I goggled. ‘You what? What sort of “unusual requirements”?’
‘I didn’t go into details, sir, because I did not consider it necessary, and they agreed not to press me for them.’
Jupiter and all the gods!
‘Bloody hell, Bathyllus, if you’ve given the residence staff the idea that I’m some sort of pervert with a thing for small bald-headed butlers I’ll—!’
‘Not at all, sir. Or not intentionally. But I was telling the simple truth. You do have some special requirements which only I am aware of.’
‘And what the fuck requirements are these, may I ask?’
He stepped aside. On the low table behind him was a tray with a wine-cup on it. A full wine-cup.
‘Standing orders, sir,’ he said. ‘A cup of wine to be ready for you whenever you come in.’
I had to grin. ‘Yeah, OK, Bathyllus,’ I said. ‘Nicely done, I admit it. Very clever, and the bribery ploy works a treat. But just the one cup, and the mistress mustn’t know, right?’
‘Never a word will pass my lips, sir. The God Mercury hear me so swear.’
‘Plus if I get a single sideways glance – a single one – from any of Laco’s skivvies while we’re here then you, pal, are cat’s meat. Understood?’
‘I’ll explain the situation fully to them straight away, sir, now that the bargain has been struck.’
I reached past him, picked up the wine-cup and sipped. Nectar! A good Massilian, from the taste of it, and only normally watered.
‘Oh, one more thing, sir,’ Bathyllus said. ‘I was to tell you that you have a message from Saenius Balbinus.’
‘Hmm?’ I took another sip of the wine.
‘He’s arranged for the man who found the bodies to meet you just beyond the cemetery on the Moguntiacum road. Any time today will be convenient; it seems the man pastures his goats there in any case, and he’ll be looking out for you. His name is Coisis.’
‘Great. Thanks, Bathyllus. I’ll just let this wine trickle down my throat first and then I’ll be off.’
I took it slow. Marvellous. There was a lot to be said for having a devious, position-conscious major-domo, and murder and the goats could wait.
Once I was past the cemetery that flanked the Moguntiacum road for a quarter of a mile or so the countryside got pretty wild pretty quickly: low hills covered with rough grass and scrub, cut up in places with gorges down which small streamlets trickled. I could see why this Coisis, if he pastured his animals here, had chosen goats rather than cattle or sheep: any self-respecting cow would’ve handed in its milk pail on the first day.
I spotted the guy straight off. Forget your country swains beloved of pastoral poets warbling rustic lays on their oaten pipes as they while away the hour of noonday heat beneath the holm-oak’s shade; my informant – presumably my informant, since he was the only person I’d seen all the way from town, and there was a bunch of goats browsing among the thistles on either side of the road – had his back to me and was pissing in the ditch.
‘You Coisis, pal?’ I said when I’d come up to him.
‘I am that, sir, indeed I am.’ He finished, shook himself, adjusted his tunic, and turned round. All at a speed that would’ve disgraced an arthritic tortoise. Clearly not a guy to hurry himself. ‘And you’ll be Valerius Corvinus, would you? Just so, isn’t it?’
‘That’s me.’ The breeze shifted slightly in my direction, and I caught his scent. Jupiter! Essence of goat in its most concentrated form; I’d bet even the animals themselves practised better personal hygiene.
‘From Lugdunum, too, they said you were. Fancy. Never did have a hankering for foreign parts, myself. I was in Ricciacus once, when the wife was alive, gods rest her, she had a cousin there getting wed, and that’s all of thirty-five miles, but ’tweren’t much cop. They talked funny, they ate funny, and they smelled funny. I was glad to be home.’
Yeah, well; to each his own. Mark you, the mind boggled at what the ‘smelled funny’ bit entailed: any odour that could fight its way through what this guy was generating far enough to register had to be quite something. Probably just cleanliness. ‘So,’ I said, ‘where are we going, here?’
‘Just a step, sir, just a step.’ He pointed across the ditch, away from the road. ‘There’s a rise and a hollow, no more nor a dozen yards off. You follow me and I’ll show you.’
‘Will the goats be all right?’
‘Oh, those lazy buggers won’t stir more than they can help. They’ll be fine left until we get back.’
‘That wasn’t exactly what I meant, friend.’ Once I was over the ditch I’d have to push my way through them, and I was already getting some pointed stares, particularly from one evil-eyed bastard with a fine spread of horns; evidently the boss of the whole caprine gang, and who given half a chance was willing and ready to prove it.
Coisis chuckled. ‘Not a country man, are you, sir?’ he said. ‘Bless you, the lassies won’t do you no harm. Just keep your distance from old Rufus there, is all. He can be a bit frisky at times with strangers.’
No prizes for guessing which one old Rufus was. I moved to where there were several of his harem between him and me and jumped the ditch. The goats scattered.
‘That’s the ticket.’ Coisis did the same, and set off at a slow amble, while I followed. ‘It’d be a big place, that. Lugdunum.’
‘Yeah, big enough,’ I said. ‘Although actually I’m from Rome.’
He clicked his tongue. ‘Now there’s a thing! Rome, eh? Aye, well, I suppose you would be, thinking about it. That’d be just a bit further off, now, wouldn’t it?’
‘Just a tad.’
‘Aye, I thought so. Well, it takes all sorts, as they say. Here we are.’ He stopped. ‘I told you it weren’t more nor a step. Found the poor buggers here, I did, both together, like.’
I looked; sure enough, the grass was flattened and there was a great splash of dried blood on one side of it. That’d been where Drutus had had his throat cut, no doubt. There was nothing else as far as the eye could see but Gallic countryside.
Well, I’d seen it, for what it was worth.
‘When did you find them, exactly?’ I said.
‘Ah, that’d be scarce an hour past dawn. Gave me a right turn, you may guess. My young grandson, he was here with me and I sends him to the town officer’s house straight off. Then I waited until the undertaker’s men came. That’s about it, sir, all I can tell you.’
‘Thanks, pal.’ I reached into my belt-pouch, fished out a couple of silver pieces, and handed them over. ‘Really helpful. Oh … you ever see anyone up this way? Strangers, maybe?’
He chuckled. ‘No. Not off the road, like. What’s here for anyone to bother with? And me and the lasses and Rufus there, we’ve our own home to go to in town when the sun sets.’
Right. So much for that. I left the guy to his goats and went back home.
FIFTEEN
There was no sign of Perilla at the residence – she was clearly still out gallivanting amid the fleshpots of the Lenus Mars sanctuary – but Balbinus was waiting in the atrium.
‘Well, Corvinus?’ he said. ‘What’s the news?’
There was a flask of wine and four cups on the side table, but I steeled myself and sat down on the couch without touching them.
‘Not much,’ I said. ‘It’s early stages yet. I saw his girlfriend – woman friend, rather – but she couldn’t shed any light, apart from telling me that he’d told her he had some important business that’d keep him until the small hours of the morning. Presumably that’s what he was engaged in when he and the servant were killed, but she couldn’t elaborate any.’
Balbinus frowned. ‘That’s a bit odd, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘I mean, he obviously had to have some reason for being out there at that time of night, but if it was business then what kind could it have been? And who with?’
I shrugged. ‘The natural assumption is that it was something he didn’t want people to know about,’ I said. ‘With whoever else w
as involved being his killer. A shady deal that went wrong. Some sort of disagreement. A double-cross. Your guess is as good as mine, at this stage. The problem is, Drutus doesn’t exactly come across as your typical crook.’
‘It isn’t something I’d have believed for a moment, knowing the man. Still, judging by the evidence that is the most logical conclusion.’ Balbinus sighed. ‘It’s a mystery, right enough.’
‘Oh. Severa did give me this,’ I said. ‘It belonged to Drutus, and he left it with her. For safe keeping, he said.’ I took the gold coin out of my belt-pouch and handed it to him. ‘Any thoughts?’
He examined it. ‘It’s not Gaulish, at least not like any that I’ve ever seen before,’ he said. ‘Celtic, certainly, from the decoration. It could be British, I suppose, but what would Drutus be doing with a British gold piece?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Leave it with me. I’ll ask around.’ Then, when I opened my mouth: ‘Don’t worry, Corvinus, she’ll get it back. Drutus wasn’t married and he’d no family, so I suppose it makes the lady the closest thing he has to an heir. Besides, if he gave it to her, albeit temporarily, then she has a right to it in any case. It’s queer, though; why should he give her it “for safe keeping”? Drutus wasn’t wealthy, but he had far more than a copper or two to rub together. He wouldn’t’ve worried unduly about losing a single gold piece, wherever it came from. And he wasn’t the nervous kind, to be frightened of muggers.’
‘Right.’ More or less what Severa had said. ‘It’s a puzzle.’
‘Certainly it is. Anyway, I’ve sent a report – such as it is – to the governor in Durocortorum by my fastest courier, so he should have it inside of three days. Hister will be sorry to hear about the death, too; personally sorry, I mean. Drutus was a popular member of the Durocortorum community. He’ll be missed.’
‘Incidentally, have you had any luck with my side of things?’
‘Hmm? Oh, yes, you wanted me to find you an informant about the Cabiri family’s doings at the time of the Florus revolt. Actually, that’s proving a lot trickier than I thought it would.’
‘Yeah? Why’s that? It’s twenty years ago now, granted, but there must still be dozens of people still around who’d fit the bill.’
He tugged at his ear in embarrassment. ‘That’s true,’ he said. ‘There are. But only locals.’
‘So?’
‘Corvinus, you’ve only been here since yesterday; you don’t know the place or the people yet. Nowhere near. They aren’t Romans, or no more than skin-deep ones. At root, they’re Gauls, and not even the sort of Gauls you’ll have met in Lugdunum, let alone Massilia, either. Don’t forget that it’s less than a century since old Julius brought the Treveri under Roman control.’
‘Yeah, I know that, but—’
‘Listen. They’re a clannish lot: they protect their own, and whatever they pretend most of them have very little time for us. The Treveri especially, as a tribe, and you always have to remember that that’s still how most Gauls see themselves, first and foremost; as members of a tribe, not as Gauls per se, and least of all as Roman provincials. It’s why Julius Florus managed to whip up enough support here to stage his revolt, because he was from the local ruling family and had clout in spades. Which brings me to the point.’
Uh-huh; I was there already. What Balbinus was telling me was exactly what I’d been getting all along, from Diligenta, her sister Quadrunia, Quintus Cabirus and practically everyone else I’d talked to. Bugger! ‘You’re saying they don’t blab, right?’ I said. ‘Not to a Roman, not when one of their own’s involved.’
He shook his head. ‘No. Or rather, yes, but it’s more complicated than that. The Florus revolt tore this region apart. It tore families apart. Some people – ordinary people – chose one side, some another, whether they did it actively or not. After the revolt was put down, the two sides were left looking at each other. The pieces had to be picked up, life had to be got on with, normal relations had to be restored. The only way they could do that was to forgive and forget. Which is what they did, consciously and deliberately, and what they’re still doing twenty years on. I’m afraid that that means you’ll have an uphill struggle getting anyone to talk, whether they have a personal interest or not. Especially with you being a Roman.’
Fuck. Even so, I had to keep trying, didn’t I? I might strike lucky eventually somehow.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘So let’s at least make sure I have the background straight here. Tell me about the Florus revolt, in detail. Can you do that?’
He frowned. ‘Yes, of course. It’s required knowledge for any diplomat posted to this part of Gaul. But why should you need that information?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps I don’t. But it’s figuring so strongly in this case that I may as well get the facts straight in my head once and for all. OK?’
‘If you like.’ He stood up and moved over to the table where the wine flask and cups were. ‘But I’ll have a cup of wine while I’m talking, if I may. You want one yourself?’
Hell; this went above and beyond the call of duty. ‘No,’ I said between gritted teeth. ‘You go ahead.’
‘Thank you.’ He poured the wine and took it back to the couch. ‘So what do you know already?’
‘Assume zilch.’
‘Very well.’ He took a sip. ‘Julius Florus, as I said, was a Treveran noble who also commanded a wing of native auxiliary cavalry. Some twenty years ago, twenty-one to be exact, because of some slight, real or imagined, on our part he decided to use his social position coupled with the widespread discontent over tax arrears and debt repayment to stage a revolt. He gained considerable support locally, but not enough for the revolt to succeed, the crucial factor being his failure to win over a majority of his cavalry wing for a projected massacre of the Augustan merchant community. He and his army – more of a rabble, at this point, largely poorly armed civilians – retreated east hoping to regroup under the cover of the Arduennan Forest, but they were cut off by troops sent down from the Rhine and particularly by a group of loyal local auxiliaries commanded by Florus’s main political rival, Julius Indus. The rebel army was destroyed and scattered, but Florus escaped. He committed suicide shortly afterwards. End of revolt, but only the beginning of the town’s troubles.’ Balbinus took a long swallow of wine. ‘That do you?’
‘Yeah, thanks.’ I was frowning. ‘Florus was planning to massacre the merchant community here, yes?’
‘Probably only the actual Roman, or at least non-Gaulish, part of it – remember that Augusta is a colony – but yes, that’s right. Presumably, though, that would include any Gaulish merchants who were considered too hand-in-glove with the Roman authorities.’
‘Such as the Cabiri, for example? Who owed their citizenship directly to the imperial family and had their explicit patronage?’
‘Ah … yes. Yes, I suppose so. If you put it like that. You think it’s relevant?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. It’s an angle to think about, anyway. And if you—’
‘Oh, hello, Marcus. You’re back too, then?’
I turned; Perilla was coming in from the lobby, still in her outdoor things. She looked bright, breezy and definitely chipper.
‘Yeah, so it would seem,’ I said a bit stiffly. ‘Have a good time?’
‘Marvellous, thank you.’ Bathyllus, as usual, had materialized out of the ether to take her cloak. ‘A barley water and honey, Bathyllus, if you will. I’m parched. Saenius Balbinus. Lovely to see you again.’
‘And you, Lady Rufia.’ He finished the last of his wine and stood up. ‘I was just about to go, actually. We’d done, I think, Corvinus, hadn’t we?’
‘More or less,’ I said: I wondered if, being the diplomat he was, Balbinus had sensed a slight Atmosphere and was making himself scarce before the crockery started flying. ‘Let me know, though, if you find anyone who can help.’
‘I’ll do that. And, of course, you will keep me abreast of the Drutus side of things? I’m not forgett
ing the coin, naturally.’
‘Sure. No problem.’ Not that I’d got any more leads there, either. Still. ‘I’ll see you around.’
He left.
‘Well, dear,’ Perilla said. ‘How was your day? Profitable?’
‘Frustrating, if anything. Unlike yours, from what I can see.’
‘Hmm.’ She gave me a long, slow look. ‘Still sulking, are we?’
‘I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean.’
‘Very well. Never mind.’ She sat down on the couch Balbinus had vacated. ‘No, my day was far from frustrating. The sanctuary of Lenus Mars was fascinating. An interesting mixture of the primitive and the civilized. And of course there were the healing springs. Crinas was especially interested in those, naturally.’
‘So he turned up, then?’
‘Yes, he did. As promised, and only shortly after I got there, so you can’t have kept him long.’
‘He probably ran all the way. Jogged.’
‘Perhaps he did. I didn’t ask.’ Bathyllus came in with the barley water and honey. ‘Thank you, Bathyllus.’ She glanced at the table in front of her, where Balbinus had set down his empty cup. It was the only one there, of course. ‘Oh, go on, Marcus, for heaven’s sake, don’t be silly! Have a cup of wine, if you want it.’
‘Yeah, but—’
‘I’m not completely heartless. I only thought it would be good for you to cut down a little in your own interests, which you seem to have done. Particularly on the way here from Lugdunum; you always seem to view a long coach journey simply as an opportunity to get drunk.’
‘I don’t get drunk. At least, not very often.’
‘You do; you just don’t show it. It doesn’t mean you have to abstain altogether or even keep to the four-cup rule, provided that you’re sensible. I never for a moment imagined you’d manage that as long as you have, anyway. Well done. Well done, indeed.’
I didn’t believe this; I just did not believe it! ‘Jupiter bloody God Almighty, woman! You mean I’ve been—?’
Foreign Bodies Page 19
