Finished Business

by David Wishart

  ‘After a year?’

  Lentulus laid the egg aside and looked up. ‘Gaius is in no hurry, boy,’ he said. ‘That’s the point. Or partly the point. Philo and his cronies have spent the past twelve months twiddling their thumbs on the other side of the river, and they’re likely to stay there indefinitely. Jews haven’t exactly been flavour of the month with Caesar ever since the trouble at Jamnia.’

  ‘Where the hell’s Jamnia?’

  ‘Palestine. Near Jerusalem, on the coast. The town’s part of the imperial estates. Mixed Jewish-Greek, like a lot of those places. Just after the delegation got here, the Greeks in Jamnia set up an altar to the imperial cult. The local Jews rioted and pulled it down.’ I winced. Trouble was right: Rome’s pretty tolerant where religion’s concerned – as long as you don’t go in for ceremonies involving cannibalism, ritual bestiality or the wholesale sacrifice of virgins, you can worship whatever god you like – but start mixing religion with politics and you’re up shit creek before you can say military intervention. Pulling down an altar to the Goddess Rome and her earthly representative would qualify in spades. ‘When Procurator Capito passed the news on to Gaius, the emperor went spare. He—’

  ‘Hang on, Lentulus,’ I said. ‘Capito? Herennius Capito?’

  ‘That’s the fella, yes.’ He was bland. ‘Gaius pulled him back to Rome shortly afterwards. He’s dead now, poor bugger. Blotted his copybook good and proper, so I understand. Anyway, I was saying, Gaius decided that if that was the way the intolerant bastards were going to play it, then he’d give them tit for tat and convert their temple in Jerusalem into an imperial shrine, with a statue of himself as Jupiter as the centrepiece. Not that that came to anything in the end, mind, fortunately, because the Syrian governor deliberately dragged his feet over supplying the actual statue itself. By which time Caesar’s pal Herod Agrippa had managed to persuade him to drop the idea.’

  Yeah, I remembered that Secundus had mentioned the statue business. I hadn’t realized at the time that it was going to be relevant. Which it appeared it was.

  ‘And all this is connected with Clemens, right?’ I said.

  ‘Naturally. In a way, at least. I told you: Clemens may not be political as such but he and Philo are pretty thick together. Plus he’s a good friend of Agrippa’s. Just as well things panned out the way they did, mark you. Things being as they are, if the emperor had had his way it would’ve caused real trouble. Still might, for that matter, if he’s not careful and pulls his horns in. No fan of the Jews, our Gaius, and they know it.’ Lentulus picked up his wine cup and took a swig. ‘So. There you are, young Marcus. Had enough?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I took a contemplative swallow of my Falernian. ‘Yeah, that’ll just about do it.’ Gods, it would at that, and with knobs on! I’d seen the trouble messing with Jewish sensibilities caused myself, at first hand, a couple of years before when we were in Alex. That time we’d been lucky to get out of the place in advance of the rioting, but it had been a close thing, and matters had got a whole lot worse before they were finally settled. If an uneasy truce with Jew and Greek still at daggers drawn can be called settlement. And sure, Alexandria might be the second biggest city in the empire, but it wasn’t the only one with a major Jewish population, not by a long chalk. Just the thought that what had happened there could happen on a much wider scale sent a chill down my spine.

  If I was looking for a reason for Arrecinus Clemens to be involved in all this, I didn’t have to look any further. Lentulus’s mention of Capito – and it had been deliberate, I was certain of that – was interesting as well.

  ‘Good. I’m glad. Always pleased to help, so long as you don’t quote me.’ Lentulus had been reaching for another chicken leg – where the guy put it all, big as he was, I didn’t know – and he hesitated. ‘By the by, Marcus. One name you didn’t mention. Fella called Vinicianus. Annius Vinicianus.’

  I gave him a sharp look. ‘What about him?’

  ‘What about who?’

  ‘Ah … Annius Vinicianus?’

  ‘Oh. Nothing. Nothing at all. Forget I said it, I was rambling.’ He picked up the chicken leg. ‘Must be going senile. Now, if that’s the morning’s business over to your satisfaction, we can move on to more important matters. Like the new wine my supplier’s trying to foist off on me.’

  ‘Yeah? Where’s it from?’

  ‘Place over in Belgic Gaul by the name of Durocortorum. Fizzy stuff, comes in small flasks with the bung tied down. Now don’t look at me like that, boy, he says it has a future, although of course he’s bloody selling the stuff, so he would, wouldn’t he? Probably just a passing fad, but I’d be glad to hear your opinion.’

  ‘Ah … fizzy?’

  ‘Full of little bubbles. Jupiter knows how they get them in or why they bother, but there you are. Desmus likes to see how far he can shoot the bung when he opens one of the bastards, don’t you, Desmus? His record so far’s fifteen feet. Ah, well, simple pleasures. Get the rest of that Falernian down you and we’ll give it a go.’

  Annius Vinicianus, eh?

  Senile, nothing; I was being told.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  I hadn’t been expecting Perilla back much shy of dinner time, but she breezed in only about an hour after I did. In a much better mood than I thought she’d be, too.

  ‘You find what you were after, then, lady?’ I said when she came back down from getting changed.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Marcus.’ She put her cheek down to be kissed. ‘I thought I’d try Fabatus’s. You remember? That new shop in the Saepta, the one that Naevia Postuma mentioned when she was here the first time and Calventia Quietina recommended to me.’

  ‘Uh … yeah. Right.’ I didn’t remember any such thing, but sometimes it’s safer not to make admissions like that. ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘Off the peg, of course, but then I didn’t have much option, did I?’ This time I said nothing: there’d been a definite trace of frost there. ‘And it is rather nice. It’ll go very well with the over-mantle I got before we went to Clarus and Marilla’s.’

  ‘The one young Marcus sicked up on?’

  She frowned. ‘Oh, damn, so he did. Not that one, then. Never mind, I’ll find something else.’ Bathyllus was hovering. ‘A hot mint and lemon balm with honey, please, Bathyllus. It is not pleasant out there.’

  ‘No, it isn’t.’ I handed him the empty jug. ‘Bring me a top-up too, will you, little guy?’

  ‘Certainly, sir, with the greatest of pleasure. Madam.’

  He bowed and bustled out. I watched him go, grinning: he’d been like this, oozing smarm, ever since the imperial dinner invitation had hit the mat. Sometimes the little guy was so transparent that it was embarrassing.

  ‘I thought you were staying at home this morning.’ Perilla settled down on the couch opposite.

  ‘Hmm? No, I changed my mind. I decided I’d go round to old Cornelius Lentulus’s.’

  ‘Really? Why would you want to …?’ She stopped. ‘It had something to do with the case, didn’t it?’

  ‘Ah …’

  ‘Marcus, I told you! Never mind what Postuma said, leave things alone! You did your best where Naevius Surdinus was concerned, and as far as the conspiracy side of things goes, if Felix and Gaius are happy that it’s dead, that’s the end of it.’ She paused. ‘And if it isn’t then it’s no business of yours.’

  ‘Even if come the Palatine Games, Gaius gets himself chopped?’

  She looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, I don’t actually wish the poor man harm, but …’

  Wish him harm! Jupiter! ‘Look, lady, we’re talking about the possibility of treason and the assassination of a serving emperor here. In under ten days’ time.’

  ‘True. Perhaps, anyway. If you believe in Postuma’s conversations with Alexander the Great, that is.’ The barest sniff: one of Nature’s militant realists, our Perilla.

  ‘Yes. Granted. Even so, it could well happen. You want to have Gaius’s death and a coup d’état on your conscience? B
ecause I don’t.’

  She was quiet for a long time. Then she said: ‘So what did you talk to Lentulus about?’

  Hey! This was better! ‘I thought he might be able to fill me in on some of the best prospects. Which he did.’

  ‘Namely?’

  I told her. ‘It looks promising for Asiaticus, at least in circumstantial terms. The guy’s good, so good he has even Lentulus in two minds. And Cornelius Lentulus is sharp.’

  ‘How do you mean, good?’

  ‘On the face of it, he’s a simple political dropout. No interest in politics, doesn’t even bother to turn up at meetings of the senate, let alone get involved in the committee network. Plus the fact that he’s the adulterer’s ideal of a cuckolded husband.’

  ‘That’s hardly fair, Marcus. After all, if Gaius took a shine to his wife, seduced her and then chose to drop her, what could he do about it, practically speaking? It was one of the dangers of the circles he moves in. She was the emperor’s one-time sister-in-law, after all.’

  ‘Yeah, well, maybe. But the result is that now he’s survived at least two, maybe three conspiracies that he may well have been mixed up in, where he was close to the principals concerned, just because Gaius can’t take him seriously. If he isn’t genuine then that takes some managing.’

  ‘Perhaps he is.’

  ‘Perilla, there is no way. Certainly not this time. He had to be the one who set me up for that mugging on the Janiculan, for a start, because for one reason or another his pals at that dodgy confab in Longinus’s villa are out of it. Which means he’s involved in this thing up to his eyeballs, maybe even at the centre. And like I say his cover’s perfect. What better position for a mover and shaker to be in than as the target’s prime buffoon? No, Asiaticus is our man, all right. One of them, anyway.’

  Bathyllus came in with the drinks, refilling my cup from the new half-jug. Perilla took her steaming honey-herb abomination and sipped.

  ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘What about the other two? The ones Capito named, Clemens and the freedman secretary?’

  ‘Yeah, now they’re interesting.’ I swallowed some of my own wine. ‘Asiaticus has a personal axe to grind, sure, regarding his wife, but as far as I can see, Clemens and Callistus don’t, quite the reverse, because it’s thanks to Gaius that they’re both at the top of their respective trees. If they want him gone – which they may well do – it’s out of pure altruism.’

  ‘Don’t sneer, Marcus, it does happen sometimes. From what you told me, Julius Graecinus had no personal axe to grind either.’

  ‘True. And I wasn’t sneering.’ I frowned; Graecinus’s wasn’t a name I wanted to be reminded of. I like my villains to be villains, and he just didn’t qualify, or if he did the price the poor bastard had paid was too high for me to stomach. ‘Fair enough. Altruism it is. For the time being, anyway. Mind you, Lentulus didn’t know much about Callistus apart from the fact that he’s good at his job and seems to be all that’s saving Gaius from having to hock the silver and rent out the Treasury vaults as vacant office space.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘More or less.’ I took another swig of the Setinian. ‘Apropos Callistus, though, I’ve come across one or two of those shit-hot-genius-with-numbers guys before. Their brains work a different way, they live in a world of their own, and they’ve got different priorities. Maybe seeing treason and assassination as a viable means of solving the niggling problem of a minus figure at the bottom of his monthly balance sheet makes perfect sense to him. Or maybe he has other reasons. Gaius did say he was ambitious.’

  ‘Ambitious in what direction?’

  I shrugged. ‘Pass, lady. I’ve never even met the man. It’s all hearsay.’

  ‘How about Clemens? Altruism again, yes?’

  ‘Yeah. At least, like I said, no other reason that’s obvious, which is why he didn’t end up chopped along with the others before the festival or at best moved to where he couldn’t do any harm. Gaius admitted himself that having a Commander of Praetorians on the team would be a pretty big plus for any conspiracy, yet he didn’t take the thing any further. And Gaius is no fool.’

  ‘Then perhaps he’s innocent after all.’

  ‘Maybe he is. Still, like Callistus, he’s got strong professional reasons for wanting Gaius out of the picture that happen to fit with his personal inclinations.’

  ‘Namely?’

  I told her what Lentulus had told me about Jamnia, the business of the statue, and the potential Jewish problem. Not that I needed to go into too much detail: Perilla had been with me in Alexandria and seen for herself how a cultural head-to-head could end up. By the time I’d finished she was staring at me wide-eyed.

  ‘But, Marcus, that’s dreadful!’ she said. ‘The emperor can’t be serious!’

  ‘Yeah, well, as far as putting his statue up in the Jerusalem Temple’s concerned, that side of it’s been shelved for now. But you know Gaius. Tell him he can’t do something because of the possible consequences and he’ll go ahead and do it anyway, just to show who’s boss. And the Jews are just as bad. They don’t give an inch either. Throw in the Greeks and their keep-poking-and-watch-the-bastards-jump attitude, and with Gaius running things it’s a disaster waiting to happen.’

  ‘And you think Clemens means to stop it? By killing the emperor?’

  ‘That’s the idea. Certainly as a motive for treason it makes sense. The guy’s sympathies first and foremost are with the Jews, sure, that’d weigh pretty heavily, but it wouldn’t be the only factor. According to Lentulus he’s a professional soldier. Just to sit on his hands and watch while Gaius put the whole of the east at risk militarily wouldn’t be an option. For someone who thinks in straight lines, in terms of doing, assassination would be the obvious answer.’ I took another swallow of wine. ‘Besides, there’s a valid link between him and Capito. Gaius said they didn’t know each other, that there was no connection. But it turns out that Capito was the emperor’s rep in Jamnia when the whole thing started.’

  ‘Why should that be significant?’

  I shrugged. ‘Search me, lady. Maybe it’s just coincidence; these things happen. But certainly the link is there. Maybe when Capito was recalled to Rome Clemens went round to see him, spoke his mind a bit too freely, even went a bit OTT where criticising Gaius’s response went. That can happen too.’

  She was twisting a lock of hair. ‘One thing you haven’t considered, dear.’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Who they’re doing it for. I mean, you can’t just have a conspiracy to topple an emperor in a vacuum. If they want to get rid of Gaius then surely they’d have to have someone to put in his place. Someone valid, I mean.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I was frowning. ‘Actually, I was coming to that. Lentulus mentioned a name at the end of the conversation. Just pulled it out of the air apropos of nothing, then dropped the subject like a hot brick.’

  ‘What name was that?’

  ‘Vinicianus. Annius Vinicianus.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘You know him?’

  ‘I know of him, certainly. We may even have met once or twice at literary get-togethers. He’s Marcus Vinicius’s nephew.’

  Right; I should’ve guessed from the name, or at least that there was some sort of family connection. Marcus Vinicius was the closest we – or rather Perilla – had to a VIP acquaintance: ex-consul, political high-flier, one of the imperial set, married to Gaius’s youngest sister Livilla, and the star member of Perilla’s poetry-klatsch circle. We’d met a couple of years back, at the time of the Macro business, when Perilla engineered an invite for me to a reading at his house, and I’d been very favourably impressed. Not a bad guy, Marcus Vinicius. For an imperial.

  ‘Is that so, now?’ I said.

  ‘You can’t mean Vinicianus, though. As a replacement for Gaius, that is. Oh, he’s certainly well liked and respected, from what I hear, but I wouldn’t’ve thought he was emperor material, even in his own estimation.’

  ‘Actually, I was think
ing of Vinicius himself.’

  Perilla stared at me. ‘You’re not serious!’

  ‘Why not? He’s got the political mileage and the street cred, easy. He’s proved a dozen times over that he can handle responsibility. He’s level-headed, popular with the senate and the army. He’s even married to Gaius’s sister. What more could you want?’

  ‘Marcus, be sensible! We’ve been through all this before. Two years ago. Vinicius is no traitor, he hasn’t got it in him to be: you suspected him then, and you admitted you were wrong. You can’t go back on that now.’

  ‘Sure I can, lady, because this time we’re in a completely different ball game. And I never said Vinicius was a traitor, one of the conspirators. If Lentulus had wanted to finger Vinicius per se, he’d’ve done it, not faff around being cryptic.’

  ‘What, then? And why should Cornelius Lentulus know anything about the plot?’

  I grinned. ‘Perilla, never underestimate Lentulus, right? What he hears and what he admits to hearing, let alone acts on, are two different things, which is why the crafty bugger’s survived with all his wollocks attached through sixty-odd years of politicking, three emperors, the gods know how many conspiracies and more senatorial intrigue and back-stabbing than you can shake a stick at. Plus he’s got a brain like a razor. Which means that, no, I haven’t a fucking clue how he knows about the plot, but I’ll bet you a dozen new mantles against a used corn plaster that he does. OK?’

  She ducked her head. ‘Very well, Marcus. And there’s no need to swear, thank you. Even so, I’d like an answer to my other question, please. If you aren’t saying that Marcus Vinicius is involved in the plot, then what are you saying?’

  ‘Look. The situations two years ago and now are completely different, right? Two years back Gaius was doing OK; the guy wasn’t perfect, but no one had any real legitimate grouses. That conspiracy – Lepidus and the rest – was just about power and greed. Yes?’

  ‘Fair enough. So?’

  ‘So this one isn’t, or not completely so. You said it yourself: sometimes there’s a place for altruism where motive’s concerned. Two out of the three guys we’ve got earmarked as conspirators here have no personal grudge against Gaius, quite the contrary: Callistus is his freedman, with all the obligations that entails, and the guy’s been promoted according to his merit rather than his social standing, while Clemens is holding down one of the top military jobs in the empire. Not bad for a no-namer from Arpinum.’