 'It's self-contained, with a private kitchen downstairs and use of the baths at the rear. Will that do?'

The little guy looked punch-drunk and his eyes were glazed. It'd do. Sure it would. We'd probably got his best suite for half the normal price.

'That sounds fine,' I said. Meton had already wandered off with a single minded look in his eye and his best set of knives under his arm to find the kitchen. I motioned to the other two slaves. 'Hey, just take everything inside and stow it, guys, okay?'

'Philotimus, lord, at your service.' The fat owner was bowing. 'You had a pleasant trip?'

'It was okay. Lovely place you have here.' An arselicker, obviously; but then you have to make allowances. Manners are different out east.

'The lord is gracious to say so.' He waved a ringed hand towards the garden. 'Perhaps some cool wine and fruit? The city can be tiring. My own slaves can help yours with the luggage while you and the lady relax.'

Maybe he was okay after all. The guy had his priorities right, anyway.

'Sounds good,' I said. 'Okay, Perilla?'

We left the lads shifting our bags and boxes upstairs for us and went into the garden.'So.' I took a swallow of the wine — it was Chian, chilled in the stream that flowed past our table — and tore my guilty eyes away from the girl with the ankles who'd served it. Probably Philotimus's daughter, although if there was a family resemblance the mother must've been a real honey.

'What's our plan, lady?' I said.

Perilla sipped her own drink: chilled pomegranate juice. 'I'd suggest that once we're settled we should start enquiring about properties to rent,' she said. 'And pay a courtesy visit to the governor, naturally.'

'Ah…you think so?' That I wasn't looking forward to. Not that I knew anything bad about Aelius Lamia, he was probably a nice enough guy, but the thought of the diplomatic tap-dancing involved in a visit to the Residence made me want to go somewhere quiet, pull a bag over my head and wait till spring.

'Of course, dear. It's only polite. As well as politic. And you are the consul's nephew, after all.'

'Yeah. Yeah, right.' I frowned. 'Actually, though, I was thinking more along the lines of Plan with a capital P. Contacting the guys who were directly involved with Piso. His pals Celer and Marsus, for a start. The prosecutor Vitellius. Maybe someone who knew the poison lady Martina. That sort of thing, you know? The really useful stuff.'

Perilla sighed. 'Marcus, we have just got here after being at sea for a month. Not an unpleasant trip, but certainly tiring. I don't suppose you'd consider just relaxing and enjoying yourself for a while? Having a holiday? Doing a little sightseeing?'

'I am enjoying myself, lady.' I was: the wine was good, the girl with the ankles was an easy eyeful and there was the prospect of scaring up a decent new lead in the Germanicus case. What more could I ask out of life? 'This is a holiday. And as far as sightseeing's concerned you can take it and drop it down a very deep hole and put the lid on. Okay?'

'You are not serious!' Perilla's eyes had widened. 'Antioch is one of the most beautiful cities in the Greek east! Of course you have to see some of it while you're here!'

Uh-oh. We obviously had a major concept clash somewhere. This was no time for pussyfooting around. 'Believe me, lady, prolonged exposure to three hundred year old bronzes brings me out in boils. Watch and marvel.'

That got through. She sat back.

'Mmm. Very well. Then I suggest we divide forces. You deal with the…the business aspect while I look around for suitable accommodation. I think from our experiences so far that I may be better at that than you are.'

'No argument there, sweetheart.' With Perilla's track record we'd probably end up rent-free in the imperial wing of the Residence while Lamia dossed down on a couch. 'So long as you're happy.'

'Oh, I am.' Yeah, that was obvious. She was looking more relaxed than I'd seen her for a long time. 'Coming to Antioch was a lovely idea after all, Marcus. I'm glad you thought of it.'

So was I. Which reminded me…

'Uh…you seen our rooms yet, Perilla?'

'No. But Philotimus says we have a view over the river.'

'You want to check it out?'

'You mean now? I haven't finished my fruit juice. And you haven't finished your wine.'

'The fruit juice can wait. And the wine.'

It was strange making love again in a bed that didn't move. The view across the river wasn't bad either, when we got around to looking at it.