Sejanus

36

Perilla arrived ten days later, on a private boat sent specially to pick her up at Ostia. I met her at the landing-place, the smaller one on the south coast; Tiberius wasn't taking any chances. She looked thin and pinched, and the shadows under her eyes showed she hadn't slept all that much recently. That made two of us.

We hugged each other for a long time.

'You're all right?' she whispered finally.

'Yeah. I'm fine. You?'

'Happy to be here. Very happy.'

I kissed her and let her go. 'You should see the villa the Wart's given us, lady. I hope you like fancy marble and good bronzes.'

Her fingers were still touching my arm. They were trembling.

'Marcus, when the emperor's messengers came for me in Rome I thought you'd been executed,' she said. 'Even on the boat I wasn't sure.'

I stared at her. 'They didn't give you my letter?'

'Yes, of course. But I only half believed in it. Tiberius might have thought a forged letter would bring me more quietly.'

'Yeah.' I swallowed. Sure, and if things had worked out differently that was just what the Wart would have done. Still, I didn't want Perilla to know how close I'd come. 'That all the luggage you've brought?'

'Yes.'

'Ah, well.' I signalled to the waiting slaves to take up her single trunk. 'We won't be going to too many parties anyway. Jupiter! I wish this was over and we were back home. I'm sick of hiding in corners.'

'How long will it be? Before…' She hesitated.

The litter-slaves were waiting, but I waved them on out of earshot. The villa wasn't far, and it was a beautiful day. It was always a beautiful day here. I could see why the Wart preferred Capri to Rome. Not that I shared his opinion. Spectacular scenery's okay to look at, but it doesn't move about all that much, and it doesn't make a noise. 'Before Sejanus is chopped? Two months. That's if everything goes well, of course.'

'Two months?' Perilla stopped and stared at me. 'Why so long?'

I shrugged. 'Something to do with sidereal positions. If that's what you call them.'

'Astrology? Is the emperor mad?'

'Not so's you'd notice. And don't knock astrology.' It'd saved my life, for a start, although I wasn't going to tell her that. Not for a long time. 'If Tiberius takes his pal Thrasyllus's predictions seriously then I wouldn't lay any bets against them coming true. No bets at all.' The hairs on the back of my neck stirred at the memory. Gods alive! First Gaius, then Idiot Claudius! Maybe we should emigrate to Parthia. 'Besides, two months gives him time to plan.'

'Do you think the emperor has a chance? Really?' She was keeping her voice low. 'Marcus, you must have seen those soldiers on the quayside at Surrentum for yourself. They're Praetorians, Sejanus's men. And Sejanus's word is law in Rome.'

'You haven't met the Wart, lady.' I kissed her on the cheek. 'I'd back that grim old bugger against Sejanus any day, even with the whole senate and all of the Praetorians in his pocket.' Yeah, well, but I'd keep my fingers crossed all the same. Perilla was right, the guy was dug in as deep as he could get, and if he even suspected that Tiberius was about to cancel his pension for him he wouldn't go without a fight. 'Let's get up to the villa. The holiday starts here.’

Holiday nothing. By the time October came I was twitching. It was like the Subura flat all over again, only what was driving me mad wasn't the confined space but the peace and quiet. At least in the tenement I could watch what was happening outside the window, maybe broaden my vocabulary when two mule-drivers with full cargoes met head on in the street below. And latterly there'd been the wineshop. Sure, Tiberius's guest accommodation was impressive as hell — better even than I was used to back home — but the guy had us stitched up so tight I couldn't even swap visits with a goat without a passport. Perilla was okay. Half the trunk had been books, and she'd got her writing. Besides, the villa had a library. Me — well, reading isn't my bag, you can only soak up so much fresh air, and when I walk I like to feel limestone flags under my feet. This grass stuff is overrated.

I was getting quietly stewed on the terrace — Perilla was sipping a fruit juice and wrestling with a poem in Alcaean glyconics — when Felix walked in. I hadn't seen him since he'd put out the lamp in our cubby-hole, and I almost swallowed the cup.

'Good evening, sir,' he said. 'Madam. I hope I'm not disturbing you.'

'Uh, no.' I waved him towards a seat. No slaves; even the wine slave had made himself scarce at a nod from Felix. Uh-huh. So this was one of these unofficial visits that weren't actually happening. 'Not so's you'd notice. You know my wife? Perilla, this is Felix.'

'Rufia Perilla.' He ducked his head. 'A pleasure, madam.'

Perilla got up. 'Marcus, if this is business I'll go inside.'

'Really, madam, it's not necessary.' Felix sat down. 'In fact, the emperor told me specifically to make sure you were present.'

'Yeah?' I took a sip of wine. Perilla sat down again. 'So you're working for Tiberius now?'

'No, sir. Perhaps you had better see this as' — he hesitated — 'a joint communiqué. From the emperor and my master together.'

'How is Gaius? Got his first pair of winged sandals yet?'

Felix looked at me. He wasn't smiling now. Not a glimmer.

'Valerius Corvinus,' he said. 'I really would be very careful with the master, if I were you. I won't go into details, but some things you don't joke about, in his hearing or in the hearing of his servants. I say this to you as a friend.'

Gods! I remembered what Thrasyllus had told me, and a cold finger touched my spine. Perilla gave me a sharp look, but I ignored her. 'Yeah. Okay. Forget I said it.'

'I will. Completely. Perhaps that's best for all concerned.'

There was an awkward silence. 'You want some wine?' I said eventually.

'No, thank you, sir.' The smile came back. 'I only came to tell you the news. The plans have been finalised and the emperor thought you'd like to know what they are.'

'Uh huh.' I waited.

'You remember Sertorius Macro?'

'The guard commander? Of course I do.'

'Tiberius is giving him a letter to take to the senate. A letter which ostensibly — and Macro will be careful to let our friend know this — grants Sejanus tribunician power equal to the emperor's own.'

That made sense. Ever since Augustus the ruling emperor's grant of the powers of a People's tribune had been used to mark the imperial succession. A tribune had the right to veto any motion passed by the senate, absolutely and without giving a reason. Also he was personally sacrosanct. Offer violence to a tribune and you'd have several centuries' worth of divine law down on your neck before you could spit. There was no appeal, either. Sejanus had been angling for this for years.

'Ostensibly?' I said.

'The letter is Sejanus's death sentence.' That came out flat. 'The first he'll know of the contents is when the senior consul reads it out in plenary session.'

'Oh, Marcus!' Perilla murmured.

I picked up my wine cup then put it down untasted. My ears were buzzing, and the colours around us seemed somehow sharper. Yeah, sure, I'd expected this, but now it'd come it still knocked me for six. Sejanus had been a fixture for more years than I could count. The thought of Rome without him just didn't register. 'What will the Praetorians be doing meantime?' I said. 'Sejanus is their commander. These guys will be on duty inside the House and outside, and Tiberius can't be sure which way they'll jump. If they take Sejanus's part then we're talking trouble, maybe even civil war if he wins free.'

'Macro will carry another letter which he will show to the Praetorians when Sejanus is safely in his seat. A commission appointing him as Sejanus's replacement. The guards will be told to return to camp with the promise of a cash bounty and their places taken by loyal men from the Urban Cohort.'

Neat. I sat back. It all fitted, and with luck it would work. Sure it would; it had to. And the promise of tribunician power would certainly hook Sejanus like nothing else could. The clever old bugger had done it again.

'There will be no mention of Sejanus's involvement in Drusus's death,' Felix went on. 'Not initially. That subject is…delicate.' Yeah. I'd bet, especially with the Wart's niece Livilla as co-conspirator. 'It will come out later. Perhaps a confession might be arranged. A posthumous one.' I felt Perilla shudder. 'Besides, the emperor is most concerned to use Sejanus's fall to strengthen my master's position. The charges against him will concentrate on his unjust persecutions of the Julians.'

'These being the persecutions that Tiberius knew about and encouraged? Including the plot against Gaius himself?'

Felix didn't answer; not that I'd expected him to. I took a swallow of wine, but it tasted sour. Sure, I knew the Wart's reasons and they made all sorts of sense, but the whole thing sickened me to the stomach. Even a quiet knife in the back would be cleaner than this travesty. 'So. When does all this happen?'

'I think Thrasyllus already mentioned the date to you, sir. The eighteenth.' Five days' time. 'We leave in two days. Perhaps you'd better start packing now.'

It didn't sink in. Not at first. 'You want me to go as well?'

'The emperor thought you would like to be in at the kill.' Felix's lips barely twitched. 'In fact, he insisted on it. He seems to think you deserve most of the credit, and I agree with him. Personally, I'd consider the invitation an honour.'

'Yeah.' I was staring out over the sea. There was nothing between us and Sicily, and the green of the submerged rocks off the coast contrasted sharply with the indigo of the deep sea beyond. 'Yeah. I expect you would at that.'

Perilla reached over and took my hand. She was trembling. 'I'm coming too,' she said.

'The invitation was only for one, madam,' Felix said gently. 'I'm sorry, but that's final. You'll be brought back to Rome when it's all over and the city is safe.'

'How soon will we know?'

Felix hesitated. 'I understand the emperor has arranged a series of signal beacons. In the unlikely event that things go wrong. And, of course, a fast galley. The news should be in Capri within a few hours at most.'

'A fast galley,' I said sourly. 'Is that right?'

'So I believe.'

'Bully for Tiberius.' I tipped the cupful of wine onto the ground. 'Only question is, where could the bastard run?'