David Wishart - Parthian Shot

‘That’s where Vitellius comes in. Anacus is the catalyst, remember? Tiridates wants to be Great King. He’s eligible by birth, the only thing stopping him is that he isn’t Rome’s choice. That’s his uncle.’

‘Wait a moment. Not just Rome’s. The Parthian nobles who sent the delegation want Phraates too.’

‘Wrong.’ I was on stronger ground here. ‘All they want at root is no Artabanus. The only reason they’re asking for Phraates is they know that at the end of the day he’s the guy who’ll have the Syrian legions at his back when he crosses the border, because Artabanus isn’t going to go peaceably. If Rome were to switch to Tiridates then the odds are they’d be happy to tag along.’

‘But, Marcus, the Roman authorities don’t want Tiridates!’

‘No. But say they didn’t have the option. Say Phraates died before the deal was struck.’

‘Oh.’ That had got through. Perilla was staring at me wide-eyed. ‘You mean if his nephew had him murdered?’

‘Right. Sure, he might swing the changeover nem. con., no problem — after all, he’s the only other Parthian prince on offer — but it’d be far better if he had some insurance: someone on the inside to smooth the way, deflect any awkward objections, argue his case.’

‘Lucius Vitellius.’

‘Lucius Vitellius. We’re talking diplomacy here, and these political buggers are pragmatists through and through. Vitellius knows the ropes, he knows how to handle them. The choice isn’t just between Phraates and Tiridates. Rome doesn’t need another war with Parthia; the Wart’s no Crassus or Antony out for glory. If he can persuade Artabanus to pull in his claws and knuckle down without a fight then he’s happy. And the death of the main claimant would give both sides the chance for a bit of behind-the-scenes dickering. Only in that case Tiridates would be back out in the cold without the likelihood of another shot at the job.’

‘What about Mithradates? How does he gain?’

‘Mithradates is easy. Sure, whatever happens he’s got Armenia, because the Wart won’t back down on that one, so that side of things isn’t relevant. All the same, if Phraates becomes Great King he’ll have a sharp and very powerful cookie next door to him who doesn’t like him at all and certainly doesn’t trust him the length of his arm. If Tiridates wins out all that’s changed. They’re old friends, or Tiridates thinks they are, and that Iberian bastard can run rings round him any day of the month. If you were Mithradates, who would you support? My bet is he’s in the scam up to his eyeballs already.’

Perilla was looking pensive. Both of us had stopped eating. ‘I’m sorry, dear,’ she said, ‘but I’m afraid you’re beginning to make sense.’

‘Uh…great. Great. Thanks.’ Well, where praise from Perilla’s concerned you take what you can get. ‘It’s only a theory, mind. But it explains Zariadres’s death as well.’

‘Does it? How?’

‘If Tiridates is our villain then killing the guy is logical. Insurance again. Zariadres was the delegation leader, and he was right behind Phraates. Now the situation’s changed. With Osroes in the saddle and most of the others at least not against Tiridates for Great King in theory if Phraates does die then there won’t be much opposition from that quarter, either.’

She hesitated. ‘There is one thing you haven’t considered.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Vitellius. You say he’s paid for his involvement with a share of the profits from Anacus’s spice monopoly.’

‘Uh-huh. If what Praxa told me about the volume of trade is right then Anacus can afford to be generous. Besides, like I say he needs to have Vitellius on board in any case to hook Tiridates.’

‘Two questions, then. One, how would the payments be made, and two, do you think he has enough influence in his own right to mould imperial policy?’

‘How do you mean, how would the payments be made?’

‘He wouldn’t be a private citizen, Marcus, he’d be governor of Syria. Syria is an imperial province, and the emperor keeps very careful tabs on his governors, especially where unaccounted-for income is concerned. Vitellius would have an imperially-appointed procurator to oversee the province’s finances, and the procurator would be no fool. He’d certainly be aware of Anacus’s special status vis-a-vis Syria’s foreign neighbours, even although he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. So if Vitellius were receiving money on a large scale from Anacus he’d be running a real danger either of being recalled or of being tried for peculation at the expiry of his governorship.’

‘Uh…’

‘Unless — and this is where the answer to my second question comes in — he had considerable imperial backing at the highest level. Someone who was close enough to the emperor to engineer the appointment of a more amenable procurator in the first instance or give a reasonable guarantee that Vitellius would not be recalled and no charges would be made subsequently. You do see what I mean?’

Sure I did. Trouble was, I couldn’t fault her logic. I should’ve thought of that angle myself, especially since the guy was one of the royals’ drinking buddies and his name had cropped up before. ‘We’re back to Gaius again, right?’ I said.

‘Yes, dear. I’m afraid we are.’ Perilla’s face was expressionless.

Oh, shit.

I’d scarcely had the stubble scraped off my cheeks the next morning and was settling down to breakfast on the terrace when Decimus Lippillus came through the portico.

‘Hi, Corvinus,’ he said ‘You still interested in the crowd that hit Prince Phraates’s litter?’

‘Yeah!’ Hey! I put down my knife. ‘You’ve found them?’

‘Probably.’ He pulled out the empty chair opposite — no sign of Perilla as yet —, sat down and took a roll from the basket. ‘You mind?’

‘Help yourself. If you’re really hungry we can twist Meton’s arm and spring some cheese and sausage. Maybe even an omelette if he’s in a good mood.’

‘No, a roll and honey’s fine.’ He reached for the honey-pot. ‘I’d’ve got the guys sooner but I was looking in the wrong places. They weren’t docklands lads or Transtibbies after all. Like I say I could be wrong, but my money’s on a bunch of Jewish villains all the way from Ostia.’

‘What?’

‘Odd, right? I found out by sheer luck. The Watch Commander down there’s a good man, name of Publius Lanuvinius. He was round at the Pond yesterday about a big break-in at one of the harbour warehouses. The owner has a statue-copying business near the Capenan Gate, and Lanuvinius dropped in at the Watch-house to say hello in passing. We got to talking, I mentioned your problem and it rang a bell. Seemingly one of his narks told him last month he’d overheard one of the gang boasting they’d just been hired for a big job on the Esquiline. Top rate, no quibbles.’

I was staring at him. ‘And this Lanuvinius didn’t take it any further?’

‘Come on, Corvinus.’ Lippillus bit equably into his roll and honey. ‘You know better than that, so don’t play the outraged citizen. The nark didn’t have any details, and an Ostian Watch head has more than enough problems of his own without adding to them. He sent a message to Hostilius, sure — he’s the Esquiline Watch boss, if you remember — but Hostilius probably ignored it like he usually does these things; at any rate, Lanuvinius hadn’t heard anything back. Like I say, we’re just lucky the tip-off stuck in his mind.’

‘Yeah. Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry, pal.’ My brain was buzzing. Ostia was weird enough — criminally speaking, it was a different world from Rome altogether — but a Jewish gang! Shit! That opened up a whole range of possibilities. There weren’t any Jews in the City itself these days, at least not officially, because the Wart had thrown them all out on their ears for persistent troublemaking. Rome’s port, though, was another matter.