David Wishart - Bodies Politic

‘He and I…well, we’re friends. Good friends.’ Oh, hell. I could see which way things were heading. Still, it didn’t surprise me: I’d run across Galba five years back, when he’d been consul, the time of the business with the dead Vestal, and I knew where his predilections lay. Mostly from a conversation with his wife Aemilia, who was one of Perilla’s poetry-klatsch pals. And from the looks of Vinius the next leap of the imagination wasn’t Olympics standard. ‘It was here in Rome, about four months ago, just before I went out to Pannonia.’

‘You can’t’ve been there long, pal,’ I said. ‘You’ve been back almost a month already.’

‘No. Only a few days.’ He ducked his head and smiled. ‘But you’re right. Me and the legions aren’t cut out for each other. I discovered that very quickly, and it’s another reason why I don’t mind not -’ He stopped. ‘Anyway. I found out from Galba that the emperor was putting him in charge of the Rhine legions. Or rather, he didn’t actually tell me, I put two and two together from what he let slip. Caesar had just told him, you see, and I think he was very pleased with himself. Also perhaps’ – he blushed – ‘at that stage of our friendship he was anxious to impress me. Could I have your wine, Corvinus? If you’re not going to drink it?’

‘What?’ I’d forgotten that I was still holding the cup. ‘Oh, sure. Help yourself.’

I handed it over. He didn’t down it like the last one, but he took a good swallow and set the cup on the flagstones beside his chair.

‘So I went out to Pannonia. You know the legate’s wife – Sabinus’s wife – is Lentulus Gaetulicus’s daughter? Cornelia?’

Things were beginning to come together. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I knew that.’

‘I thought that…perhaps…her father might be interested in some information I had.’ He lowered his eyes again. ‘For a price. You understand? I told you: I was a fool, and greedy.’

I said nothing.

‘She wrote to Gaetulicus, he wrote back agreeing on principle, and there you are. I told her what Galba had said. Or what I’d worked out, anyway. That he was to be her father’s replacement for the coming campaign. Then she paid me. A hundred gold pieces.’ He looked up. ‘That’s all that happened. I swear.’

‘What about the incitement to mutiny?’

‘ That wasn’t me. I wouldn’t. And anyway, I wouldn’t know how.’ Well, that was true enough. ‘Oh, Cornelia tried to persuade me to help, but she gave up after a while and said she’d arrange it herself. She’s a very… strong woman, Cornelia.’

Yeah, I’d bet. Mind you, coming from that background and having spent most of her life in an army environment I supposed she’d have to be. A hell of a lot stronger, certainly, than this wilting violet. ‘So why did you cut and run?’ I said. ‘Which is what you did, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’ His eyelashes fluttered. ‘Corvinus, wouldn’t you? Under the circumstances? It was only a matter of time before Sabinus noticed what was going on, and it was my fault. And Cornelia was trying to force me to get involved by threatening to tell her husband that I already was. The whole thing was a nightmare. I had to get out.’

‘So you wrote resigning your commission,’ I said.

‘Yes. I didn’t even wait for the reply. I went to Sabinus, told him my father was dying and that I was giving up the tribuneship, and he gave me leave of absence.’

‘He didn’t suspect anything?’

‘No. Or I don’t think he did. Why should he?’

Why should he? No; the kid was right. As an agent provocateur Titus Vinius was a non-starter. The thought wouldn’t even have crossed Sabinus’s mind.

‘So…what happens now?’ He was looking at me like I was the only drink of water in the desert.

I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. Oh, you have my promise: when I see the emperor I’ll tell him just exactly what you’ve told me. Then it’s up to him.’

‘You think he’ll understand?’

‘Maybe.’ Personally, I doubted it: Gaius wasn’t exactly your understanding person, and he didn’t forgive easily. The guy wasn’t looking at the chop, mind – unless the emperor was feeling particularly vindictive – but exile was a distinct possibility. Still, he had it spot on: he’d been a greedy little fool and deserved all he got. ‘I’ll do what I can.’ I stood up. ‘Meanwhile, don’t go anywhere. That’s not advice, it’s a warning.’

‘Where would I go?’

Right. I turned to leave. Then a thought struck me, and I turned back.

‘Did Cornelia happen to mention any names? Anyone at all?’

‘Like who?’

‘I don’t know. Just anyone.’

‘No, none.’ He frowned. Then he blushed again. ‘She said once when I’d refused to help that I was as much an innocent and a washout as Gaius Anteius sounded, but -’

‘ Who? ’

‘Gaius Anteius. I’d no idea who she meant. I still don’t. Do you?’

But I was already heading for the portico and the front door.

Gaius Anteius.

Shit.

So: I’d got a witness. Not much of one, but at least Vinius was better than nothing. And his evidence would prove at least that Gaetulicus was trying to subvert the Pannonian legions.

The mention of Gaius Anteius had been a facer, though. The guy, if you remember, had been at literary hack Seneca’s poetry reading the evening I’d been almost crushed by the runaway cart on the Staurian Steps: the squeaky-clean young North Italian quaestor with a penchant for poetry who’d mentioned Gaetulicus to us. And who had almost immediately thereafter been hauled off by Agrippina. Whom Crispus had later indicated he was possibly having some sort of an affair with.

Jupiter, it couldn’t be coincidence. No way.

How exactly he fitted into things I didn’t know, but it set up a very interesting train of thought. He was a friend of Seneca’s, and Crispus had also told me that Seneca was currently screwing the emperor’s second sister Livilla. Who was also – if the theory held – in on the plot. Obviously, if Cornelia knew his name, she’d have to have got it from her father, probably through one of his letters. And innocent fitted the guy to a T. He and Vinius – barring certain important differences – were birds of a feather.

Okay. I distinctly remembered him saying he’d been talking to Gaetulicus himself only a couple of months previous, and I’d been on the point of asking him for details when Agrippina hustled him off. Anteius was a North Italian, sure, but Mantua was still a long way from the Rhine. What opportunity would he have? Gaetulicus couldn’t’ve come to him on his father’s estate: a legate isn’t allowed to leave his command except under very exceptional circumstances, and if he’d just been elected quaestor he couldn’t’ve been lately out of uniform himself. Which left only one possibility.

He’d gone to the Rhine specially. Because Gaetulicus was using him as a courier to keep in touch with his imperial pals in Rome.

Maybe I’d got my second bit of living evidence.

In the event I decided not to go for Anteius, or not directly: if Vinius had been right about Cornelia’s summing up of him – and my impression when I’d met the lad confirmed it – then he was an innocent dupe in any case, and so not likely to be very informative. Besides, through him I had a much better prospect lined up: Annaeus Seneca.

I wasn’t sure that Seneca was actively involved in the Lepidus/Agrippina plot, but if he didn’t know what was going on and be providing at least his support and tacit approval then I was a blue-tailed Briton. The guy was the archetypal go-getting provincial on the make: politically and socially ambitious, a total snob, and with a conceited ego the size of the Capitol. One of those sad buggers who only see the height of the dung heap without caring about what it’s made of or how much shit they have to swallow to get to the top. Which was fortunate: convince them that there’s a danger that in a short space of time they’re going to be back on the barnyard floor arse-up with their face in the mud and they revert from the roosters they thought they were to the chickens they really are.