David Wishart - Sejanus

'Yes, Marcus,' he said. 'His special area of interest is Carthaginian seal-rings. Marius is quite a collector. We often meet in Phlebas's.'

'He's here in Rome?'

Priscus stared at me like it was the stupidest question he'd ever heard. 'But of course he is! He has been for several years. The Carthaginians have never been favourites of mine. A crude race, but artistic in their way. Take their sculpture…'

Oh, shit! No, no digressions, not now! I had to head the old guy off before he went chasing after one of his esoteric rabbits.

'You happen to know where I can find him?' I said quickly.

'Marius?' Priscus looked surprised at the name, as if we'd been discussing someone completely different. 'He has a villa on the Janiculan, if I remember rightly. Quite a nice one. I've never been there myself, but Phlebas would know, if you think it's really important.'

'Yeah, I do.' I glanced at Mother. She was beginning to look suspicious. 'You…ah…know anything more about him?'

'Not a great deal, no. Apart from his antiquarian interests he isn't really my type. Not a true…mmmaaa!.. afictionado .'

'I see.' I took a gamble. 'Didn't he, uh, get into a bit of trouble at one time?'

'Marcus…' Mother began. Perilla glared at me.

Priscus was beaming, and blossoming like a shrivelled rose: it wasn't often he could keep his end up in a man-of-the-world conversation and he was obviously enjoying himself. 'Oh, yes! Yes, indeed! Something to do with Gaul, wasn't it?'

'Yeah, that's right.'

'Marcus,' Mother interrupted firmly, 'I don't know what you're after here, but this is all horribly familiar and I want you to stop it now.'

'I agree,' Perilla snapped. 'Marcus, behave!'

'Oh, tush, tush, my dears!' Priscus waved a hand and shifted on his couch. I'd never actually seen a louche sheep before, but he must've come pretty close. 'It was during the Latin Festival. Tiberius was away and Drusus was standing in. Marius was accused of treason or some such nonsense.'

'Who by?'

'I really can't recall, my dear fellow. In any case, the charge wasn't even…countenanced? Is that the word?'

'It'll do.' That would explain why there'd been no mention of Marius in the senate records: the accusation hadn't got that length, or it had been deliberately struck out. 'So what-?'

'Marcus!' Mother's eyes flashed. 'That's all! I forbid you to continue with this! And Titus, you've indulged the boy quite enough for one evening!'

There was no arguing with Mother in this mood. I held my hands up.

'Okay, okay!' I said. 'So what's for dessert?'

It was puréed plums with an elderberry and mint sauce. Mother made me eat two helpings as a punishment.

We left shortly afterwards, in frigid silence. I felt sorry for Priscus: he was obviously in for it as soon as the door closed behind us, and it hadn't been his fault.

Perilla wasn't too pleased with me either.

'You want to stop in at that cookshop on Tuscan Street?' I said finally, when the silence had dragged on just that bit too long. 'The one with no rats?'

'If you must, dear.' Shirty as hell. 'It's out of our way, of course. And personally after that meal I'm feeling quite full enough already.'

Yeah, well, Perilla might classify what we'd just had as a meal, but I didn't. My stomach needed an honest sausage and half a dozen meatballs. Even if they did turn out to be dog they'd at least be recognisable. I opened the litter curtains and got the leading litter slaves' attention.

'Hey, guys, take us home by Gratus's place in the Meat Market, okay?'

'Okay, boss.'

A good idea, but it came to nothing. When we got there there was a note on the door that said: 'Closed due to family illness' . Clearly it just wasn't my night.

When we pulled up outside Bathyllus had the door open for us as usual. The little guy was grinning like a drain, he looked well fed, and I could swear there was a streak of lovage-and-cumin sauce on his chin.

'How was your meal, sir?' he asked.

'Don't talk about it.' I started to strip off my mantle. 'Just don't talk about it. Ever.'

'Very well, sir.' He took Perilla's cloak.

'How's the Meton situation?' I said. 'Any change?'

'He's out, sir.'

I stared. The mantle slipped to the floor. 'Out?'

'Out of the kitchen. Since shortly after you left, sir.'

'Since shortly after we left.' My empty stomach rumbled. I pushed past him. 'Just let me get my hands on the bastard!'

'Certainly. But perhaps you should see your visitor first.'

I stopped. 'Visitor?'

'Flavonius Lippillus. He's in the dining room.'

Lippillus was on the guest couch with a jug of Setinian beside him. And on the table — spread across the whole length and width of the dining table — was…

My jaw dropped. Food. Real food.

'Hi, Corvinus.' Lippillus waved a canapé. 'You don't mind, do you? I'm sorry, I got tired waiting.'

'Yeah. I mean, no.' I was heaping a plate. Jupiter in spangles! Roast stuffed guinea-fowl! Snails! Mushrooms in wine! 'Did Meton make all this?'

'Sure. He's been slaving away like a demon for hours.' He looked up. 'Hi, Perilla.'

'Good evening, Lippillus.' Perilla had followed me in. She was staring at the table too. 'Marcus, what is going on here?'

'I don't know.' I bit into a leg of guinea-fowl: marinated, if I didn't miss my guess, in cherry juice and juniper. Delicious! 'And frankly at the moment I don't care.'

Lippillus poured me a cup of wine. 'I think it's a peace offering,' he said.

'Meton's wasting his time. When I get my strength back I'll beat him to death with his own omelette pan.' Gods, though, that guinea-fowl was good! I chased it down with a throatful of Setinian and reached for the mushrooms. 'What happened? He come out voluntarily?'

'Oh, he was no trouble. Not after I pitched in the smoke bomb.'

'The which? '

'Smoke bomb. A little something I learned once from a Greek army engineer.' Lippillus scooped olive paté onto a crust. 'I borrowed the ingredients from your neighbour, mixed the thing up, lit it and chucked it through the outside window. Bathyllus and his lads were waiting to grab Meton at the other end. Don't worry, there's no damage.'

'Screw the damage.' If Lippillus had managed to winkle Meton out without calling in the City Guard he'd performed a minor miracle. Even for him it was impressive. 'Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.'

'If you'll excuse me I'll just go and change into something that doesn't smell of rue sauce,' Perilla said. She disappeared upstairs.

'Rue sauce?' Lippillus stared after her. ' Rue sauce?'

'Believe it.' I de-shelled a snail.

'Bathyllus said you were out to dinner at your mother's.'

'Out, yes.' Gods, the snails were even better than the guinea-fowl: boiled in wine must with the barest touch of caraway. 'Dinner…'

Lippillus looked at me, then shrugged and poured us another cup of wine. 'So. Business. You left a message to say you wanted to see me. Or was it just that you needed help with your domestic problems?'

My stomach was quieter now. The rumbles had settled to a contented purring. 'You know anything about a man called Sextus Marius? Reported to Drusus for treason?'

Lippillus frowned. 'A Spaniard?'

'Yeah. That's him.' I evicted a second snail.

'Accuser Calpurnius Salvianus. The case was thrown out unheard and Salvianus was exiled.'

I nearly choked. 'He was what? '

'Exiled. Tiberius gave him a public reprimand and packed him off east.' Lippillus was still watching me closely. 'I'd forgotten about Marius. Where did you dig him up?'

I told him what Celsus had told me. He nodded.

'That would fit. Salvianus was none too bright by all reports. Sejanus used him to kill the two birds with the one stone.'