David Wishart - Foreign Bodies

‘She doesn’t; she just gave me your name. I’m here on my own account. Your brother-in-law died three months back.’

‘Really? I’m most sorry to hear that.’ She didn’t sound it, and there wasn’t a smidgeon either of regret or even of interest in her voice. ‘But it still doesn’t explain why you came.’

‘Actually, his death wasn’t natural. He was murdered.’ I was watching her face closely; surprise, yes, and faint disgust, but still no concern or interest. ‘The emperor asked me to look into it.’

‘Did he, now?’ Not a trace of emotion, and almost a sniff. A tough cookie, evidently, this Quadrunia. It must run in the family. ‘The emperor himself, in person? Well, well, that’s nice. What it is to have friends in high places. However, this isn’t Lugdunum, is it? And my husband and I have had no contact with Claudius Cabirus these twenty years either, so I’m still at a loss as to what you’re doing here. Not simply to bring me the news, obviously.’

‘No.’ I shifted in my chair and mentally crossed my fingers; here came the crunch. ‘I was hoping you might fill in a few blank areas for me. Tell me why Cabirus and your sister moved to Lugdunum in the first place.’

‘Surely the best person to ask about that would be Diligenta herself.’

‘True. According to her, it was so Cabirus could be more in the centre of things, business-wise; but-’

‘Then I’m afraid I can’t add anything further. I’m sorry you’ve had a wasted journey, but there it is. It was nice to meet you.’ She half-rose. ‘Goodbye.’

Damn. Not that I was going to give up quite that easily, though, not after a four-hundred-mile trip with Smarmer for company. I didn’t move.

‘Me, I was wondering if it had anything to do with the Florus revolt,’ I said.

She sat down again. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘It’s just that the timing was too neat to be completely coincidental. At least, that was the idea. And, as I say, it could be relevant to Cabirus’s death.’

‘I see no reason why it should be. The revolt is ancient history now.’

‘True again. But still-’

‘Valerius Corvinus. You’re a Roman. No offence, but you don’t understand these things.’ Yeah, I’d been told that before, several times by various people, Diligenta included. ‘The Florus revolt was a catastrophe for this part of Gaul, in all sorts of ways. I said it was ancient history, but that’s not quite true; we all lived through it, people of my age, anyway, and many of the memories are not pleasant ones. To a certain extent, the problems it caused are still very much with us. All we can do is forget what we can and move on. Which is what I, and most Augustans, have done.’ She got to her feet. ‘Now I really cannot help you. Diligenta said that she and her husband moved to Lugdunum for reasons of business, which is, as far as I’m aware, perfectly correct. I’m afraid that you will have to be satisfied with that. Good day.’

There was no more to be said; she was hiding something, that was sure, but I couldn’t force it out of her. We were still stymied.

I got up and left.

Hell!

So what now?

It wasn’t exactly the end of the world; at least we were in Augusta. There must be lots of people who’d been around twenty years ago and known the Cabirus family, and who wouldn’t be as tight-mouthed as Quadrunia. It was just a question of finding one. Balbinus might help, or point me in the right direction, at any rate.

I went back to the residence and buttonholed the first skivvy I came across, filling the lamps in the entrance hall.

‘Excuse me, pal,’ I said, ‘you know where I can find Saenius Balbinus at this hour?’

‘Oh, yes, sir. He’s waiting for you in the atrium.’

‘Uh … right. Right. Thanks.’

I went through. Odd. There wasn’t any reason that I knew of why Balbinus would be keeping in such close touch: he had his own work to do, and I’d made it pretty clear when we’d discussed things over dinner the previous evening that I didn’t need squiring around and was perfectly happy left to my own devices. Still, if he was here already then it simplified matters.

He’d been sitting on one of the couches. Now, he got up.

‘How did it go, Corvinus?’ he said. ‘Did you talk to Quadrunia?’

‘Yeah. Not that I’m any further forward as a result, unfortunately.’ I waved him back into his seat and sat down myself. ‘I’ll need some help on this one, pal.’

‘Certainly. What kind of help?’

‘An introduction to someone local who was around at the time of the Florus revolt and knew the Cabiri. Preferably someone with a penchant for gossip-mongering. Possible?’

He frowned. ‘I can’t think of anyone offhand,’ he said. ‘But then I’m normally based with the governor in Durocortorum. I don’t know Augusta all that well.’

‘Damn!’

‘Oh, it’s no great problem. I can easily make enquiries, and I’m sure I can come up with something.’ He hesitated. ‘Meanwhile, I have an enormous favour to ask of you.’

‘Yeah? What’s that?’

‘It’s just we seem to have had a murder ourselves.’

I stared. ‘You what ?’

He was looking embarrassed as hell. ‘Two of them, in fact. They happened last night. Or that’s the assumption, anyway. I thought that since this is your area of expertise-’

‘Hang on, Balbinus. What about the local Watch? There is one, presumably.’

‘No. No, there isn’t, or not as such. You’re not in Rome now, or even Lugdunum. Oh, there are a number of town wardens, but they’re just that, most of their job involves rounding up escaped livestock and returning it to its owners. Barring the occasional tavern brawl we don’t have much trouble here at all, no crime as such and certainly not murder. They wouldn’t know where to start, and nor would I.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Shit; this I could do without. I could see why he’d approached me, mind. And that he’d find doing so embarrassing. The lad must be desperate, right enough. ‘Two murders, you said. They’re connected, presumably.’

‘Oh, yes, definitely. A merchant from Durocortorum and his servant. Actually, I knew them both personally, myself.’

I sighed. ‘Fine. So let’s have the details.’

‘The merchant’s name was Drutus. He trades in hides, mostly with the garrison at Moguntiacum. His servant’s name was Anda. They were found early this morning by a goat-herd half a mile outside the Moguntiacum Gate.’

‘ Outside the gate? What were they doing there?’

‘I’ve no idea. It’s pretty wild country beyond the cemetery, nothing much but hills and scrub. And, like I said, the murder almost definitely happened during the night, which makes it even stranger.’

‘How do you know that? If it’s all that wild, then the pair of them could’ve lain there for days.’

‘They’d put up at a local tavern. The owner served them a meal about an hour before sunset.’

‘Right. Right.’ Fair enough; as a terminus post quem you couldn’t get better than that. ‘And he didn’t see them afterwards?’

‘No. They were bunking down in the hay-loft above his stable, or at least Anda was. He assumed that when they left they’d gone straight to bed as usual.’

I noticed the qualification, but I let it pass for the moment. ‘They couldn’t have killed each other, could they?’ I said. ‘Had some sort of disagreement?’

Balbinus shook his head. ‘No. Absolutely not. I said: I knew them, both Drutus and the servant. Drutus was the quiet, steady sort, and a good master. Anda had been with him for years, and they were more friends or family than master and man. Besides, Anda seems to have drawn his knife – the goat-herd found it by the body – but Drutus’s was still in his belt.’