David Wishart - Foreign Bodies

‘So,’ I said, ‘you’re in charge, right? Downstairs, I mean. For the duration.’

‘That is the case, sir.’ Smug as hell.

‘Fine.’ I handed him my cloak. ‘Congratulations. The mistress at home?’

‘No, sir. She went out just after you did. With the Lady Caninia and Domitius Crinas. I understand that they are making a tour of the local sights, plus a number of the better emporia.’

I winced; Smarmer hadn’t wasted any time, had he? Still, you had to keep up appearances in front of the domestics. And at least, as I said, the lady would be chaperoned.

‘Great,’ I said.

‘Licinius Nerva, however, is waiting for you in the conservatory.’

‘Yeah? Where’s that?’

‘I’ll show you, sir. If you’d care to follow me.’

I did, marvelling: set Bathyllus down in King Minos’s labyrinth and he’d know his way around it in ten minutes flat. He’d probably have the skivvies shovel up the Minotaur dung, hose down the floors, polish them till they shone, and make the brute wipe its hooves – or whatever – before he let it in again, into the bargain.

The conservatory was at the back of the residence, forming a good half stretch of the northern end of the peristyle garden. Nerva was sitting in one of the wicker chairs under a potted palm, with a jug and assorted wine-cups on the small table beside him.

‘Ah, Corvinus,’ he said. ‘How did things go this morning?’

‘OK.’ I pulled up another chair, sat down, reached for the jug, and then remembered. Damn! ‘I made a start, anyway.’

‘You talked to Diligenta?’

‘Oh, yes. And to her sons. Quintus and Oppianus, too.’

He laughed. ‘My, you have made a start! Any ideas?’

‘Not a lot, so far. We’re not at that stage yet. Mind you, I’m not as sure as you and the governor seem to be – or anyone else, for that matter – that Oppianus is in the clear. Far from it.’

‘Yes, well, if you’ve talked to him yourself I can see why you’d get that impression. Not an easy man to get along with, Julius Oppianus. If he wasn’t who he is he wouldn’t figure at all in the local community. But the Gauls are a very status-conscious race, family status-conscious, I mean, and where someone from Oppianus’s background is concerned they’re prepared to make allowances.’

‘Yeah. I can see that they’d have to,’ I said drily. ‘Incidentally, on that score I was wondering if you could give me the name of someone on the local side I could talk to. A colleague of Cabirus’s. Someone currently on the Council, for preference.’

‘No problems there. Your best bet’s Julius Biracus. He’s one of the two chief magistrates, house on Boundary Marker Street halfway to the Western Gate. He’s known the Cabiri ever since they came to Lugdunum.’

I made a mental note. ‘So,’ I said, ‘what are Oppianus’s chances, actually? Of replacing Cabirus as officiating priest at the Assembly?’

‘Pretty good, especially with it being less than a month away. I don’t know if a formal decision’s been made – you can check with Biracus about that – but I’d say it’s pretty much certain. His grandfather having done the same job for the emperor’s father at the original dedication would weigh pretty heavily, too, particularly since it’s more than likely that Claudius will come over for the ceremony himself.’

‘Will he?’

‘I’d be surprised if he didn’t, what with the British campaign coming up, probably early next year. He’s a smart man, Claudius, and he knows how important the Assembly is to the Gauls. Not just here in Lugdunum, but all over. Plus, unlike his predecessor, he knows how to work a crowd when he wants something from them, and being a Lugdunan by birth, as it were, he’s off to a good start. Like the governor told you, we need all the goodwill we can get when it comes to screwing extra money and supplies out of the local population, which like it or not he’ll have to do if the thing’s going to happen. When he took over a year and a half ago the public treasury was looking pretty empty.’

‘You know that for a fact?’

‘Given that my father’s in charge of it, yes, I do.’

Spoken off-handedly, and without a trace of side; top Five Hundred high-flyer was right. Yeah, well, he’d have to have some considerable clout, to be allowed to bring his wife out on what was presumably his first overseas posting, and a daddy who was top man at the Treasury would fit the bill nicely. Still, he wasn’t a bad guy, Licinius Nerva.

‘Besides.’ He picked up his wine-cup and took a sip. ‘There’s something funny going on at the moment, up nearer the Rhineland.’

‘“Funny”?’

‘Odd. Or there might be, rather, it’s that uncertain. Nothing serious, touch wood, but definitely something to keep an eye on, particularly since things might get a little sticky public relations-wise in the next few months.’

‘Namely?’ I said.

‘I’m sorry, Corvinus.’ He set the cup down again. ‘I’m telling tales out of school. No offence, but it’s none of your business, or your concern. To tell you the truth, it’s not properly mine, either. Forget that I spoke.’

‘Come on, pal! Spit it out or clam up, one or the other.’

He hesitated, then shrugged. ‘Fair enough. You’re the emperor’s personal rep, and I’m sure the governor wouldn’t mind. In any case, how do I know what’s relevant or what isn’t where your job here’s concerned?’

‘True. If it’s any consolation, I have the same trouble deciding that myself.’

‘Very well, then. Someone may be – may be – trying to stir up trouble among the local tribes.’

‘ What? ’

‘I said: it’s not definite, no more than a rumour so far, and a faint one at that. And it’s not my – or even my governor’s – direct concern, because it only affects Belgica, and that’s Governor Hister’s patch. But it would make good political and strategic sense. If there were trouble of that kind before the British campaign got underway then troops would have to be deployed from the Rhine garrisons to deal with it. Which might well affect the emperor’s plans. You see?’

Yeah, I did. Shit; it was Florus and Sacrovir all over again.

‘The thing is, we had a curious incident ourselves two months ago. Oh, just the one, there’s been nothing since. But the Belgic business put me in mind of it. And the governor, of course; Gabinius is no fool, and he’s careful. He has to be, in his job.’

‘What kind of incident?’

‘A dead wolf dumped overnight in the middle of Market Square.’

‘A wolf ?’

‘You get them in the woods around here. They’re pretty common, particularly in the winter and early spring, when the game’s thin on the ground in the wilder parts and they come down from the mountains after the farm stock. But you see the implication; what could be the implication.’

I nodded. Yeah; that much was obvious; it would be to any Roman. The wolf is Rome’s animal, as the eagle is Rome’s bird. A dead wolf, left in the middle of a Gallo-Roman town … well, work the metaphor out for yourself.

‘Of course,’ Nerva went on, ‘it could just have been a prank, and probably was. Gauls are really into practical jokes and cocking a snook at authority, and their sense of humour can be pretty gross. Anyway, we – the governor, I mean – decided to ignore it at the time; no point in stirring things by over-reacting, and after Gaius’s little PR exercise here two years back we’ve enough ruffled feathers locally to be going on with for a while. As you’ll have gathered from Laco, Gallic wounds take a while to heal.’

‘But now there’s the Belgic business, right?’

‘Yes. Which, like I say, might be nothing but a mare’s nest in itself. Like I say, forget I mentioned it. You’ve got your own problem to solve, and I’m probably jumping at shadows in any case.’