David Wishart - Parthian Shot

‘Take me to the master,’ I said.

The guy was about to object, but then he must’ve seen the expression on my face and decided very wisely that that was not a good idea because he turned without a word. I followed him through the fancy lobby and the atrium, then along a corridor to the dining room.

Dinner was over and they’d got to the drinking stage. Mithradates was reclining on the central couch in a snazzy party mantle and wreath, and there must’ve been six or seven other guys, but I wasn’t in any mood to count and I didn’t recognise any of them anyway.

The room went very quiet.

‘Valerius Corvinus,’ Mithradates said. ‘Now this is an unexpected pleasure.’

I levelled a finger. ‘I want to talk to you, you bastard!’

‘Really?’ He set his cup down. The click it made on the table was the only sound in the room. ‘About what?’

‘I warned you. My wife’s off-limits. This thing’s between you and me, no one else.’

Somebody to my left sniggered. I ignored him. So did Mithradates.

‘I’ve never even met Rufia Perilla,’ he said softly.

‘Fuck that. You know what I mean. You had a couple of your pals hassle her today outside the Pollio library.’

His eyes hadn’t left my face. Seconds passed. Then he slid from the couch and stood up. ‘We’ll discuss this in private,’ he said.

‘Suits me, pal!’

‘Excuse me, gentlemen. My apologies. This shouldn’t take long.’ He crossed the room, pushing past my shoulder, making for the door. I followed him out. Behind us I could hear the silence break.

The slave who’d brought me in was still standing goggle-eyed. Mithradates snapped his fingers at him and pointed to a twelve-lamp candelabrum in one of the side alcoves. The guy picked it up and the three of us walked back along the corridor. Mithradates opened a door on the left.

‘In here,’ he said. Then, to the slave: ‘Leave the lights and go.’

It was a study, with the usual desk, reading couch and book cubbies. Surprisingly — I hadn’t set Mithradates down as much of a reader — most of them were full. He waited for the slave to close the door behind us.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘What is this shit?’

‘I told you. You had two of your men hassle my wife outside the Pollio library this afternoon.’

‘I did nothing of the kind.’ He was speaking very quietly. ‘And, Corvinus, if you ever dare to call me a bastard in public again I’ll make it my personal business to see that you regret it. That’s a promise. Now get out of my house.’ He walked back past me and opened the door again.

I didn’t move. ‘You’re lying,’ I said. ‘Perilla told me the guys warned her I should drop the case. You’ve made that suggestion to me direct twice already, once with the help of a couple of Suburan boot-boys. As far as I’m concerned you’re it, pal, nem. con. And “bastard” describes you perfectly.’

‘Out!’

‘First tell me about the pepper scam.’

He went very still. Then, slowly, he reached over and pushed the door to.

‘What pepper scam?’ he said.

‘The one you’ve got going with the Armenian merchant. Anacus. Plus your mates Tiridates and Damon, with Lucius Vitellius thrown in for good measure on the Roman side.’ And Prince Gaius, I added silently, but angry or not I wasn’t going to bring that name into the conversation. No way. ‘The kickbacks from a monopoly — even a partial monopoly — of the empire’s supplies of pepper would be pretty substantial, wouldn’t they? Worth a couple of deaths and a bit of political skulduggery, certainly worth the trouble of leaning on a no-account purple-striper in the hope he’ll pull his nose out before it leads him too far for your own good. Only I’m one thing, friend, my wife’s another. If you want to stop me then believe me, leaning on her is a bad, bad idea.’

He was watching me closely like I was some sort of performing insect. Finally, he shook his head and half-smiled.

‘Corvinus,’ he said, ‘you’re being incredibly silly. Not stupid, because you’re far from that, just silly.’

‘You deny it?’

‘I don’t admit or deny anything except that I’d nothing to do with hassling your wife today. Why should I bother? You don’t matter, your opinions don’t matter, and I’m not accountable to you or to anyone.’ He took a step closer and I could smell the wine on his breath. ‘I’ll tell you again, and you just remember it. You’re well out of your depth and none of this affair is any business of yours. If you choose to carry on digging then Isidorus or not, Phraates or not, fucking Tiberius or not, don’t be surprised if you end up in the hole yourself and someone fills it in on top of you.’ Carefully, he stepped round me and put his hand on the doorknob. ‘Now. That’s all I’ve got to say. You can leave peacefully or I can have my slaves throw you out. Literally. The choice is up to you.’

I shrugged; I’d be a fool not to admit, if only to myself, that what he’d said — and more especially how he’d said it — had planted a hook in my guts, but I couldn’t let him see that. Perilla was right: intimidation was something that you just didn’t accept. ‘Fine,’ I said, matching his quiet tone. ‘So long as you don’t forget that if any harm comes to Perilla, directly or indirectly, then friends in high places or not, consequences or not then one way or another, pal, I’ll see you dead. Agreed?’

‘Agreed. Maybe.’ He moved aside. ‘Now leave while you still can.’

Brain buzzing, I walked back up the corridor, through the atrium and lobby and past the gaping slave who opened the door and stepped back from it like he was making way for the ghosts at the end of the Lemuria. Then I untied my horse and rode home.

I was knackered when I finally got in, a combination of physical and mental tiredness that had left me feeling like a wrung-out dishcloth. Which was a pity, because presently knackered or not I still wanted to be knocking on Prince Phraates’s door first thing the next morning. That old fraud had questions to answer too, and the sooner I put them to him the better.

Perilla was still in the atrium, and the book-roll in her lap hadn’t moved on any that I could see. She got up, spilling it to the floor, ran over and hugged me.

‘Marcus, are you all right?’

‘Yeah, sure, no problem.’ I winced: the bruises to my ribs that I’d got in my first brush with Mithradates weren’t up to one of Perilla’s serious hugs yet. ‘Uh…you like to slacken off a little?’

She did. Then she reached up and kissed me. ‘So,’ she said. ‘What happened?’

‘He denied it.’ I lay down on the couch and closed my eyes. Bliss. ‘You were right about the sword, though. When I walked into that dining room and got face to face I’d’ve used it on him there and then, which would’ve been a mistake. As things were we had quite a cosy chat.’

‘You believed him?’

I opened my eyes again. Perilla had sat back down in her chair, and she was staring at me, which was fair enough considering. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yeah, I believed him. On that count, anyway. I think if he had been responsible for your two library pals he would’ve said so. Enjoyed saying so, just for the fun of pushing me over the edge and seeing what happened.’ I remembered that look he’d given me when I’d faced him with the details of the pepper scam, like I was some sort of tap-dancing cockroach. ‘I doubt if that bastard would bother lying to anyone unless it suited him. Or maybe just amused him. Other people just don’t matter enough.’

‘So who did send the men?’

‘Fuck knows for certain, but your best bet’s Prince Phraates.’

‘What?’ The shock in her voice was real. ‘Why on earth should he do something like that?’