Felix.
32
He was waiting in my study when I got back, with Perilla sitting opposite and Bathyllus hovering like an anxious mother hen. He stood up as I came in.
‘Valerius Corvinus, sir!’ he said. ‘You’re looking extremely well. A real pleasure to see you again.’
‘Yeah.’ I turned to Bathyllus. ‘Wine, little guy. Make it the Special. Oh, and a fruit juice. Bring them and then bugger off. This isn’t for your sensitive ears.’
‘Presumably my sensitive ears don’t count,’ Perilla said as Bathyllus exited and Felix sat back down again.
‘Your ears are fireproof, lady. Or if they aren’t and you want to stay you can go selectively deaf. Your choice.’ I lay down on the couch. ‘Right, you bastard: why? You had the whole thing stitched up from the start, you, Gaius and Macro. Why involve me?’
‘We didn’t involve you, sir, you involved yourself. Or rather, Minicius Natalis involved you.’ Felix was looking fetching in his natty yellow tunic and green belt; but then for a slave - if he still was a slave - he’d always been a sharp dresser. No doubt he felt he owed it to his boss Prince Gaius.
‘You know what I mean! The case was closed before it opened. Balbus had blown the conspiracy all over the shop, Macro’s tame Praetorians had thrown Papinius out of the window as an oh-so-subtle hint to the rest of the conspirators that they were rumbled and you had the whole business laced up tighter than a vestal’s corsets. End of story, roll up the book. So why the hell let me faff around solving a mystery that was no mystery at all?’
‘But you got so much pleasure out of it, sir!’
‘Felix, you bastard –!’
‘Sir, if you’d just calm down for a moment and think. What else could we have done? Once Natalis had called you in, trying to stop you would have been counter-productive; you know that yourself. Telling you the truth, that a pleasant-natured, inoffensive nineteen-year-old from a relatively minor family was intending to assassinate Rome’s next emperor; well, would you have believed us?’
‘I might have.’
‘Oh, Marcus!’ Perilla murmured.
I scowled. He had a point, at that: I wouldn’t’ve believed anything the twisted, devious little bugger told me on principle, not even if Jupiter himself had come down specially to confirm it in a haze of ambrosia and backed by the whole bloody pantheon. And as for his loopy, amoral boss and Sertorius Macro...
‘Yeah, well,’ I said.
‘Besides.’ Felix smiled. ‘Very shortly our conspirator friends are all going to be arraigned before the senate on a blanket charge of treason or similar. Certainly something suitably bland: no details given, no explanations, just the charge and a resulting conviction nem con. You’ll understand why yourself.’ Yeah, I did: with the guy behind the treason being the current emperor ‘sensitive’ isn’t the word. ‘Papinius is already dead; he won’t be implicated or even mentioned. But the others...well, they include some of the most respectable names in Rome. Where men such as Ahenobarbus, Arruntius and Marsus are concerned –’
‘Hang on, pal!’ I was staring at him. ‘Arruntius and Marsus?’
‘Oh, yes, indeed. Very much so. They were two you missed, sir. Not your fault: they had no role to play until the prince and Sertorius Macro were dead, at which point they would facilitate the senate’s acceptance of Prince Gemellus as emperor. But they were the first people the...old gentleman on Capri approached.’
I sat back. Shit, Arruntius and Marsus! Still, it made sense; more, it confirmed - if I needed the confirmation - that Tiberius actually had been involved. Arruntius and Marsus were gold-chip respectable: the long-term leaders of what Dad would’ve called the responsible element in the senate, straight-down-the-government-liners who would’ve spat in the eye of anyone who even hinted they might contemplate or condone treason against the state. I’d met both of them in the past, and whatever my opinion of them - Arruntius especially - I could vouch for that. Where poker-arsed rectitude and good old-fashioned moral principles were concerned, you could bend iron bars around them. If the Wart had needed a strong counterbalance to Ahenobarbus - which he must’ve done - he couldn’t’ve picked a better pair. And with them on the team to establish the plot’s moral bona fides, persuading Carsidius and young Papinius to join would’ve been all that much simpler.
‘So you see,’ Felix went on, ‘allowing you to continue was a sort of PR exercise. Prince Gaius will be emperor in a very short time, and Macro will be his right-hand man. To begin a new principate with a series of treason trials that would recall the worst days of Aelius Sejanus...well, you can imagine, sir, what impression that would have created. As it is, there will be at least one disinterested person we can call on if necessary to confirm that everything was quite above board and to provide hard impartial evidence to that effect.’ He smiled. ‘Think of yourself, Valerius Corvinus, as Gaius and Macro’s insurance policy.’
Fuck.
Bathyllus came in with the drinks. I took a cup of the Special, sank it in a oner and held the cup out for a refill.
‘So they’ll all be chopped,’ I said.
‘Oh, no.’ Felix waved away the cup Bathyllus offered him: the guy probably felt he was on duty, but there again he’d never been much of a wine drinker. ‘For the same reasons I gave, Prince Gaius will be...magnanimous. We don’t want any deaths, or even enforced suicides. Exile will be quite sufficient.’
‘Papinius died. That doesn’t say much for the bastard’s magnanimity.’
Felix froze. ‘Valerius Corvinus,’ he said quietly. ‘I have to remind you again. Prince Gaius thinks very highly of you; very highly indeed. He is now also...obligated. Very much so. Shortly, as I said, he will be emperor, and keeping his good opinion will be valuable. Do not, sir, push your luck, now or ever in the future. I’m warning you seriously as a friend.’
I took another swig of wine. The guy was right, of course: things had been bad enough when Gaius was a not-so-humble Prince of the Blood; now he was practically emperor the stakes had been upped with a vengeance. With that weathercock-brained egotistical bastard in charge, like it or not we were at the start of a whole new ball game. And I wondered just how long the magnanimity would last.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Point taken. One final thing, though. Why the games? The business with Soranus’s body?’
‘Oh, dear.’ Felix smiled again. ‘I’m afraid, sir, that was just a little naughty, but I couldn’t resist it. Not that they were totally unjustified, because we needed you to solve the problem reasonably quickly. A few judicious hints were quite within the rules, so long as they were cryptic enough not to spoil your enjoyment. I hoped and believed, indeed, that the process of working them out might even add to it. And I did so want you to enjoy yourself, Valerius Corvinus. After all, where was the harm?’ Bastard! ‘You understood the implications of the statue, of course: the link with Sejanus and Papinius’s intended victim being Prince Gaius Caesar?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, I got that.’
‘How about the place itself? Pompey’s theatre?’
‘Uh..’
‘In the light of the solution, sir. Gaius’s planned assassination. Come on, you can do it; the answer really is very simple.’
Shit; this was like one of these examinations at school where the teacher asks you who Hecabe’s maternal grandfather was. I found myself beginning to sweat.
Then it came. Bugger!
‘The theatre’s right next door to the Greens’ stables,’ I said. ‘You could practically hit the door-guard with a rock from the top tiers. Felix, you utter bastard!’
‘Oh, well done, sir! Well done indeed! Now the coin.’
I was on firmer ground there. ‘That’s easy, pal, we got it straight off. Soranus was taking bribes.’
The smile faded. ‘Ah. Not the coin, then. A pity; I thought you’d really appreciate that one.’
I sat up straight. ‘What the hell do you mean, Not the coin? Soranus was a bloody blackmailer! That’s why he was killed i
n the first place!’
‘Gently, sir, gently. You’re partly right, of course, but there is more. A lot more. Do you happen to have it to hand?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, sure I do.’ I got up, went over to the desk and took it out from the drawer where I’d put it away with the two keys.
‘You didn’t notice anything unusual about it? Special?’
‘Uh-uh. It’s just an ordinary silver piece.’ I looked at Perilla, who shrugged.
Felix sighed. ‘Oh, dear. Now I really am disappointed. I’d hoped for better from you, sir. And from you, madam.’
Shit. This was getting more like a school test than ever. I half-expected the guy to produce a birch-twig from somewhere and start tapping it against his palm.
I turned the thing over in my hand. ‘It’s an old one. Augustan,’ I said. ‘But so what? There’re thousands of –’
‘Look at the reverse.’
I did. It showed a figure standing next to a horse, and the legend ‘Germanicus Caesar Leader of the Youth’, so worn away that I could hardly make out the letters. Not surprising: the thing had to be almost forty years old. ‘So what again, pal? Unless it’s another cryptic allusion to the Greens’ stables, but we’ve had that already.’
‘Hmm. Ah, well, perhaps I was being a little too obscure there. Let me say, though, that it was the best I could get in the short time available because it was not an easy coin to find. I had to look through several bags at the mint.’ He waited. ‘No? Still nothing?’
‘Felix –’
‘Think of our conspirators, sir. Who was it who idolised Germanicus when he was young? You learned that in the course of the investigation, I’m sure.’
– and then I had it. Jupiter and all the bloody gods! I’d never have got that one, never in a million years! The twisted, devious, clever..!
‘Carsidius,’ I said. ‘Felix, you bastard!’
‘Quite, sir. We haven’t finished yet, though. Look on this as a piece of extra information, completely outwith the case but possibly of academic interest. To you especially. Did you happen to find out about the only previous occasion when Carsidius found himself...well, at odds with the authorities?’
‘Uh...’ Shit, Crispus had told me that! Now what was it? Something about...
Oh, gods! ‘He was acquitted of supplying army grain to the rebels in the North African war.’ Bugger, the Germanicus scam, when he and Agrippina were engaged in stitching up the frontier provinces! The only gap I’d been left with, when I was putting that scenario together, had been in the south-west, the Africa-Numidia stretch; but then that’d been the least important area, and I’d ignored it. Now it seemed that Germanicus - or maybe Agrippina, rather, because she had been the real brains of the partnership - had had that part covered as well. ‘You mean Carsidius was guilty? He was a traitor, part of the Germanicus plot?’
Felix was beaming. ‘Of course he was. Although naturally he would not have thought of himself in these terms. Carsidius always was a fervent Julian supporter, which was why he hated...Well, we won’t go into that.’ Yeah, right: why he hated Gaius, who might be a Julian himself but who’d been responsible for shelving the remaining members of his family. I couldn’t agree with Felix about that angle not being relevant - far from it - but the guy had his own loyalties, and up to a point I respected them. Still, it was yet another proof - if I needed one - that politicians like Carsidius could bend the truth when it suited. Even be blind to it themselves. ‘It’s ancient history now, and it doesn’t really matter, but I thought you might like to know. Well done again, sir, you’ve redeemed yourself admirably.’ He stood up. ‘I think that’s everything now. Unless you have any more questions.’
I looked at Perilla. She shook her head. ‘No,’ I said. ‘That just about covers it.’
‘Then I’ll be –’
‘Wait. There is one more thing. Not a question as such. Or not exactly.’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘What do I tell Natalis? And the boy’s mother?’
‘Tell them what you like. As far as we’re concerned, barring any mention of Tiberius’s involvement, naturally, you can even tell them the truth; although personally I wouldn’t so advise. They may not want to hear it.’
Yeah, that was fair enough, although it would be for different reasons: Rupilia, because her son had turned out a crypto-potential killer, Natalis - his feelings for the boy aside - because the bugger would have a heart attack if he knew how close his faction stables had come to hosting the assassination of Rome’s crown prince. Still, I’d think of something. I always did.
Felix beamed at us both. ‘So that’s that,’ he said. ‘Again - as always - my congratulations and respect, Valerius Corvinus. And I’m sure my master and Sertorius Macro would wish me to add theirs as well. No doubt our paths will cross again.’
Not if I could help it. But I didn’t say that to Felix: the times were changing, and a comment like that could be dangerous.
He left.
Perilla was very quiet after he’d gone, nursing her cup of fruit juice.
‘Well, Marcus?’ she said at last. ‘It’s over. Are you pleased?’
I sank a quarter-pint of the Special. Powerful stuff or not, it wasn’t having much effect. ‘What do you think, lady?’ I said.
Long pause. Then, quietly:
‘Would you rather they’d succeeded? Assassinated Prince Gaius and Macro?’
I didn’t answer. That was the question I was trying not to ask myself. Mercifully, it was academic: the conspiracy had been a dead duck before Natalis had even sent me his letter, and Carsidius and his pals were already living on borrowed time. I hadn’t made a pennyworth of difference; I certainly hadn’t been responsible for the whole thing going down the tubes. Still...
I’d slagged the Wart off practically all my life, not to mention career politicians like my father and Papinius Allenius. Oh, they weren’t paragons, no, and at times they could be real out-and-out five-star bastards; times like when Lucius Arruntius and his broad-striper mates had been responsible for the violation and strangling of Sejanus’s twelve-year-old daughter. I’d never forgive Arruntius for that, never, not even when hell froze over. But at least they were predictable and they cared; they had their code and they stuck to it, whatever the cost to them personally. The Wart especially. He’d been a good emperor by his lights, even if he’d got little credit for it and hated the job; and whatever he’d done, he’d done it because he thought it was for the good of Rome...
The good of Rome.
Livia had used that phrase to me, too, a long, long time ago. She was out of the same mould, a real, hard-nosed, first-class bitch, a murderess a dozen times over, no argument; but again she’d done what she’d done because she’d genuinely cared. Maybe, now, with the principate of Gaius looming, I could even sympathise with Livia. Gaius didn’t care about anything, except himself.
Like I said, we were into a whole new ball-game. Yeah, in retrospect maybe I would’ve preferred it if Gaius and Macro had died. I suspected that, in a few months’ time, a couple of years at most, Rome in general would agree with me.
Still, like the man said, you can’t cheat the stars, and there ain’t no point in trying.
I picked up the wine-jug...
‘Marcus?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Perhaps this isn’t the time to mention it, but I was talking to Alexis earlier. Did you know that Placida was pregnant?’
The wine splashed on the table. ‘What?’
‘There are certain signs, apparently. Besides the obvious one, or prior to it rather. Eating the cucumber frame could be one of them, but Alexis wasn’t sure about that, he thought it might just be normal behaviour for Gallic boarhounds.’
I was goggling. ‘Eating the –?’
‘– cucumber frame. Yes. Or most of it, anyway. In any case, he’s quite certain she’s pupping.’ Perilla looked down. ‘So I was wondering if...’
Shit; I knew what was coming, I just knew it! ‘Lady
, read my lips: we are not having a dog, okay? Especially not a Mark Two Placida. With that thing’s predilections the father was probably star billing at the Games. Not necessarily canine, either.’
‘Don’t be silly, dear. And I’m sure Sestia Calvina wouldn’t mind parting with one of the litter if I asked her.’
‘Damn right she wouldn’t! In fact she probably...’ I stopped. Hell!
‘She probably what?’
Probably planned it from the start, that was what. Bugger! Felix hadn’t been the only one pulling strings in this case: we’d been manipulated again, right down the line! If Sestia bloody smart-as-paint Calvina hadn’t known the brute was pregnant when she stuck us with her then I was a blue-rinsed Briton. Yeah, well. You can’t cheat the stars, especially when they’ve got Perilla fighting their corner. And if the lady had decided we needed a dog - loosely speaking - then that was that. No point arguing, I’d only lose in the end anyway.
‘Calvina probably what?’ Perilla asked again. ‘Marcus!’
I grinned and finished pouring the wine. ‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
Besides, I couldn’t wait to tell Bathyllus.
_______________________
Author’s Note
‘In at the Death’ is my usual mixture, in the ‘political’ books, of fact and fiction; so to keep the record straight perhaps I should distinguish between the two here.
Sextus Papinius and his death - at least in essence - are real. The young man committed suicide by ‘throwing himself from a height’ (‘iacto in praeceps corpore’). Tacitus (‘Annals’ 6.49) gives no more circumstantial detail than that, so the tenement is my own invention, but he does go on to give a little of the boy’s background and family circumstances (mother - unnamed - long divorced, overindulgent upbringing, suicide for financial reasons) which I’ve integrated into the story as and where possible. The link between Ahenobarbus and Papinius as father and son is, of course, completely fictitious.
In at the Death (Marcus Corvinus Book 11) Page 27
