David Wishart - Germanicus

I stopped just in time to watch where I was putting my feet and stepped over a pile of donkey droppings. Pairing the two was an interesting scenario. The problem with fingering Plancina on her own was she'd be taking one hell of a risk without the promise of anything definite at the end. But if Plancina had been working for Livilla just as her husband was working for the emperor a lot of things would make sense. The Wart couldn't last for ever: he was in his sixties now, he drank too much and he lived hard. By poisoning Germanicus for Livilla Plancina would be getting the best of all possible worlds: she'd have the Wart's blessing, even if it was a sour one, for executing a traitor; she'd stand in well with the next empress; and she'd be doing herself and her husband a favour at the same time. It would explain Livia's attitude too, and her desire to see the case reopened: her friend Plancina would be safe under the amnesty but Livilla herself would be compromised. And I doubted if the empress would shed any tears if that happened.

Yeah. I liked Livilla. I liked her a lot. But then there was the question of finding the missing connections…

I turned into Metalsmith's Row, where Agron had his blacksmith's shop. The shop was open, but the guy swinging the hammer was Agron's assistant.

'Hi, Sextus. Where's the boss?' I said.

Sextus hefted whatever he was making — it looked like part of an iron gate — and pushed it back into the forge to heat.

'Making a delivery,' he said. 'He'll be back later.'

'How much later?'

'Two hours. Maybe three. Customer's on the other side of the Tiber.'

Shit. 'Can I leave a message?'

'Sure. I'm not going anywhere.'

There wasn't any way round it. I left my name and asked him to get Agron to meet me at Carillus's shop at sundown. Which, considering what Fate had up her sleeve for me in the next few hours, was one of the smartest moves I ever made.

It wasn't worth going home. I went down to the Market Square to tell my banker I was back in town and pick up some of the latest gossip, then killed another hour or two in Gorgio's wineshop off the Sacred Way. The sun was already setting by the time I got to Carillus's. There was no sign of Agron.

Carillus was there, though, putting up the shutters: he must've been working late. He saw me at the same time as I saw him. If I'd expected the guy to look or act guilty I was disappointed.

'Hey, Corvinus!' he said. 'How's the Roman beer-drinker?'

'Okay.' I went over and waited while he fixed on the padlock.

'Good.' He slipped the key into the pouch at his belt. 'You have time for a quick jar?'

Shit. That I didn't need. 'I was hoping for a quiet word, friend. Somewhere private.'

'Yeah?' He shot me a look. 'Well, then, you're out of luck. I usually spend an hour at Hilde's after we close up. You want to tag along, that's fine with me.'

'Hilde's is the beer shop we were in last time?'

'That's right.' He was grinning.

'She sell wine as well as horse piss?'

The grin broadened. 'Don't call good beer that in Hilde's hearing if you value your skull. Yeah, she's got a flask or two put by for delicate stomachs.'

'Right. Let's go, then,' I said. I didn't like it more than half, but I didn't have much choice. And if the talk wasn't to be particularly private at least there'd be a crowd, which was the next best thing.

The beer shop, if I remembered right, was further down on the other side of the street. Sure enough Carillus moved off in that direction. 'You been out of Rome?' he said.

'Yeah. In Antioch.'

'Uh-huh.' I couldn't see his eyes, but his voice didn't alter. 'Business?'

'You could call it that.'

'Never been east myself. They say it's something else.'

'It's okay.' I was beginning to have my doubts about Carillus. The guy seemed straight. Maybe he hadn't murdered Regulus, the letter was a red herring after all, and his slaughterhouse deed was all there'd ever been. Cotta wasn't the most reliable informant of all time, and a butcher's hook could've come from anywhere.

We reached the beer shop. The place wasn't as crowded as I thought it would be: there were only four guys there, all Germans from the look of them, and as we went in two of these got up and left. Carillus sat down at the empty table and gave our order to the old woman. I was no linguist but it sounded okay, and sure enough Hilde went off grumbling while the two Germans sniggered into their pots and swapped guttural comments.

Maybe they knew something I didn't because the wine when it came was as bad as the beer, third-rate Massic just a step this side of vinegar. Still at least it was made from grapes not horse fodder, and with that in front of me I wouldn't be faced with a drinking bout like last time.

'So.' Carillus set down his half empty beaker and wiped the suds off his face. 'What can I do for you now,?'

'You know a guy called Regulus?'

I was watching his eyes. I caught the tell-tale flicker and I knew beyond all doubt that I hadn't made any mistake. Carillus was a good actor, sure, and he was expecting the question, but it still hit him where it hurt. Straight, hell, the guy had beans to spill. It was just a question of getting him to spill them.

'Piso's lawyer, right? Or one of them.'

'Yeah. He was found at the bottom of the Gemonian Stairs just before I left Rome.' I took a second sip of wine and decided that a third would be one too many. 'Just before you left Rome too. Someone had knifed him and put a hook through his throat. A butcher's hook.'

'A butcher's hook. Is that right, now?' Very deliberately Carillus lifted his beaker, drained it and set it down. Unasked, the old woman came across and refilled it. 'And just because of that you think I killed him.'

'I know you did, sunshine,' I said quietly. 'What I don't know is who for and why. But then that's what you're going to tell me.'

This time he didn't blink. 'You're crazy,' he said.

'Because I think you killed Regulus? Or because I think you'll tell me why? I'm right on both counts.'

'I never even met the guy.' He wasn't angry and he didn't raise his voice. The bastard even had the beginnings of a smile. 'I'm a butcher. I don't move in these circles. So why should I want to murder him?'

'That was my question.'

He made to stand up, not quickly but like he'd finished his beer and was going home. I grabbed his wrist. The two Germans at the other table looked over with bleary-eyed interest but he growled something and they snickered and went back to humming lieder. I'd expected him to break free — with his size and weight he could've done it easy — but he didn't. He only glanced down at my hand, grinned and lowered himself back on to the bench.

'Okay. I'll say it again again, because maybe you didn't hear me the first time,' he said. 'I may know who Regulus was but I never met him, I had nothing against him, and you are crazy. That answer your question?'

'Okay.' I let go of his wrist. 'Now I'll tell you something. You're in this up to your eyeballs, pal. You know that, I know that, so let's cut the crap. Now you may be working for the Emperor, and if so then I'm making a bad mistake. But if you aren't, and I'm willing to bet you aren't' — did his eyelids flicker? I couldn't be sure — 'then you're up shit creek without a paddle. Because unless your patron has a hell of a lot of clout and he's willing to use it to keep you safe I'll make it my business to nail your hide to a cask of beer and roll it down the Gemonian Stairs myself. You understand?'

He was watching me carefully, like he was trying to make up his mind. He still looked cocky but the grin had slipped a bit. Maybe I was getting through to him after all.

Was I hell. Or at least not the way I wanted to. With his eyes still on me he said something to Hilde that made the two crooners at the other table sit up sharp. The old girl shuffled over to the door, slipped the bolts top and bottom and then went back behind the counter.