Sejanus

27

It was. The longest I'd ever spent. Agron dropped by from time to time, but not often, and not for long: even that we couldn't risk.

The news he brought wasn't too good, either. I'd burnt my bridges with a vengeance, seemingly. Marcus Valerius Corvinus had been condemned by the senate in absentia, on a charge of treason backdating ten years: seditious activity in Italy and Syria compounded with bad-mouthing the emperor and spreading sedition in the provinces. Jupiter knew where Sejanus had got that last one from. I'd once at a party in Daphni described the governor as a stuck-up lardball with less brains than a hen, but that was it, and the Greeks had just smiled over their cold sardines with date sauce like they always did when some half-assed Roman stated the obvious. The prosecutors at the trial, I noticed, were Trio and Vitellius. There was no defence worth speaking of. So much for Cotta.

So the Palatine house was gone; not sold yet, but sequestrated, along with the rest of my property. Well, I hadn't expected anything else, but it meant that now I was really on my own, and it was a fight to the finish between me and Sejanus. Personally I wouldn't lay any bets on the outcome. I wasn't used to being cooped up, either, and my feet itched for the feel of a pavement under them. I even envied Meton, who had to get out if we wanted to keep eating. Sure, I'd had my doubts about letting him off the leash, but if I'd put my foot down and refused to let him do the shopping I'd've woken up one morning with a filleting knife between my ribs. As it was, I just warned him to forget his little gastronomic trips to the Velabrum and make do with second best from the local market. Spanish fish-sauce and prawns from Minturnae we could live without, even if it did throw his menus out of kilter.

Meanwhile I let my hair and my beard grow, walked with a stoop and practised my Campanian accent. None of that would fool anyone I knew for a second, from close up at least, but it'd get me by with strangers if and when I had the chance to meet any.

By the time the spring festival came and went I was climbing walls. Perilla was lasting better: she didn't get out any more than I did, but she was filling in the time writing Greek poetry, working her way through the metres. Heavy stuff, and beyond me; her stepfather would've been proud of her. The only bit of light- and that was just a glimmer — was young Paullus. Every time he came Agron brought a fresh supply of the kid's sketches. Most of the faces didn't mean anything to me and the ones that did didn't strike any chords, but at least they made me feel I was doing something.

Spring passed into summer. We were half way through June: two full months since we'd moved to the Subura, and slightly over one before Marilla's deadline. I was beginning to twitch seriously, but there was no point going anywhere until I had a lead. I'd thought about things, sure — the business with Titius Sabinus was still bugging me — but working on theories alone without being able to prove or disprove them is like trying to keep your eyes open when you sneeze.

Then one day Agron arrived, and everything changed.

. .

'Corvinus. Perilla.' The big guy gave me a nod. 'How's it going?'

Bathyllus was already pouring the wine. Living in a tenement didn't seem to have fazed him any, and we must have had the cleanest flat in the whole Subura. Even the cockroaches shone.

'Perilla's on to augmented polyschematist dimeters with added adoneuses,' I said sourly: the sun was streaming through the balcony window, and he had that fresh-air look about him that I was beginning to hate. 'I'm scratching my armpits. So what else is new?'

'He doesn't mean it.' Perilla gave one of her tolerant smiles. 'He's being very patient.'

'Yeah, I'll bet.' Agron held up a sheaf of papers. 'I've brought some more of Paullus's sketches for you to have a look at.'

He handed them over. The face on the top one leaped out and hit me.

'Shit,' I murmured.

'You know him?' Agron's interest sharpened.

'Sure I know him.' My brain was buzzing: maybe this time we were going to strike lucky. 'That's Caelius Crispus.' I turned the sketch over: Paullus would've written any information on the back. 'Three visits, all late, all lasting over an hour. So what would Crispus be doing visiting Vitellius?'

'Who's this Crispus?'

'A shady character with a boyfriend high up in the Treasury.' I caught myself, remembering our meeting just after Dad's funeral, when I'd first gone to check the senate records. 'No. He's in the Treasury himself these days. Something to do with the military pay-chest.'

'Is he, now?' The corners of Agron's mouth turned down. 'You know Vitellius is the new Treasury Controller?'

'He's what?'

'Sure. As of four days ago.'

I was getting that prickly feeling at the back of my neck; the feeling I'd been missing for months.

'You happen to know how he got the appointment?' I said.

'Flamininus had to give it up. The guy's been ill recently.'

'What kind of ill?'

'That I don't know.' Agron was frowning. 'Hold on, Corvinus, you're building a case out of nothing here. Flamininus is sick, full stop, end of story. Vitellius has the seniority, and he has a sound financial background. He's a natural choice. Also, if Crispus is one of his juniors like you say then there's every reason for him to pay a call on his boss. Even three calls.'

'Outside office hours? When they work in the same building? And his ultimate boss?'

'Maybe it was an emergency.'

'You said it yourself. Three calls. One for an emergency I'd believe, but not three. In any case both guys are as crooked as an Ostian dice game. Come on, pal, you know I'm right!'

Agron rubbed his chin. 'Yeah, well. Maybe.'

'Maybe nothing. We're in business here.'

'Okay. So maybe we are. So what can you do about it?'

'I can talk to Crispus, of course.'

'Marcus, no!' Perilla said.

I shrugged. 'I've got to come out of hiding some time, lady. Otherwise I might as well not be here.'

'Perilla's right.' Agron was still frowning. 'You don't even know if there's anything in this. It's too risky.'

'I told you. I know Vitellius, and I know Crispus. Put the two together and they stink worse than a bucketful of Tiber mud.' I stared at the sketch again. 'Besides, I can catch Crispus in the evening, on the way to his club.'

'Marcus.' Agron held up his hands. 'Be reasonable! If you think it's important then I'll sweat the guy myself.'

'You wouldn't know what to ask.'

'So tell me, for Jupiter's sake!'

I shook my head. 'No.'

Agron sighed. 'Fine. Okay, fine. But we do it my way, once I've talked to a few friends of mine. And if you're only doing this to get a lungful of fresh air, Corvinus, I swear I'll kill you personally.'

'Yeah.' I grinned. 'Well, there is that too.'

It was good to be outside again, even at night. I'd arranged to meet Agron and his friends near the house on the Pincian where Crispus spent his evenings with other bachelors of a certain persuasion. The place lay beyond Lucullus Gardens, far out and isolated. Because of what went on there, intentionally so: the last time I'd been here with Perilla, Crispus had been wearing a napkin.

I'd brought Alexis with me to carry the torch. It would've looked suspicious otherwise, especially if I bumped into any of the Watch: no respectable citizen, even a plain-mantle, goes out at night without at least one slave to attract the mosquitoes and discourage more dangerous two-legged pests. I'd tucked a pair of party-slippers under my arm, too, for appearances sake.

I kept to the main drag, up Long Road to the Quirinal, then back the way along High Path to Flora's Gate and up to the Pincian itself. A long way round, sure, but I'd left myself plenty of time and like I say it was good to be walking again. It was a beautiful evening, too. Even from the road I could smell the cypresses in Lucullus Gardens. The dark scent reminded me of Dad's funeral.

I had Alexis douse the torch well short of Crispus's club and we cut across the waste ground towards the house itself. I'd almost reached it when someone stepped out in front of me. My knife was half out of its sheath before I recognised Agron.

'Corvinus?' he whispered: there wouldn't be anyone close enough to hear, or so I hoped, but he obviously wasn't taking any chances.

'Yeah.' I slipped the knife back into place.

'Everything's ready. Come and meet the boys.'

There were six of them, big Ostian bruisers who spent the day humping marble slabs on and off barges and the night doing Jupiter knew what.

'You'll recognise Crispus's litter?' I said.

'Sure.' Agron grinned in the darkness. 'I went round to his house this morning and checked it out. The litter-slaves, too. No problem. We'll take them here where the path bends.' It was a good place, screened from the road behind and from the house in front, with plenty of cover; Agron had been a soldier once, and he still had a sharp eye for country. 'You sure about your timings?'

'I'm sure. The Happy Bachelors club doesn't get going until midnight.'

'Okay. Leave the slaves to us. You take your pal yourself.'

'Fine.'

We moved back into the bushes and watched the track. Two litters passed: I recognised one of them as belonging to an ex-censor. The third was ours.

I had to admit it was slickly done: half a minute, max, from start to finish. Agron stepped out in front of the guy with the torch and had him by the throat before he knew what was happening. At the same time the Ostian bruisers slipped in behind and took out the others. Knives flashed, but there was no blood: we wanted silence, not killings.

Once the litter slaves were immobilised, I stepped forward and opened the curtains.

'Hi, Crispus,' I said. 'Surprise.'

He didn't recognise me at first. Then his eyes widened.

'Corvinus! What the hell..!'

I put my hand across his mouth and bundled him out while Agron's lads got the litter and its slaves off the track and into the shelter of the rocks in case any more punters came along while we were having our chat. Then I drew my own knife and set the point under his chin.

'Okay, pal,' I said. 'Take this easy and you won't get hurt.'

Crispus went limp as a rabbit. I half-pulled, half-carried him well away from the path to a hollow where the bushes grew thickly and shoved him in.

'I thought you'd left Rome.' He was grey with fear and trying not to show it. 'Everybody did. When Sejanus finds out — ' His mouth shut like an iron trap.

'Yeah. Only Sejanus isn't going to find out, is he? Not from you, anyway.'

He must've read more into the words than I'd meant, because the grey colour went up a few notches and he passed his tongue across his lips.

'What do you want?' he whispered.

'What do I usually want from you? Information.'

'But I don't have — '

'Sure you do.' I crouched down beside him, still gripping his arm. He stank of fear and expensive aftershave. 'Let's take an easy question for starters. What sort of scam do you have cooking with Publius Vitellius? And don't bother to deny it, sunshine, because I just won't believe you.'

'Corvinus, for the gods’ sake — !'

He'd been shaking. Now I put the knife back under his jawbone and pressed. He stiffened and his eyes rolled until the whites showed.

'Listen,' I said carefully. 'I'm running from a treason rap already. If they catch me I'm dead. So nailing your tongue to the top of your skull isn't going to make all that much difference to me, and I swear I'll do it with the greatest pleasure unless you tell me now what Vitellius is up to.'

'But I can't..!' he began. I moved my hand. The point of the knife broke through the skin and a drop of blood eased itself out. Crispus's head was as far back as it would go now, but his eyes were doing their best to see what my knife-hand was doing. 'Corvinus, please! I promise you…'

'Not this time, pal,' I said. 'No games. I haven't got the time or the inclination. Your choice, but you'll have to make it quick.'

I could feel him collapse. I took the knife away.

'Okay,' he said. 'Just give me a moment.' He rubbed his throat and gulped at the night air. 'Vitellius is dipping into the military pay-chest.'

Well, it had to be something like that, of course. Still…

'Uh-uh,' I said. 'That's impossible. Vitellius is no fool. There're regular checks, independent audits. He wouldn't get away with it for five minutes.'

'Maybe not five minutes. But two months is possible, and that's all he needs.'

'You mean until the twenty-eighth of July?'

He stared at me, and his jaw dropped. I swear his right hand was making the sign against witchcraft, and he even forgot to be frightened. If it hadn't been so serious I would've laughed.

'Corvinus, how the hell do you know about the twenty-eighth?' he said.

'Never mind.' Bang on the button! 'So Vitellius needs the cash to fund the assassination attempt on the emperor.' Crispus was still staring. 'And when Tiberius is dead and Sejanus is in control everything will be sweetness and light again.'

'Uh, yeah. Yeah.' He swallowed. 'More or less.'

'More or less?'

'If a few extra pennies are left unaccounted for at the end of the day, then no one's going to ask too many questions, are they?'

'Uh huh.' That made sense. Crispus may've been a crook, but he left politics alone. They were too risky, and you might lose your head as well as your profit. 'So why should he involve you?'

'He had to,' Crispus said. 'I've got the other key to the strongroom door.'

Yeah. Well. The simple answers are the best. I straight-armed him upright and had the satisfaction of seeing the fear come back into his eyes. 'Now listen, sunshine. I'm going to ask you this next question once and once only, and you'd better be able to answer it or I'll break your arm. That's for starters. I should also remind you that I've nothing to lose and if I find later that you've lied or prevaricated I'll make a point of coming after you and breaking your neck as well. And if that doesn't persuade you to an answer, I give you my word that very soon now the emperor is going to know all about this business and who was involved in it, and he is not going to be a very happy little Caesar. Now. Do I make myself clear?'

He swallowed again and nodded.

'Good. The question is, what is the name of the assassin? You have a count of five. One.'

'Corvinus!'

'Two.'

He was sweating. 'Corvinus, please! It's more than my life's worth!'

'Three.'

'Sejanus will…'

'Four.' I shifted my grip so that my other hand was behind his elbow.

'Okay!' he screamed. 'The guy's name's Silanus! Appius Junius Silanus!'

I let him go. 'The Asian governor's son?'

He was breathing heavily and rubbing his arm. 'Yeah. Now just leave me alone, okay? I've told you all I know.'

'How's he getting into Capri?'

'He's carrying a message. From Sejanus. I don't know the details, I swear I don't know!'

His voice was sulky, but he was telling the truth. I got up.

'Okay, Crispus.' I jerked my head. 'Piss off. Have a nice evening.'

'You won't tell Silanus I gave him away?'

'No, I won't tell him.' Junius Silanus. The exiled Asian governor's son. Well, well. Junia Torquata would have another scapegrace relative to add to her list: my nephew the assassin. That was some family.

Crispus scuttled off with a nervous glance over his shoulder. Agron loomed out of the darkness ahead of him and he squeaked and dodged, but I gave a wave and the big guy let him pass.

A good night's work. Now I had to talk to Silanus.