Germanicus

6

Perilla missed breakfast anyway. I left her sleeping it off in a beautiful huddle and went down for my morning crust dipped in olive oil.

Cotta hadn't mentioned who Piso's lawyers had been, but I knew anyway. There were three of them: his brother Lucius, a makeweight called Livineius Regulus, and Aemilius Lepidus, one of Rome's brightest and best who'd been an outside favourite for emperor when Augustus popped his clogs half a dozen years back. Lucius Piso was a touchy bastard who liked to make a big thing of his independence because he thought it pleased the Wart, while thinking five times before seriously crossing him. A crypto-arselicker, in other words, who'd only taken the case because it'd look bad socially if he didn't and gave him brownie points if he did. Him I wouldn't've touched with a ten foot pole. Lepidus was a reasonable enough guy, but he was one of my father's cronies and I didn't want word to get round I was stirring the shit. Regulus was an unknown quantity but the weakest link, and so my best bet.

'Hey, Bathyllus!' The little guy was polishing the statues in the hallway. 'You happen to know where Livineius Regulus lives?'

Silly question. Bathyllus knows everything about everybody, if they're important enough.

'He has a house on the Pincian, sir. Near Pompey's Gardens.'

A good address for a makeweight: Bathyllus's tones were suitably reverent. Regulus was plainly a guy on his way up the social ladder.

'Will he be there now, do you know?'

'He's attached to the Treasury at present, sir. If you want to see him at this late hour' — he sniffed. Bastard! — 'he will no doubt be in his office on the Capitol.'

'Yeah. Right. Thanks, sunshine.'

'A pleasure, sir.' He went back to rubbing brass bottoms while I gulped down the first of the day's cups of Setinian (well watered: he sees to that) and fastened on my cloak.

The litter slaves were hanging around outside but I waved them away; it was a good day for walking.

The first guy I saw on the steps of the temple of Juno Moneta was Caelius Crispus. He'd been giving me a wide berth since our run-in over the Ovid affair, which was fine with me because the oily little prat made my stomach crawl. However, he knew more about the ins and outs of the Treasury building than a cockroach knows a cookshop, so I gave him the big hello.

'Hey, Crispus! How're things?'

'Corvinus.' He looked wary as hell, but then that was his natural expression. 'What brings you up here?'

I told him. Not the details, of course. Just that I wanted to see Regulus. 'He around at the moment?'

'Probably.' The wary look deepened. 'Why do you want him?'

'Someone passed me a dud penny and I've come to complain.'

'Yeah?' His eyes shifted. 'Regulus is in Taxes. Quality Control's a different department.'

'He came recommended.' Crispus was pushing past me, but I stepped on his corn and wedged him against a pillar. 'So where's Taxes?

'Why don't you ask at the desk? Now I've got business elsewhere, if you don't mind.'

'Sure.' I moved aside. Marginally. 'Go for it.'

He squirmed away in a mist of expensive hair oil. The guy was in a hurry to be gone; and knowing Crispus that could mean only one thing. I was interested. I was even more interested when instead of going down the steps — he'd been going that way when we met — he came back up them.

'You forget something?' I said.

'My writing tablets.' He paused. 'Taxes are on the first floor. Regulus's office is the last on your right.'

'Thanks. See you around, Crispus.' But he was already gone, haring towards the Treasury annexe itself like someone had stuck a torch up his rectum. I followed more slowly.

Maybe it was my suspicious mind, but I asked at the desk to confirm Crispus's directions. The public slave looked me over as if I'd handed him a dead cat.

'Livineius Regulus?' he said. 'He's in Taxes, sir. Ground floor, east corridor. Fifth door along.'

'Not upstairs?'

'Nah.' The slave picked his nose absently. 'Upstairs is Senatorial. Regulus is Imperial.'

'Thanks, friend.' I set off the way he'd indicated, my brain buzzing. Crispus had tried to throw me a bouncer. So what was the slimy little prick up to?

I found out soon enough. I had my hand on the doorknob to Regulus's room when the door opened and Crispus came out. He shot me a look like a frightened rabbit's and took off fast for the tall timber. There was no point in chasing him, although I'd've liked to stamp on his balls, if he'd got any, and listen to him scream. I went in instead.Regulus was on his own, but he wasn't at his desk. He'd obviously been planning to leave, too, because he had a bundle of tablets under his arm and a faraway look in his eye. I closed the door behind me and put my back against it.

'Yes?' he said.

He was an impressive guy, big and good-looking but running to fat; a sprint, not a marathon. And although the day wasn't all that warm he was sweating.

'You're Livineius Regulus?' I said.

'I am.' One of the tablets fell to the floor. He picked it up. 'What can I do for you?'

'You busy at the moment?'

He brightened. 'As a matter of fact I am.'

'Shame.' I folded my arms, and the bright look faded.

'If you'd like to wait,' he said, 'I'm sure I can make time later. Say in an hour. Perhaps two.'

'This won't take long. I just wanted to ask you a few questions.'

'What about?'

'You represented Calpurnius Piso? At the trial?'

'Yes. Yes, I did.' I could smell the sweat from here. 'Or partly so.'

'I was hoping you could tell me something about it.'

'About the trial?' There was a look in the guy's eye I couldn't quite place. He went back to his chair and set the tablets down on the desk in front of him. 'Yes, of course. Do have a seat, please. What did you want to know?'

There was something wrong here. It'd suddenly become too easy. The guy hadn't even asked my name or why I was interested. He probably knew the first already from Crispus, of course, but not to go through the motions was a serious mistake on his part. It showed he had something to hide. I filed that little fact for future reference, and stayed where I was between him and the door.

'My uncle Valerius Cotta, the consul,' I said — no harm in dropping a heavy hint that I had clout — 'mentioned something about a letter Piso wrote the night he killed himself.'

'Ah, yes.' Regulus was looking a lot less sweaty now. He almost smiled. Somewhere, somehow, I'd missed something. 'You mean the one addressed to the emperor. The suicide note. He — Tiberius, that is — read it out in court the next day.'

'Cotta didn't mention that.'

'Valerius Cotta was against my client from the first, Corvinus.' So the bastard did know who I was! I promised myself a quiet word with Crispus down some dark alleyway before we were much older. 'It's unlikely that he would mention it, I'm afraid. The letter revealed a more — ah — sympathetic side to the man's character than the consul would perhaps like to admit existed.'

'So what did this note say?'

'It was a protestation of innocence.' Regulus gave a deprecating smile; my fist itched to smash his even, pearly teeth in. 'Not that personally I believe that its contents were true in every detail, but by that stage it made no odds because Piso was already dead.'

'I thought you were defending the guy, friend.'

Regulus shrugged. 'Someone had to. I did the best I could. My personal feelings didn't come in to the matter.'

'Yeah. Sure.'

'Wait a moment.' He opened a drawer in the desk and took out a sheet of paper. 'I made a record of the text. Not an exact version, of course, since the letter was sealed and addressed to the emperor. But as I say Tiberius read it out and I noted down the gist.'

Hey! 'Oh how frightfully efficient of you.'

He smiled again, and handed the paper over eagerly. I scanned it. Gist or not, eagerness or not, it read real:

'My enemies' plots and the hatred aroused by a false accusation have destroyed me. Since there is no help in my own honesty and innocence, I call on the gods to witness, Caesar, that I have always been faithful to you and your mother, and I beg you both to protect my children. The younger has been in Rome all this time, and has not shared in my actions, whatever they may have been. The elder, Marcus, begged me not to go back to Syria, and I wish now that I had taken his advice, not he mine. I pray therefore even more earnestly that he, being innocent, should not pay the penalty for a crime that is my own. By my forty-five years of faithful service, by our shared consulship, I, whom once your father the Divine Augustus once trusted and whose friend you yourself once were, beg you, Caesar — as the last favour I will ever ask — to spare my unfortunate son.'

Tear jerking stuff, right? Well written though, even if it did sound stiff as hell.

'Can I keep this?' I asked.

'If you like. It isn't the only copy.'

I tucked it into a fold in my mantle. Something didn't add up. Uncle Cotta had said the letter might not exist at all. Now this smarmy bastard was handing me a notarised copy and telling me the Wart had read it out to the entire Senate. Including the consuls. Who included Uncle Cotta. An omission was one thing. Total misrepresentation of the facts was another. Cotta might've been against Piso, but he was no liar and he'd had no reason to lie. So what was going on?

'This was passed on to you by Carus?' I asked.

'Who?' Regulus looked puzzled.

'Piso's freedman.'

'Oh, you mean Carillus? Yes. Yes, that's right.'

'You know where I can find him?'

'No. No, I'm afraid I can't help you there.' The smile had gone glassy. I'd touched a nerve, obviously, but what nerve? And how and why? 'I don't think Carillus is in Rome any longer.'

'Yeah? So where is he?'

'I really can't say.' Regulus was on his feet now and moving towards the door. 'Well, Valerius Corvinus, it has been a real pleasure talking with you but I have a considerable amount of work to get through today and I must be getting on with it. Please feel free to…ah…I mean, if you have any more questions don't hesitate to…'

Etcetera. Mumble mumble. I didn't listen to the rest because I recognised the bum's rush when I heard it, but I'd got all I wanted from him for the moment. Not all he could give, I knew, but Regulus wasn't going anywhere and I didn't want to raise any more dust than I had to. He'd been co-operative enough, suspiciously so, in fact. Nevertheless…

'So you know Caelius Crispus?' I said.

Regulus's hand, with its polished and neatly manicured fingernails, had been resting on my arm. Now he pulled it away like he'd been stung.

'We know each other, yes,' he said.

'Colleagues?'

The barest hesitation. Crispus may've known his way about the Treasury, but he wasn't an employee. Dirt and scandal, those were Crispus's business. His connections with the Treasury officials, or one especially pretty near the top, were more personal. Much more personal.

'No. Not colleagues. Just friends.'

'Yeah.' I grinned at him. 'Yeah. That makes sense. Give him my regards next time he drops by, will you? Thanks a lot, Regulus. I'll see you around.'

And on that cheap note I left.