David Wishart - Finished Business

I made my way back along the south side of the Circus and up through Cattlemarket Square to the veggie market and the Poppies. Fortunately, Vulpis was around again, and he gave me the confirmation I needed. Not that I’d been in much doubt that he would, because it fitted in too neatly, and it was the only explanation.

I was heading for Market Square and the Aemilian Hall when the heavens opened in earnest. Bugger. Double bugger. I had on my hooded cloak, of course, but it was wringing wet already, and the dampness was beginning to reach my tunic. Time for another wine shop, at least until Rainy Jupiter decided not to piss down on poor quivering humanity quite so hard. There was one place I knew, Tasso’s, at the foot of the Palatine’s Market Square edge, that catered for the imperial and senatorial admin staff from the government offices round about. Pretentious and overpriced, sure, and normally I’d’ve avoided it, but beggars — especially wet ones — can’t be choosers. At least they served decent wine, albeit at twice the price of anywhere else. I found it, pushed open the door and went inside.

‘Marcus?’

I’d been taking the cloak off to hang on one of the pegs by the door, where it could drip in solitary comfort. I turned round.

Gaius Vibullius Secundus and I go a long way back, practically to childhood. We didn’t see a lot of each other these days, mainly because he’s a big wheel in army admin and our lives have pretty much diverged, but we bump into one another occasionally. I hadn’t seen him for a couple of years, mind, not since I’d picked his brains about Gaetulicus and the German frontier legions. A nice guy, Secundus. And, of course, since he was based at Augustus House on the Palatine, this was his local.

‘Hi, Gaius,’ I said. ‘How’s it going? Skiving off work early as usual, are you?’

‘I’m on a flexible lunch break.’ He indicated what was left of a plate of cheese and olives in front of him. ‘Boss’s privilege. Pull up a stool and join me.’ I did, and he raised a hand towards the bar. ‘Hey, Quintus!’ he shouted. ‘Let’s have a half-jug of the Massic over here, OK? And another cup.’ He turned back to me. ‘So. How are you doing? How’s Perilla?’

‘She’s fine. You, uh, got a replacement for Furia Gemella yet?’ Gemella was Secundus’s ex-wife. Ex as of a month or so before I’d last seen him. Loud, brash, went in for large earrings. We hadn’t got on. Mind you, she and Secundus hadn’t, especially, either.

‘Not as such, no,’ he said. ‘At least, no one official. I might keep it like that. Makes things much simpler.’ The wine came, and he poured. ‘Help yourself to the cheese and olives. I’ve had enough.’

I took a bit of cheese. ‘You in the same job?’ I said.

‘More or less. I’ve moved up the ladder a notch, mind, since old Curio got his wooden sword, but yeah, more or less.’ He took a swallow of the Massic. ‘How about you? Still bumming around with the sleuthing?’

‘Off and on.’

‘Which is it currently? Off or on?’

‘On, as it happens. Old guy had his head flattened by a lump of falling masonry.’

He set down his cup. ‘Naevius Surdinus?’ he said.

‘Yeah, that’s him. You heard?’

‘Sure I heard. But I heard it was an accident.’

‘Yeah, well.’ I took a swig of the Massic. Beautiful. ‘It wasn’t. Most definitely not. Even so, I’m surprised the death is common knowledge. From all reports, he’d been out of the loop for years.’

Secundus shrugged. ‘He was an ex-consul, Marcus,’ he said. ‘Suffect, sure, only for six months and that ten years back, but a consular none the less. A consular’s death gets noticed, and when it’s as unusual as Surdinus’s was, it gets talked about as well. And out of the loop the guy might have been, but when old Aulus Plautius told him it came as a real shock to his ex-colleague, at least, I can tell you that.’

‘Ex-colleague?’

‘In the consulship. Cassius Longinus.’

‘I thought Longinus was Asian governor at present,’ I said.

That got me a sharp look: Secundus might not be the brightest button in the box, but he wasn’t stupid by any means. Despite having made it, in his time, to city judge’s level.

‘You developed a sudden interest in who’s who in current politics, Marcus?’ he said. ‘Or does Longinus figure somewhere in that case of yours?’

‘Neither,’ I lied: friend or not, I wasn’t going to tell him about Cornelia Sullana’s little admitted indiscretion. Besides, it was probably just coincidence: bed-hopping, in the circles people like Sullana and Longinus moved in, was pretty much taken for granted as a fact of everyday life. ‘I just happened to know, that’s all.’

‘Mmm.’ Secundus swallowed some of his wine. ‘Yeah, right. He was, certainly.’

‘Was what?’

‘Asian governor. Not any more, though. The emperor recalled him ahead of time, so as of ten or twelve days ago, he’s back in Rome.’

‘Recalled him? Why would he do that?’ Governors were governors; they were fixtures, at least until their term of office expired naturally. Plus, Asia was one of the senatorial provinces, in fact the plum appointment. Oh, sure, ever since Augustus’s day the emperor has had overriding proconsular authority where appointments and removals are concerned throughout the empire, no matter what kind of province is at issue, but it’s not been used all that often, certainly not blatantly, and never without a reason in the case of a senatorial governor. Senatorial provinces are the concern of the senate; imperial ones — where most of the legions are — are the concern of the emperor, and neither treads on the other’s toes. At least in public. If Gaius Caesar had shoved his oar in and removed one of the senate’s prime appointees from office ahead of time, then he must have given a reason. A bloody good one, too.

Secundus shrugged again. ‘Jupiter knows,’ he said. ‘No cause that I’m aware of. Or anyone else, for that matter. Including — or so he claims — Longinus himself. All he got was the order to get his arse back to Rome asap, and that’s been that.’ He moved his head closer and dropped his voice. ‘Mind you — and naturally I’m not implying any criticism here — Caesar’s been acting a bit … well, a bit arbitrarily these past few months. Longinus is just another example.’

Arbitrarily . Oh, sure: like tired and emotional was a euphemism for pissed as a newt . Yeah, well, there were no surprises there: in my long and not inconsiderable experience of the neurotic, overbred bugger who was currently our emperor, he’d always been several sandwiches short of a picnic. In many ways, he couldn’t’ve mustered the hamper. ‘That’d be a bit more arbitrarily than usual, I assume?’ I said.

I’d spoken at normal voice level, and I saw a few heads at the nearest tables — senior civil service types to a man — turn to look at me. Secundus glanced around, grinned nervously, and lowered his voice to a whisper through clenched teeth.

‘Gods, Marcus, you stupid bastard, either shut the fuck up or keep it down, right?’ he hissed. ‘I know most of those guys, and they’re safe, but one or two I don’t. And these days you do not kid around where talking about the boss is concerned. Get me?’

The hairs rose a little on the back of my neck. Shit, he was serious; deadly serious. This wasn’t the Gaius Secundus I knew.

‘Yeah, OK, pal, I’m sorry,’ I said. I lowered my voice to match his. ‘Arbitrarily like what?’

‘Well, for a start there’s the business of the statue in the Jerusalem temple.’

‘I thought the Jews were dead against that kind of thing. Having statues of gods in temples. God, singular. Whatever.’