David Wishart - Foreign Bodies

‘Yeah, well, it’s complicated,’ I said. ‘Basically, I need to know more about a bit of family history. The Cabiri moved from here to Lugdunum twenty years back, immediately after the Florus revolt. Me, I think they were pushed, for some reason. Or maybe they thought themselves that a move south would be healthier. It’s all guesswork, sure, and the whole thing may be a mare’s nest to begin with, but even so. It’s important, I can feel that in my gut.’

He’d raised his eyebrows. ‘Can’t you just ask around?’ he said. ‘I’m assuming, naturally, that the family won’t tell you themselves. Someone must know the details.’

‘You’re not Roman, pal. One look at the nose and the purple stripe and the locals zip up. I’ve met more talkative clams.’

‘Yes, I can appreciate the problem. Tricky.’

‘Bet your sandal straps it is. Only from where I’m standing the right word’s “impossible”.’ I finished off the last of my own wine at a gulp and stood up. ‘Anyway, it was nice talking to you. I’ll see you around.’

I was turning to go when he said: ‘Do you want any help?’

I stopped, and turned back.

‘How do you mean?’ I said.

‘You said yourself. I’m not Roman. And I’m not particularly busy at present. Nothing that can’t wait a few days, certainly. Maybe I’d have better luck.’

‘You serious?’

‘Of course I am. I told you; I’m interested. I don’t come cheap, mind.’ He touched the full cup the barman had put in front of him. ‘Buy me this and it’s a deal.’

‘Fair enough.’ I grinned and reached for my belt-pouch. ‘You want the jug?’

‘No, I’m not greedy. Just that second cup will do fine, for the present. We’ll leave standing me the whole jug until the job’s done. If it ever is.’

‘Fair enough. It’s a bargain.’ I put the coins on the counter. ‘Only forget wineshops. I’ve probably queered the pitch where those are concerned over the past three days.’

‘Oh, I think I can manage. Just leave it with me. You’re staying at the residence, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Then if and when I find out anything, I’ll let you know.’

‘That’s great.’ It was, too. I felt happier than I had for days. ‘Thanks, friend.’

‘Don’t mention it.’

I went home.

Score one for the wineshop ploy, after all.

Not that, as it turned out, I could put my feet up quite yet. When I got back there was a message waiting from Balbinus, asking me to meet him ASAP in the provincial admin building across the road from the residence itself.

Hey! ASAP, right? Maybe things were moving after all. I went straight over.

The clerk on duty took me through to Balbinus’s office. He was sitting at his desk reading, and when the clerk showed me in he looked up.

‘Corvinus.’ He laid the wax tablet to one side, on top of two or three others. ‘Good of you to come so promptly. Pull up a stool, if you would.’ Then, to the clerk: ‘Thank you, Sextus. That’s all. Close the door behind you, please, and make sure we’re not disturbed.’

Shit; this did not look good, after all. And whatever else he was, Balbinus was currently not a happy bunny.

I sat. Balbinus waited until the door was closed.

‘There’ve been developments,’ he said.

‘Yeah?’

‘Nothing to do with you. Or at least, I hope not. But I don’t like coincidences, myself, and this is a little too coincidental for comfort, which is why I thought you’d better know about it straight away.’ He indicated the message tablets. ‘We have problems. Or at least I think we have.’

‘What kind of problems?’

‘Someone’s trying to stir up trouble among the locals.’ He glanced at me. ‘You’re not surprised?’

‘Actually, no,’ I said. ‘Or not too surprised, anyway. Licinius Nerva, the governor’s aide in Lugdunum, said something might be happening along those lines.’

‘Really?’ Balbinus frowned. ‘Then he knew more than I did before now. Or perhaps his governor keeps him better informed than mine does, which may well be the case.’ Hmm. Well, every provincial governor had his own way of doing things, and after all Balbinus would normally be based at Durocortorum, two hundred miles away. Still, I could tell that it rankled. ‘Oh, it’s nothing definite, let alone anyone in particular we can point the finger at. In fact, I’d be happier if there was, because then at least we could nail him before he does any real harm. Just a rumour. Or rumours, rather, and strong ones, because we’re hearing them from more than one source. I might discount them myself – you always get a degree of grumbling with provincials, and the chances are it won’t come to anything – but under the present circumstances as Governor Hister’s current rep I can’t take risks, either way.’

Right; the up-and-coming British campaign. I knew enough about political and military affairs to know that mounting an invasion while leaving civil unrest at your back – even if it didn’t amount to a full-scale revolt – was a bad, bad idea. ‘You’ve told the governor?’ I said.

‘Of course I have. I sent a messenger as soon as I knew myself. Fortunately, although it’s still bad enough, the trouble seems to be fairly localized at present, which isn’t surprising.’

‘Why’s that?’

He gave a quick smile. ‘You want a history lesson, Corvinus? I told you before: this part of Gaul has always been particularly difficult; it was no coincidence that the Treveri were one of the only two tribes that rose twenty years back. And it predates us. The Treveri and the Remi – that’s the tribe around Durocortorum – had been at daggers drawn for centuries. If the Remi went one way, which they did by taking our side from the start, the Treveri automatically went the other, and that’s still the case, in principle. The reason Florus failed was that he couldn’t win over his auxiliaries; as far as the ordinary locals were concerned, he’d all the support he needed. And of course after the revolt was put down the Treveri as a tribe were severely penalized – reparations, loss of their free status, higher taxes, and just plain distrust – so that didn’t help matters any. Only twenty years back, mind, and that’s nothing to a Gaul. So the consequence is that there’s a lot of hatred under the surface, and they only reason they don’t show it much is that they can’t, not publicly. If anyone did want to stir up trouble for any reason then here’s the perfect place. Added to which, there’s something even more worrying.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Some of the rumours mention a druid.’

Oh, shit; again, particularly after that conversation with Nerva, I could see why worrying was an understatement. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Like I say, the information comes from rumours, not factual reports, let alone records of sightings. But just the thought it might be true makes my skin crawl. Those bastards are pure poison, they’re attracted to trouble like vultures to rotten meat, and if you want to whip up support for a revolt among the local peasantry then bringing in a druid is the best way to do it. They’re almost impossible to find, too, let alone catch and kill, even if you know for certain they’re there, because no Gallic peasant is going to risk a druid’s curse by giving him away, even these days.’

‘They’re that uncivilized round about here?’

‘Corvinus, you go ten miles off the main road – less – into the sticks and most of the people you meet won’t have changed the way they live since old Julius’s day. Which means, in effect, more than nine-tenths of the tribe.’ Yeah, right: I remembered my goat-herder pal. ‘The only time they come into town, any town, not even a city like Augusta – if they ever do – is once every two or three months, to sell their produce or get what they need. And even then they do it through barter, not purchase. Oh, there’s been a clampdown on druids since the Divine Augustus’s day, of course there has, but there are plenty still around in the wilder parts of the country. And of course Britain is heaving with them. That’s another reason Claudius is so keen to invade, to stamp the buggers out at source. And, naturally, why they in turn have a vested interest in stopping him.’