David Wishart - Germanicus

'Early this morning.' Scaurus looked past me. A queue was starting to form. I recognised the chitterlings lady; this time she'd been buying spring greens. 'Now what can I get you, mister?'

'Uh…you got any sows' wombs?'

'Sure. How many you want?'

'Two. No, make it three.' While he was fetching them I looked up at the meat rack. Hooks there and to spare: he'd never have missed one. Nice sharp knives, too.

Gods! And I'd believed the guy!

I took my sows' wombs wrapped in straw and paid for them. I thought of giving them away to the first passing dog but then I changed my mind. They looked fresh, and roast sows' wombs with a nut and sausage stuffing is something you don't see every day. Besides, if Meton ever found out I'd chucked them he'd probably poison the soufflé in revenge. The guy was like that. A real professional.

Okay. So if the murderer was Carillus then the bastard was either very careless or very confident. And I didn't think Carillus was the careless type. That hook had been part of the message. He was saying, in effect, ‘So I did it. So nail me if you can. But watch your back if you try because I've got friends.’ That didn't sound too good. Also there was the matter of the letter. If the murderer was Carillus then all the bets were off. Maybe the deed of transfer he'd shown me had been genuine. The date had certainly checked, but that didn't mean the deed had to be the letter Piso had written on his last night. Carillus could've got both from Piso at the same time. In which case we were back to square one, with a phantom note that'd been written and possibly delivered.

Or not, as the case might be.

Perilla was out when I got back. I had a quick lunch and then set off for the Caelian to see Gaius Secundus, the nearest thing I'd got to a Drusus expert. Until six months ago he'd been a junior staff officer in Pannonia; at which time the silly bastard had fallen down a cliff, smashed the bones in his right leg to smithereens, and been invalided back to Rome. We'd split a few jars together in the past and I reckoned I could rely on him to give me some straight answers.

The slave showed me through to the garden. Secundus was sitting on a chair with his leg stretched out in front of him and a stick within easy reach. Not that he'd been able to use it yet, but that would come. Maybe. If he was lucky.

'Hey, Corvinus!' he said. 'How's the lad?'

'Not bad. 'I sat down on the garden bench facing him and tried not to stare at the shapeless, seamed disaster stretched out between us. 'How are you?'

'Never better. Phidias!' He shouted to the retreating slave. 'Bring us a jug of the Reserve and two cups, okay?' The slave turned and grinned. 'Perilla tired of you yet?'

I laughed. 'Sod off!'

'Yeah, well, just let me know when it happens.'

Having only one leg doesn't cramp Secundus's style. In fact if anything it's an advantage because he's got playing for female sympathy down to a fine art. I was lucky to find him on his own. Disappointed, too, in a way: some of his volunteer nurses are real honeys, with a bedside manner you wouldn't believe.

The wine came and we drank it and swapped insults for a while. Finally, half way down the jug, he set down his cup.

'So, Corvinus. Pleasantries over. Let's get down to business. Tell me what brings you to the Caelian. Besides my riveting conversation, naturally.'

'I wanted to pick your brains.' I sipped my wine. 'About your old boss Drusus.'

'Yeah? Any special reason?'

'Yes.'

He waited. Then, when I didn't elaborate: 'You mixed up in something?'

I wasn't smiling now. Secundus was a friend, and I'd no intention of conning information out of him under false pretences. Also I hadn't been near him for two months, and I felt guilty as hell turning up now just because I needed a favour.

'Yes,' I said again.

'Uh-huh. Feel like telling me what it's about?'

'No. I can't do that.'

'Sure?'

'Sure.'

He was quiet for a long time. Then he shrugged. 'Okay. So move that stool over here and we'll talk.' I looked round and found the stool he meant. As he lifted his bad leg on to it I could see the sweat spring out on his forehead, but he wouldn't've wanted my help, or my sympathy, so I didn't offer either. Finally, when he'd got himself settled, he picked the wine cup up, drained it and held it out for me to fill.

'Right,' he said when I'd done it. 'That'll do me for now. What do you want to know?'

'Everything.' I poured wine into my own cup. 'Let's start at the beginning. What sort of man is he?'

'How do you mean?'

'Friendly? Bastard?'

'He's a good soldier. One of the best.'

'That's no answer, pal.'

He grinned. 'Yeah. I know. But I'm not sure I can give you much more. Drusus isn't exactly the kind to invite confidences.'

'No jolly ragging in the mess with the lads after dinner, then?'

'The Pike?' Secundus laughed. 'No way!'

'That what you called him?'

'Some people make it the Dead Pan. I think Pike describes him better.'

'Why?'

He hesitated. 'You ever see Drusus?'

'Not that I can remember. Not from close up, anyway.'

'You know that little twist the Wart gives to his mouth sometimes? Like he's smiling at some particularly nasty joke no one but him would understand or find funny if they did?'

'Yeah. Yeah, I know the one you mean.' It usually came just before some arse-licker or thick-head found himself flattened by an imperial one-liner. 'Like whoever he's talking to wouldn't measure up intellectually to a backward chicken.'

Secundus nodded. 'That's the one. Drusus has it too. It lifts his upper lip over the canine. When it happens the rest of his face doesn't move, not even the eyes. Just the lip. Like a pike eyeing up a breakfast guppy. Scares the shit out of you, even if you're only watching.'

'You're saying Drusus is like his father,' I said. 'A cold blooded bugger with too much going on between the ears.'

'Uh-huh.' He nodded again. 'That would describe him pretty well. He's fair, mind, and that's like the Wart too. I never heard Drusus chew anyone out over nothing, squaddie, officer or civilian. And he'd make sure he had all the facts weighed before he gave his verdict.'

'And then Jupiter help you if the scales came down on the wrong side.'

'Yeah.' Secundus didn't smile. 'He can be a cruel bastard, when he's in the mood.'

I reached over and helped myself to more wine from the jug, topping up Secundus's cup at the same time, although he hadn't touched the last batch.

'How did he get on with his stepbrother, do you know?' I said.

'Germanicus?' Secundus shot me a sharp look: the guy wasn't stupid, and I'd overdone the attempt at casualness. 'He what all this is about?'

I hesitated a fraction too long. 'Maybe.'

'Maybe, shit!' Secundus laughed. 'Okay, Marcus, I'll play as dumb as you like. I've got nothing better to do this afternoon anyway. When Germanicus called in on his way east-'

'Germanicus went to Pannonia?' I was shocked into interrupting, but Secundus didn't seem to notice. Or pretended he didn't.

'Sure,' he said. 'Not for long. Ten days, max. You didn't know that?'

'No,' I said slowly. 'I didn't know that.'

'It was just a courtesy call. The usual thing. Exchange of presents, formal review of the legions. Handing over of dispatches from Rome. Anyway, the two got on fine, in public at least. And don't try to read anything into that qualification, either, because although I only saw the public side I've no reason to think the private one was any different. They hugged each other like…well, like long lost brothers. I'm not sure there wasn't a manly tear in Germanicus's baby blue eyes.'

Uh-huh. I'd caught the tone loud and clear. 'So you didn't like him,' I said.