David Wishart - Finished Business

Prime site: Agrippina’s Gardens were an imperial estate as of six or seven years back, and consequently any property bordering on them had social cachet in spades, not to mention top-rate resale value. We were talking serious money here.

‘So you’re going over there, are you, Marcus?’ Perilla sipped her juice. At least it wasn’t buffalo’s milk. Or goat’s.

‘Yeah. I’ll do that tomorrow. Like I said, it’s probably a fool’s errand, but if it means getting Naevia Postuma off my back, I may as well give it a shot. Besides, I haven’t got anything better to do, have I?’

Alexander, wherever he was, would be delighted.

The next day was one of the good ones, for November — clear sky, hardly a breath of wind, and pleasantly warm. Which was just as well, if I was to hoof it all the way across town, over the river and up to the Vatican. The only really practical alternative would’ve been to take the litter, and that I don’t do unless it’s really pissing down and the journey’s absolutely vital. Even then, I hesitate: we’re a one-litter family, us, and I generally leave it for Perilla, who’s the social animal of the partnership and prefers not to turn up wherever she’s going soggy, spattered with mud and definitely not soingée . If push really comes to shove, there’s a public litter-rank on Head of Africa, just up the road, and I can pick one up from there.

Still, like I say, there was no need at present, and once you’re over the Sublician and through the more built-up parts of the Janiculan Marsh district, and the ground starts to rise, the city — if you can call it that any more — opens out. Me, I’m a left-bank man myself, with a preference for crowds, narrow twisting streets and proper pavements, and west of the river is just somewhere I don’t usually have any reason to go. But if you like greenery, fresh air, relative peace and quiet, and the closest Rome comes to countryside, then Transtiber’s the place. Certainly it’s the hot end of the property market, with more private estates than you can shake a stick at, and if you’ve got ten million or so to play with and want to avoid the riff-raff then a little place on the slopes of the Janiculan or the Vatican is just the thing.

The Naevius place was pretty typical: several acres of bosky woodland with a drive leading up through a network of formal gardens to a villa that you could’ve put our house on the Caelian into a small corner of. I gave my name and business to a gate-guard big enough to have bounced me off the wall without breaking sweat, and carried on towards the villa itself.

I’d got to within a hundred yards or so when a woman came through the arch of what looked like a walled garden just to the right of the main drag and cut me off.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Can I help you?’

Mid-twenties, a looker, well-enough dressed in a smart tunic and cloak, but not OTT. The accent, though, didn’t really fit the setting. Certainly not upper-class Roman. I’d’ve guessed middle of the range, at best, and there was a distinct northern twang. She didn’t quite look the part, either: when she got closer I noticed the too-obvious make-up and the reddish hair. Gallic blood; north Italian was right.

No sir , mind, and she had a certain assurance about her that didn’t fit with, say, a freedwoman attached to the family. I was puzzled.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘The name’s Valerius Corvinus. Naevia Postuma sent me.’

‘Oh.’ The friendliness dropped down a distinct notch. ‘Yes, she did send a slave yesterday to say you’d be coming. A load of complete nonsense, but that’s the Lady Postuma for you. She does get these bees in her bonnet. Well, we’d best get it over with.’

Not a good beginning, although I supposed I couldn’t expect much more, under the circumstances. And I had a certain sympathy with the lady’s feelings, if she was part of the family after all.

‘And, uh, you are?’ I said.

‘Tarquitia.’ I must’ve looked blank. ‘She didn’t mention me to you? Not surprising, really. I’m — was, I suppose now — Lucius Surdinus’s mistress.’ I blinked, and she laughed. ‘Don’t look so shocked, Valerius Corvinus. It was all perfectly above board, and I’ve nothing to be ashamed of. Quite the reverse. Now, you’ll want to talk to me, no doubt.’

I glanced over at the villa. ‘Sure. If you’ll just lead the way.’

‘No, I think we’ll have the conversation out here, if you don’t mind. It’s a pleasant-enough morning, there are seats in the rose garden, and we’ll be perfectly comfortable there for however long it takes. You can go up to the house and pursue your enquiries there later. I’m not, as you can imagine, exactly flavour of the month with Lucius’s surviving nearest and dearest, and I’d rather avoid any unpleasantness.’

Said without a trace of expression, except maybe for the slightest tinge of contempt. I was more puzzled than ever.

‘Fine with me,’ I said. ‘Lead on.’

We went back through the arch and into a formal garden planted with rose bushes, with a late bloom or two showing through the greenery.

‘We’ll sit here, if that’s all right,’ she said. There was a stone bench against the nearside wall. I sat on one side, and she perched on the other, leaning her back against the wall. ‘Now, where would you like to start? I warn you, I don’t know anything about the actual circumstances, because I wasn’t here at the time. But about anything else, please feel free to ask. I’m not shy.’

Yeah, well, that was putting it mildly: the lady just radiated self-confidence, and apart from that little hiccup over not wanting to go up to the villa, she was perfectly at ease.

‘You were Naevius Surdinus’s mistress,’ I said.

‘Yes. For the last year or so. I’m a … I suppose the best word is “entertainer”. I sing a little, dance a little, play the double-flute, not very well. Juggle. Do acrobatics.’ She glanced sideways at me. ‘I do the most amazing set of cartwheels. I could show you, if I weren’t wearing this tunic.’

I grinned; I was beginning to like Tarquitia. ‘Yeah, well,’ I said. ‘We’ll take that on trust for the present, shall we?’

‘If you like. I work — worked — at the Five Poppies club, mostly. That’s near the temple of Juno the Deliverer, off the vegetable market. Do you know it?’

‘No. I’m afraid not.’

‘Pity. It’s a good place, and they give good value. You should go there some time. Tell them I sent you.’

‘Yeah,’ I said equably. ‘Yeah, I might just do that.’

‘Anyway, I also did freelance, which is how I met Lucius. I was contracted to one of his friends’ dinner parties as part of the after-dinner entertainment; our eyes met across a not-so-crowded room, and that was that. More or less, give or take a month or so of what you might call casual dalliance. He set me up in my own flat and we became a regular item. End of story.’

‘Did his wife know?’

She laughed. ‘The Lady Sullana?’ She stressed the word ‘lady’, and I could just hear the capitalization fall into place. ‘Of course. Practically from the first. Lucius told her himself, and frankly I don’t think she could’ve cared less. Except for the scandal aspect of things, that is. Sullana was always very prim and proper. So long as Lucius didn’t flaunt me in public, I didn’t exist.’

‘What about the rest of the family? Did they know?’

‘Oh, yes. Given that by “the rest of the family”, you mean Lucius’s son, Naevia Postuma and a few other odds and sods. But then the same applies. As long as I didn’t get above myself and become a social embarrassment, I could be ignored, and everything was just peaches and cream.’