In at the Death (Marcus Corvinus Book 11)

by David Wishart

  ‘Hi, Perilla,’ I said. ‘Nice evening?’

  She looked up from her book. Hell: four large candelabra fully equipped with lamps. No chance; no chance. Bathyllus had followed me in, too, and he was hovering at the edge of the lamplight like a third actor who’s hoping he’s in the wrong play.

  Perilla set down the book-roll. ‘Oh, good, you’re back,’ she said. ‘Now you can tell me why you -’ - which was when she saw the bloodstain on my tunic sleeve, plus the rest of the extensive collateral damage, and her eyes widened. ‘Marcus! What on earth –!’

  ‘It’s just a cut,’ I said hurriedly. ‘It looks a lot worse than it is.’

  She was already half way across the room. ‘Bathyllus, get Sarpedon!’

  ‘Yes, madam.’ He turned.

  ‘Hang on, Bathyllus,’ I said. Sarpedon was our family doctor, one of the best in Rome. He wouldn’t take kindly to being hauled out of bed for what was basically a minor clean-up job. Besides, he charged a fortune. ‘I’m okay, lady, honestly. All it needs is a bit of vinegar and water.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ She reached over. ‘Take your hand away! Let me look!’

  ‘Uh-uh. I’ll do it,’ I said quickly: concerned Perilla might be, but she’s no gentle-handed nurse. I peeled back the tunic sleeve. Luckily although thanks to Placida the cut had started bleeding again it didn’t look too bad.

  Perilla examined it. ‘That’s a knife wound!’ she said.

  ‘Possibly. Possibly. But –’

  ‘Bathyllus! Fetch a basin, a sponge, vinegar, linen dressing and a bandage!’ The little bald-head shot off like he’d been greased. ‘Now, Marcus. You are going to sit down and explain. And this had better be good.’

  Here we went. I stripped off what was left of the tunic and sat down on the couch. ‘It’s no big deal. I got mugged. Or at least partly mugged. On the Old Ostia Road.’

  ‘Partly mugged?’

  ‘We were interrupted by a couple of stonemasons. At least they said they were stonemasons.’

  ‘What do you mean, “said”?’

  ‘They weren’t. They were army.’

  ‘Oh, come on!’

  ‘Lady, I know, right?’

  ‘And where was Placida in all this?’

  Hell. ‘Ah...’

  ‘Marcus, you may be silly enough to go walking on the Aventine after dark; in fact, having lived with you for almost twenty years I know you are. But I would’ve expected even an Aventine mugger to hesitate before getting involved with a dog of that size –’

  ‘Yeah, well, she –.’

  ‘– unless, of course, you’d also been silly enough to leave her behind this morning with Alexis.’

  Shit. ‘You knew?’

  ‘No. At least, not until ten minutes ago when I heard her howling at the bottom of the garden and watched you sneak her out the side gate. That made the inference fairly obvious. Marcus, how could you have been so stupid?’

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘It’s a fair cop. But she had a good run with Alexis out the Appian Road. Better than she’d’ve had with me.’

  ‘That’s not the point, and you know it. Well, it serves you right, that’s all I can say.’ Bathyllus came in with the basin and the fixings and put them down on the table beside me. ‘Thank you, Bathyllus. Arm out.’

  I held it over the basin while she sponged the cut clean...

  ‘Ouch!’

  She sniffed. ‘Marcus, if you won’t have Sarpedon then don’t complain. I’m doing my best. Also, I’m not feeling particularly sympathetic at present.’

  Gods! ‘Look,’ I said I’ve been mugged once already this evening. Once is enough.’

  ‘Partly mugged. And as I say it serves you right.’ She put on the dressing, held the end of the bandage up for Bathyllus to slit and then tied the two ribbons together. ‘Comfortable?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good.’

  I leaned forward and kissed her. She was shaking.

  ‘Wine, Bathyllus,’ I said. ‘Unwatered, and another cup. No arguments, lady, it’s medicinal.’

  He buttled off.

  When he’d gone, Perilla sat back against me and closed her eyes. ‘You could have been killed,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Yeah. Right,’ I said. ‘But I wasn’t.’

  ‘Not this time. Next time you may not be so lucky.’

  ‘If I have Placida with me?’

  ‘It’s not the dog, Marcus. You know it isn’t.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, and kissed her again. ‘Yeah, I know.’

  We sat for a while. Then she opened her eyes and said in a more normal voice: ‘Why are you so sure that your two stonemasons were army?’

  ‘Because they were too good. Trained professionals. They went through the muggers like a dose of salts. Also, one of the bastards died and they didn’t even bat an eyelid, and with your ordinary tunics that isn’t natural.’

  ‘Hmm. How old were they?’

  ‘About the same age as me. Mid to late thirties.’

  ‘Very well. There’s your answer: old enough to have got their discharge. There’s no reason why they shouldn’t be ex-army and stonemasons as well, is there? Did you ask them?’

  ‘No, but –’

  ‘Then don’t look for unnecessary complications.’

  ‘Discharged soldiers get their severance pay in land.’

  ‘Which they can then sell. Just because they’re veterans doesn’t mean to say they’re natural farmers. And soldiers are trained to work with stone. It might even be a family business one of them’s gone back to.’

  I frowned. She was right, sure. And I hadn’t asked. Even so...

  ‘You think it was just an ordinary mugging?’ She was twisting her hair. ‘Or had it something to do with the Papinius business?’

  I’d been wondering that myself. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘It could’ve been coincidence, sure. Like you say, the Aventine’s no place to be alone after dark. All the same, now that I know for certain that the kid was murdered I wouldn’t like to lay odds.’

  She sat up. ‘You’re sure about that?’

  ‘Oh, yes. No doubts now whatsoever.’ I told her what Lautia had told me, plus highlights of the Caepio interview. Half way through, Bathyllus came back with the wine, plus a half jug of ready-watered stuff on the side. Perilla sipped at hers while I took a gulp before topping up the cup from the jug.

  ‘Then who was responsible?’ Perilla said.

  ‘Jupiter knows. Maybe this Carsidius, for all Caepio says. He’s the most likely bet.’ I took another swallow. ‘That was odd. The guy was adamant Carsidius wouldn’t’ve done it, but he wouldn’t tell me why. And he’s got beans to spill himself, that’s definite.’

  ‘But why should Lucius Carsidius kill the boy? Marcus, his factor’s right, Carsidius is a well-respected senator, even I know that. He is not the sort of man to go around killing people. Or having them killed.’

  ‘Turn the bribery on its head: Carsidius was fiddling his damage claim, Papinius found out and told him he intended to report it. The well-respected senator angle’s no barrier, lady, not where peculation and rooking the government’s concerned. Broad-stripers’ve always looked on that as a traditional right, not a crime. And if Carsidius had a reputation to consider it would’ve made the threat of exposure even worse.’

  ‘Bad enough to go the length of murder?’

  ‘Why not? They’re all callous bastards at root, especially the so-called respectable ones. Remember Lamia?’

  Perilla closed her eyes briefly. ‘Yes, Marcus’ she said quietly. ‘Oh, yes.’ Aelius Lamia and his senatorial sidekick Arruntius had been instrumental, when Sejanus fell, in having the guy’s children executed. One of them was a twelve-year-old girl, and since executing an under-age virgin is against the law Bastard Lamia together with oh-so-honourable pride-of-the-fucking-senate Arruntius had told the public strangler to remove the latter half of the legal stumbling-block before he carried out the order. It was the reason - then - that we’d
left Rome, and I’d sworn I’d never come back. The lady still had nightmares, off and on. Lamia himself was long dead, but Allenius had told me that Carsidius and Arruntius were friends and soul-mates. He’d meant it as a character reference. Me - well, it just made my gorge rise.

  ‘But Balbus said Papinius was taking bribes,’ Perilla said. ‘Or do you think he was lying after all?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I took an irritable swig of wine. ‘Maybe. It’s a possibility. Maybe it’s a cover-up and Balbus is in it too. I wouldn’t put anything past these senatorial bastards. One sniff of scandal and they close ranks and lock shields like a legionary tortoise.’

  ‘A cover-up for what?’

  ‘The gods know. I’m talking through my ears here. The only thing I’m absolutely certain of at this point is that the kid’s death was no suicide.’

  ‘Marcus, be careful. I have a bad feeling about this. I don’t think your muggers were ordinary Aventine knifemen.’

  ‘No, lady. Neither do I.’ Well, it’d explain my own gut feeling that someone had been tailing me for the last couple of days. Mind you, I didn’t believe in my altruistic stonemasons’ deus-ex-machina act either; that was just too neat to be coincidence. I finished the wine at a swig. ‘The hell with it for now, anyway. I’m starving, it’s been a long time since lunch and Bathyllus mentioned something about meatballs.’

  ‘Oh. Oh, yes, they’re on the dining-room table.’ Perilla got up. ‘By the way, where’s Placida?’

  I looked round. ‘She was right behind me, but I haven’t seen her since...Shit!’

  I leapt off the couch and ran through to the dining-room.

  No meatballs. No dog, either, just an empty pate licked clean and a few breadcrumbs. Hell. The end to a perfect day. I went back to the atrium, stomach rumbling.

  ‘Have they gone?’ Perilla said.

  ‘Like the snowfall on the river. Bugger!’

  ‘Never mind, dear. A heavy meal last thing at night isn’t good for you anyway.’

  ‘A plateful of meatballs isn’t a heavy meal, lady. And I’d’ve liked to’ve been given the option. I hope the brute has heartburn.’ Ah, well. The joy of pets. And I had had my dog-free day; I couldn’t grudge her half a dozen of Meton’s meatballs in return. ‘Bed?’

  ‘Bed.’

  Tomorrow I would track down Carsidius.

  18

  It was pretty late when we woke the next morning, but then I reckoned I was owed a bit of a lie-in, not to mention a substantial breakfast. Besides, I’d got quite a strenuous day ahead of me, beginning with a hike over to the Trigemina Gate to check on the bona fides or otherwise of my stonemason chums. In the unlikely event that they did turn out to be pukkah then fine; once I had an address I could thank them by sending a couple of jars of Caecuban. If not...well, we’d have to think about that.

  ‘You’ll be taking Placida, naturally,’ Perilla said as Bathyllus poured her breakfast fruit juice.

  She’d caught me in mid-bite of my honeyed roll. I almost choked.

  ‘Jupiter, lady, I’ve got a job to do!’

  She sighed. ‘Marcus, we talked about this last night. Oh, I quite agree, she’d be far better off with Alexis. He’s much more reliable, and at least he can be trusted to look after her properly, but –’

  ‘But what?’ I set the roll down.

  ‘Well, you haven’t exactly been a good influence so far, have you? She was a perfect angel when she came, and look at her now.’ I was staring open-mouthed. She reached for the grapes. ‘Oh, I’m not blaming you, dear, it’s not completely your fault: animals are very sensitive to these things. But even so, after the events of yesterday evening I’d be happier knowing you have her with you.’

  There ain’t no justice. Bugger. Trapped again. Not that I would’ve minded all that much about that - she was right; if someone had set these two muggers on me then having Placida on the team would be a serious disincentive for a second attempt - but being accused of corrupting the brute’s morals really hurt. I hoped I never met the sainted Sestia Calvina because unless somebody restrained me I’d vivisect the lady with a rusty sawblade.

  Yeah, well. Like the Stoics say, when Fate frowns on you all you can do is give her the finger and grin back. Besides, Alexis had said that Placida had been good as gold yesterday. Maybe she was settling down.

  And maybe we’d be hit from above by a shower of pigshit.

  Bathyllus oozed over. ‘Would you like some more rolls, sir?’ he said. ‘Madam?’

  ‘Uh-uh. Not for me, anyway, little guy,’ I said, standing up. ‘I’d better be going. Oh. One thing. You have an address for Lucius Carsidius? The senator?’

  He hardly blinked. ‘Yes, of course. He has a house on the Esquiline, overlooking Patrician Street.’

  ‘Could you send a skivvy round? Ask if it’d be convenient to call on him some time this afternoon.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Fine. I should be back here in time for lunch and you can give me his answer then. Where’s Placida?’

  ‘With Meton in the kitchen, sir. She spends a lot of her time down there. As I said, they’ve become quite friendly.’

  Gods! Put these two together and you had the potential for a partnership made in hell. Still, that was Meton’s business. Or at least I hoped it’d stay that way.

  ‘Wheel her up, then, pal,’ I said. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

  ‘Don’t forget Lippillus and Marcina are coming to dinner tonight,’ Perilla said. Damn; I had. Never mind, the Esquiline wasn’t too far away and an afternoon appointment with Carsidius would get me back in plenty of time. ‘Oh, and Marcus?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Be careful.’

  Although ‘good as gold’ didn’t exactly describe Placida’s behaviour on the walk - there was a minor incident involving a pie-seller near the Racetrack, but the guy had snapped his fingers at her and it was his own fault - we made it without too much trouble. Maybe sending her out with Alexis hadn’t been such a bad move after all, and she’d decided to turn over a new leaf.

  Maybe.

  The Trigemina Gate’s on the river side of the city, beyond Circus Valley and opposite the north-west corner of the Aventine. That stretch, following the river and all the way south to Pottery Mountain, is definitely industrial area, mostly the heavy or bulk variety because the raw material can come up or down the Tiber by barge and doesn’t have to be transported overland all that far. So we weren’t exactly short of stonemasons’ yards here. Accordingly, I gave it a fair crack of the whip; I asked at every yard and every wine-shop from the Sublician down to Drusus and Germanicus Arch.

  No one had heard of either Sextus Aponius or Quintus Pettius.

  Okay, so check. So much for the accidental stonemasons; the buggers had been tailing me right enough. The question was why? And who had sent them? Not that I wasn’t grateful, mark you.

  Well, at least I’d done my duty by Perilla. What with the trip over to the Gate and subsequent detours up and down the river bank, Placida couldn’t complain that she wasn’t getting her share of exercise. I wasn’t going to do an Alexis and risk letting her off the lead, though, even in the comparatively open ground near Pottery Mountain. Chasing rampant Gallic boarhounds over half the Thirteenth Region was a pleasure I could do without.

  I got back home in time for a quick lunch before my arranged appointment with Lucius Carsidius. Perilla wasn’t in, so I left Placida sleeping it off in Alexis’s shed and headed up to the Esquiline.

  . . .

  Carsidius was everything I’d expected: a handsome, upright, silver-haired senator who just radiated respectability, honesty, trustworthiness, love of honour and the embodiment of everything that has made Rome great. Dad would’ve loved him. More, he’d chosen to see me in his private study, where the eyes of a dozen generations of his family in the form of portrait busts glared down at me as if I’d just pissed under their noses on the fancy mosaic floor.

  He was also, very plainly although he tried to
hide it, nervous. And...angry. There was no other word for it.

  Odd.

  ‘Valerius Corvinus,’ he said, rising. ‘Do come in, please.’ Then, to the slave who’d brought me in: ‘Bring us some wine, Flavius. Corvinus, you’ll find that chair most comfortable if you’d care to sit.’

  I sat. He did the same, behind his desk. We looked at each other.

  ‘I’m –’ I began.

  He held up a hand. ‘I know why you’re here,’ he said. ‘To ask me about the death of young Sextus Papinius. But first I’m afraid that I have a confession to make. Rather a serious one, as it happens.’

  ‘Uh...you have?’ I said.

  ‘Yes. You see, I bribed him.’

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I stared at the guy.

  ‘You did what?’ I said.

  ‘I gave Sextus Papinius twenty thousand sesterces. In exchange for his accepting some false information regarding the damage to several pieces of property I have on the Aventine.’

  My brain had gone numb. ‘Uh...run that past me again, pal,’ I said. ‘You’re telling me, free, gratis and for nothing, under no compulsion or threat whatsoever, that you slipped the boy a backhander?’

  ‘Yes.’ His face was unreadable, although I thought I detected a slight hint of distaste. ‘I’m not proud of myself, not in the least. Quite the reverse. And I’ve already confessed to Laelius Balbus, in exchange, of course, for an assurance that the matter ends here and there will be no prosecution. Under the circumstances that would be in no one’s interests.’ The door behind me opened and he glanced over my shoulder. ‘Ah. Here’s the wine. Just pour it and go, Flavius, we’re discussing business.’

  He did. I looked at Carsidius over the wine-cup. ‘How much did you say you’d given him?’ I said.

  ‘Twenty thousand sesterces.’

  ‘You’re sure it wasn’t fifty?’

  ‘Fifty? Why fifty?’

  ‘Fifty seems a nice round number. Although sixty would be even better.’

  ‘No. It was twenty thousand, and it represented a...shall we call it a ten percent commission on what I personally would make from the deal.’ His lips twisted. ‘No doubt he made similar arrangements with other customers but I know nothing of them.’