David Wishart - Parthian Shot

I grabbed a crust of bread to eat on the way and set off down Head of Africa. It was still early — just after dawn — and the eastern sky was full of red clouds: we’d had a real belter of a rainstorm the night before, and although that’d passed the gutters were still running like streams and everything was soaked. Early morning was the best time to catch Lippillus, although I’d still probably cut it fine: unless something special had come up overnight, he usually spent the first hour or so after his dawn start dealing with the paperwork and general admin stuff. The knifemen aside, I was looking forward to the chat: Lippillus, as well as being far and away the smartest and shortest Watch Commander in Rome, is good company, and after Vitellius and his Parthian mates I needed a palate-cleanser.

Just after dawn’s a good time to be walking in Rome. It’s cool, the streets aren’t crowded, and the only traffic tends to be pedestrian, which means in the narrower alleyways — and the city has plenty of these — there’s less of a chance you’ll get stuck behind a fancy litter squeezing its way between the shops that spill out into the thoroughfare. I came down off the Caelian whistling, crossed Appian Road and headed along the slopes of the Aventine towards the Watch-house itself.

The squaddie on the desk grinned at me over his working breakfast. ‘Hard luck, Corvinus. You’ve just missed him. Break-in at a tenement near Aqueduct Junction.’

Bugger. ‘He liable to be there long?’ I said.

‘No idea. If you’re going over ask for the Cloelian Building. It’s the first floor front.’

‘Thanks, pal.’ Well, it could’ve been worse: Aqueduct Junction wasn’t all that far, the point where the Appian Water crossed Appian Road. I left the guy to his egg roll and went off on my travels again.

I found the tenement finally. It was a new one in an upmarket block, the ground-floor shops looked pretty prosperous, and the balconies had flower pots and trailing greenery instead of the usual strings of washing, which meant the tenants were rich enough to have their smalls done for them elsewhere. First floor front was a good address, too, and it explained why Lippillus would be involved personally. Sure, actual purple-stripers didn’t go a bundle on tenement accommodation, even the top of the range variety like this example, but it was a growing market for up-and-coming plain-mantle businessmen who needed to be close to Market Square and the city centre. There was even a porter on the door, rigged out in a smart blue tunic: again a sign that we weren’t in boiled-cabbage country here. I checked I’d come to the right place and went on up.

The door was open. Lippillus was talking to a thin, sharp-faced woman in a pricey mantle and bangles. Although she wasn’t all that tall, she towered over him by at least a head and a half. He glanced round and his face split in a grin.

‘Hey, Corvinus! What brings you here?’

I held up a hand: this could wait, and the guy had work to do. He said something to the woman and came out.

‘Problems?’ I said.

‘The usual.’ He nodded towards the open door. ‘Family were out for the evening. The bugger crowbarred the lock and helped himself to everything that wasn’t nailed down.’

‘What about the porter?’

‘He’s clean, as far as I can tell. These guys have to be. Our lad used his crowbar to force the back door of the building where they make deliveries and got in that way. All the same, it took planning, and this wasn’t the only flat that got taken. Could still well be an inside job.’

‘You want me to come back later?’

‘No. It’ll keep, and the other flat was empty. Tenant was a single man away on business. Now. What can I do for you?’

‘There somewhere private we can go?’

‘Not here. There’s a cookshop a few doors down that looked quiet enough, if that’ll do you.’

‘Sure.’

‘Just give me a few minutes to mop things up and I’ll join you there. Okay?’

‘Fine.’ I glanced over his shoulder at the thin woman with the bangles. She was glaring at us. Yeah, right: I knew the type. The thief had probably cleaned out her very considerable jewel-box, and she’d be holding the Watch personally responsible for getting the contents back. I didn’t envy Lippillus. ‘See you, pal.’

I went downstairs, past the porter and outside. I hadn’t noticed the cookshop, so it was probably further on in the next block. On the way I thought about just what I could reasonably tell Lippillus. This was going to be tricky. On the one hand, any info re the Parthian delegation — even the fact that it existed — was classified, so that was out. On the other hand, I had to have a reason for asking him about the attack on Phraates. I’d no intention of lying to the guy, none at all, not even for Isidorus — he was too good a friend for that, and besides he was far too smart to be taken in for a moment — but all the same I couldn’t give him anything near the whole boiling. I’d just have to play things by ear.

I found the cookshop and went in. It was pretty basic, definitely greasy-spoon standard; you get a lot of these places in tenement areas catering for the early-morning tunic trade: workmen who need a good hot meal inside them before they start, because that’s usually it until sunset. The rush was over — most of the clientele would be at work by now — and I had the place to myself. I checked what was on offer, ordered grilled sausages for two with bread and a side-dish of fried onions and took the plates over to a table in the corner. I’d scarcely sat down when Lippillus came in. He wasn’t looking too happy.

‘The lady give you a hard time?’ I asked, pushing the plate of sausages over.

‘You could say that.’ He took the bench on the opposite side. ‘Her brother’s on the staff of the City Prefect. That’s where she and her husband were last night. One of the things they talked about over dinner was burglaries and how useless the Watch was. I got the whole conversation repeated, blow by blow. These people make me sick.’

‘How’s Marcina?’ Marcina was Lippillus’s common-law wife. ‘She had the baby yet?’

‘She lost it.’

‘Oh, shit.’ Both of them had really wanted that kid, unexpected as the pregnancy had been. ‘I’m sorry, pal.’

He shrugged. ‘These things happen. So. What brings you down to the Pond?’

I scooped up some of the onions on a crust. ‘I was hoping you might be able to help me find out more about a knife attack three days ago near the Esquiline Gate. The Maecenas Gardens side.’

‘That’s Third Region. Gaius Hostilius’s patch.’

‘Yeah. I know. All the same, I thought I’d come to you first.’

He grunted and cut a slice of sausage. ‘You have any details?’

‘Sure. It happened in the early hours of the morning. Gang of knifemen jumped a home-going litter party and three of the slaves were killed.’

I’d given it to him dead-pan and poker-faced, but I’d been expecting the reaction I got. He set down the sausage-knife and stared at me. ‘What?’

‘Yeah. Right. And don’t tell me that sort of thing doesn’t happen because this time it did.’

‘Who was the guy in the litter?’

‘A Prince Phraates. He’s…’

‘I know who Phraates is. Jupiter’s holy balls! Was he hurt?’

‘Uh-uh. The gang was beaten off. But like I say two of his bodyguard were killed outright and one died later.’

‘Sweet gods! How do you fit into this, Corvinus?’ I didn’t answer at once, and he scowled. ‘Okay, no sweat. It’s political, isn’t it?’

‘Probably. I don’t know for certain, but it seems that way. There’re political sides to it, sure, or there might be. I’d rather not tell you about them.’