David Wishart - Germanicus

'Just curious.' She kissed me. A long kiss, while I removed one of the few bits of clothing she'd been wearing when I grabbed her. 'After all, there must be some good reason for this. Not that I'm complaining, you understand. Academic interest only.'

'Okay. Leftover pork liver with bacon. Cold chickpeas with fennel. And half of a chicken and parsley dumpling. Satisfied?'

'Wine?'

'Uh…yeah. Just a few cupfuls.'

'Maybe it's the weather, then.'

'Mmmm.'

…at which point she gave up on academic interest and co-operated; and by the time we came up for air dietary considerations were forgotten.

We lay side by side for a while, staring at the plaster key pattern on the ceiling.

'Marcus?' Perilla said finally.

'Yeah?'

'Your brain's buzzing. I can hear it through your skull. What're you thinking about?'

'How lucky I am to wear my sandals in pairs.'

She sat up and stared down at me. 'What?'

'Sorry.' Well, she had asked me. 'My mind's going. Must be the booze.' I pulled her back down and we watched the cornice again. It didn't move at all. 'Hey, Perilla.'

'Mmm?'

'You ever wear these earrings with little chime bars in? The Egyptian things?'

'Of course not. I'd sound like part of a street band.'

I grinned and turned my head to kiss her cheek. 'Yeah. You're right. Terrible things, chime earrings. In the wrong hands. Ears.'

She stared at me. 'Are you all right?'

'Never better.' I winced. 'Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Why?'

'It's just that you seem a little strange this afternoon.'

What can you do when the woman in your bed says something like that? I kissed her, put the events of the morning out of my mind and set about proving to her and myself that I felt absolutely fine.

Really.

We made it down for dinner. Just. Which was lucky because Meton had cooked my stuffed sows' wombs specially, and hell hath no fury like a chef insulted. After we'd finished I sent Bathyllus for another jug of wine and brought Perilla up to date on the case.

'The plot thickens, lady,' I said. 'According to Gaius Secundus, Livilla's on the make.'

Perilla was nibbling at some dried fruit. 'How is Secundus?' she said.

'He's doing okay. Coming along slowly.' I didn't mention the cute little stunner with the musical earrings; she might've made the connection. 'He tells me Germanicus called in at Pannonia on his way east.'

'Pannonia's rather too far off the ordinary route to Syria for calling in in passing, isn’t it?'

'That's what I thought. Mind you, the guy was paying an official visit with dispatches from the Wart. And I'd give a lot to know what was in that particular diplomatic bag.'

She sighed. 'You still think that Tiberius was responsible for Germanicus's death, don't you?' She made it sound like it was evidence of insanity.

'Yeah.' I took a swallow of Setinian. 'Maybe the Wart and Drusus had cooked something up between them. Germanicus was in Pannonia for ten days. That's enough time for Drusus to make a deal with one of his servants. Or Drusus and Livilla could've acted off their own bat.'

Perilla set down the dried apricot she was holding. 'Marcus,' she said, 'you really will have to make your mind up. First it's the emperor getting rid of an embarrassment, then it's Tiberius and Drusus together. Now you seem to be accusing Livilla of having a hand in things. They can't all be responsible.'

'Why not?'

'Because it's ridiculous, that's why not.'

'It could work. Don't knock it.'

Bathyllus padded back in with the new jug. I held it up, but Perilla shook her head.

'No, thank you,' she said. 'So you're seriously suggesting that in the short time available to them Drusus and Livilla suborned one of Germanicus's personal servants and instructed him to poison his master?'

'You got a problem with that?'

Instead of answering, Perilla raised herself on one elbow and snapped: 'Bathyllus!'

The little guy had been on his way out. He jerked round like she'd planted a hook in the tail of his tunic and pulled.

'Yes, madam,' he said. Cringed.

'I want you to poison Corvinus for me, please,' Perilla said calmly. 'How and when you do it is up to you, but I want a professional job with no fluffing around and no awkward questions asked later. Is that clear?'

'Ah…' She sounded convincing as hell. I'd never actually seen the little guy lost for words before. He looked at me and swallowed.

'Oh, go away, Bathyllus,' I said wearily. He did, with a nervous backward glance at both of us. 'Okay, point taken. But I had envisaged something just a bit more subtle.'

She picked up the apricot again. 'Perhaps so. But in a case of poisoning the family slaves are the first to be suspected. None of them were, in this instance. That, I think, is significant.'

'That's because they'd already fixed on Martina.'

'Marcus, if a slave were to poison his master society would collapse. It just isn't done.'

'Then we're up shit creek without a paddle.'

'Really? Oh how interesting.'

'I'm serious.' I poured myself another cup of Setinian. 'We can't work on nothing, and nothing's all we've got at present. Sure, the Wart could've been responsible, in theory. So could Drusus and Livilla, ditto, together or separately, with or without the emperor's backing. Or Piso and Plancina. They've all got motives of some kind or another for wanting the guy dead. Our trouble is there are too many suspects and not enough hard facts.'

'Means and opportunity?'

'They've all got them, too. At first or at second hand. Or maybe the murderer was some crazy bastard who just decided that killing a Caesar was a good idea and happened to have an afternoon free.' Jupiter! The more I thought about it the more depressing it was. I glared into my wine cup. 'Theories are fine, Perilla, but we need leads. Regulus is dead, Carillus is somewhere out in the sticks pricing goats and I can't even get decently beaten up so I can trace the bastards who did it.'

'You've forgotten someone.'

'Yeah? And who might that be?'

'Didn't you mention a man called Crispus?'

My head snapped up. 'What?'

'Caelius Crispus.'

I set the cup down. She was right. Caelius Crispus. The rumour merchant. The guy who had warned Livineius Regulus that I was coming to get him. Little oily Crispus, the doyen of the Treasury! I leaned over and planted a smacker due south of Perilla's perfect nostrils.

'I love you,' I said. 'You know that?'

'Yes, Marcus. I do, actually.'

'Hey, Bathyllus!' I yelled.

He came running; that new hernia support had done wonders.

'Yes, sir.'

'Scratch the poisoning, little guy. And whistle up the litter and half a dozen torches instead.'

Perilla was staring at me. 'You're going to see him now?' she said. 'At this time of night?'

I kissed her again. 'It’s the perfect opportunity. This is when Crispus comes alive, if you can call it living.'

She got up. 'Then I'm coming with you.'

That stopped me in my tracks. 'No way, lady!'

'Corvinus, this was my idea and I'm coming. Finish. Or we can go tomorrow. One or the other.'

Bugger. Stymied. Finding Crispus in daylight would be tricky: he didn't have an official daytime job and I'd no idea where he lived. Nights were a different matter. But taking Perilla along was something else again. I was tempted to pull head-of-the-household rank and hope that for once she'd knuckle under. Then I took a good look at her face and decided to save my breath.

'Okay,' I said. 'You can come, so long as you dress warm and keep a tight rein on your mouth. Only don't say I didn't warn you.'

Crispus spent his evenings in a certain house on the Pincian: expensive and far enough out to guarantee the Watch didn't go knocking on the door unless they had good reason to. Not that that'd ever happened, or ever would: a raid would've netted some of the biggest names in Rome, the Watch Commander's included. I hadn't given up trying to persuade Perilla even when we were on our way there. Now, while we parked the litter outside the anonymous front door, I made one final appeal.