Germanicus

3

Having Cotta round at that moment was a plus, which didn't happen all that often because likeable though the guy was (at least I liked him) nine times out of ten he'd get the vote for the Most Dispensable Member of the Group. This was the tenth time. Cotta scored because as consul he'd been one of the presiding officers at the Piso trial, which like I said was held behind closed doors. The drawback was that smart though the guy might be in his way he couldn't put two and two together without using an abacus, and all we'd get from him was the authorised version; which on reflection might not be a bad thing because Cotta was also a blabbermouth and with Germanicus's death officially written off as natural and the case closed the Wart wouldn't take kindly if word got around that Corvinus was ripping the scabs off.

Prising information out of a witness without letting on why you're interested is an art calling for delicacy, finesse and a good sense of timing. Or alternatively, in Cotta's case, a good dinner and two flasks of Falernian. Luckily Meton the chef had done us proud: calf's brain and almond sausage, wild duck braised with dates, puréed greens in a lovage-savoury sauce and a honey and pine kernel omelette to finish. By the time we'd reached the nuts the guy was purring. It wasn't too hard to introduce the subject either. Piso had been dead less than a month, and the Senate were still feeling their oats. It isn't every day you get to preside over a case of high treason, and Cotta had loved every minute of it.

'They murdered him, all right,' he said. 'They were guilty as hell, the pair of them.'

'Is that right?' I signalled to Bathyllus to pour more wine. 'Tell us.'

'Okay.' Cotta settled back. 'Take motive. Syria's the plum imperial province, top of the tree, and the Syrian governor's practically vice-regent of the whole eastern sector. If you're into power you can't go much higher unless your last name's Caesar. And it's a good place for making money.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' He held up his cup and watched Bathyllus pour in the Falernian. 'It needs to be. The Syrian governorship's the end of the line. After that you're out to grass and all you have to look forward to is having your arse licked in the Senate. Any governor who doesn't use Syria to put aside for his old age needs his head examined. Piso was no fool. He was salting it away like there was no tomorrow.'

'He'd already been accused of peculation in Spain, hadn't he?' That was Perilla. She was doing her Roman matron act, sitting in a chair with her eyes demurely cast down.

Cotta gave her a speculative glance before answering. 'That's right,' he said. 'In Tarraco. Trio made a point of it at the trial.'

'Trio?'

'The guy who brought the case.'

'Wouldn't Piso consider it too dangerous to risk fraud a second time?'

'The Spanish charge was old history, Perilla. No one paid it any attention. Still, I'd be interested to know where you picked up the information.'

I shot Perilla a warning look. Demure Roman matron, hell. Jupiter knew where she'd got that nugget from, but smartass comments we could do without at this stage. I wanted Cotta kept sweet.

Perilla ignored me. 'I knew someone once who was on the Spanish staff,' she said. 'It is true, isn't it?'

'Sure it's true. The fact of the accusation, anyway. Whether the guy was actually guilty or not was never proved because the case never got the length of the court.' Cotta cracked a nut. 'Anyway, there's Piso sitting pretty at Antioch, fresh out from Rome and good for at least a couple of years’ hard graft. And what does the Wart do?'

'He sends out his adopted son and heir.' I slit an apple.

'Right. And the last thing any governor with his way to make wants is a ranking Caesar with a special commission breathing down his neck and checking the invoices. Especially a stiff-backed stickler for the proprieties like Germanicus.'

Uh-huh. That made sense. 'You think Tiberius sent him on purpose? To keep an eye on Piso?'

'No.' Cotta sipped his wine. 'No, Piso was a friend of the Wart's, as much as the boil-ridden bastard has friends. He wouldn't've made him governor in the first place if he hadn't been sure of him. Anyway, Tiberius is a realist. He knows a certain amount of graft's inevitable. The provincials expect it, and an absolutely straight governor would worry them like hell. So long as Piso didn't get too greedy Tiberius would leave him alone. It was just an unfortunate coincidence.' He grinned. 'Unfortunate for Piso.'

'And for Germanicus. If Piso did kill him.'

'Yeah.' Another grin. 'You could say that. You ever meet the guy?'

'Germanicus? No, never. I don't move in your exalted circles.'

'Exalted my arse. Count yourself lucky, boy. He was a self-righteous prig, honest and open as the day is long. A squeaky-clean marvel with hero written large all over him. No wonder everyone loved him and Piso hated his guts. And Agrippina's worse.'

'I have always,' Perilla said, 'had a high regard for the character of Julia Agrippina.'

'Is that right?' Cotta glanced at her over the rim of his wine cup. 'Personally the lady makes my balls shrink.'

Perilla's lips drew themselves into a hard, thin line. I recognised the signs. Leaning over I picked an apple from the fruit bowl and hefted it. She gave me a quick half smile and ducked her head.

'Yes, Valerius Cotta,' she said. 'I can quite see that Agrippina would make your balls shrink. You can put that down now, please, Marcus. It won't be necessary.'

Cotta was still grinning. 'I'm sorry if I offended you, my dear.' Like hell he was! He'd done it deliberately. 'Tastes differ, after all.'

I gave Perilla another warning look as I steered my uncle back on course.

'So the wives didn't exactly hit it off either?' I said.

'Fought like cat and dog.' Cotta drained his cup and held it out to Bathyllus. The little guy filled it; not, I noticed, all the way up; Bathyllus may not say much but he's smart. And he can judge a situation to the inch: we wanted Cotta to talk, not pass out on us. 'If you can call it fighting. Women's stuff, mostly. Snide remarks in public. Monkeying around with the seating plans at dinner parties. Power dressing. You know the sort of thing the little darlings get up to. Eh, Perilla?'

Shit, the old bastard was pushing his luck this evening, that was for sure! I was thankful I had Perilla on my side or she'd've handed him his head long since; but this was really tempting fate. Even Bathyllus winced as the temperature suddenly dropped to below freezing. Over on the far wall I spotted a spider making a frantic dash for cover. Dumb animals sense these things.

'Yes, of course, Uncle Cotta.' Perilla said sweetly. You could've used the tone to pickle mummies. 'But then we don't know any better, do we?'

I glared at her. Cotta didn't seem to notice.

'Plancina couldn't take treatment like that,' he went on. 'She was First Lady of Syria, and Jupiter help anyone who forgot it. Not only that, she was a crony of the empress's, and Agrippina and Livia hate each other like poison. So she could expect a lot of sympathy in imperial quarters.'

I nodded. Yeah. Right. Livia had said as much herself, and Agrippina wasn't exactly flavour of the month with the Wart, either, from all accounts. It all added up. 'So what we've got,' I said, 'are four big fish in a small pond who cramp each other's style and hate each other's guts. You think that's reason enough for murder?'

'What more do you want?'

I didn't answer. Sure, Cotta was right, within his limits. Even although I'd never met any of the people involved, from his description it made a lot of sense. Six months of that sort of life, in that sort of closed society, and the two couples would be at one another's throats. That plus the circumstantial evidence, and Germanicus's own suspicions, was pretty damning. No wonder Piso and Plancina had had a hanging jury. I might've convicted them myself and never thought twice about it.

'They had the motive, then,' Perilla was saying. 'But what about the means and the opportunity?'

Cotta helped himself to a peach and carefully removed the stone.

'Them too,' he said. 'That was where Martina came in.'