David Wishart - Finished Business

Right; I should’ve guessed from the name, or at least that there was some sort of family connection. Marcus Vinicius was the closest we — or rather Perilla — had to a VIP acquaintance: ex-consul, political high-flier, one of the imperial set, married to Gaius’s youngest sister Livilla, and the star member of Perilla’s poetry-klatsch circle. We’d met a couple of years back, at the time of the Macro business, when Perilla engineered an invite for me to a reading at his house, and I’d been very favourably impressed. Not a bad guy, Marcus Vinicius. For an imperial.

‘Is that so, now?’ I said.

‘You can’t mean Vinicianus, though. As a replacement for Gaius, that is. Oh, he’s certainly well liked and respected, from what I hear, but I wouldn’t’ve thought he was emperor material, even in his own estimation.’

‘Actually, I was thinking of Vinicius himself.’

Perilla stared at me. ‘You’re not serious!’

‘Why not? He’s got the political mileage and the street cred, easy. He’s proved a dozen times over that he can handle responsibility. He’s level-headed, popular with the senate and the army. He’s even married to Gaius’s sister. What more could you want?’

‘Marcus, be sensible! We’ve been through all this before. Two years ago. Vinicius is no traitor, he hasn’t got it in him to be: you suspected him then, and you admitted you were wrong. You can’t go back on that now.’

‘Sure I can, lady, because this time we’re in a completely different ball game. And I never said Vinicius was a traitor, one of the conspirators. If Lentulus had wanted to finger Vinicius per se, he’d’ve done it, not faff around being cryptic.’

‘What, then? And why should Cornelius Lentulus know anything about the plot?’

I grinned. ‘Perilla, never underestimate Lentulus, right? What he hears and what he admits to hearing, let alone acts on, are two different things, which is why the crafty bugger’s survived with all his wollocks attached through sixty-odd years of politicking, three emperors, the gods know how many conspiracies and more senatorial intrigue and back-stabbing than you can shake a stick at. Plus he’s got a brain like a razor. Which means that, no, I haven’t a fucking clue how he knows about the plot, but I’ll bet you a dozen new mantles against a used corn plaster that he does. OK?’

She ducked her head. ‘Very well, Marcus. And there’s no need to swear, thank you. Even so, I’d like an answer to my other question, please. If you aren’t saying that Marcus Vinicius is involved in the plot, then what are you saying?’

‘Look. The situations two years ago and now are completely different, right? Two years back Gaius was doing OK; the guy wasn’t perfect, but no one had any real legitimate grouses. That conspiracy — Lepidus and the rest — was just about power and greed. Yes?’

‘Fair enough. So?’

‘So this one isn’t, or not completely so. You said it yourself: sometimes there’s a place for altruism where motive’s concerned. Two out of the three guys we’ve got earmarked as conspirators here have no personal grudge against Gaius, quite the contrary: Callistus is his freedman, with all the obligations that entails, and the guy’s been promoted according to his merit rather than his social standing, while Clemens is holding down one of the top military jobs in the empire. Not bad for a no-namer from Arpinum.’

‘Cicero was from Arpinum, dear, and look how far he went. Plus the fact that one of Clemens’s predecessors was Aelius Sejanus. Another no-namer as far as family was concerned.’

‘Don’t quibble. You know what I mean. Although yeah, Cicero’s relevant as well, as it happens. Didn’t he have the idea of forming a sort of alliance of the orders, a party above party?’

‘Marcus, that is very good! Sometimes you surprise me. How on earth did you know that?’

‘Bugger off, lady. What I’m saying is that that’s exactly what we’ve got. Asiaticus, Callistus, Clemens: senate, imperial admin, military. And my bet is that they’re not the only representatives in their class. The three main divisions of the state, all wanting rid of Gaius for the good of Rome.’

‘The good of Rome. Where have we heard that phrase before?’

‘Yeah, well, maybe this time it’s genuine. The man’s becoming a luxury that the empire can’t afford.’

She sat up. ‘Marcus, whose side are you on here? I thought you wanted to stop the emperor from being assassinated.’

‘Yeah, well, I do, if I can. Murder’s murder, whatever the excuse. But the point is that this time at least there is an excuse, and a valid one. Oh, sure, Vinicius may not be in on the conspiracy himself, but six gets you ten his nephew is. Maybe for the best of reasons, but nonetheless. And if it succeeds — when it succeeds — my guess is that he’ll fling his uncle’s cap into the ring.’

‘Vinicius would never be a party to that sort of arrangement! How many times do I have to tell you, dear? The man is not political! ’

‘He wouldn’t have to be. And he needn’t even know about the existence of the conspiracy in advance; in fact it might be safer if he didn’t. By the time the knowledge became relevant, Gaius would be dead, Rome would be short one emperor, and there’d be no one else on offer to take on the job. Plus the invitation would be official; as a senator, Vinicianus could put his uncle’s name forward to the senate himself, and I’ll bet he’s already sounded out some of his colleagues on the benches. Which probably explains why Lentulus knows.’ I topped my cup up from the jug. ‘The broad-striper brigade would fall over themselves to vote Vinicius in.’

Perilla sighed. ‘I’m sorry, dear,’ she said. ‘Yes, I do hear what you’re saying, and yes, it does make sense, but I still can’t see Marcus Vinicius agreeing, not even out of altruism. He’s very old-fashioned in many ways, very much the traditionalist. A bit like you, really.’

‘Hah!’

‘I mean it. And it’s a compliment. Vinicius has principles, and he keeps to them. Gaius would be dead as a result of treason, and whether he’d known beforehand that he was a factor in the plot or not, that would matter to him. He’d never agree to become emperor under those circumstances. Not even for the genuine good of Rome.’

‘You’re very sure about that, lady?’

‘Yes, I am, as it happens.’

Bugger. I frowned, and let it go. Me, well, I had my serious doubts about her reading of Vinicius. Oh, sure, I was ready to grant from my own knowledge of the guy that he wasn’t the conspiring type and didn’t seem to have an ambitious bone in his body, but timing and circumstances were all-important here; like I said, he’d be the perfect man for the job, and modesty aside he’d recognize that. A strong sense of duty, plus the pressure that would no doubt be put on him by his broad-striper colleagues, would do the rest.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘That still doesn’t solve the problem of Gaius’s replacement. If not Vinicius then who?’

‘What about Claudius?’

I stared at her. ‘ What? ’

‘Why not? He’s Gaius’s uncle, and the only remaining male of the direct-line imperial family.’

‘Why not ? Jupiter, Perilla, where do you start? He’s Gemellus over again, or as good as. The guy’s a mental defective, he’s never held political office barring a grace-and-favour suffect consulship when Gaius came to power, never served in the military, never even been given the smallest bit of real responsibility. You can practically count the times he’s even appeared in public on the fingers of one hand. And this at, what, age fifty or thereabouts? The senate would never ratify him as emperor, not in a million years. And that’s what the conspirators would need, because with Gaius dead and no one being groomed for crown prince, it’d be the senate choosing the emperor.’