David Wishart - Sejanus

'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.