In at the Death (Marcus Corvinus Book 11)

by David Wishart

  ‘Wrong, pal. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Also, a mistake. First off, Papinius was straight as a rule. He wouldn’t’ve taken a bribe from anyone. Second, according to Balbus he kept the bribery issue a secret between the kid and himself. So how the hell do you come to know about it?’

  I thought he’d hit me - he was within spitting distance of it, and from the expression on his face hitting me was the least he’d’ve liked to do - but he turned away.

  ‘Ruber!’ he shouted. Then he turned back to me. ‘Get out,’ he said softly. ‘Get out now, while you can still walk, or I’ll have my slaves break your legs, arms and ribs and throw you out. And if I find that you’ve dared to make these disgusting accusations public, Valerius Corvinus, then believe me you will be very, very sorry indeed. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, standing. ‘That’s clear enough. You’ve been very informative. Thanks for your time, pal.’

  He didn’t answer, just glared. I followed the silent slave to the exit.

  I’d come by litter, naturally: a walk half way across Rome swathed in a formal mantle just isn’t on, especially when you have to arrive fresh, clean and sweet-smelling at the end of it. All the same, I’d done my duty now by the conventions and it was a lovely morning, far too good to be carried through the crowded streets in a curtained box. So once I was clear of the palace I told the litter-guys to stop, got out, stripped off the mantle and continued down the incline on foot.

  Well, that’d been interesting. I’d made myself a serious enemy, mind, and no doubt when the blood stopped pounding in my temples I’d regret it, but all the same I wasn’t too unhappy. I’d rattled the bastard’s cage good and proper, and to good purpose: whatever Ahenobarbus’s involvement was in all this, I’d bet my last copper penny he wasn’t innocent. And I hadn’t missed the implications of that threat, either. Ahenobarbus wanted things buried, which meant there was something to bury.

  So what was it? The smart money was on some sort of scam, current or previous, involving the fire commission. What it was, and how it worked, like I’d told Perilla, I hadn’t a clue, but it had to be possible. Given that, everything slipped into place, and it explained why Ahenobarbus had been nervous as a cat in an oven. Every one of my shots had gone home, that I’d swear to. Imperial the guy might be, but as long as the Wart was still on his perch getting caught with your hand seriously in the till was not a good idea whoever you were, because if there was one thing Tiberius really took exception to it was high officials on the make. And if the old emperor did hand in his feed-bowl shortly, that wouldn’t do Ahenobarbus any favours either. Brothers-in-law or not, he and Gaius were far from being bosom buddies, and that went for Rome’s next emperor and his sister, too. In spades. If rumour was to be believed, Agrippina hated Gaius’s guts, and it was mutual. Not that I blamed the lady there: family loyalty wasn’t exactly one of our crown prince’s leading features, however much he might pretend to the contrary, and cuddly and likeable were two things that the bastard wasn’t.

  So no wonder Ahenobarbus was nervous. And if he was responsible for this whole boiling then it would explain a lot. Certainly he’d have the clout to put pressure on Balbus, no argument there; he’d even manage, if push came to shove, to make up a convincing case that proved young Papinius was taking bribes. Also if he’d known that a top-notcher like Domitius Ahenobarbus was behind Papinius’s death then it was no wonder that Caepio had been shitting bricks about pointing the finger.

  Carsidius, mind...Carsidius was something else. He was the one bit of the puzzle that wouldn’t fit, whichever way you turned it. Carsidius worried me.

  I was heading towards the Caelian and home, down Scaurus Incline. What made me look back, I don’t know - maybe just instinct - but just at that moment the crowd parted and I saw a couple of familiar faces. My stonemason chums Aponius and Pettius.

  Uh-huh. Check.

  I turned quickly and carried on walking. They might’ve noticed they’d been spotted, sure, but I’d managed not to make a big thing of it so maybe I was lucky. Okay, Corvinus, so let’s play this nice and gently; these were two bastards I really needed to talk to, but if it was mutual I’d be very surprised indeed. Ahead, where the incline met the flat of Caelian Valley, was seriously built-up area, with lots of tenements, shops and side alleyways. I slowed to make sure they didn’t lose me - not that I reckoned there was much chance of that - , ignored the first two openings on the right then turned the corner of the third, between a high-rise and a butcher’s shop. Then I ducked into a handy doorway and waited.

  Aponius passed me first, eyes front scanning the pavement ahead. I stepped out and grabbed him.

  ‘Just a minute, pal,’ I said. ‘I’d like –’

  – which was as far as I got before Pettius’s shoulder slammed into my back, pitching me into one of the city’s ubiquitous bag-ladies coming the other way loaded down with half the vegetable market. She went down with a thump and a scream, scattering onions and turnips. Meanwhile, Aponius had twisted like an eel to one side and planted a fist in my ribs. It was like being slugged with a rock. I collapsed against the tenement wall gasping.

  Aponius chuckled. ‘Sorry about that, Corvinus. No hard feelings, eh?’

  And then he was gone. Both of them were gone, pushing their way through the gathering crowd and into the next alley.

  Shit!

  I started after them. A hand caught my ankle and I went arse-over-tip to the ground, landing on my sore arm. Pain lanced up.

  ‘What the hell d’you think you’re doing, sonny?’ the bag-lady snapped, letting the ankle go. ‘You think you own the fucking street?’

  ‘Uh...I’m sorry, grandma.’ I stood up, trying to hug my arm and my ribs at the same time. ‘Accident.’

  ‘Holy Mother, I’ll give you accident!’ She glared up at me like Allecto on a bad day. ‘That’s my Quintus’s dinner there, all over the fucking road!’

  ‘Ah...yeah. Yeah.’ I fumbled my belt-pouch open and took out a couple of silver pieces. ‘Look, buy him a chicken, okay?’

  ‘Chicken brings him out in a fucking rash!’

  I pressed the money into her hand, shoved through a knot of supportive and very vociferous tunics and headed for the alleyway.

  Too late. Miles too late.

  Bugger.

  Nothing else for it. I went home.

  23

  Perilla was in the atrium, having her hair done.

  ‘Oh, hello, dear,’ she said. ‘How did your talk with –’ At which point she saw the state of my tunic. The streets of Rome might be okay to walk along, most of them, but rolling about in them is a bad, bad idea. ‘Marcus! Not again!’

  I held up both hands. ‘Yeah, yeah, I know. But no damage this time, lady, it’s just dirt. I, uh, took a bit of a tumble.’

  ‘We’ll finish later, Chloë,’ she said to the maid. The girl nodded and scurried out, taking her curling-tongs with her and giving me a scared glance over her shoulder. New staff. She’d get used to it. ‘Marcus, you do not take a tumble in a litter! What happened, and where’s your mantle?’

  ‘That’s okay. I left it with the lardballs. They not back yet?’

  ‘No. Or not to my knowledge. And don’t change the subject.’

  The buggers had probably stopped off at a wine-shop to refuel. I didn’t use them often, and they took every chance they could get to jump the wall. Well, I didn’t blame them. It was a nice day.

  ‘Look, I just banged into a bag-lady on Staurus Incline, all right?’ I said, and took a swig from the wine-cup Bathyllus had provided me with. ‘I wasn’t looking where I was going. It’s easy enough done.’

  ‘Marcus Valerius Corvinus!’

  Ah, well, it was a fair cop. ‘Remember the two fake stonemasons?’ I said.

  ‘Yes, of course I do.’

  I gave her the basic outline. When I’d finished, she said: ‘They were following you? Why? Who sent them?’

  ‘Jupiter, I don’t know! But I’d give it good odds, lady. An
d they’re not interested in conversation. Unfortunately, I had my chance and I blew it all over the shop. No bones broken, though. Seriously.’

  She sniffed. ‘All right. What happened with Domitius Ahenobarbus?’

  I told her the details. Such as they were. ‘He’s covering. The gods know for what, but he’s covering, and he’s scared.’

  ‘Ahenobarbus is scared? Be serious, Marcus! He’s one of the most powerful men in Rome!’

  ‘Even so.’ I took another sip of wine. ‘It’s a scam. It has to be. And in that case, of course he’s scared. Imperial or not, if he’s stepped out of line the Wart will nail his skin to the senate-house door if he has to get off his deathbed to do it. And if he doesn’t then Gaius’ll do it for him.’

  She was quiet for a long time. Then she said: ‘Marcus, I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all. It’s beginning to turn very nasty.’

  I knew what she meant; to be honest, I didn’t like it either. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: you don’t mess with imperials, even when they’re second-rank ones, and if someone of the calibre of Domitius Ahenobarbus had something private cooking then lifting the lid of the pot and dipping your spoon in was a bad, bad idea. Still, the job had to be done, and I had enough problems without worrying about Perilla worrying, as it were. I put the wine-cup down, went over and kissed her.

  ‘Look, lady,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a charmed life, all right? And I’m on the right side of the fence. The guys who should be sweating blood - and I’ll bet they are - are the ones who had young Papinius thrown through a window. Who they are, and why they did it, I don’t know, but I have to find out, okay?’

  She rested her forehead against my chest for a moment. ‘Yes. Yes, I suppose you do,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, dear. I won’t mention it again.’ A pause; then, like she was asking a doctor for a verdict that she knew already: ‘Do you think there’s any possibility that Ahenobarbus could have been involved? Directly involved, I mean? In Papatius’s death?’

  I went back to my couch, taking my time doing it. That was a question I’d been trying not to ask myself. Still, it had to be faced. ‘It’s possible,’ I said carefully. ‘In theory, anyway. Leaving out the whys and the wherefores.’

  ‘His own son?’

  ‘That wouldn’t count much with him, Perilla. He’s a callous bastard, Ahenobarbus, Papinius was nothing to him but a by-blow and I doubt if he’d think twice about having him killed. If it became necessary, if he had a good enough reason.’

  ‘And you think that he might have had?’

  I took another gulp of the Setinian. ‘Maybe. You could argue for it, anyway. Certainly he got the kid his job on the commission; he did, not Allenius, although Ahenobarbus fixed things publicly so it’d appear otherwise. There must’ve been a reason for that besides paternal affection, which like I say just isn’t that bastard’s bag. Six gets you ten having Papinius to hand on the staff was an essential part of the scam.’

  ‘But, Marcus, you said it yourself. Papinius was nineteen years old, hardly more than a boy. What use could he be to someone like Ahenobarbus?’

  ‘I don’t know! Jupiter, lady, if I’d got that far I’d have the whole thing!’ I swallowed another mouthful of wine. ‘In any case, whatever it was it went wrong. Badly so, and my bet is that it was the kid’s fault. Maybe he got cold feet, maybe he blabbed to someone out of turn, maybe he just made a mistake. Whatever happened, he became the weak link. Which is where Mucius Soranus comes in.’

  ‘There is one major problem, of course,’ Perilla said.

  ‘Yeah? What’s that?’

  ‘Whatever Papinius was involved in would be illegal, wouldn’t it? Certainly dishonest.’

  ‘Naturally it would. That’s the whole point.’

  ‘But if Papinius knew that - well, surely you’ve been insisting all along that he was fundamentally an honest young man? I thought that was axiomatic.’

  ‘No problem there. In fact, things make more sense that way. Okay. Scenario. Imagine you’re the kid, right? You’ve just landed your first responsible public post and you’re on the ladder a good step higher than you’d expected to be. How do you feel?’

  ‘Very proud. Over the moon. And desperate to do well.’

  ‘Fine. At that point, completely out of the blue, one of your top bosses - your top bosses, the emperor’s own nephew - calls you into his office or wherever and tells you you’re his son. How does that grab you?’

  Perilla was looking thoughtful. ‘I suppose I’d be totally dumbfounded. Unless I’d suspected it already, naturally.’

  ‘Yeah, right. Still, the qualification doesn’t signify. Young Papinius was no bonehead, and he hadn’t led a sheltered life, either. He must’ve heard rumours, and what with the timing of the divorce and his legal father’s attitude to him and his mother over the years he’d have to have been thick not to put two and two together. But he couldn’t’ve been sure. Now he was. We know he was, because Cluvia told us he was really proud of his family, and of his father in particular. That’d make no sense where Allenius was concerned - up to that point Papatius had scarcely even mentioned him - but if he meant Ahenobarbus it makes sense in spades. Okay?’

  ‘Yes. Go on.’

  ‘So.’ I refilled my wine-cup. ‘Ahenobarbus calls you in and hits you with the whammy. He also tells you that he’s directly responsible for getting you the post. Like you say, you’re totally gobsmacked. Then - this is the clincher - he says he’s got a very special job for you within the commission. Very important, very hush-hush. How do you react?’

  Perilla smiled. ‘Again, I’d feel proud and privileged; too much so - which is clearly where you’re leading, Marcus - to ask any questions.’

  ‘Right. Only like I say, you’re no bonehead. You’ve got stars in your eyes at present, sure, but over time when the glitter begins to wear off your brain kicks into gear and you begin to think about what you’re doing.’

  ‘And it doesn’t seem so innocent any more.’

  ‘Right. So what happens then?

  ‘I...begin to have second thoughts.’

  ‘Fine. Only problem is, you’re in the scam - you know by now that it’s a scam - up to your neck. You want out but you’ve nowhere to go. You can’t blow the whistle on Ahenobarbus, because you’re a no-account nineteen-year-old kid, and who would believe you against him? Added to which, he’s your father. Your real father. Maybe you even think of what it’d do to your future political career. You’re honest in yourself, sure, but for someone like you a career is your life. Balancing honesty now against your whole future is a tough decision for a nineteen-year-old to make. So what do you do?’

  ‘I confide in someone. Someone older, someone neutral.’

  ‘Yeah. Not your mother, because you don’t talk, and what could she do anyway? Not Allenius; definitely not Allenius. Not Minicius Natalis either, because he’s in thick with Prince Gaius, and Gaius for all his faults is Official with a capital O. So who?’

  She was twisting the lock of hair beside her ear. ‘Lucia Albucilla,’ she said.

  ‘Bang on the button. Albucilla’s perfect. She’s a woman, so she wouldn’t matter –’

  ‘Thank you, dear.’

  ‘– she’s been around, she’s experienced, smart. She’d know what to do. Best of all, you’re in love with her.’

  ‘Marcus, you do not know that!’

  ‘It’s a fair assumption.’ I took another mouthful of wine. ‘So you tell Albucilla the whole story. Only then –’

  ‘Albucilla takes it directly to her friend Soranus.’ Perilla frowned. ‘You’re right. It works.’

  ‘Whereupon Soranus zaps you with a demand for fifty thousand sesterces or he does his duty as a responsible citizen and peaches to the Wart and you’re up shit creek without a paddle. Without a sodding boat.’

  ‘Of course, there is still one more problem.’

  ‘Yeah? What’s that?’

  ‘You’re going to tell me that Papinius went to Ahenobar
bus and made a clean breast of things, after which Ahenobarbus paid off the loan he took out from Vestorius. Aren’t you?’

  I blinked. ‘Uh...yeah. Yeah, more or less. Or that Ahenobarbus found out some other way. It comes to the same thing.’

  ‘Very well. In effect, then, Soranus had already been paid off. So why should Ahenobarbus subsequently kill Papatius? What reason would he have?’

  ‘Perilla, the kid had become a liability! He’d blabbed once, he obviously wasn’t happy about what he was involved in, and he could well blab again, to someone higher up the ladder this time who might just believe him. Ahenobarbus couldn’t risk that. He had to cut his losses.’

  ‘Then if he didn’t balk at murder, why not kill all three of them together - Papatius, Soranus and Albucilla - and solve the whole problem at a stroke? Plus save himself a considerable amount of money.’

  ‘Lady, that’s silly! Ahenobarbus might be an imperial, he’s certainly ruthless enough, but he’s no fool. Three suspicious deaths at once? All of bona fide aristocrats? You think that wouldn’t get noticed, maybe even on Capri?’

  ‘There would be nothing to link them to him, not directly. And surely it would depend on how important whatever he wanted to cover up was. Also - well - why should the deaths be suspicious? If he could successfully disguise Papatius’s murder as a suicide - which he would have done if you hadn’t become involved - what was to stop him doing the same for the others?’

  ‘Same answer. Three suicides at once would get noticed.’

  ‘Accidents, then. A mixture. Anything. And don’t quibble, you know I’m right.’

  I sighed. Yeah, well, she had a point, and as far as Soranus was concerned if that bastard hung up his clogs I doubted if there’d be many tears shed, quite the reverse. Maybe the same went for Albucilla: from what I’d heard of her the lady wasn’t exactly a universally popular and respected pillar of society. And certainly it would explain why, when I’d talked to them, they’d both given the impression of pissing their pants about something. Knowing you’d made a guy like Domitius Ahenobarbus seriously peeved wouldn’t be exactly conducive to peace of mind and a good night’s sleep. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Point taken.’