David Wishart - Foreign Bodies

Uh-huh; twenty years, right? It was interesting how often the phrase twenty years kept on cropping up in this case. More than interesting.

‘I’ll do my best,’ I said. ‘Thanks, pal.’

‘You’re welcome.’ He was still frowning. ‘One more thing. I don’t know if it’ll help or not, but talking about it I’ve just remembered.’

‘Yeah?’

‘When I took the stew up and opened the door they were sitting at the table with their heads together, talking, or Anda was. He clammed up straight off when I came in, but I just caught the last few words. “He’s lying. He’s never been there.”’

‘What?’

The guy repeated it. ‘Mean anything to you?’ he said.

I was thinking furiously. ‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘Maybe it does, at that. Thanks again, friend.’

I left.

Hmm.

I was crossing the market square on my way back when someone called my name. I looked round: an elderly guy, very well-dressed, standing a few feet away and chatting to a much younger man.

‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ he said. ‘You are Valerius Corvinus?’

‘As ever is.’ I went over to join them.

‘Julius Secundus. I think my wife called on yours earlier today. At the suggestion of Saenius Balbinus.’

Right; the local senator. I could see what Balbinus meant about him being a dry old stick: sixty-plus, and not a very well-preserved sixty, at that. Mummies came to mind. His friend, on the other hand, was mid-forties, max, and built along the lines of Perilla’s pal the good doctor.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘In fact, I left them planning their day.’ Or not, as the case might be; I might find blood on the walls when I got back. ‘Very kind of her to take an interest.’

‘Oh, nonsense, my dear fellow. I’m sure Optima will be absolutely delighted to help entertain a visitor to our city. Our pleasure entirely. I thought when I saw you passing that I’d just introduce myself, tell you that if there’s anything else we can do to help then by all means just let us know.’

‘That’s very good of you, sir,’ I said.

‘Not at all, not at all.’ He glanced at the man he’d been talking to. ‘This is Sulinus, by the way.’ No family name; not a Roman citizen, then. ‘He’s one of our more prominent merchants.’

We nodded to each other. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ I said. ‘What line are you in?’

‘Antiques, mostly.’ Strong, confident voice. ‘The quality end of the market. But I specialize in silver- and goldware.’

‘Nice. Must be lucrative.’

‘I get by.’

Secundus chuckled. ‘Rather better than that,’ he said. ‘Sulinus has been a regular supplier of mine for years. It’s my hobby, you know, my one vice. I’m interested in antique Gallic silverware, in fact quite passionate about it, and I have quite a collection. You and your wife must come round for dinner and inspect it while you’re in Augusta.’

‘That’d be great,’ I said politely. Bugger, we’d got another Priscus here; my stepfather’s bag was semantics and early local Italian antiquities, particularly Etruscan ones, and he regularly bored the pants off us at dinner parties round at Mother’s lecturing us about them. I’d bet that this guy was the same. Well, at least he didn’t bleat or drool, and the chances were Perilla would get through the dinner without having sauce spilled all over her mantle. Plus the fact that our social calendar wasn’t exactly straining at the seams at present. ‘We’ll look forward to it.’

‘Good. I’ll have Optima arrange things. She does so enjoy her social life, the poor dear, but we don’t have many guests ourselves. Well, I mustn’t keep you; you obviously have things to do, and as I said I only wanted to introduce myself while you were passing.’

‘Nice to have met you. Sulinus.’

‘Valerius Corvinus.’ He gave me another nod. ‘My pleasure. Enjoy your stay.’

I carried on to the residence. Not that, again, I was destined to stay there for long. Bathyllus met me as usual in the atrium.

‘A message from Saenius Balbinus, sir,’ he said. ‘He’d like to talk to you in his office as soon as you’re able.’

What, again? This was the second time in two days. Still, it had to be important.

It was. And, it transpired, a total gobsmacker.

‘Drutus was one of our agents,’ he said as soon as the door closed behind the outgoing clerk.

‘ What? ’ I stared at him.

‘It’s true. He has been for years. I’ve just had the reply to my message to the governor saying he’d been murdered. The courier made the journey from Durocortorum in record time, on Hister’s instructions, and he almost killed five horses and broke his own neck doing it.’

Jupiter in heaven! I sat down on the stool beside the desk. ‘You didn’t know?’

‘No, I didn’t. The information was classified top secret, for the governor only. Now, of course, under the circumstances, as Hister’s representative I have to. You, too, naturally; I have his specific clearance for that.’ He ran a hand across his face. ‘What a mess. What a gods’-awful pig-swill of a mess.’

‘Yeah. Right.’ My brain had gone numb. ‘So there’s a definite connection with the political side of things after all?’

‘Oh, yes, that’s beyond any doubt. Not just that, but a definite connection with Britain.’

‘How so?’

‘I said Drutus was our agent, which in a way he was. More accurately, he was Verica’s.’

‘Who the hell is Verica?’

‘King of the Atrebates tribe. Or to be exact ex-king, king in exile as of two or three years back, when Caratacus threw him out.’

‘Pal, you’re just giving me names here. Remember you’re talking to a political ignoramus. You’ll have to explain.’

He sighed. ‘Very well. A brief social and political history of Britain over the past twenty years, all right? You’re sitting comfortably?’

‘Bugger that, chum. Go ahead.’

‘Caratacus is the son of the Catuvellaunan king Cunobelinus; the Catuvellauni being one of the major tribes in the south-east part of the island and neighbours of the Atrebates, ditto only a bit further down. You’re with me?’

‘Sure.’

‘Twenty or so years back, Cunobelinus dies and his brother Epaticcus becomes king. Epaticcus is a completely different kettle of fish altogether; he’s overtly aggressive, and unlike his brother fervently anti-Rome. He mounts a campaign against the Atrebates and takes most of their kingdom, helped by his nephew Caratacus, who is very much out of the same mould and, in our terms, an even more dangerous piece of work. Epaticcus then goes and dies himself – this is five years ago – and Caratacus takes over. He completes the conquest of the Atrebates and drives their king, Verica, into exile. Verica goes to Rome and puts his expertise at the service of the Emperor Gaius, who is thinking of invading the island and in the process will get Verica his kingdom back. Still OK?’

‘Cut it out, Balbinus, I’m not that much of an idiot.’

He grinned. ‘I’m sorry. Of course not. Anyway, Gaius’s plans came to nothing, but now Claudius is preparing to do things properly, still with Verica’s help and goodwill. Which is where we are at the moment.’

‘Hang on,’ I said. ‘We’re talking about the situation the other side of the Gallic Strait. Where does this agent business come in? Agenting for what?’

‘Yes, well, you need to remember that the Strait is only a geographical barrier. Essentially Gaul and Britain are the same country, the only real difference being that we took the former from the locals a hundred years back and changed things about a bit to suit ourselves. The people are still the same, they’ve the same language and customs, more or less, even some of the tribes are the same; there’s an Atrebates tribe to the west of here, for example, up around Nemetocenna near the Lower Germany border, and a tribe of Belgae to match ours over in Britain. So to a lot of Gauls what is happening across the Strait, or is about to happen, is relevant, because the British are kin. And you’ve been here long enough now to know how important that can be.’