David Wishart - Foreign Bodies

He chuckled. ‘No. Not off the road, like. What’s here for anyone to bother with? And me and the lasses and Rufus there, we’ve our own home to go to in town when the sun sets.’

Right. So much for that. I left the guy to his goats and went back home.

There was no sign of Perilla at the residence – she was clearly still out gallivanting amid the fleshpots of the Lenus Mars sanctuary – but Balbinus was waiting in the atrium.

‘Well, Corvinus?’ he said. ‘What’s the news?’

There was a flask of wine and four cups on the side table, but I steeled myself and sat down on the couch without touching them.

‘Not much,’ I said. ‘It’s early stages yet. I saw his girlfriend – woman friend, rather – but she couldn’t shed any light, apart from telling me that he’d told her he had some important business that’d keep him until the small hours of the morning. Presumably that’s what he was engaged in when he and the servant were killed, but she couldn’t elaborate any.’

Balbinus frowned. ‘That’s a bit odd, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘I mean, he obviously had to have some reason for being out there at that time of night, but if it was business then what kind could it have been? And who with?’

I shrugged. ‘The natural assumption is that it was something he didn’t want people to know about,’ I said. ‘With whoever else was involved being his killer. A shady deal that went wrong. Some sort of disagreement. A double-cross. Your guess is as good as mine, at this stage. The problem is, Drutus doesn’t exactly come across as your typical crook.’

‘It isn’t something I’d have believed for a moment, knowing the man. Still, judging by the evidence that is the most logical conclusion.’ Balbinus sighed. ‘It’s a mystery, right enough.’

‘Oh. Severa did give me this,’ I said. ‘It belonged to Drutus, and he left it with her. For safe keeping, he said.’ I took the gold coin out of my belt-pouch and handed it to him. ‘Any thoughts?’

He examined it. ‘It’s not Gaulish, at least not like any that I’ve ever seen before,’ he said. ‘Celtic, certainly, from the decoration. It could be British, I suppose, but what would Drutus be doing with a British gold piece?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Leave it with me. I’ll ask around.’ Then, when I opened my mouth: ‘Don’t worry, Corvinus, she’ll get it back. Drutus wasn’t married and he’d no family, so I suppose it makes the lady the closest thing he has to an heir. Besides, if he gave it to her, albeit temporarily, then she has a right to it in any case. It’s queer, though; why should he give her it “for safe keeping”? Drutus wasn’t wealthy, but he had far more than a copper or two to rub together. He wouldn’t’ve worried unduly about losing a single gold piece, wherever it came from. And he wasn’t the nervous kind, to be frightened of muggers.’

‘Right.’ More or less what Severa had said. ‘It’s a puzzle.’

‘Certainly it is. Anyway, I’ve sent a report – such as it is – to the governor in Durocortorum by my fastest courier, so he should have it inside of three days. Hister will be sorry to hear about the death, too; personally sorry, I mean. Drutus was a popular member of the Durocortorum community. He’ll be missed.’

‘Incidentally, have you had any luck with my side of things?’

‘Hmm? Oh, yes, you wanted me to find you an informant about the Cabiri family’s doings at the time of the Florus revolt. Actually, that’s proving a lot trickier than I thought it would.’

‘Yeah? Why’s that? It’s twenty years ago now, granted, but there must still be dozens of people still around who’d fit the bill.’

He tugged at his ear in embarrassment. ‘That’s true,’ he said. ‘There are. But only locals.’

‘So?’

‘Corvinus, you’ve only been here since yesterday; you don’t know the place or the people yet. Nowhere near. They aren’t Romans, or no more than skin-deep ones. At root, they’re Gauls, and not even the sort of Gauls you’ll have met in Lugdunum, let alone Massilia, either. Don’t forget that it’s less than a century since old Julius brought the Treveri under Roman control.’

‘Yeah, I know that, but-’

‘Listen. They’re a clannish lot: they protect their own, and whatever they pretend most of them have very little time for us. The Treveri especially, as a tribe, and you always have to remember that that’s still how most Gauls see themselves, first and foremost; as members of a tribe, not as Gauls per se, and least of all as Roman provincials. It’s why Julius Florus managed to whip up enough support here to stage his revolt, because he was from the local ruling family and had clout in spades. Which brings me to the point.’

Uh-huh; I was there already. What Balbinus was telling me was exactly what I’d been getting all along, from Diligenta, her sister Quadrunia, Quintus Cabirus and practically everyone else I’d talked to. Bugger! ‘You’re saying they don’t blab, right?’ I said. ‘Not to a Roman, not when one of their own’s involved.’

He shook his head. ‘No. Or rather, yes, but it’s more complicated than that. The Florus revolt tore this region apart. It tore families apart. Some people – ordinary people – chose one side, some another, whether they did it actively or not. After the revolt was put down, the two sides were left looking at each other. The pieces had to be picked up, life had to be got on with, normal relations had to be restored. The only way they could do that was to forgive and forget. Which is what they did, consciously and deliberately, and what they’re still doing twenty years on. I’m afraid that that means you’ll have an uphill struggle getting anyone to talk, whether they have a personal interest or not. Especially with you being a Roman.’

Fuck. Even so, I had to keep trying, didn’t I? I might strike lucky eventually somehow.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘So let’s at least make sure I have the background straight here. Tell me about the Florus revolt, in detail. Can you do that?’

He frowned. ‘Yes, of course. It’s required knowledge for any diplomat posted to this part of Gaul. But why should you need that information?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps I don’t. But it’s figuring so strongly in this case that I may as well get the facts straight in my head once and for all. OK?’

‘If you like.’ He stood up and moved over to the table where the wine flask and cups were. ‘But I’ll have a cup of wine while I’m talking, if I may. You want one yourself?’

Hell; this went above and beyond the call of duty. ‘No,’ I said between gritted teeth. ‘You go ahead.’

‘Thank you.’ He poured the wine and took it back to the couch. ‘So what do you know already?’

‘Assume zilch.’

‘Very well.’ He took a sip. ‘Julius Florus, as I said, was a Treveran noble who also commanded a wing of native auxiliary cavalry. Some twenty years ago, twenty-one to be exact, because of some slight, real or imagined, on our part he decided to use his social position coupled with the widespread discontent over tax arrears and debt repayment to stage a revolt. He gained considerable support locally, but not enough for the revolt to succeed, the crucial factor being his failure to win over a majority of his cavalry wing for a projected massacre of the Augustan merchant community. He and his army – more of a rabble, at this point, largely poorly armed civilians – retreated east hoping to regroup under the cover of the Arduennan Forest, but they were cut off by troops sent down from the Rhine and particularly by a group of loyal local auxiliaries commanded by Florus’s main political rival, Julius Indus. The rebel army was destroyed and scattered, but Florus escaped. He committed suicide shortly afterwards. End of revolt, but only the beginning of the town’s troubles.’ Balbinus took a long swallow of wine. ‘That do you?’