David Wishart - Bodies Politic

And then there was the whole business of Dion. Or whatever the bastard’s real name was.

‘Let’s start with the conspiracy,’ I said.

‘There was a conspiracy after all?’

‘So Gaius assured me, and he was telling the truth as far as he knew it, I’m convinced of that. More or less along the obvious lines: Junius Silanus was intriguing with Macro to get rid of Gaius and use Gemellus as a puppet emperor. Although that doesn’t work, does it, for the reasons I gave you, not where Macro was concerned, anyway, and he’s crucial. So, me, I don’t think there was a conspiracy at all, whatever Gaius says, because it doesn’t make sense. I think the three of them – Macro, Silanus and Gemellus – were set up.’

‘As it says in the letter. Implies, at least.’ Perilla was twisting a strand of her hair. ‘Very well, Marcus, I’ll accept that, as a hypothesis anyway. Why?’

‘That’s nursery-slopes stuff. Macro and Silanus were Gaius’s top advisors, had been ever since he became emperor, and Macro since well before that. You could even say his only advisors, because they were responsible for most of the policy decisions. Gemellus, fine, he was a poor stick who hadn’t a hope in hell of being approved as emperor by the senate if they’d any choice in the matter. Only with Gaius dead they wouldn’t have: at least Gemellus was an imperial, Tiberius had named him as co-heir, and he was Gaius’s legally-adopted son. Who else was left with a legitimate claim? Claudius? The day that guy gets the purple there’ll be a blue moon. And Gaius’s only child died with his mother at birth, so there was no direct heir at all.’

‘So what you’re saying,’ Perilla said, ‘is that the conspiracy, once it was detected, cleared the field completely. Of both potential heirs and advisers. And the conspiracy was a fake. Someone put the idea of it in Gaius’s mind just for that reason.’

‘Right. Macro’s – or Dion’s – “misinformation and calumnies”. The question is, who did it clear the field for? Cui bono, in other words?’

‘You said. There was no one left.’

‘What about the sisters?’

‘Oh, Marcus! They’re women!’

‘Yeah, but they’ve got husbands, haven’t they? And Livia was a woman too. You telling me that bitch wasn’t political?’

Perilla went very quiet and reached for her fruit juice.

‘Go on,’ she said.

‘So let’s take them one by one. Agrippina. Drusilla. Livilla.’

‘Very well.’

‘Youngest and most unlikely first. Livilla. Her husband’s Marcus Vinicius. He’s got about as much drive and ambition as a hamster, his idea of the perfect evening is to curl up with a good book, and he wouldn’t say boo to a gosling. And she’s a bubble-headed moron.’

Perilla smiled. ‘Actually I know Vinicius quite well; we see each other at poetry readings and he’s a very nice man indeed. I quite agree, he’s not conspirator material. Neither, for the reason you gave, is his wife.’

‘Scrap them, then. Next, Drusilla. Gaius’s favourite sister. Recently and suddenly dead at, what, twenty-two? Twenty-three? If Gaius hadn’t been obviously so cut up and if he hadn’t been so unconcerned about me poking around then I’d be wondering about that, personally. A fifth death in the imperial circle hard on the heels of four compulsory suicides is stretching coincidence too far.’

‘Your paranoia’s showing, dear. It was scarcely hard on the heels; Macro and Ennia have been dead for over two months, the others for much longer. And summer in Rome’s a bad time for fevers. These things happen. There’s no reason to suspect that Drusilla’s death wasn’t natural.’

‘No. Right. Or at least that the emperor was responsible. Even so, I’d take an outside bet there’s something fishy there. Mark it for later. Anyway, her husband’s Aemilius Lepidus. Same age as Gaius, from a good family with strong imperial connections: his father was tipped as a possible successor to Augustus and his sister was married to Gaius’s brother Drusus. Plus, he’s in thick with the emperor. Gossip says they’re even lovers.’

‘Gossip will say anything.’

‘Yeah, well, he’s pretty eclectic in his tastes, our Gaius. And at least he’d be keeping it in the family. Anyway, Lepidus is a better bet than Vinicius, if only just because from all reports the guy’s a mental and political lightweight, and his late wife wasn’t a particularly pushy type either, despite her closeness to her brother.’ I paused. ‘He’s making her a goddess, by the way. Gaius is, I mean.’

‘ What? ’

‘True. He told me himself. She’s to be called Panthea and she’s sharing a temple with Venus the Mother, presumably until he can build her one of her own.’

‘But that’s ridiculous!’

‘You heard it here first, lady. Watch and marvel.’ I took a swig of wine. ‘Okay. So we’re left with the eldest sister. Agrippina.’

‘Ah.’

‘Ah is right. Agrippina’s married to Domitius Ahenobarbus, and from past acquaintance we know all about him, don’t we? They’re the dream team. He’s ambitious, ruthless, political to his back teeth, a total bastard, and with form to boot, and she’s a pushy little bitch, smart and devious as hell and hard-nosed as they come, just like her mother and Livia. Plus they’ve got a son now, young Nero. He’s only six months old, sure, but he’s a five-star imperial on his mother’s side, the sainted Germanicus’s only grandson, and with Gaius dead that’d weigh with the senate.’

‘Wait a moment, dear. I thought the plan was to make Gemellus into a puppet emperor.’

‘Yeah, and how long do you think he would’ve survived with Agrippina and Ahenobarbus pulling the strings? If we’re looking for a cui bono, or rather a quibus bono, I reckon that pair of beauties are top of the list.’

‘Hmm.’ Perilla was still twisting at her hair. ‘Yes. Mind you, I’m not sure where all this is getting you, Marcus. Even if Agrippina and Ahenobarbus were responsible for this pseudo-conspiracy then what can you do about it? They’re imperials, Macro and the rest of them are dead and buried, and equable as Gaius seems to be he’s not going to take kindly to you accusing his sister and brother-in-law of treason, not if you haven’t a shred of actual proof. I’m sorry, but whether you’re right or not the whole thing’s impractical.’

Yeah; it was. I frowned and reached for my winecup. Bugger. So how did we get the proof? Finding Dion and talking to him might be a start, sure, but I hadn’t the least idea how to go about that. And if he didn’t want to be found then I was on a hiding to nothing.

Bathyllus shimmered through the portico. ‘Excuse me, sir. Madam.’

‘Yeah, little guy?’ I said. ‘What is it now? A delay with the dinner? Don’t worry, we’re fine out here for the present. Just tell Meton -’

‘Your mother and Helvius Priscus have arrived, sir. Should I bring them through or would you rather come inside?’

I groaned. Oh, hell. ‘Bring them out, Bathyllus. And tell the skivvies to fetch a couple more chairs.’

But Mother had already appeared, with Priscus in tow. Despite the heat she looked her usual carefully-groomed and mantled self, and a good ten years younger than her real age, which was sixty that year. Priscus, on the other hand, was doing his usual impersonation of a sartorially-challenged tortoise.

I got up.

‘Hello, dear, how are you both?’ Mother swooped over and air-kissed me on both cheeks, then did the same for Perilla. ‘I’m sorry to come unannounced, but I knew you wouldn’t mind.’

‘I thought you were on your way to Baiae,’ I said.

‘We’re leaving tomorrow morning. You should join us, you know. Summer in Rome is absolutely dreadful.’