David Wishart - White Murder

‘Hiccups?’

‘They went down badly in Caesar’s Victory and the Romans. Lead horse broke a trace in the first, the horses of the lead team were under par in the second. It happens. Nothing unusual.’

Maybe not, but the back of my neck prickled. ‘Pegasus was driving in both?’

He glanced at me and frowned; like I say, Cascellius was no fool. ‘Yeah. Yes, he was. But then he would be, wouldn’t he? He was the lead.’

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Let’s get back to Natalis. You say he’s doing a good job.’

The suspicious look disappeared. ‘Sure. He can afford to, with the money that’s coming in, especially with Gaius on his side. He’s brought the Greens on until the Blues can’t compete: best drivers, best horses. He gets the cream from the prime studs in Africa and Sicily. Pays top prices so the Blues are shut out and have to go for second best.’

‘Uh-huh. What about Spanish horses?’

‘They’re good now, and they’ll get better, but the Africans and Sicilians still have the edge. That’s only my personal opinion, mind.’

I changed tack. ‘How dangerous was Pegasus? To the other factions, I mean?’

‘Lethal.’ Cascellius sipped his wine. ‘Oh, sure, he was only one driver with one team, but he was better than the Greens’ second, and with that new horse of Cammius’s he was unbeatable.’

‘That’d be Polydoxus, right?’

‘Right. The Greens aren’t beaten easy. It’d come hard for them to go down in every race Pegasus ran in, even although they won the other six or seven on the day. That sort of thing builds up.’

‘But if Pegasus didn’t win every race? If he came in second to the Greens or the Blues on occasion, maybe because he fumbled a turn or let another guy through?’

‘That would’ve made a difference, sure. It would’ve been the cumulative effect that would’ve done the damage. Not that I’d expect any different, myself. Pegasus was brilliant, but even the best drivers have their bad days, and no one can be hundred-percent certain of a winner. If they could then every bookie in Rome’d be out of business in a month.’

‘Yeah.’ My brain was buzzing. ‘Right.’ I topped up his cup. ‘Okay. Now what about Sopilys?’

I’d thought the guy was relaxing, but that got me a guarded look. ‘What about him?’

‘He was one of the grooms, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And he was sacked. What for?’

Long silence. Finally, he shook his head. ‘That I can’t tell you, Corvinus. The Greens who come into the Cat are pretty close-mouthed, like Pinnius said. One day he was working at the stables, the next he wasn’t. That’s as far as I go.’

Bugger; if he didn’t know for sure – and I wouldn’t’ve put money on it – I’d bet he could make a good guess. However, the guy was being helpful and I didn’t want to pressure him. ‘You know where he is now?’

Cascellius was quiet for a long time. I thought it was reticence, but he was just thinking. ‘He used to talk about a brother who was a loader down at Ostia. It’s a long shot, but could be he’s taken a job there.’

Long shot was right, but it was the only one I had, and Sopilys was one guy I had to talk to. ‘Last question, friend, and then I’ll let you get back to your vegetables.’

He shrugged. ‘No problem, I’m in no hurry. Mammo’s the wife’s cousin. She’ll handle both stalls, and we’re never neither of us run off our feet. What’s the question?’

‘Not about the Greens or Pegasus. Or not directly. You happen to know where the Reds’ boss lives? Rufrius Pudens? His house, not the Reds’ stables?’

Again, I got the considering stare. Then he said carefully: ‘You’d be wanting his wife, I’d assume. Felicula.’

Jupiter! I hadn’t thought that angle would be public knowledge! But there again, maybe the Green team were only close-mouthed where racing and their own stables were concerned. It made me think about Pudens himself, though. If what his wife was up to was that much in the public domain then the guy was either totally blinkered or he couldn’t care less. Either way might be significant.

‘Yeah,’ I said, matching his tone. ‘I might be, at that.’

He cleared his throat. I’d put Cascellius down as a family man with old-fashioned family values, and I reckoned I hadn’t been wrong. You could feel the disapproval oozing out of him; also that he was doing his best to hide it. A nice guy, Cascellius. Situations like this, you usually got the leer or the tirade.

‘He’s on the Esquiline,’ he said. ‘Big house at the top of Virbius.’

‘Right. Thanks.’ I hesitated. ‘You, uh, know either of them at all? Pudens or Felicula?’

‘Not personally. I don’t move in these sorts of circles. I’ve seen them at the Games, sure, but remember I’m just a punter.’

‘The lady goes too?’

‘Never misses.’

Yeah, well, it was a stupid question, at that. If Felicula had a thing about drivers – which from her own track record I’d guess she did – then of course she’d go. ‘What’s Pudens’s background?’

‘Plain-mantle. Where he’s from I don’t know.’ Now we’d moved back to racing Cascellius looked happier, but the answer had a terseness about it that I didn’t understand. ‘Africa. South Italy. Sicily maybe.’ Like Natalis; but there again I had the impression that a lot of people in the racing world were from the big horse districts. Maybe it was in the blood. ‘He bought into the Reds about the same time as Cammius took over the Whites.’

‘He a driver or a businessman?’

‘Businessman, definitely. If he’s either.’

‘Why “definitely”?’

‘You’ve only got to look at him. He’s no racing man, he’s a clerk.’

‘So why buy the Reds?’

‘Mercury knows.’ Cascellius downed a mouthful of the Rhaetian. ‘Probably he’d his reasons, but from the Reds’ point of view it was a mistake.’

‘Yeah? Why so?’

‘Like I said, he’s no racer. Not even a good businessman. The Reds are wallowing; they don’t come in the first three one race in five. If it wasn’t for Laomedon they’d be a joke.’ Right. Laomedon. The Reds’ lead driver and Felicula’s ex-squire. ‘Things get that bad, it’s the faction master’s fault.’

Uh-huh; even as a non-fan I could see that. And now I could account for the trace of contempt in the guy’s voice. Cascellius was a Greens supporter, and the Reds ran backstop for the Greens just as the Whites did for the Blues. If Pudens’s team weren’t pulling their weight then the Greens suffered too. And with the Pegasus/Polydoxus combination they’d have enough problems already.

Well, I’d got what I’d come for, or at least all I could take in at present, the morning was wearing on and I was itching to take a walk up onto the Esquiline, but we still had half the jug left and it would’ve been impolite to break away, especially after the guy had been so helpful. Besides, like I say one of my favourite pleasures is shooting the breeze over a jug. So we emptied it while we talked about the vegetable trade, family life and kids: he had six of them, not five after all, three boys three girls, in a tenement flat just inside the Subura. It sounded hell to me but he wasn’t complaining.

‘You need any more help, you know where I am,’ he said as we shook hands before he went back to Mammo. ‘I’d a lot of time for Pegasus as a driver. The Greens haven’t been the same since they lost him. Good luck with the investigation.’

He wouldn’t’ve taken any money – Cascellius’s type never do – and I wouldn’t’ve insulted the guy by offering it; but I had a word with the landlord and arranged for a complimentary jug of Rhaetian the next time he was in. Then I set off for the Virbian Incline.