David Wishart - Finished Business

‘Uh …’

‘Come on, Marcus, you’re being slow! Put your thinking cap on! I’ll give you a whopping great clue. Gemellus.’

Shit. ‘Tiberius altered his will. Or the part affecting the succession, anyway.’ He was right; I should’ve thought of that myself. ‘Up to then, Tiberius’s grandson Gemellus had been his only principal heir, in effect his named successor. Only now he named Gaius and Gemellus as joint heirs.’

‘Right. And we’re anticipating matters slightly here, but it’s relevant. Tiberius died in March the following year. Gemellus being underage and several tiles short of a watertight roof to boot, Gaius became emperor. Come December or thereabouts, what happened?’

‘Gaius had Gemellus executed. For conspiring against him while he was ill.’ Fuck; we’d been through all this the last time I’d talked to Lentulus, regarding the Macro business: the whole Gemellus plot had been a sham, from start to finish. ‘What’s this got to do with Asiaticus’s resignation?’

‘Evidence of intelligent planning, boy, and a nose for the way the wind was blowing. He’s a smart cookie in that respect, Asiaticus, always has been. Oh, there was no skulduggery involved on his part, quite the reverse, and at the end of the day it probably saved his life.’

I frowned. ‘I’m sorry, pal, you’ve lost me completely here.’

‘Marcus, Marcus!’ Lentulus tossed the remains of the chicken leg on to the table. ‘Use your brain! We’re talking factions. Julians against Claudians, the way it’s always been ever since that bitch Livia’s day. Asiaticus was and is a protégé and supporter of the old emperor’s sister-in-law Antonia, right? Gemellus’s great-aunt by marriage, and definitely on the Claudian side of the fence. In fact, he’s been a close friend of her son Tiberius Claudius for years. Gaius, of course, is a Julian through and through. So between Gaius and Gemellus, where would his sympathies lie as far as the question of Tiberius’s successor went, hmm? Or rather, where would Gaius assume they lay?’

I was beginning to see light here. ‘With Gemellus, naturally.’

‘Correct. Like I say, Asiaticus isn’t stupid, far from it; he could see the way things were going better than most, and a whole lot earlier. It was getting too hot for him, so he cleared out of the kitchen while he still could. Jacked it in completely and went off to prune his roses on the other side of the Tiber. Which is what he’s still doing.’ He held up his cup for Desmus to fill. ‘At least, that’s his story.’

‘You don’t believe him?’

Lentulus chuckled and coughed. ‘Now don’t you go putting words into my mouth or taking me up wrong just because it happens to suit you, you over-suspicious young bugger,’ he said. ‘I don’t have an opinion one way or the other, and nor should you. All I’m saying is that the man’s a survivor, but whether that comes about through deliberate craft or inbuilt nature, I don’t know. He was a close friend of Junius Silanus, too, and that wasn’t a safe thing to be when the emperor decided he was conspiring with Gemellus and ordered him into suicide. Asiaticus was left alone because he kept a low profile. Head well below the parapet. Best policy to adopt when you’re dealing with a paranoid bastard like Gaius, hey?’ He caught himself and tutted. ‘As you were, Marcus, forget that, I didn’t say it. It was the wine talking, right? Or maybe this cold. I’m not at my best.’

‘Yeah, sure. Understood.’ A survivor. Head below the parapet. Yeah, that had Asiaticus to a T: he’d survived this time as well, whether because, as Lentulus had said, he’d planned things deliberately, or because he was quite genuine and what you saw was what you got. Certainly, he’d convinced Gaius, and like I say the emperor was no fool where judging character was concerned. I thought of those snakes that blend in with their background so perfectly that you don’t know they’re there until they rear up and bite you …

OK, so plenty of food for thought there. And it all fitted. Pace Gaius, Asiaticus was definitely in the frame. Move on.

‘What about Julius Callistus?’ I said. ‘You crossed his path at all?’

‘The emperor’s financial secretary? No, can’t say I have.’

‘Know anything about him?’

‘Only that he’s bloody good at his job, like a lot of the freedmen Gaius has been filling the top imperial admin posts with these past few years. Mind you, he’d have to be, especially these days.’

‘Why so?’ I reached over and helped myself to a stuffed date.

‘Because what with one thing and another, Gaius is getting through money like there’s no tomorrow. Publicly and privately. It has to come from somewhere, and even those bloody fancy direct taxes he’s introduced lately aren’t bringing in enough pennies to pay the bills.’ Lentulus chuckled and peeled a quail’s egg. ‘Just shows you to be careful what you wish for, boy. When the emperor started using freedmen, some of my more poker-up-the-arse colleagues down the hill moaned like hell. Ex-slaves with their master’s slap still fresh on their cheeks giving the orders and running the empire? What would Sulla have said? Barbarians at the gates, the end of civilization, grouse, grouse, grouse. You know the sort of thing.’ He dipped the egg in fish sauce, popped it into his mouth and chewed. ‘Only now you don’t hear a cheep from them, do you, because the tossers know that if they moan too loud and Gaius hands the job over to them, Rome’ll be bankrupt inside of a month.’

‘As bad as that, is it?’

‘Well, maybe I’m exaggerating a tad. But if it wasn’t for Julius Callistus and his ilk over on the Palatine doing their financial balancing act and holding things together, the treasury would be looking pretty bare.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Interesting. ‘OK. Last name. Arrecinus Clemens.’

‘Clemens, eh?’ Another shrewd look as he reached for the quails’ eggs. ‘Quite a mixed bag you’ve got there, Marcus, my boy. Praetorians, now, is it?’

‘Yeah, as it happens.’ I kept my voice neutral. Not that I had any illusions about being able to pull the wool over Lentulus’s eyes. He was no Secundus; he’d been involved in the labyrinthine world of politics all his life, certainly long enough to know how many beans made five, and the pattern that was emerging here was pretty obvious. As were the implications, and so my reasons for asking. If he’d decided to play dumb then it was through conscious choice. ‘Anything you’ve got.’

He grunted and concentrated on shelling the egg. ‘Joint Praetorian prefect, equestrian, good provincial Italian family but nothing special — from Arpinum, or thereabouts. Military type to the bone, not a political. Steady, reliable, conscientious. Solid clear through, particularly where his head’s concerned. Which of course was why Gaius appointed him.’

Well, again I’d known most of that, and from Gaius himself. But there had to be more. ‘Happy in his job?’ I said.

Lentulus hesitated. ‘Moderately,’ he said. ‘Chap’s got a bit of an awkward bee in his bonnet, though. About the Jews, of all things.’

Yeah; Gaius had mentioned that, too. ‘The God-Fearer business,’ I said.

He nodded. ‘That’s right. You’d heard?’

‘Not in any detail, no. Why awkward?’

‘Because it’s producing a certain … conflict of interests.’ He still wasn’t looking at me; all his attention was on the egg. ‘You know about the Alexandrian delegation?’

‘No. What delegation would that be?’

‘From the Jewish community there. Led by a chap called Philo. They arrived in Rome a year ago to petition the emperor to give them equal citizen rights with the Greeks. They’re still around, as it happens.’