David Wishart - Foreign Bodies

‘If you say so, Marcus. Still, I do wonder if he has some sort of ulterior motive for volunteering.’

‘He might well have. In fact, I think it’s more than likely. But I’m not going to find out what that is unless I play along, am I? And if he is on the level then what have I got to lose?’

‘Hmm.’ A different hmm this time, contemplative rather than disapproving. ‘Very well. But be careful.’

‘Aren’t I always?’ She sniffed. ‘Anyway, the Cabirus problem is taking a back seat at the moment.’ I told her what Balbinus had said about the agent provocateur and the druid; he’d told me not to spread it around, but I reckoned Perilla was safe enough.

Her eyes widened.

‘But that’s dreadful!’ she said. ‘He really thinks there might be trouble?’

‘It’s a definite possibility, yes.’

‘And that there could be a connection with the Drutus murder?’

‘Again, it’s possible. Murders just don’t happen here, seemingly, and it’s too much of a coincidence to dismiss out of hand, particularly since there doesn’t seem to be a reason for this one. Apropos of which, the implication is that the perp wasn’t a local. Not a real local, I mean.’

‘Who, then?’

I shrugged and took a sip of the wine. ‘Could be anyone,’ I said. ‘There’re enough outsiders around. Our pal Segomarus, for one, since we’re obviously having doubts about him already. Motive aside, I could make some sort of a case.’

‘Namely?’

‘If he was the perp then it’d be sensible by his lights to make contact – friendly contact – because he’d know I was looking into the business. That was curious enough in itself, if you like. The only other time we’d met, if you can call it meeting, at the baths in Lugdunum, he made it clear by the way he acted that he wanted nothing to do with me. Oh, sure, he explained it away by saying he was rushing off to the latrine to answer a sudden call of nature, but that could easily be pure hogwash. And on the trip through from Lugdunum young Titus Cabirus said he didn’t speak Latin, which was complete garbage.’ I frowned. ‘That was another curious thing. Either Titus was lying for reasons I can’t fathom or it was an impression the guy wanted to create himself. Only then, of course, he had to back-track if he wanted to get pally with me. He had a pretty lame excuse for that side of it, as well.’

‘That’s as may be, dear, but your Segomarus couldn’t possibly be the murderer.’

‘Yeah? How do you make that out?’

Perilla sighed. ‘Marcus, he arrived with us. That was the previous afternoon, only hours before the murders. And he’s a complete stranger; you said this was his first visit to the province.’ I hadn’t, and to be fair he hadn’t, in so many words, either, but it was a reasonable assumption: even if he’d been fudging, Balbinus hadn’t heard of the guy, and he’d know the regular merchants both here and in Durocortorum, if not personally then at least by name or reputation. ‘He wouldn’t have had either the time or the knowledge to set things up. Besides, how could he have had any connection at all with Drutus, which he’d need if he wanted an excuse for decoying him outside the city walls after dark? Let alone to furnish a reason for killing the man in the first place? Assuming he’s telling the truth about Burdigala and the wine-growing side of things – and you’ve no reason to disbelieve him there, because there’s nothing to suggest he isn’t, quite the contrary – he would have come the southern route across Gaul to Massilia. Nowhere near Durocortorum, where Drutus was based. And Drutus, according to Balbinus, confined his trading to this north-east corner. I’m sorry, there are just too many objections for the theory to make sense.’

Bugger; she was right. Even so …

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Leave all that for the moment. Let’s take it from the other end, Drutus himself. The more that you think about the guy, the more of a puzzle he is.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘On the face of it, he’s an ordinary merchant, right? We’ve got Balbinus’s personal assurance on that. Nothing special; trades in hides between Durocortorum and here, then up to the Rhine border and the garrison at Moguntiacum.’

‘Yes. So?’

‘So out of the blue he tells his long-term woman friend, on very short notice, that he’s got a piece of business to take care of, nature unspecified, who with unspecified, but transacted after dark. Obviously there’s something dodgy about it, even more obviously because he’s found with his throat cut next morning half a mile outside the city limits. Not exactly what you’d expect of an ordinary merchant, yes?’

‘Marcus, I know all that already. And I agree completely. Of course it’s suspicious; what else could it be?’

‘Yeah, but that’s not all. He has in his possession an unusual gold coin.’ She had her mouth open to say something, but I held up my hand and she shut it. ‘OK. Today I find out from Balbinus for certain that it’s British, and also that someone is currently playing silly buggers stirring up trouble among the locals. Probably at the instigation of the powers-that-be across the Gallic Strait who’d rather not be invaded at present, thank you very much, and want to create a diversion to take the pressure off. Also that there’s a bastard of a druid, sent no doubt by said powers-that-be, skulking around somewhere out in the sticks doing his best to work up the peasants into a killing frenzy. You with me so far?’

She sighed. ‘Of course I am, dear. You don’t have to make such a meal of it. You’re saying that Drutus is Balbinus’s agent provocateur , the business he had was with this druid, and that the coin was his means of proving his bona fides .’

‘That’s about it, yeah.’

‘Nonsense.’

‘What?’

‘It’s complete and utter rubbish from beginning to end.’

‘Is that so? And just how do you come to that conclusion, clever-clogs?’

She pulled back her thumb. ‘First, it goes completely against what we know of Drutus from Balbinus.’

‘Balbinus could be wrong.’

‘You think so? Has he given any indication of being either stupid, or unobservant, or a poor judge of character?’

‘Uh, no, not exactly, but-’

‘So what you’re saying is that Drutus had a deep-seated and long-standing hatred of Romans, deep-seated and long-standing enough to cause him to want to play the traitor and foment a revolt against them, and that neither Balbinus nor his governor – who also knew the man personally – never for one moment suspected it?’

‘Well, if you put it that way-’

‘I do. Two.’ She held down the index finger. ‘How would he go about it?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Marcus, you don’t just go around buttonholing people in wineshops and telling them it might be a good idea to rise up against the Roman oppressors. Not unless you’re a complete idiot. Drutus might be well known and liked in Augusta, but he was still an outsider and he’d have no real influence, which would be what he’d need to get anywhere at all; remember, here in Gaul the tribal factor is still very important, and he wasn’t a Treveran, he’d no protection of the sort that, evidently, from your own experience, the Cabiri family have. The best he could expect would be indifference, and the worst, if he talked to the wrong person, betrayal to the authorities and an appointment with the public executioner.’

‘Jupiter, Perilla, I never even mentioned wineshops! Allow the guy a little subtlety, for the gods’ sakes!’

‘Very well. None the less.’ Middle finger. ‘Three. Drutus hasn’t been anywhere near Britain, and has no connection with it. He’s a native of Durocortorum, and all his business is in this part of the province, hundreds of miles from the Gallic Strait.’