David Wishart - Finished Business

‘After a year ?’

Lentulus laid the egg aside and looked up. ‘Gaius is in no hurry, boy,’ he said. ‘That’s the point. Or partly the point. Philo and his cronies have spent the past twelve months twiddling their thumbs on the other side of the river, and they’re likely to stay there indefinitely. Jews haven’t exactly been flavour of the month with Caesar ever since the trouble at Jamnia.’

‘Where the hell’s Jamnia?’

‘Palestine. Near Jerusalem, on the coast. The town’s part of the imperial estates. Mixed Jewish-Greek, like a lot of those places. Just after the delegation got here, the Greeks in Jamnia set up an altar to the imperial cult. The local Jews rioted and pulled it down.’ I winced. Trouble was right: Rome’s pretty tolerant where religion’s concerned — as long as you don’t go in for ceremonies involving cannibalism, ritual bestiality or the wholesale sacrifice of virgins, you can worship whatever god you like — but start mixing religion with politics and you’re up shit creek before you can say military intervention . Pulling down an altar to the Goddess Rome and her earthly representative would qualify in spades. ‘When Procurator Capito passed the news on to Gaius, the emperor went spare. He-’

‘Hang on, Lentulus,’ I said. ‘ Capito ? Herennius Capito?’

‘That’s the fella, yes.’ He was bland. ‘Gaius pulled him back to Rome shortly afterwards. He’s dead now, poor bugger. Blotted his copybook good and proper, so I understand. Anyway, I was saying, Gaius decided that if that was the way the intolerant bastards were going to play it, then he’d give them tit for tat and convert their temple in Jerusalem into an imperial shrine, with a statue of himself as Jupiter as the centrepiece. Not that that came to anything in the end, mind, fortunately, because the Syrian governor deliberately dragged his feet over supplying the actual statue itself. By which time Caesar’s pal Herod Agrippa had managed to persuade him to drop the idea.’

Yeah, I remembered that Secundus had mentioned the statue business. I hadn’t realized at the time that it was going to be relevant. Which it appeared it was.

‘And all this is connected with Clemens, right?’ I said.

‘Naturally. In a way, at least. I told you: Clemens may not be political as such but he and Philo are pretty thick together. Plus he’s a good friend of Agrippa’s. Just as well things panned out the way they did, mark you. Things being as they are, if the emperor had had his way it would’ve caused real trouble. Still might, for that matter, if he’s not careful and pulls his horns in. No fan of the Jews, our Gaius, and they know it.’ Lentulus picked up his wine cup and took a swig. ‘So. There you are, young Marcus. Had enough?’

‘Yeah.’ I took a contemplative swallow of my Falernian. ‘Yeah, that’ll just about do it.’ Gods, it would at that, and with knobs on! I’d seen the trouble messing with Jewish sensibilities caused myself, at first hand, a couple of years before when we were in Alex. That time we’d been lucky to get out of the place in advance of the rioting, but it had been a close thing, and matters had got a whole lot worse before they were finally settled. If an uneasy truce with Jew and Greek still at daggers drawn can be called settlement. And sure, Alexandria might be the second biggest city in the empire, but it wasn’t the only one with a major Jewish population, not by a long chalk. Just the thought that what had happened there could happen on a much wider scale sent a chill down my spine.

If I was looking for a reason for Arrecinus Clemens to be involved in all this, I didn’t have to look any further. Lentulus’s mention of Capito — and it had been deliberate, I was certain of that — was interesting as well.

‘Good. I’m glad. Always pleased to help, so long as you don’t quote me.’ Lentulus had been reaching for another chicken leg — where the guy put it all, big as he was, I didn’t know — and he hesitated. ‘By the by, Marcus. One name you didn’t mention. Fella called Vinicianus. Annius Vinicianus.’

I gave him a sharp look. ‘What about him?’

‘What about who?’

‘Ah … Annius Vinicianus?’

‘Oh. Nothing. Nothing at all. Forget I said it, I was rambling.’ He picked up the chicken leg. ‘Must be going senile. Now, if that’s the morning’s business over to your satisfaction, we can move on to more important matters. Like the new wine my supplier’s trying to foist off on me.’

‘Yeah? Where’s it from?’

‘Place over in Belgic Gaul by the name of Durocortorum. Fizzy stuff, comes in small flasks with the bung tied down. Now don’t look at me like that, boy, he says it has a future, although of course he’s bloody selling the stuff, so he would, wouldn’t he? Probably just a passing fad, but I’d be glad to hear your opinion.’

‘Ah … fizzy ?’

‘Full of little bubbles. Jupiter knows how they get them in or why they bother, but there you are. Desmus likes to see how far he can shoot the bung when he opens one of the bastards, don’t you, Desmus? His record so far’s fifteen feet. Ah, well, simple pleasures. Get the rest of that Falernian down you and we’ll give it a go.’

Annius Vinicianus, eh?

Senile, nothing; I was being told .

I hadn’t been expecting Perilla back much shy of dinner time, but she breezed in only about an hour after I did. In a much better mood than I thought she’d be, too.

‘You find what you were after, then, lady?’ I said when she came back down from getting changed.

‘Yes, thank you, Marcus.’ She put her cheek down to be kissed. ‘I thought I’d try Fabatus’s. You remember? That new shop in the Saepta, the one that Naevia Postuma mentioned when she was here the first time and Calventia Quietina recommended to me.’

‘Uh … yeah. Right.’ I didn’t remember any such thing, but sometimes it’s safer not to make admissions like that. ‘That’s nice.’

‘Off the peg, of course, but then I didn’t have much option, did I?’ This time I said nothing: there’d been a definite trace of frost there. ‘And it is rather nice. It’ll go very well with the over-mantle I got before we went to Clarus and Marilla’s.’

‘The one young Marcus sicked up on?’

She frowned. ‘Oh, damn, so he did. Not that one, then. Never mind, I’ll find something else.’ Bathyllus was hovering. ‘A hot mint and lemon balm with honey, please, Bathyllus. It is not pleasant out there.’

‘No, it isn’t.’ I handed him the empty jug. ‘Bring me a top-up too, will you, little guy?’

‘Certainly, sir, with the greatest of pleasure. Madam.’

He bowed and bustled out. I watched him go, grinning: he’d been like this, oozing smarm, ever since the imperial dinner invitation had hit the mat. Sometimes the little guy was so transparent that it was embarrassing.

‘I thought you were staying at home this morning.’ Perilla settled down on the couch opposite.

‘Hmm? No, I changed my mind. I decided I’d go round to old Cornelius Lentulus’s.’

‘Really? Why would you want to …?’ She stopped. ‘It had something to do with the case, didn’t it?’

‘Ah …’

‘Marcus, I told you! Never mind what Postuma said, leave things alone! You did your best where Naevius Surdinus was concerned, and as far as the conspiracy side of things goes, if Felix and Gaius are happy that it’s dead, that’s the end of it.’ She paused. ‘And if it isn’t then it’s no business of yours.’

‘Even if come the Palatine Games, Gaius gets himself chopped?’

She looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, I don’t actually wish the poor man harm, but …’