David Wishart - Bodies Politic

‘What about Etruscus? Surely he would back you publicly now?’

‘Jupiter, Perilla! You just don’t listen! Etruscus has kept his head well down below the parapet so far and he isn’t likely to stick it up now. With justification. He’s no hero, he’s just a conscientious pen-pusher with Rome’s best interests at heart. Besides, I’d bet I know a hell of a lot more about this business now than he does. I wouldn’t even ask him.’

‘Then what?’

I sighed. ‘I told you. I don’t know. Oh, I’ve still got a couple more shots in the locker, for what they’re worth: a tribune on the Pannonian staff to see, plus gate-crashing Helicon’s birthday party in five days’ time, but -’

‘ What? ’

Bugger, I hadn’t told her about that one either. ‘Ah…’

‘Marcus, if you think you can -’

‘Dinner is served, sir.’ Bathyllus, drifting in like a welcome ray of sunshine from the direction of the dining-room.

Saved by the apricot-stuffed duck with turnips.

Ah, well. We’d just have to see what transpired.

A messenger came next morning from Secundus with Titus Vinius’s address: the family house, hardly a ten-minute walk away on Head of Africa. Yeah, well; we might as well get this over with, and at least I didn’t have to traipse over half of Rome to find him.

Good property: the family had money, which probably meant he’d had good reason to come back and oversee investments. There’d be a bailiff, sure, but even the best of these you have to keep an eye on, and if his father was at death’s door and he was the only son then there wouldn’t be anyone else to do it.

I went up the steps and knocked.

‘Could I speak to Titus Vinius, please?’ I said to the door-slave who answered. ‘The name’s Valerius Corvinus. He doesn’t know me but -’

‘Would that be senior or junior, sir?’

I frowned. ‘Ah…junior, of course. I thought…Uh, forgive me, pal, but I thought Vinius senior was dying.’

He gave me an odd look. ‘Of course not, sir. The old master’s in perfect health. Come in, please. If you’d like to wait I’ll tell the young master you’re here.’

He left me in the lobby, sorely puzzled.

Shit, what was going on? Oh, yeah, people did make miraculous recoveries, especially if they’d kicked their doctors out at the first sniffle, but there’s a big gap between at death’s door and in perfect health. Something was screwy here.

The slave came back. ‘The young master’s in the garden, sir. Follow me, please.’

He led me through the atrium into the peristyle beyond. Nice garden. A bit over-regimented for my taste and cluttered with too many statues, but okay if you like that sort of thing. Vinius – I presumed it was Vinius – was sitting in a basketwork chair in one of the arbours.

‘Valerius Corvinus?’ he said. ‘What can I do for you?’

Another slave had brought a second chair. I sat down.

He was a youngster, of course – being a tribune he’d have to be -, no more than early twenties, if that. I noticed two things at once. One, he was pretty – not good-looking, pretty, with what was almost a girl’s face, long eyelashes and pouting lips. The second thing was he was frightened.

Not of me, or I didn’t think so: his body was relaxed and there was nothing in his tone of voice. The look was in his whole face; withdrawn, slightly out of it, with something strange about the eyes. Like recently he’d been to hell and back, and hadn’t got over it yet.

‘Vibullius Secundus over at the military admin offices suggested I have a word with you,’ I said; I’d thought about this, and it seemed the safest way to do things. ‘See if I could get you to reconsider your decision to resign your commission.’

There it was; that frightened look again. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No, I’m afraid not.’

‘Even although your father’s’ – I paused, and chose the words carefully, without stressing them – ‘no longer in danger of dying?’

Another flash; if he’d noticed the pause, or wondered how I’d known, he didn’t comment. ‘No. Not even for that reason.’

I leaned back. I’d have to watch how I played this, because there was something here. What it was I didn’t know yet, but it was there in spades and I could feel the beginnings of a prickle at the nape of my neck. ‘Care to tell me why?’ I said. ‘I mean, if the original reason was that you needed to look after the family affairs -’

‘I think that’s my business, Valerius Corvinus,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to cause offence, but you’ve had a wasted journey.’

‘Uh-uh.’ I shook my head. ‘I don’t think that myself. Not at all.’ That got me another scared glance, but this time it was meant for me personally. I gave things a moment, and then I said: ‘So why did you resign? The real reason?’

I’d spoken quietly, but he was on his feet like he’d been jerked up on strings. ‘Go now,’ he said. ‘Please. I’ve told you it’s my business, no one else’s, and -’

‘Sit down, pal.’ I still hadn’t raised my voice or moved, and I knew if I did either he’d call for the slaves and have me pitched out on my ear. All this was fright, pure and simple. The guy was like a frightened mare. He had to be gentled.

He sat, like the strings had been cut. He was breathing hard and fast, his eyes fixed beyond my ear.

‘Now,’ I said, still talking quietly, hardly above a whisper, ‘I’m going to level with you. Secundus is a friend of mine, sure, but he’s got nothing to do with this, nothing at all. I’m here off my own bat, on a commission from the emperor. No’ – he’d shied away – ‘nothing to worry about, so long as you tell me the truth and don’t try to cover anything up. I’m not going to drag you off to the Mamertine or anything like that. But I need some information, and I need you to be frank or I can’t help you. Okay?’

He swallowed. ‘Okay,’ he said. It was the ghost of a whisper.

‘It had something to do with an incitement to the Pannonian legions to mutiny, didn’t it?’

The look I got now was pure terror. He half-rose, and I pulled him down. Gently.

‘I shouldn’t’ve done it,’ he whispered. ‘I was a fool, a complete fool. But the chance…well, the chance was just too good to miss.’

Shit. The thought of this kid going round the barracks inciting two legions-ful of hard-bitten squaddies to mutiny against their commander just wouldn’t stand up. They’d’ve laughed in his pretty face. Done it politely, mind, because kid or not he’d been an officer, but still -

‘What chance?’ I said.

He swallowed again. ‘Corvinus, I told you: I’ve been a complete fool. I admit that. I’ve thought about nothing else for the past two months. I’m greedy, yes, and very, very silly, but I’m not a traitor. You have to tell the emperor that, convince him not to -’

‘What chance?’ No answer. ‘Come on, pal! I’ll do my best, I promise you, but I can’t do anything until I know the whole story.’

He took a deep breath. ‘Could you go inside and tell Sator – that’s the slave who brought you through – to bring us out a cup of wine?’

I got up without a word and did what he’d asked. It was safe enough: he wasn’t going to run out on me, I knew that. Besides, where could he go? Then I came back and we sat in silence until the guy had brought the wine and padded off.

Vinius drained his cup in a oner. I waited, my own wine untasted.

‘Now,’ I said.

The kid wiped his mouth and took another deep breath. He was looking a better colour, but not by much. ‘You know Sulpicius Galba?’ he said.

I blinked but kept my voice neutral. ‘Yeah. Yeah, of course.’