David Wishart - Sejanus

'Okay.' I stood up. 'No arguments. And I'm sorry, Marcina. This wasn't my idea.'

She didn't answer. I turned back to Lippillus.

'Take it easy, right, pal?' I said. 'And don't worry, everything's under control.'

His hand lifted, but his eyes were already closing. I slipped out.

Sarpedon came with me. And Marcina, which was more of a surprise. She shut the door quietly behind her.

'Corvinus, wait a moment, please.' She laid a hand on my arm. 'I've got something more to say to you.'

Uh-oh. I waited while she saw Sarpedon out. Then she turned to face me.

'I want to apologise,' she said.

'Uh…pardon?'

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 'I know that Decimus was hurt directly because of you. But I also know how…single-minded he can be at times when he thinks he ought to get involved in something. And you've helped a great deal, especially with Sarpedon. Decimus would have died if it hadn't been for him.'

'Marcina, it was the least I could do. It's nothing, believe me.'

'No.' She shook her head sharply. 'It is not nothing! I hate to think what all this cost…'

'Jupiter, Marcina!'

'…but the least I can do is be grateful. I am, Marcus. Very.'

'Yeah, well, you don't have to be. Like you said, it was my fault.'

'You would've done the same if he'd been hurt on a Watch case, wouldn't you?'

This was getting embarrassing. I wished now I'd left with Sarpedon. 'Yeah, but…'

She cut me short. 'That's my reason for apologising. I was angry, naturally. I'm still angry, with both you and Decimus. But that's not to say I can't see things in perspective. Decimus is very lucky to have you as a friend. As am I.' She tried a smile, the first one I'd seen on her face since the attack. 'There, now. That's over, and I'm glad.'

I smiled back. 'You and me both.'

The smile widened. She even laughed. 'Quite. But do leave Decimus alone, please. For a few days, anyway. Although you may be able to keep off touchy subjects I doubt if he can.'

I felt the black mood that had been pressing down on me for days lift. Not altogether, but enough.

'Don't worry, lady,' I said. 'You'll get no hassle from me.'

I left, whistling.

So. Crito's master Rubrius Fabatus was a friend of Sejanus's. Well, that didn't come as a surprise, but it was nice to know it for certain. I walked along Racetrack Road towards the Publician Incline. Another glorious day: spring was definitely in the air, and it looked like being a good Spring Festival. I turned round, but there was still no sign of Felix and Lamprus. Maybe their boss, whoever he was, had called them off, but I doubted it.

Lippillus had said that Fabatus was minor league, and that made sense. Sejanus wouldn't've risked a direct connection, not in the strong-arm department. But it meant that I had to prove another link in the chain if I wanted to tie him in with what was going on, and I had to go careful while I did it. There wasn't much point in barging in on Fabatus and accusing him to his face, because with Crito safely dead he'd simply deny everything and run straight back to tell tales to his boss. Which wouldn't do me much good at all. There had to be a better way.

Okay. So just exactly what was I after here? I'd got a long-dead Julian plot involving laundered money from the east being used to finance a smear campaign against the Wart at home. Sejanus had been party to that as the Wart's agent, first setting the Julians up and then knocking them down in the Wart's interests. Also — and crucially for me — in his own, because with the top Julians gone or discredited he was a prime contender for the immediate succession and he could use his growing prestige to build up the political support he needed. Even where that support worked against the emperor's — and the empire’s — best interests. It was this second side that I had to concentrate on, because I'd bet a gold piece to a poke in the eye that it was the side the Wart didn't know about. If I could get enough evidence to show Tiberius where his deputy's true loyalties lay, and that they posed a threat to Rome, then I had a fighting chance of toppling the guy. The problem would be separating that off from the legitimate stuff.

I wasn't just whistling at the wind, I knew that. There was the Germanicus case, for a start. The Wart hadn't known the whole story there, that I knew for certain. And since I'd been back in Rome Sejanus had done his best to make sure I didn't dig any deeper into his affairs than I had already. Celsus had known something, sure. He'd pointed me at Marius, who hadn't figured at all in the Julian scam up to now except for that double-finesse with the botched treason charge; and Celsus had died as a direct result. Then there was Felix and his pet hulk, and the business with Sabinus. That angle I still had to work out, but it was important. Sure it was.

The dirt was there waiting to be dug, just under the surface. All I had to do was recognise it for what it was.

There was a hot pie seller on Racetrack Corner. I bought a meat pasty from him and bit on it as I turned up the Incline for home.

Fabatus. How the hell was I to handle Fabatus?

I was in my study the next day working through my accounts when Bathyllus knocked on the door.

'Yeah? What is it?' I said, grumpy as hell; arithmetic has never been my strong point, and this visit to Rome was costing us an arm and a leg.

'I'm sorry to disturb you, sir.' Bathyllus had on his prim disapproving expression. 'There's a man outside who wishes to see you.'

Man, not gentleman. But it must be urgent for the little guy to break in on the accounts. Disturbing the master when he's beating his head against an abacus is a hanging offence in the Corvinus household.

'This man got a name?' I said.

'He wouldn't give it, sir. Or tell me his business.' A sniff. Bathyllus was seriously peeved; and no one, but no one ranking below a consul seriously peeves Bathyllus and lives. Whoever he was, the visitor had guts. He was lucky to be still breathing.

'Is that so?' I said.

'That's so, sir.' He paused. 'If it's of any relevance he told me to tell you that Felix had sent him.'

I almost dropped the pen I'd been chewing the end off.

'He told you what?'

'I didn't recognise the name either, sir, but I thought…'

I was stuffing the accounts books into the bureau drawer. 'Wheel him in,' I said. Gods! What the hell was this?

I saw what Bathyllus had meant as soon as he appeared. Our surprise visitor was no gentleman. A slave, probably; not even a freedman. He was so filthy I could've planted carrots all over him; got a good crop, too.

'Okay, Bathyllus, you can go,' I said. The little guy gave another sniff — justified this time, the atmosphere had turned pretty heavy all of a sudden — and left.

'You Marcus Valerius Messalla Corvinus?' The guy was confident enough, I'd give him that.

'Yeah.' I wondered whether I should've taken out the dagger I keep with the family strongbox, but apart from posing a general risk to health he looked harmless. Weedy, if that isn't a bad pun. 'That puts you one up on me, pal. You didn't give my slave your name.'

'Festus.' Uninvited, he pulled up a chair and sat on it. I said nothing, but I could imagine Bathyllus throwing five different kinds of fit at once. 'The little bald guy with the sniff tell you Felix sent me?'

'Uh huh. He also said you'd refused to state your business.'

'I'm Rubrius Fabatus's head gardener. Was, anyway, as of three days ago.'

'Is that right, now?' I said slowly, my brain buzzing. It explained his loamy aftershave, anyway. And other scents. Some really keen gardeners have a private arrangement with the slaves who muck out the public privies, and Festus smelt like one of the keenest. But it didn't explain how he came to be here. I'd just made the Rubrius connection myself. 'Fabatus's gardener, eh?'