Ovid (Marcus Corvinus Book 1)

by David Wishart

  'Okay. Okay.' I held up my hands. 'I'll make a bargain with you. Go and get dressed up. If you pass with me you can come. If not I go on my own. Deal?'

  She hesitated. Perilla, unlike me, was no gambler, but she knew when she was being called. And she didn't give her promise lightly.

  'Look,' I said. 'I'm not doing this for fun, right? I want to get in there, find Davus and then get out again. Full stop, end of sentence, no fancy clauses. If you tag along life gets complicated. So put up or shut up, okay?'

  Her mouth set in a firm line. 'All right,' she said slowly. 'You have a deal. I'll see what Lalage and I can fix up between us.' Lalage was her maid.

  'We have to be there at noon, remember.'

  'That's fine. Give me an hour.'

  I didn't recognise her when she came back down. She was wearing a thick homespun cloak, heavily darned, and under it a beltless green slave's tunic that was a good two sizes too large for her. Her beautiful hair was hidden completely under a freedman's cap and her face was darkened with walnut juice.

  'Well?' she said. 'How do I look?'

  I stared.

  'Not bad.' It was an understatement, but I wasn't going to give up that easily. 'Not bad at all. Let's see you walk.'

  She walked across the room. The result was sexy as hell. I groaned.

  'Jupiter, Perilla! What's that supposed to be? Get your head down. Slouch. And try not to move your hips.'

  'I am trying.'

  'Try harder, then. Walk through the streets like that and you'll be arrested on sight. Or propositioned. Probably both at once, knowing some of those buggers in the Watch.'

  'All right. How's this?'

  She tried again. It was better this time, but I knew at least a dozen guys in Rome who'd pay a fortune for an introduction. They'd be in for a disappointment later, mind, but that was neither here nor there.

  'Look, watch me,' I said. I walked towards the door and back. 'Bigger steps. Loosen up a bit, and keep your eyes on the ground.'

  She had hidden talents, that girl. And I don't mean the obvious ones. After four or five turns around the room I couldn't've sworn with absolute certainty that she wasn't what she pretended to be. So long as she could keep it up we were home and dry. Shit.

  'Do I win the bet?' she said.

  'Yeah, you win. Come over here first, though.'

  She did. I kissed her. She co-operated long enough for things to reach the interesting stage before turning her face aside.

  'Marcus! Stop it! You're smudging my makeup!'

  Reluctantly I let her go.

  When you check, you check. It was Perilla all right.

  We didn't walk all the way. Perilla needed the practice, but I didn't want to be too hard on her so we used one of her litters as far as Tuscan Road. Naturally I took the four Sunshine Boys with us; I'd've liked to have taken more muscle, but it would've made us too conspicuous and I reckoned the Boys could take on anything short of a minor riot. All the same I had a quiet word with them before we left to make sure they knew where their priorities lay, and what exactly would happen if they got them wrong. I'd never actually seen a matching set of six-foot Gallic eunuchs on the market but there was a first time for everything.

  I also made the situation very clear to Perilla.

  'Listen,' I said. 'There're certain ground rules which are non-negotiable. Agree to them now or stay at home. Right?'

  I must've looked unusually impressive because she just nodded.

  'Okay. First of all, I can look after myself. If there's any trouble you run.'

  'Yes, Corvinus.'

  'Second. You do what you're told, exactly what you're told, straight away, with no arguments and no fancy heroics. Got it?'

  'Yes, Corvinus.'

  I glanced at her suspiciously.

  'Are you laughing at me?' I said.

  'No, Corvinus.' Her lips twitched, but she kept her eyes modestly cast down.

  'Yes you are.' This was no time for messing around. 'Look, I'm serious. That doesn't happen very often but this is one of them. There's no way I'm taking you down to the docks unless we get this clear before we start. I know what I'm doing here, you don't. You may be a very gutsy lady but if we get into trouble the high-handed patrician act isn't going to get us anywhere. This isn't a game and if you think it is you'll land both of us in deep shit. Okay?'

  Silence. Finally, she nodded. 'All right. I'm sorry, Marcus. You're quite right. What else?'

  'Third and last, no talking. Not when we're on foot in a built-up area, anyway. We've got enough problems with what you look like without worrying about what you sound like as well, and the less interest we draw the better. Agree to all three conditions now or you can stay at home bottling pickles.'

  'I love you. You know that?'

  There's no answer to that one. Not in words, anyway. Once she'd wiped the walnut juice off my face with the edge of her cloak we set off for our appointment with Davus.

  21.

  We left the litter at the western edge of the Palatine, crossed Tuscan Road and plunged into the maze of markets and slum property that was the eastern Velabrum. To my relief no one paid Perilla much attention – at least, no more than they paid me. The Sunshine Boys stuck close and made no attempt to fade into the woodwork, which was probably a good idea: I saw more than one suspicious-looking character zero in on my patrician tunic and veer off at the last moment before a granite shoulder mashed him to pulp against the nearest wall.

  At least the Boys were enjoying themselves. Maybe, I thought, I should take them walkies more often.

  I didn't know the Velabrum all that well, certainly not as well as the Subura, apart from the bit around Cattlemarket Square. Like I said, it's the area where most of the wholesale trading goes on, and because it's the city's main link with Ostia most of the traffic between the Market Square and the river passes through it. Senatorials are barred by law from trade, so you don't see many broad-stripers down that way. Not that the ban would be all that difficult to get round. All it'd need, for example, would be to set up dummy companies through one or two of your freedmen and cream off the profits. However for a senator to dirty his hands with trade is another of these things that's just not proper. We broad-stripers make our money respectably in other ways. Like from letting out rooms at sky-high rents in gimcrack tenements, for example. There're always plenty of punters looking for four walls and a floor to sleep on. And when the tenements collapse or burn down about their ears you can always shark up a few more and replace the dead tenants with new ones.

  Property's a seller's market that never loses its edge. Why get your hands dirty when you don't have to?

  Thanks to the Boys we got through the built-up eastern and central sections of the Velabrum with no serious problems and moved out into the main docklands area near the river itself; streets of granaries and warehouses where the wholesalers keep the consignments of grain, olive oil and fish sauce that come upriver on barges from Ostia. Most other days the district would've been swarming like a lump of maggoty meat, but because it was the Spring Festival everything was shut up and the streets and alleyways were deserted. They still smelt, though; a pleasant, storeroomy smell that was a mixture of wine and cheese and oil, with the faint musty overlay of drying corn.

  'How much further?' Perilla asked.

  'Not far now.' I'd found out where Paquius's warehouse was from Bathyllus (who else?). 'It's just downstream from Sublician Bridge.'

  'Oh, good. So long as it's the Sublician we're talking about, of course, and not one I don't know about five miles upriver.'

  The crabbiness was understandable, and I made the necessary allowances. We'd come a fair way that morning.

  'Getting tired, eh?'

  'Just a little.'

  I pointed. 'That's the river ahead of us.'

  'I'd never have guessed, Marcus. Does it always smell of roses?'

  Jupiter, she was crotchety! Still, I had to admit that the tendrils that were reaching out to us were pretty
ripe. Pound for pound Tiber mud must be one of the evillest substances known to man.

  'Yeah, well. Just be grateful we're still upstream from the Drain. The water's so thick there you can practically walk to the other side without a bridge. So long as you don't look down to see what you're standing in.'

  She shuddered. 'Stop it, Corvinus.’

  'You think I'm exaggerating?'

  'I don't care. I just don't want to know, that's all.'

  We walked on until we reached a junction, then turned right along a street of warehouses backing onto the riverbank.

  'That's it up ahead,' I said. There was no name painted that I could see, but Bathyllus had told me what to look for – a building set out slightly from the rest with a dilapidated waggon mouldering against the side wall. 'See anyone?'

  'No.'

  'Me neither.' The place, like its neighbours, looked deserted. 'You wait here with the Boys and I'll have a look round.'

  'Nonsense. We'll go in together.'

  'Ground rules, remember.'

  'But...'

  'Don't worry. If Davus is there I'll come back out and get you.'

  'Be careful, then.'

  'Yeah, sure.' I grinned.

  'Marcus, I mean it!'

  'I know. I'll be careful.'

  I took the knife from its scabbard at my left wrist – I'd got a new one since my brush with the muggers – and walked towards the gates. My left shoulder was still stiff, but Scylax's massage had worked wonders and I reckoned I could handle myself pretty well if anything did go wrong. Not that anything would go wrong, of course.

  I paused at the entrance to the warehouse. The double doors were unbarred, which was curious: like I said, everything we'd passed had been locked up tight for the holidays. But then again I didn't know why Davus had chosen this place. Maybe he worked here. Maybe he could come and go when he felt like it and had left the front door open for us. All the same I held the knife ready and went in carefully.

  'Davus?' I shouted.

  No answer. It was dark, of course, after the sunlight outside. I stood still and waited for my eyes to become adjusted. Then I looked around me.

  Paquius was obviously in the grain trade like his neighbours. Down each long wall of the shed stood a series of corn bins. Their lids were open and I could see that most of them were full of dried grain. At the back was an industrial size mill with bags of (I supposed) flour stacked against the wall beside it ready for distribution when the warehouse reopened the next day.

  I shouted again. 'Davus!' Still no answer. Maybe he was hiding until he knew it was safe to come out. Not that there was anywhere in that place to hide. 'Hey, it's okay. I'm a friend. Valerius Corvinus. Harpale sent me.'

  Something scuffled to my left and I whipped round, knife levelled; but it was only a rat. I walked up the centre of the warehouse towards the mill at the end.

  The gate of the last bin had been lifted and the grain was lying in a pile on the stone floor. Resting on the side of the pile, its sole turned towards me, was a sandal. Or maybe not just a sandal. I went over for a closer look, the hairs lifting on the back of my neck because I already knew what I would find.

  I was right; but I moved the grain away, just to make sure.

  How he'd died was obvious enough as soon as I turned him over and saw the gaping flap below his grey-stubbled chin. His throat had been cut from ear to ear with one slash of a very sharp knife. I checked the grain beneath him. It was dry, and there was no sign of blood. While I did it his eyes stared up at me, blankly, accusingly.

  So much for getting the name of our fourth conspirator. If Julia's door slave had known who the guy was he wasn't going to pass it on now. I'd come to a dead end. Literally.

  'Fuck,' I whispered.

  Just then, I heard footsteps behind me. I spun round.

  'Corvinus, if you expect me to stand around outside while you...' Perilla began.

  Then she saw what was left of Davus, and it was too late for explanations.

  22.

  The journey back was hellish, even with the Boys to help. I had to half-carry Perilla most of the way to where we'd left the litter, which caused quite a stir at times. Then even when I'd got her under a familiar roof – the Fabius place had been the nearest – it took two cups of neat wine and a lot of quiet talking before she looked even half herself.

  I never wanted to go through anything like that again. Ever.

  The iron was back in her spine now, and she was sitting up straight in her chair and talking rationally; but her eyes were still strange and I knew it would be a long time before the lost look disappeared from them.

  'Marcus, who'd want to kill Davus?' she said. 'He was only a harmless slave.'

  I sipped carefully at my own wine, holding the cup with both hands so it didn't spill. Finding the old guy had shaken me too, more than I'd've liked to admit.

  'Davus wasn't harmless,' I said. 'Or at least what he knew wasn't. And he was killed as a warning to me. That's clear enough.'

  'What makes you think that?'

  'It wasn't done at the warehouse. There was no blood. Someone brought him there specially and left him for us to find.'

  Perilla shuddered. 'Let's give this up,' she said. 'It isn't worth it.'

  I shook my head. 'I can't. Especially not now. Davus may not've been a client of mine but I was responsible for him. He trusted me and I let him down. The least I can do is find his killer.'

  Her eyes suddenly opened wide.

  'How are we going to tell Harpale?' she whispered. 'I gave her my word nothing would happen to him.'

  Yeah, I'd been wondering that too, and I wasn't looking forward to it, although the old girl probably knew already through the slave grapevine. Not the details, only that Davus was dead.

  'Send for her now. Please, Marcus!'

  I signalled to the wine slave, who was shifting nervously from foot to foot as close to the door as he could get. He left quickly.

  'It wasn't your fault,' I said. 'If anyone was responsible I was. I knew I was being watched. It wouldn't've been difficult for whoever was tailing me to follow Harpale when she took the message.'

  'Then they could've killed you as well. They could have been there waiting.'

  'And had the Gauls to face? No, like I said this was just a warning. Davus was the important one. Our only witness, and I pointed them straight at him.' Brilliant, right? I thought bitterly. Smart move, Corvinus. Score one for the home team.

  The slave came back in with Harpale. She knew, that much was obvious from her eyes. Their accusing look reminded me of Davus's.

  'I'm sorry, Harpale,' Perilla said.

  'He was dead when we got there.' I couldn't face the old woman's eyes. I got up from where I'd been kneeling beside Perilla and crossed over to my own chair.

  Harpale ignored me.

  'What happened, madam?' she said quietly.

  'His throat was cut. They left him for us to find.'

  The old woman nodded, as if she'd been expecting it. Maybe she had.

  Then she turned to me.

  'You promised, sir. You promised.' No accusation in her voice; she was stating a fact. 'You promised he'd be in no danger.'

  Shit. 'I know I did,' I said. 'But there was nothing I could do.'

  Suddenly, without warning, the old woman folded up like someone had pulled the bones out. Perilla caught her as she fell and steered her towards her own chair. We watched guiltily, neither of us touching her, until she came round.

  'I'm sorry, madam,' she said. Her voice was thin as a ghost's.

  'That's all right. Just...'

  'You see Davus was my brother.'

  Perilla shot me a startled look. I signed to the wine slave hovering in the background. Perilla took the cup he handed her and held it to Harpale's lips. She shook her head.

  'I'm all right, madam. Just give me a moment. Please.' We waited until her breathing calmed. 'He always knew they'd find him. After he ran away he got work, down at the docks wher
e they don't ask too many questions. I was the only one who knew where he lived.' She looked straight at me. 'It was my fault, wasn't it, sir? I led them to him.'

  'No,' I said. 'You were just the messenger. Whoever's fault it was, it wasn't yours.'

  But the old woman wasn't listening. She'd begun to rock back and forwards gently; the way peasant women do at a death.

  'He knew he shouldn't have seen the gentleman's face,' she said. 'He told me. Told me he knew him. That was all, he wouldn't tell me the name. Then when the master was took, the self-same day, he packed his bag and left the house. Said it wasn't safe any more. He was always clever, was my Davus. Too clever for a slave.'

  "The master". That would be Paullus. Davus had run away the day Paullus had been arrested for treason. So he'd known how important his information was. And what it could do to him. Clever for a slave right enough.

  'Did they look for him?' I said. 'The emperor's men?'

  She nodded. 'But he hadn't told no one he was going, sir. Not even me. I didn't know where he was till months after when we met in the vegetable market. And he made me swear not to say nothing about him, even to the other slaves.' She started to cry; not holding her hands over her face, but openly, the tears running down her cheeks like the slow sap trickling down runnels in a tree trunk. 'Then the mistress was sent away and I came to the Lady Marcia's. We didn't see each other often because he said it wasn't safe. Just now and again in the Velabrum market, or maybe at a festival when we were both free. He was working for Paquius by then, unloading grain and working the mill. I asked him to let me find him a better job but he wouldn't let me. He said it might be harder work than what he was used to but at least it was safe. And then when they got the master, of course, I knew he was right.'

  There was something wrong somewhere. I looked at Perilla, but her hand was stroking the old woman's hair.

  'What do you mean, “they got the master”, Harpale?' I said. 'Sure they got Paullus. You told us he was arrested the day Davus ran.'

  Maybe she'd just mixed the times up, I thought. Maybe it was the slip of an overwrought old woman's memory.