David Wishart - Foreign Bodies

‘I might see you around, then. Or not.’

‘Or, as you say, not. If the latter then good luck with your additional investigations while you’re here. Now, I still have a couple of people to talk to, so if you’ll forgive me …?’

‘Sure. No problem.’

I watched as he headed off through the square’s southern exit.

Hmm. Interesting.

Who should be waiting for me in the residence lobby but Bathyllus, wearing a broad smirk.

This did not bode well. Smirks, broad or otherwise, did not figure prominently in our major-domo’s range of facial expressions.

‘Hi, little guy,’ I said. ‘Don’t tell me; another palace coup, yes?’

‘Not at all, sir. I wouldn’t presume to disrupt the running of Procurator Laco’s household. But I did ask if where the mistress and yourself were concerned as individuals I could fulfil my usual functions. The staff were quite amenable, particularly when I hinted that you might have some unusual requirements which I was accustomed to fulfilling and they, perhaps, were not.’

I goggled. ‘You what ? What sort of “unusual requirements”?’

‘I didn’t go into details, sir, because I did not consider it necessary, and they agreed not to press me for them.’

Jupiter and all the gods!

‘Bloody hell, Bathyllus, if you’ve given the residence staff the idea that I’m some sort of pervert with a thing for small bald-headed butlers I’ll-!’

‘Not at all, sir. Or not intentionally. But I was telling the simple truth. You do have some special requirements which only I am aware of.’

‘And what the fuck requirements are these, may I ask?’

He stepped aside. On the low table behind him was a tray with a wine-cup on it. A full wine-cup.

‘Standing orders, sir,’ he said. ‘A cup of wine to be ready for you whenever you come in.’

I had to grin. ‘Yeah, OK, Bathyllus,’ I said. ‘Nicely done, I admit it. Very clever, and the bribery ploy works a treat. But just the one cup, and the mistress mustn’t know, right?’

‘Never a word will pass my lips, sir. The God Mercury hear me so swear.’

‘Plus if I get a single sideways glance – a single one – from any of Laco’s skivvies while we’re here then you, pal, are cat’s meat. Understood?’

‘I’ll explain the situation fully to them straight away, sir, now that the bargain has been struck.’

I reached past him, picked up the wine-cup and sipped. Nectar! A good Massilian, from the taste of it, and only normally watered.

‘Oh, one more thing, sir,’ Bathyllus said. ‘I was to tell you that you have a message from Saenius Balbinus.’

‘Hmm?’ I took another sip of the wine.

‘He’s arranged for the man who found the bodies to meet you just beyond the cemetery on the Moguntiacum road. Any time today will be convenient; it seems the man pastures his goats there in any case, and he’ll be looking out for you. His name is Coisis.’

‘Great. Thanks, Bathyllus. I’ll just let this wine trickle down my throat first and then I’ll be off.’

I took it slow. Marvellous. There was a lot to be said for having a devious, position-conscious major-domo, and murder and the goats could wait.

Once I was past the cemetery that flanked the Moguntiacum road for a quarter of a mile or so the countryside got pretty wild pretty quickly: low hills covered with rough grass and scrub, cut up in places with gorges down which small streamlets trickled. I could see why this Coisis, if he pastured his animals here, had chosen goats rather than cattle or sheep: any self-respecting cow would’ve handed in its milk pail on the first day.

I spotted the guy straight off. Forget your country swains beloved of pastoral poets warbling rustic lays on their oaten pipes as they while away the hour of noonday heat beneath the holm-oak’s shade; my informant – presumably my informant, since he was the only person I’d seen all the way from town, and there was a bunch of goats browsing among the thistles on either side of the road – had his back to me and was pissing in the ditch.

‘You Coisis, pal?’ I said when I’d come up to him.

‘I am that, sir, indeed I am.’ He finished, shook himself, adjusted his tunic, and turned round. All at a speed that would’ve disgraced an arthritic tortoise. Clearly not a guy to hurry himself. ‘And you’ll be Valerius Corvinus, would you? Just so, isn’t it?’

‘That’s me.’ The breeze shifted slightly in my direction, and I caught his scent. Jupiter! Essence of goat in its most concentrated form; I’d bet even the animals themselves practised better personal hygiene.

‘From Lugdunum, too, they said you were. Fancy. Never did have a hankering for foreign parts, myself. I was in Ricciacus once, when the wife was alive, gods rest her, she had a cousin there getting wed, and that’s all of thirty-five miles, but ’tweren’t much cop. They talked funny, they ate funny, and they smelled funny. I was glad to be home.’

Yeah, well; to each his own. Mark you, the mind boggled at what the ‘smelled funny’ bit entailed: any odour that could fight its way through what this guy was generating far enough to register had to be quite something. Probably just cleanliness. ‘So,’ I said, ‘where are we going, here?’

‘Just a step, sir, just a step.’ He pointed across the ditch, away from the road. ‘There’s a rise and a hollow, no more nor a dozen yards off. You follow me and I’ll show you.’

‘Will the goats be all right?’

‘Oh, those lazy buggers won’t stir more than they can help. They’ll be fine left until we get back.’

‘That wasn’t exactly what I meant, friend.’ Once I was over the ditch I’d have to push my way through them, and I was already getting some pointed stares, particularly from one evil-eyed bastard with a fine spread of horns; evidently the boss of the whole caprine gang, and who given half a chance was willing and ready to prove it.

Coisis chuckled. ‘Not a country man, are you, sir?’ he said. ‘Bless you, the lassies won’t do you no harm. Just keep your distance from old Rufus there, is all. He can be a bit frisky at times with strangers.’

No prizes for guessing which one old Rufus was. I moved to where there were several of his harem between him and me and jumped the ditch. The goats scattered.

‘That’s the ticket.’ Coisis did the same, and set off at a slow amble, while I followed. ‘It’d be a big place, that. Lugdunum.’

‘Yeah, big enough,’ I said. ‘Although actually I’m from Rome.’

He clicked his tongue. ‘Now there’s a thing! Rome, eh? Aye, well, I suppose you would be, thinking about it. That’d be just a bit further off, now, wouldn’t it?’

‘Just a tad.’

‘Aye, I thought so. Well, it takes all sorts, as they say. Here we are.’ He stopped. ‘I told you it weren’t more nor a step. Found the poor buggers here, I did, both together, like.’

I looked; sure enough, the grass was flattened and there was a great splash of dried blood on one side of it. That’d been where Drutus had had his throat cut, no doubt. There was nothing else as far as the eye could see but Gallic countryside.

Well, I’d seen it, for what it was worth.

‘When did you find them, exactly?’ I said.

‘Ah, that’d be scarce an hour past dawn. Gave me a right turn, you may guess. My young grandson, he was here with me and I sends him to the town officer’s house straight off. Then I waited until the undertaker’s men came. That’s about it, sir, all I can tell you.’

‘Thanks, pal.’ I reached into my belt-pouch, fished out a couple of silver pieces, and handed them over. ‘Really helpful. Oh … you ever see anyone up this way? Strangers, maybe?’