David Wishart - Foreign Bodies

‘Nonsense!’ Perilla said. ‘Licinius Nerva has given us a coach to ourselves, so we’ve plenty of room.’ She turned to me. ‘Isn’t that so, dear?’

Pointed as hell.

‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ I said between gritted teeth.

‘That’s settled, then.’ The lady beamed. ‘You can hitch your mule to the back and sit inside with us.’

Fuck.

When imperial procurators, real ones, take to the road they don’t do things by halves; which meant that given Laco’s entourage – not only his personal household and a guard of a dozen mounted troops but a gaggle of admin clerks – we were a pretty big party already. Add in self, Perilla, Bathyllus, Phryne and Smarmer, plus a sprinkling of merchants who were tagging along for safety – main arterial route or not, pax Romana or not, we’d be travelling through some rough country where banditry was part of the local economy – and you got smaller mass migrations. At least we’d be travelling faster this time round: because the journey was a regular thing, accommodation arrangements for the official party were all in place, meaning we could use ordinary carriages, not the slow-as-a-snail sleeping variety. The merchants, of course, would have to fend for themselves, but since most of them were regulars on the route in any case and had their own networks in place that wasn’t a problem. Smarmer … well, as far as I was concerned the bastard could roll himself in his cloak and doss down under the carriage, but I’d bet anything you liked that with Perilla fighting his corner he’d end up on the VIP strength. Which, in the event, was what happened.

One other surprise, although not so unpleasant, was that the officer in charge of Laco’s squaddies was young Titus. He drifted over while we were stopped for a comfort break and change of horses at one of the posting stations just after noon.

‘I didn’t get a chance to ask you, Corvinus,’ he said, voice lowered. ‘Did Vesca call round?’ Vesca, if you remember, was the friend with the convenient empty room and the provider of his alibi for the day of the murder.

‘Yeah, she did, as it happens,’ I said; she’d put in an appearance at the Residence the previous afternoon. ‘You got your confirmation.’

‘So I’m off the hook, am I?’

‘More or less.’

‘Excellent!’ He looked relieved.

If he wanted to take the qualification as a straight ‘yes’, which it wasn’t – there was still the possibility that Titus, his girlfriend Aia, and Vesca had cooked up the tale between them – then that was OK with me, for the present. He turned to go.

‘Incidentally,’ I said, ‘I had an interesting talk with your colleague Julius Vindus. About a wolf.’

He turned back. The relieved look had disappeared. ‘Ah,’ he said.

‘“Ah” is right.’ I grinned. ‘Don’t worry, pal, it won’t go any further. Investigating the clandestine dumping of dead wolves in market squares isn’t part of my remit, and if you and your frat pals want to play silly buggers on your own time then it’s no business of mine. However, I just wanted to check something before I left it.’

‘Yes?’ He was looking wary again.

‘Your brother Publius. He knew, didn’t he?’

His eyes widened. ‘How on earth did you know that?’

‘Just a guess, putting two and two together. When I last talked to him and your name came up he got pretty jumpy, for no particular reason that I could see, but he obviously had something to hide. Then when Vindus told me about the wolf I remembered what your Uncle Quintus had said, about Publius walking around town on his own at night. Two and two, like I say. He saw you?’

Titus nodded. ‘I’d just pulled the wolf out of the cart and was carrying it to the middle of the square when Publius came round the corner. He swore not to tell.’

‘Yeah, I suspect he’s good at keeping secrets, is young Publius,’ I said drily.

‘He’s a good brother. Odd, sure, but I can take odd.’ The relieved look was back. ‘So. I’m glad we’ve got that cleared up as well.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘They’re harnessing the new horses. I think we’re about ready to start off again.’

‘Oh, whoopee.’ I moved back to our coach, where Perilla and Crinas were already ensconced with the Robbers board between them. Oh, the joys. ‘Incidentally, who’s your friend Vercingetorix?’

‘Who?’

‘Sorry. Private joke.’ I’d noticed that the big Gaul from the bath-house was one of the merchant party. ‘The guy who looks like a fugitive from the Battle for Alesia. Over there, collecting his mule from the horse trough. You were chatting to him when I saw you at the town baths.’

‘Oh. I think his name’s Segus. Segomarus. But he’s not a friend, we just got talking. Why do you ask?’

‘No reason, pal. It’s just that you don’t see many Gauls with that marked an aversion to barbers. At least, I haven’t so far.’

He grinned. ‘You’ll see more in future, Corvinus. We’re out in the sticks now, or pretty close to them, and this part wasn’t called Hairy Gaul for nothing. Segus is from Burdigala, and you don’t get much more backwoods than that.’

‘Where’s Burdigala?’

‘The other side of the country. Down in the south-west.’

‘He’s a long way from home, then, isn’t he? What’s he doing over here?’

‘I’ve no idea. You’d have to ask him yourself, although you’d have your work cut out because I don’t think he speaks much Latin. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ll have to be getting back to my troop.’

‘Yeah. Sure. I’ll see you around.’

He gave me another grin. ‘Not much doubt about that. For the next ten days, anyway.’

I was frowning as I walked back to the coach. Backwoods Gaul, eh? So what was a backwoods Gaul who probably washed in a basin and put soap in his hair while he was at it doing in a Roman bath-house?

Ah, leave it; the guy had probably just taken the opportunity to soak up a little of the local culture. No pun intended.

Ten days, right? And with practically no wine and Smarmer taking up a third of our coach space all the way. Life could not be better, could it?

Bugger.

Ten days it was. The sun was well into its final quarter when we passed through Augusta’s Narbonensian Gate.

If I’d needed further proof that we were well out in the sticks then Augusta was it. Lugdunum had been a pleasant enough place, sure, but imperial patronage or not, capital of the province or not, and pace the emperor, it was a long way from being hub-of-the-universe material; still, it was Rome, Athens and Alexandria all rolled into one beside Augusta. Even Perilla was moved to comment.

‘Is this it, Marcus?’ she said staring out at the sparse little wooden houses, the open gutters-cum-sewers that flanked the road, and the yards full of livestock that were rapidly establishing Augusta’s prevalent odour through the open carriage window. ‘I thought it was a veterans’ colony.’

‘Yeah, well, it is,’ I said. ‘Still, you wanted to come, lady. Don’t grizzle.’

‘But it’s so primitive !’

‘If it’s any consolation, Perilla,’ Crinas said, ‘I think there’s a lot of development going on at present. The emperor’s very keen on civic improvements in the major Gallic communities; witness my own assignment.’

‘Oh, marvellous.’

‘And remember, Augusta is only the province’s second town. The governor is based at Durocortorum.’

She stared at him wide-eyed. ‘I thought we were staying at the residence!’ she said.

‘We are. Or at least at the place where the governor – and of course the procurator – stay when they come through.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be very nice. And there’s plenty for you to see, too, while you’re here. I understand there’s quite a famous sanctuary of Lenus Mars on the other side of the river which should be well worth a visit.’