Sejanus

18

There was still no news from Marcina next morning. I gave breakfast a miss and went over to Watch headquarters first thing in the hope of catching Lippillus's deputy Valens. I was lucky: he was just going through the previous night's reports at his boss's desk.

'Corvinus.' We shook hands. 'Pleased to meet you. Have a seat.'

'Thanks.' I pulled up a bench and looked around. Lippillus's office was pretty stark. Its only decoration — if you could call it that — was a plan of the First and Second Regions stuck up on the wall.

'How's Lippillus?' Valens said.

'No change. The doctor says if he comes round he has a chance, but he's still unconscious.'

'Mm.' Valens grunted. 'We'll get the man who did it. Don't you worry.'

'What exactly happened?' I said. 'Do you know?'

The deputy stood up. He'd've towered head and shoulders over Lippillus, and he looked like he had German blood somewhere. 'No more than you do yourself by now, I suppose. Did Marcina tell you about the carters?' I nodded. 'They found him here' — he pointed to the city plan — 'tucked behind the Liber shrine just this side of the Latin Gate, an hour before sunset. It was lucky they recognised him and gave themselves the trouble to bring him back. Carters aren't usually so co-operative.'

'So they didn't see the attack?'

'No.' Valens smiled sourly. 'Or if they did they're not saying. Their story is they went for a quiet piss, which is likely because the shrine's hidden from the main road and there're bushes behind it. The boss was lucky they came along.'

I looked at the plan. The Latin Gate was at the very edge of the First Region, where Latin Road leaves the city boundaries. Pretty far out, in other words, right on the border of Lippillus's patch and well away from the more thickly-populated urban area that was the Watch's usual stamping ground. Yeah. Lucky was right. Off the main drag, he could've lain unnoticed for days.

'Any idea what he could've been doing over there?' I said.

'None. We'd no reports of any trouble around that area. He may've been following up something that happened elsewhere, connected to another case.'

Yeah. Or maybe it had been unofficial; and if so I'd be prepared to lay bets on the subject matter.

'You get the names of the two who found him?'

'Naturally.' Valens consulted one of the wax tablets on his desk. 'A pair of brothers, Hasta and Pertinax. Local lads. Not that they'll be any more help. Like I say, carters tend to avoid official questions, and I've sweated them already. Personally and very thoroughly. They don't know anything more than they've already told us.'

'You're sure about that?'

'As sure as I can be.'

Uh huh. Well, maybe, but it was still worth checking, and a few silver pieces might jog a memory or loosen a tongue where an official sweating gets you nowhere. I shelved that idea until later: carters work nights, because wheeled traffic is banned within the boundaries any other time. My best chance of catching Hasta and Pertinax would be at the cart station outside the gate just before sunset.

'Lippillus didn't say anything to you about his plans?' I said. 'Nothing at all?'

Valens shook his head. 'No. Mind you, that doesn't necessarily mean anything. We work overlapping shifts, and if a problem or a lead had just come up he'd've told me about it at the changeover or left a message, and he was hit before he could do either. He didn't say anything to any of the lads on his own shift, either, not the ones I've talked to, anyway, which is most of them by now. And the rest've just come on.' He paused. 'Corvinus, what is this? I know you're a close friend of his, but this is Watch business.'

'Meaning the Watch can handle it on their own and nosey half-arsed purple-stripers can butt out?'

I was grinning while I said it, and he grinned back and ducked his head.

'Something along these lines,' he said. 'I wouldn't put it so politely myself.'

'Fair enough. Let's just say I have a vested interest. And like you said Lippillus is a friend. You object all that much?'

'No.' Valens's grin faded. 'No, Valerius Corvinus, I don't object at all. Lippillus is well-liked in the Watch, and if you can nail the bastard who hit him for us you can drink free for a month, no questions asked. And any squaddie on the station will say the same.'

Well, you couldn't say fairer than that. Information goes both ways, though. Without mentioning the Celsus tie-in I gave him the description of Ganymede that I'd given to Lippillus and Clemens. The hell with caution now; I wanted the guy cold. I wanted it so much I could taste it.

When I'd finished, Valens nodded. If he thought I was holding something back — and he probably did, because he was no fool — then he was polite enough not to say so.

'Thanks,' he said. 'That helps a lot. I'll spread the word to the other regions, too. Someone must know the man, and if Lippillus was looking for him then what happened to him makes sense.'

'Maybe you should concentrate on the area round the Latin Gate,' I said.

'Good idea.' Don't teach your grandmother to suck eggs, his tone said; but he was too polite to say so out loud. 'I'll spread the word, Corvinus, don't you worry. Like I said, we'll get him. Even if it takes a year.'

'Yeah, sure.' I stood up. 'Just give me first refusal when you do, okay?'

'Stand in line, boy.' Valens didn't smile. 'Stand in line.'

I called in at Lippillus's flat on my way back home. There was still no change. His face was a better colour, but his eyes were still closed and the lids didn't even flicker.

'Has Sarpedon been?' I asked Marcina.

'Yes.' At least she was talking to me now. 'He came first thing.'

'He say anything?'

'No. Except to tell me to keep trying to rouse him. I said I'd understood his instructions perfectly well the first time round.'

Ouch. I'd bet she hadn't stopped trying, either, since we'd left the night before. 'You had any sleep yourself, Marcina?'

'I'm not tired.' A lie: she was dead on her feet, and there were heavy bags under her eyes. 'Thank you for sending your slaves, by the way, but they're not necessary. Latinius next door is quite willing to run any errands that are needed.'

'Marcina, you know how sorry I am,' I said. 'Let me help, okay? I'd change things if I could, but I can't.'

'No. Of course you can't.' She turned away, and looked down at Lippillus. 'His job was bad enough at the best of times. I'm just angry that you had to make it worse. Now go, please. I'll let you know if and when he wakes up.'

'Uh, yeah. Yeah, okay.' That was some bitter lady, but I couldn't blame her. I could only blame myself. Keep safe… I left without touching Lippillus, and feeling sick as hell. My two lads were next door. I told them to hang around in the street outside in case they were wanted, and set off for home.

For the first time since the attack I found myself turning round to look for Felix and his mate the jolly Titan. I couldn't see any sign of them, naturally, but I knew they'd be around somewhere. That was another unsolved mystery, although one I didn't have the leisure just now to chase up. Who the hell were those two working for? And what was this Titius Sabinus stuff Felix had pointed me so carefully towards? Sure, Sejanus had framed the guy, but I knew that anyway: Sabinus had only been one of several Julians he'd stitched up in the killing years. There was the scam over the Sacrovir revolt, of course, but again I couldn't see that it mattered even if Sabinus had been directly involved at the Rome end. So what the hell was so special about Sabinus?

I cudgelled my brains, but nothing came. Somehow no doubt it all made sense, but I couldn't for the life of me see how.

Well, there was nothing else I could do for the moment, not until sundown when I could talk to Valens's carters. I went back to the Palatine, to sit and worry and feel like ten different kinds of rat, and wait for the message from Marcina that didn't come.

The sun was just above the horizon when I got to the Latin Gate. That part of the city is pretty sparsely populated. There're a few big houses on the slopes leading up to Asinianus Gardens, but the tenement blocks stop short of the beginning of Latin Road, and the Appian fork beyond Drusus Arch only has a scattering of cheap properties before the Tomb of the Scipios and the Appian Gate itself. After which there're lots of tombs but precious few houses. I was more sure than ever that Lippillus had been after Ganymede. He'd known where to lay his hands on the guy, sure he had: he was out there somewhere, on the edge of Lippillus's patch or beyond it. Only Ganymede had found Lippillus first.

Carters are a breed to themselves: night-owls who live a life separate from your ordinary city punter. Each gate has its quota, and the quota is self-limiting. All the carts along a given stretch are run by just a few families who've been there for generations, and they don't take kindly to strangers muscling in on the available trade. Like the aristocracy, if you want to join the club you either have to get yourself born into it or marry into it. There ain't no other way.

When I reached the gate the line of carts was getting ready to move out. In. Whatever. The loads were anything and everything that had come up Latin Road the day before: marble blocks, drainpipes, vegetables, chickens, scrap metal, sawn timber. All Italy's bounty. I picked on a big red-haired guy at the front whose cart was loaded with enough furniture to equip half a tenement.

'Hey, pal,' I shouted. 'Someone moving house?'

He looked down at me. I thought for a moment he'd tell me to piss off — carters aren't the friendliest of Rome's citizen body — but the sight of my stripe must've changed his mind. You don't turn your nose up at possible business if you're on the carts, especially purple-striper business.

'Nah,' he said. 'Special delivery for Zosimus's shop in the Velabrum. The brother's an auctioneer in Tusculum. You want anything carried, sir? I'm fixed but my cousin's free. Special rates.'

I took out a silver piece and held it up. 'Not today, friend. But I am after information. You know Hasta and Pertinax?'

'Latro's boys?' He frowned. 'This about the Watch commander that was hit two nights ago?'

I nodded. 'No hassle. I just want to talk to them.'

The frown lifted. 'Okay. They're not here yet, sir. Had a cousin married this morning, and they'll still be sleeping it off.'

'Uh huh.' Carter weddings, unlike the usual variety, happen early in the day; that way the celebrations don't cut into work time. 'You think they'll be along later?'

'Could be, but they were both pissed as newts when I saw them last. It depends if they've a load waiting.'

'How can I find that out?'

'Ask Surdus.' He jerked his thumb towards an old man with a wax tablet who was walking down the length of the line. 'He keeps the lists.'

'Right. Thanks a lot, pal.' I tossed him the coin. He grabbed it, spat on it for luck and tucked it into his tunic.

Surdus fitted his name: he was deaf as a post. I had to shout into his good ear for five minutes solid before the message got through.

'Hasta and Pertinax?' he said. 'They've a load of charcoal for the Aventine. Should be along any minute now, with the cart. They needed it for the wedding.'

'Yeah? What did they need a cart for?'

'What's that?' He held his hand to his ear.

'I said: WHAT DID THEY NEED A CART FOR?'

'Who told you they needed an apartment? It's good of you to offer, sir, but they live with their father. He has…'

'CART, for Jupiter's sake! CART! WHY DID THEY NEED A..!'

'Pardon?'

Jupiter with bells on! 'Okay. Okay, granddad,' I muttered, turning away. 'Forget it. I wasn't really interested anyway. Just curiosity.'

'What's that?'

'I SAID FORGET IT, I WASN'T… Hell, never mind.' I was looking down Latin Road towards the gate. Suddenly I froze.

Someone was coming through: a big guy in a dark tunic. He caught sight of me, did a double-take, turned and ran back the way he'd come.

Shit! Ganymede! I pushed old Surdus aside and dodged round the line of wagons, with a sick feeling in my stomach. I'd seen the guy run before, and I knew I didn't have a hope in hell of catching him, not with that much of a start. However, I had to try. I couldn't let him get away this time…

I'd almost reached the gate when someone shouted beyond it. Then there was a scream and a horrible crunching noise, like a bundle of sticks breaking slowly. Uh-oh. I'd been through this before, ten years back. That time it'd been messy: a scythe. It just went to show that sometimes history does repeat itself; or maybe it was just a warning that you should always think twice before running blind round corners. I slowed to a walk, knowing there wasn't any reason now to hurry.

He'd been looking over his shoulder, obviously, and the incoming cart had knocked him down and rolled over his back before they could stop it. It may've been empty, but the iron wheel had done a thorough job. He lay half underneath, pinned down and still twitching. The two youngsters on the box were staring at what was left of him in horror. The cart oxen, on the other hand, didn't look too concerned. My sympathies were with them: the bastard had deserved all he got. I was just sorry I hadn't been the one to give it to him.

I bent down to inspect the body: Ganymede, right enough. His back was broken, and his ribs. He'd stopped twitching now, and you didn't get deader. Then I looked up.

'He ran straight out in front of us, sir!' The first lad — the driver — said. He was shaking. His mate had leaned to one side and was being quietly sick onto the ground. 'We couldn't do nothing about it! Honest!'

Yeah, well, there was a certain poetic justice here. Sophocles would've approved.

'Hasta and Pertinax?' I said.

The kid swallowed, and nodded.

'You recognise him?' We'd got Ganymede out from underneath the wheel and laid him beside the gate.

Hasta and Pertinax looked at each other, then shook their heads. I felt sorry for them: they were just kids, no more than sixteen, and without enough whiskers between them for one decent shave.

'I've seen him around, sir, sure.' That was Pertinax, the one who'd lost his dinner over the side of the cart. He was still looking pretty pale. So was his brother, although some of it could've been the hangover. 'But I don't know who he is.' He swallowed, with a sidelong look at Ganymede's remains. 'Was.'

'Never mind, son,' I said. 'Don't let it worry you.' Ah, well. Maybe one of the other carters could help. Problem was, the sun was down by now and most of them had left. Delivery schedules don't wait for corpses, seemingly, and like Valens had said carters don't hang around when they scent trouble. At least Ganymede wouldn't be parting any more scalps this side of the Styx.

Just then Surdus came up with his wax tablet. He'd been checking the carts out of the gate. Now, it seemed, his work was over for the night and he had time to indulge a little personal curiosity. I stepped aside and he looked down at what the two youngsters had left of our killer.

'What about you, granddad?' I asked him. 'You any ideas?'

'What's that?'

Jupiter! It had to be Surdus, didn't it? I put my hand to his good ear and yelled:

'DO…YOU…KNOW…WHO..?'

He stopped me with a beautiful smile.

'I can't hear you, sonny,' he said. 'I'm a bit deaf. But if you want to know who this is his name's Crito. Rubrius Fabatus's head slave, from the villa up the road.'

Rubrius Fabatus I didn't know at all; but Crito, now. Crito was different. That name rang a faint bell.

Who the hell had mentioned a Crito?