David Wishart - In at the Death

Gods, this made no sense! Or maybe it did, and I didn’t want it to. ‘Tiberius wanted Gaius dead?’ I said. ‘His own fucking successor?’

‘Tiberius hated Gaius and dreaded his becoming emperor. You know that yourself from your own conversation with him five years ago.’ Carsidius smiled; again the effect was ghastly. ‘Oh, yes. He told me about that, when we discussed things and I put that very question to him. “Ask Valerius Corvinus”, he said. “When it’s all over, naturally. Remind him of Thrasyllus’s forecast and what I said to him about the consequences to Rome of destroying Sejanus.” Well, it is all over, bar the shouting, although not as the emperor hoped, and I am asking you.’

Shit. I felt sick. If I’d thought the guy was lying, or been hoodwinked somehow — and the thought had crossed my mind — then I’d no doubts now. That part of it he couldn’t’ve known except from the Wart himself, because I’d never, ever spoken to anyone about what had been said in that loggia on Capri. Not even to Perilla.

Still, you don’t buck a direct order from the emperor. That was the whole point of this business.

‘He told me,’ I said, ‘that Thrasyllus had predicted that Gaius would be the next emperor. And what kind of emperor he would be. He said that if the choice had been his, even knowing what kind of man Sejanus was and what crimes he’d committed, he would’ve chosen him over his grandson, or let his plots go unhindered. For the good of Rome.’

Carsidius was staring at me. ‘Tiberius wanted Aelius Sejanus to succeed?’

‘Yeah. In both senses of the word.’

‘Then why did he destroy him?’

I looked away. What could it matter now? And Carsidius, by his lights, was a good man; I owed the guy that much honesty, at least. Let him have the whole boiling. ‘Because Sejanus had murdered his son, who would’ve made a far better emperor than either of them,’ I said. ‘Also because — I’m quoting old Thrasyllus here — you can’t cheat the stars.’ I brought my eyes back to his. ‘Only evidently, from what you’re saying, he changed his mind about that.’

Carsidius went back to the couch and lay down. He moved like a man ten years older than his years; I could almost hear his bones creak as he settled. ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘No, I don’t think he did. At least, not in the sense you mean. The good of Rome. That always was Tiberius’s yardstick, wasn’t it? Perhaps he simply thought it was worth a try, and now Thrasyllus is dead there was no one to dissuade him. But Thrasyllus was right all the same: you can’t cheat the stars. Not even an emperor can do that.’

Yeah; I remembered that Thrasyllus had said that, too.

There was a knock, and the door opened: the slave Flavius with the wine tray. He set it down on the table, poured and left without a word. Without even a look.

‘So,’ I said when the door had closed again. ‘What was the plan? After Gaius and Macro were dead?’

‘Tiberius gave me a letter, a will, really, appointing his other grandson Gemellus as emperor. Or that’s what it amounted to.’ Carsidius picked up one of the wine-cups but didn’t drink. ‘Useless now; if I tried to produce it I’d only hasten the young man’s death. He is young, of course, only just eighteen, and not experienced enough to rule.’ He tried a smile, and produced a rictus grin. ‘That, incidentally, was the inducement we used to bring Domitius Ahenobarbus onto our side, or one of them. If you were wondering.’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yeah, I was.’

‘It’s natural enough.’ Carsidius’s voice was dry. ‘Ahenobarbus would not have been my choice as a colleague — I’ve never liked or trusted the man — but the emperor insisted. He has the ruthlessness, Tiberius said, which the rest of us lack, and that is certainly true.’ I thought of Caepio, and my Aventine muggers, but I said nothing. ‘Tiberius pointed out that Gemellus would need a strong…let’s call him a regent. For a year or two, at least. As a member of the imperial family himself, Ahenobarbus was the perfect candidate. Besides, as you know, he was Sextus Papinius’s real father, he had influence over him, and we needed Papinius. Perhaps the fact that when Tiberius ordered him to kill Gaius he was doing so as the young man’s grand-uncle as well as his emperor helped too.’

Yeah; Cluvia had said the kid was proud of his family, and you don’t get higher than the imperials. Stars in his eyes must’ve been right. ‘You said one inducement,’ I said. ‘There were others?’

Carsidius hesitated. ‘One other. Just one.’

‘And that was?’

‘A…something the emperor had from Thrasyllus. Just before he died.’ Carsidius was frowning into his wine-cup. ‘You understand, Corvinus, this is not for repetition. I tell you because Tiberius said you could keep a secret, and perhaps it’s better that someone else knows. One day Ahenobarbus’s son will be emperor.’

A chill touched the back of my neck. ‘Ahenobarbus doesn’t have a son,’ I said.

‘Not yet. But he will.’

Sweet gods! ‘Doesn’t that, uh, make it even more dangerous to trust the guy? I mean, if he knows his son will be emperor then — ’

‘Why choose him as regent? Perhaps the temptation to seize power himself might be too strong?’ Another rictus grin. ‘Corvinus, we’re not fools, nor is Tiberius. First of all — although of course we didn’t tell Ahenobarbus this — Thrasyllus was completely certain that Ahenobarbus himself would never wear the purple. Secondly, Gemellus would have other advisers whom he likes and trusts far more than Domitius Ahenobarbus, and Gemellus, although he’s young, is far from stupid. Thirdly…well, it was a way to use the man’s own greed and ambition for our own purposes. As I say, we — and the emperor — needed him on our side.’ Finally, he took a sip of his wine: I hadn’t touched mine, but for once I didn’t feel like drinking. ‘And now, if you have no more questions, and if I can’t help you further — ’

‘You know Laelius Balbus betrayed you?’ I said.

The cup slipped from Carsidius’s fingers, spilling wine across the couch. ‘What?’ he whispered.

‘Yeah. It had to be someone, otherwise how did Macro manage to decoy Papinius to the flat and get hold of a key so his lads could be there waiting? How would he know about the flat — or the conspiracy itself — in the first place?’

‘That’s impossible!’ Carsidius’s face was grey.

‘I’m sorry.’ I was, too, but the guy deserved to know, and I couldn’t leave without telling him. ‘Oh, sure, I might be wrong, but I don’t think so. It was Balbus who set up Papinius’s death. Besides, he was the only one of you who didn’t give the impression, when I talked to him, that he was nervous or afraid. He’d no reason to be, because he was working with Gaius.’

‘How could he be?’ Carsidius was staring. ‘He’s an honourable man, an old and trusted friend, as loyal to the emperor as I am.’

Yeah, right; still, it was a sign of the times. Or what would be the times, shortly. And loyal to which emperor? — the de iure Tiberius or the de facto Gaius? In another few months at most the question would be pointless, anyway. Me, I couldn’t bring myself to sympathise with the bastard, let alone excuse him, but at least I could understand his motives. Maybe the distinction is the reason I stay out of politics.

Or try to. Sometimes — like now — politics sneaked up on you and slugged you from behind. Not a particularly pleasant experience.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said again, and turned to go.

‘Corvinus!’

I looked back. ‘Yeah?’

Carsidius had himself under control again, and he was sitting up on the couch. Even with his wine-soaked mantle, he looked impressive as hell, and not out of place among the busts of his ancestors at all.