David Wishart - Sejanus

'Whatever we're having, then.' I sighed. 'Just pour.' A peach of an evening was right. I only hoped the mad old biddy was worth the sacrifice.

'We thought you'd enjoy Meton's honey-fruit surprise, Torquata,' Perilla said, smiling at me. 'It really is very refreshing. Marcus absolutely loves it.'

You're next, lady, I thought as I held my cup up for Bathyllus to pour. It didn't look too bad. I sniffed, then sipped, and the liquid burst into song on my tongue. Shit! Caecuban! And not just any Caecuban but the Caecuban, the stuff from the imperial cellars that Livia had sent me. I hadn't known we had any of it left.

Bathyllus gave me the ghost of a wink. What was going on here? The little guy had served Torquata first, and he hadn't switched jugs because I'd been watching all the time. Ergo, our guest was wrapped round a good quarter pint of prime fermented grape juice, and she must know it. So why was the room still in one piece?

I looked at the Vestal. She was holding out the empty cup for a refill.

'Ah…you liked that, Junia Torquata?' I asked carefully.

'Very much.' She must've been working on that straitlaced stare for years. 'It has such a lovely tang of apples.'

'Uh…yeah. Yeah, it does, doesn't it?' The refill disappeared. Bacchus, the old girl could pack it away faster than I could. I just hoped we did have another flask in the cellar. Two flasks.

Perilla wasn't drinking. Not surprising, since she knew what was in the jug: the Caecuban was practically neat, and she genuinely prefers fruit juice.

'We're so glad you could come, Torquata,' she said. 'Marcus has been dying to meet you. He's most interested in the origins of priestly ritual.'

I almost swallowed my wine cup.

'Really?' Torquata smiled at me. 'So nice to find a young man with a taste for tradition. And so rare these days. Which particular aspect of ritual absorbs you most, Caecinus?'

'Ah…'

'Don't tell me. I know. The Salian priesthood's. You have the physique of a Salian yourself. Small head, good chest, tight withers. And the right blood, of course. Never forget the blood.' She held out her cup. Bathyllus leaped forwards to fill it. 'Blood always tells.'

Gods alive! She was worse than Priscus on a bad day! It was like having your brain mugged by a theological gorilla. I gritted my teeth and hung on while she drank her way down the jug (without any noticeable effect) and took me through the insanitary personal habits of the Jumping Priests of Mars. By which time we'd gummed the lettuce purée and were squelching our way through the milk casserole.

'And how is your poor brother?' Perilla took advantage of a lull in the conversation.

Torquata frowned. 'Which one, my dear? The goody-goody, the crook, or the fool who got himself involved with Julia?'

Perilla didn't bat a beautiful eyelid.

'The crook,' she said.

'Oh, Gaius is still twiddling his thumbs on that island of his. Silly man. Mind you, he was damned lucky to get off so lightly. He always was too sharp for his own good, even as a child.'

'Extortion is such a sordid crime, I always think.' Perilla scooped the last of the milk and pine nuts from her bowl. 'And so unfortunate for the family.'

Torquata snorted. 'Damn extortion! There's a lot of nonsense talked these days about not exploiting provincials. What did the good gods put provincials out there for if not to be exploited?' She held up her cup for Bathyllus to fill. The little guy was looking punch-drunk; Vestals can be wearing at close quarters. 'There's nothing wrong with a bit of honest extortion, Perilla. Gaius would have been all right if he'd stuck to feathering his own nest decently like a governor should and kept away from You Know Who.'

I sat up. 'Uh…"You Know Who"?' I said.

Torquata ignored me. 'Please don't get me wrong, my dear. I have the utmost respect for her, even if she is a little overbearing. All the best mothers are. I have no children myself, naturally, but I do understand the mother's role. You have to dominate the little vipers from birth. Mould them to shape, for their own good.'

'Quite right.' Perilla took a sip of the quarter cup of wine she'd had Bathyllus pour her for appearances’ sake.

'Nor did I have anything against the idea as such,' the Vestal went on. 'I mean, if you're going to do something like that it's bound to be expensive and the money has to come from somewhere. And it might well have worked. But it's Gaius's stupidity that I cannot understand. Did he really imagine for one moment that the emperor wouldn't notice? ' She emptied her cup at a gulp. 'Oh, hell. Let's change the subject. Your poor hubby's looking bored, and just thinking about that silly man makes me angry. What sort of fruit have you got? I could just manage a pineapple or two.'

'Bored' wasn't the word for how I looked, of course; I was gobsmacked. So gobsmacked that I didn't notice that my mouth was hanging open until Perilla whispered to me to close it. Maybe Torquata was short-sighted. Or maybe Meton's honey-fruit surprise had got to her after all. I'd been counting, and I made it two and a half jugs. One for me and the rest for Junia Torquata. Still, I didn't regret them, imperial Caecuban or not. They'd done their work on the old reprobate, and my brain was buzzing like a beehive in spring.

It was two in the morning before we finally got rid of her. In the course of the evening she'd finished off the third jug practically single-handed and made a fair-sized hole in a jug of the Special, but she walked out of the front door without either a stumble or a slur. Impressive stuff. As a drinker I'd've backed her against a legion's First Spear any day of the month. She certainly had me beat hands down, no contest.

'Thank you, Perilla,' she said as she eased herself into her litter. 'And you, of course, Caecinus. A marvellous evening. Simply splendid. We must have a rematch some time soon.' Then, to the waiting axeman: 'Home, Decimus. "Forth now fare we, forth in splendour", my dear.'

The litter boys took the strain. Perilla and I looked at each other and tried to keep from laughing until they'd disappeared down Poplicolan Street. We managed, just; but it was a close-run thing.

'And thank you, lady,' I said to Perilla. 'You were brilliant.'

'Oh, it was nothing.'

'Next time we have her we'll invite Uncle Cotta and sell tickets.'

Perilla creased up. I kissed her. 'Bed?'

She kissed me back. 'Bed, Caecinus.'

Vestals are okay in their place, but you wouldn't want to marry one.

'Marcus, you're not concentrating.'

'Hmm?'

'You do realise that this sleuthing business is simply ruining our love life?'

'Yeah?'

'Yes. I thought we'd done with all of that. And personally I find it very hard to make love with a brain ticking away just above my head.'

I slipped an arm round her shoulders. 'Brains don't tick.'

'Yours does. It's distracting.'

Yeah, well. Maybe I had been putting in a bit of illicit thinking. There's a time and a place for everything, and as far as turning possible political scams over in your head is concerned two in the morning in a beautiful woman's bed isn't either. I pulled her tighter and her chin wedged itself into the hollow of my neck.

'How did you know to pull that stunt with the wine?' I said.

'Mother used to do it. And Aunt Marcia. It's Torquata's one failing.'

'Failing? I'd hate to match that old dear cup for cup in a drinking bout. As a Vestal she's wasted. A shame it had to be the last of the Caecuban, though.'

I felt Perilla grin. 'Nothing else would have done. I wanted her in a good mood. She adores wine, but she wouldn't have drunk so much if it hadn't been the best.'

'Oh, I'm not complaining. Not really. The stuff went to a good home, and Livia would've approved. Thanks again, lady.'