David Wishart - Ovid

'I want Ovid's ashes brought back to Rome. That's all I've ever wanted. No more, but no less.'

My father was silent for a long time, his fingers drumming on the table in front of him.

'Very well,' he said finally. 'And you would like me, I suppose, to act as your broker. With the empress.'

I tried to speak as calmly as I could. 'No. I want you to arrange a private appointment. No slaves, no secretaries. Just the two of us, me and Livia.'

My father stiffened. 'No!'

'Marcus, if you're right she'll kill you!' Perilla's eyes were wide. 'Even if you're wrong she'll kill you. It's not worth it!'

'Sure it is. Look, I've thought this thing through, okay? And going straight to Livia's the only way I can see of settling it once and for all.'

'Why don't you just confront Asprenas? Force him to tell the truth?'

'That wouldn't do any good. I've no concrete proof, remember? He'd just deny everything and go to Livia himself. And how long do you think I'd last after that?'

'But-'

'Hold on. I hadn't finished. Let's say I have insurance.'

'What kind of insurance?'

'Say I write the whole thing down. What I know. What I've guessed. Names, dates where I can give them. I leave it with someone I trust. If anything happens to me it goes straight to the Wart.'

'And if Tiberius already knows?' my father put in quietly.

Yeah. Nice one, Dad. I'd been hoping that no one except me would think of that.

'He doesn't,' I said.

'Would you wager your life on that?'

I swallowed. Put up or shut up. 'Yeah. Yes, I would. The Wart may not be a lot of things, but he's straight. He's straight, and he's Army.'

'Very well, son.' My father's voice took on a strange cold formality. 'If you're absolutely certain that this is what you want I'll arrange an appointment for you with the empress as soon as possible.'

'Marcus!'

'It's okay, Perilla. I know what I'm doing.' Yeah. Like a flea playing footsie with an elephant. 'There's just one more thing, Dad.'

'Yes?'

'The document. If you can hang on for an hour or so you can take it with you.'

He frowned. 'I'm sorry. I don't understand.'

'My insurance policy. I want it to go to someone I can trust. Someone who'll make sure the Wart gets it if he has to. I'm sorry, Dad, but you're elected. If you agree, that is.'

We looked at each other for a long time. Finally he cleared his throat.

'Of course, son,' he said. 'Go and write it out now while I talk to Perilla.'

I went through to the study and left them to it.

My father hadn't been gone long with the precious document tucked into the fold in his mantle when the last two bits of proof I needed arrived; first from Agron via Bathyllus, second from Callias. Quinctilia's eyesight had started to go a dozen years before, since when she'd relied on a secretary to read her letters to her. The litter slaves who'd kidnapped Perilla, Callias said, had belonged to a certain Curtius Macer. Macer had sold them cheaply after buying a matched set of Nubians at a bargain price from Asprenas. And Macer, Bathyllus informed me, was second cousin to Asprenas's wife…

Two straight bull’s-eyes in a row, and two too many for coincidence. We'd found our fourth conspirator. My only problem now was to nail the bastard where it hurt and come out the other end myself with a whole skin.

My father sent round details of the appointment later that day. The empress would see me an hour before noon the following morning.

People had died of old age waiting for imperial appointments. Maybe I was just lucky, maybe I'd got a last minute cancellation. Or maybe Livia wanted to see me as badly as I wanted to see her.

The short walk to the palace was one of the longest I'd ever taken. At least Perilla was out of it. I'd sent her to Baiae, to stay with a friend who owned a sizeable yacht and owed me a favour. If the worst came to the worst she could leave Italy fast. Marseilles isn't exactly the hub of the universe, but the seafood's good, and the climate would be a lot healthier than Rome's until Livia was safely dead.

The two Praetorians on the door gave me a suspicious look, and I wondered if they were the same guys who'd almost thrown me out on my ear the last time I'd visited this part of the Palatine; but maybe it was my imagination. These gorillas all look the same anyway. Big and mean. I walked between them and gave my name to the secretary at the main reception desk. He checked his list, then looked up. His eyes were bureaucratically blank.

'That seems quite in order, sir. Her Excellency will see you immediately.' He snapped his fingers and something large and hairy materialised out of the woodwork. 'Hermes, take the gentleman to Her Excellency the Empress's suite.'

Without a word the messenger-ape shambled off through the labyrinth leaving me to follow as best as I could. The maze of corridors would've had Daedalus tearing his beard in envy. If the interview went badly and I had to run for it I'd have no chance. Finally after walking for a good five minutes we ducked down a short corridor and into a waiting-room grander than the ones we'd passed so far. A little guy in a very smart lemon tunic sat polishing his nails at a desk beside two imposing panelled doors.

The messenger-ape spoke. It was like having your pet dog suddenly quote Plato. 'Marcus Valerius Messalla Corvinus to see Her Excellency the Lady Livia.'

The guy in the tunic got up. He took me by the arm none too gently and propelled me towards the panelled doors. A discreet knock, a less-than-discreet push in the small of the back, and I was inside. The doors closed behind me and I was alone with the empress.

Livia sat beside a large desk. It was the first time I'd seen her close to, and she seemed — I'm not exaggerating here, nor was the feeling part of my nervousness — not quite real, not quite alive. Her face was an elaborate cosmetic mask like actors wear, or hired mourners in a funeral procession, and her eyes were…dead. That's the only word I can use. Not empty, or dull, or even lifeless.

Dead.

'You asked to see me, Marcus Valerius Corvinus.'

Her voice was dead, too.

I swallowed. 'Yes, Excellency.'

Shit. Maybe I'd made a mistake. If so it would be the last I ever made. My insurance policy suddenly seemed pretty thin. Thin and juvenile.

'And the purpose?'

Gods! I was close to panic. How do you accuse the mother of a reigning emperor and the wife of his deified predecessor of treachery to the state?

I think you betrayed Varus, Excellency. I think you caused the death of fifteen thousand men and the loss of three Eagles and almost lost us Germany just to give your son a better chance at the purple…

She was waiting. I cleared my throat. 'I've discovered some…irregularities, Excellency. In connection with the conduct of Lucius Nonius Asprenas.'

I'd expected the name to cause a flicker in the dead eyes. It didn't. I began to sweat.

'Irregularities?'

'Yes, Excellency.' I paused for effect. 'Treasonable irregularities.'

She just stared at me. Maybe I was wrong after all, I thought. There was nothing in her eyes, no guilt, no unease. Nothing. A fly buzzed across my face and settled on the desk in front of her. Jupiter, if I was wrong now wasn't the time to find out.

'Treason is the province of the emperor,' she said. 'Your appointment was with me.'

'I believe Asprenas was working for Your Excellency.'

Did I say that? The mask set. Silence stretched between us like an over-tuned lyre string. Finally, she spoke.

'You came to the palace some time ago enquiring about the poet Ovid. Is there a connection between that and your present impertinence?'

She was testing me, I knew. This was crucial. I had to convince her that I knew everything. Even if I didn't.