David Wishart - Foreign Bodies

‘Yes, Caesar,’ I said cautiously. ‘We’re both fine. Perilla sends her regards.’

‘That’s excellent. A cup of wine? It’s not too early for you?’

‘No. Not at all. That’d be great, thank you.’ Damn right it would; I wasn’t going to pass up what would no doubt be the best imperial Caecuban. One of Claudius’s good points – or good in my view anyway – was that he liked a cup or three of wine as much as I did. Besides, I suspected that I was going to need it. ‘Thank you.’

He poured and filled his own cup to the brim. I took a sip. Nectar, pure nectar!

‘Now. To business. You’re w-wondering, no doubt, why I asked you to come and see me.’

‘Uh … yeah. Yes, sir, I am.’

‘Perfectly natural. I want you to look into a murder for me.’

Oh, bugger. Bugger, bugger, bugger!

‘Really?’ I said faintly.

‘You do still handle them, don’t you? As a hobby, I mean. Only I recall our mutual friend Marcus Vinicius mentioning it. The evening of my late nephew’s dinner party when you and Perilla shared our table, if you remember.’

Uh-huh; the one just before Gaius got himself chopped. I wasn’t likely to forget that little bean-feast in a hurry, was I?

‘Ah … yes,’ I said. ‘Yes, I do. Handle them, I mean.’ If that was the proper word for it. ‘On and off, as it were.’

‘That’s m-marvellous. Vinicius told me you did when I asked him, but it’s just as well to check up on these things.’

I took another mouthful of the Caecuban, said nothing, and tried to look eager.

‘It happened just under a month ago, in Lugdunum. The victim was a Gallic chappie by the name of Cabirus. Tiberius Claudius Cabirus.’ He took another large swallow of wine and topped up the cup. ‘His father had the citizenship from mine when he was governor there shortly before the D-Divine Augustus passed over.’

Maybe I’d misheard. At least, I hoped I had. ‘I’m sorry, Caesar,’ I said carefully. ‘You said “Lugdunum”, right?’

‘You know it? Charming place, quite delightful. Of course, I was born there, so I’m b-bound to be a little biased.’

‘That’d be, ah, Lugdunum in Gaul, yes?’

‘Naturally; where else would it be? Cabirus was one of the town’s leading citizens.’

Oh, hell.

‘So this would, like, involve me in actually going there?’ I said carefully. ‘To Lugdunum. Over in, ah, Gaul.’

‘Well, Corvinus, it might be a little difficult m-managing things otherwise, mightn’t it?’ He must’ve noticed the look on my face. ‘Oh, my dear fellow, do forgive me! I’m not a tyrant! If you’re b-busy at present with other things then you only have to say. I’ll understand completely.’

Yeah. Right. And I was Cleopatra’s grandmother.

Fuck.

‘Only it would be a great pity. A very great pity. Vinicius said you’d had p-plenty of experience in this sort of thing, and that you’d be absolutely perfect for the job.’

Did he, indeed? Fuck again. Double fuck; I was screwed. Thank you, Marcus bloody Vinicius. With knobs on.

‘Ah … no, Caesar,’ I said. ‘I’m not busy as such. We had been planning to go through to the Alban Hills tomorrow, but under the circumstances I expect that can wait.’ It would sodding well have to, wouldn’t it? Perilla would be absolutely thrilled when I told her. Even so, it served her right: Vinicius was her literary pal, not mine, and if he’d put Claudius on to me then it was only because Big Mouth had given him the information in the first place.

Claudius beamed. ‘Excellent! I’m m-most relieved that I can leave things in your capable hands. And if you’re already p-packed for travelling then it’s even more fortunate. You can leave right away. Don’t worry about travel arrangements; they’re already taken care of.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘My dear chap, do credit me with a little consideration! I am the emperor, after all, and I do have some clout. There’s a g-government yacht berthed at Ostia, ready to leave whenever suits you. This time of year, you can be in Massilia inside of three days. And I’m giving you – wait a m-moment, it’s here somewhere.’ He rummaged about among the papers on his desk and came up with a small, tightly fastened scroll. ‘Ah. Here we are. I’m giving you imperial procurator status for the duration, as my p-personal representative.’ He handed me the scroll. ‘All properly sealed and signed. I’ve already written to Gabinius, so he’ll be expecting you and he’ll p-probably already have done the needful at his end, but it’s as well to be sure. In any case, show that to any official in the three provinces, Roman or local, of any rank, and he’ll fall over himself to be helpful.’

‘Gabinius?’

‘Quintus Gabinius. The Lugdunensis governor. Solid chap, first rate at his job. You’ll like him.’

Gods, we were moving in high society here, right enough: personal use of a government yacht and imperial procurator status, no less. Pressured into it or not, I couldn’t complain that I was being short-changed. Which raised an interesting question. I tucked the scroll into my mantle-fold.

‘Ah … if you don’t mind me asking, Caesar,’ I said, ‘why should you involve yourself here?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Well, OK, presumably, given his name, this Claudius Cabirus was a client of your family, yes? A current one, I mean?’

‘Naturally.’

‘Still, for you to go to all this trouble just for a client he must’ve been special in some other kind of way, right?’

‘No.’ Claudius picked up a book-roll that had fallen off the desk. ‘No, not at all. As I said he was an important man locally – in fact, I understand he was to be officiating priest at the opening ceremony for this year’s Gallic Assembly – but he was of no great importance in the grand scheme of things. Certainly not political importance, if that’s what you mean. In fact he was a p-perfectly ordinary middle-class merchant. A wine-shipper. Quite prosperous in Gallic terms, but not what we’d call particularly rich.’

‘Then I’m sorry, but I don’t understand your interest.’

‘Oh, the answer’s simple enough, my dear fellow. Call it a personal debt, if you like. A very long-standing one, in fact.’

‘“Debt”?’

‘Two years before I was born, his father saved mine from a very unpleasant death in what is now Treveran Augusta; which, incidentally, is where the family is from, originally. P-pulled him in the nick of time from in front of the horns of a dozen bulls that had escaped from the local slaughterhouse. Hence the personal debt aspect of things.’ He smiled. ‘If it hadn’t been for the Cabiri, Rome would not now be experiencing the inestimable p-pleasure of having me for emperor. We – my mother, while she was alive, and I – have kept a grateful eye on the family ever since.’

‘Fair enough.’ Well, it made a change to have an emperor who took his debts seriously. Inherited ones, what was more. ‘So. What can you tell me, sir? About the murder itself, I mean.’

‘Very little, I’m afraid. Only what Gabinius put in his report, which wasn’t much. He was killed at his home, as I said just short of a month ago. Stabbed through the heart while he was taking his after-lunch nap.’

‘He have a family?’

‘A wife – Diligenta, her name is; two grown-up sons and a daughter.’

‘Any particular enemies?’

‘Not that I know of. Certainly Gabinius didn’t say, but then I w-wouldn’t have expected him to, not in an everyday official report. Nor indeed to go into things to that length, particularly just now with all the preparations for the British campaign. His mention of the death was more in the nature of a postscript than anything else.’