Ovid (Marcus Corvinus Book 1)

by David Wishart

  'Callias, if you thought she was at my place then why didn't you send someone to make sure?'

  'Sir.' The old slave drew himself up with what I had to admit was great dignity. 'I am my master's property, not my mistress's, and my primary responsibility is to him. Accordingly there are some things that I would rather not know about or if I do know about them that I would rather not acknowledge. You understand me, sir.'

  'Yeah, sure. I'm sorry.' I stopped striding about the reception hall and sat down on the marble lip of the pool. I noticed with interest that my hands were shaking, and that however hard I tried I couldn't make them stop. 'So what time did she leave her aunt's house?'

  'An hour before dusk, sir.'

  'In a litter?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'And the litter-team haven't returned either?'

  'No, sir.'

  'Your own litter? Or hired?'

  Callias's mouth pursed.

  'A house litter, sir, of course. I would never permit the mistress to go out in a hired litter.'

  Despite my anxiety, I grinned. Slaves can be snobbish as hell; and I'd back a snobbish slave against a patrician dowager any day.

  'Okay. You've...ah...you've checked with the Watch?' The question had to be asked.

  'Yes, sir. Of course. No fatalities whatsoever in this region last night, sir.'

  I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't likely she'd been attacked, not that early in the evening, not between the Esquiline and the Palatine. Still, it was a load off my mind to have murder ruled out as a possibility.

  'Where else would she go?'

  'Nowhere else, sir. Not without telling us. And the Lady Rufia Perilla doesn't...didn't go out very often. Certainly not overnight.'

  So what the hell does that leave? I asked myself. It wasn't a question I cared to answer. 'Let me know immediately she comes back, okay, Callias? Immediately!'

  He inclined his head. 'Yes, sir.'

  It took me three nail-biting hours of fruitless waiting before I shelved my pride and went round to my father's. He was in his study, writing. When his chief slave Phaedrus showed me in he laid the pen down and simply stared at me without speaking.

  I wasn't surprised. It'd been three years since I'd set foot in that house. Never since the divorce, in fact. When I'd walked out (I'd had a house of my own to go to for about a year by then) I'd sworn an oath by the family spirits not to come back. Ever.

  'Welcome, Marcus.' My father rose and came towards me, his hands outstretched. I thought he was going to hug me, but he didn't. The hands dropped to his sides. 'It's good to see you here.'

  'Perilla's disappeared,' I said. 'I think she's been kidnapped.'

  'What?'

  'Dad, if you know anything about this, anything at all, please tell me.'

  He stiffened. 'Why should I know anything of the whereabouts of the Lady Rufia Perilla?'

  'Look, don't play games, okay? I didn't ask you where she was, I asked you if you knew what could've happened to her.'

  'Of course I don't.'

  'You swear it?'

  'Marcus, for heaven's sake, what's got into you?'

  'Swear it!'

  My father stared at me for several heartbeats. Then he sighed.

  'Very well. If that's what you want.' He walked over to the family shrine and placed his right hand on top of it. 'I swear I had no knowledge, until you came in here just a moment ago, either of the whereabouts or of the disappearance of Rufia Perilla.'

  'Or who might be responsible?'

  'Marcus!'

  'Swear!'

  'Or of who might be responsible. I so swear.' He took his hand away. 'Now will you please sit down and tell me what's going on.'

  'Can I have a cup of wine?'

  'Of course.' He pushed past me, opened the study door and shouted: 'Phaedrus! A jug of wine, here. Now, please.'

  I heard the acknowledgement, and the slave's feet padding off over the marble tiles.

  'So tell me what happened.' My father closed the door behind him.

  I sat down on the couch. My hands were still shaking. They hadn't stopped all day. I slipped them beneath my thighs to keep them still.

  'She went out yesterday afternoon to the Fabius place to visit her mother,' I said. 'She left well before dark and she still hasn't come home. That's all I know.'

  'Where do you mean by home? Your house or hers?'

  'Father!'

  'I'm sorry. That was uncalled for, and it's none of my business. Could she have spent the night anywhere else?'

  'Callias is sure not – he's her head house slave. He says she would've told him. She'd certainly have told me.'

  'And Callias is telling the truth?'

  'I assume so. Why should he lie?'

  'I don't know. You haven't quarrelled, you and the Lady Rufia?'

  'Of course we haven't sodding quarrelled!'

  'Softly, Marcus, I'm only trying to help. She didn't mention going to visit anyone else? No one at all?'

  'No. Not that I know of.'

  The door opened. Phaedrus with the wine. I took the cup from his hands, drank it off, and held it out for more.

  'Leave the jug on the desk and go, Phaedrus,' my father said. Then, as the door closed again: 'Why did you think I might have known about this?'

  I shook my head. 'I made a mistake.'

  'You did. The emperor doesn't deal in kidnapping. Whatever the provocation. And neither do I.'

  'Yeah? And what about the empress?' I couldn't stop myself. 'Don't tell me Livia's above that sort of thing, Dad. It'd be about the only crime she hasn't committed, wouldn't it?'

  The silence was sudden and total. I hadn't meant to say the words. They'd slipped out and it was too late now to call them back.

  'Who told you?' My father's voice was no more than a whisper. 'Marcus, who told you?'

  'That doesn't matter.' I was having to hold the winecup with both hands. 'I know. I know the whole story. About Gaius and Lucius. The two Julias. But I also know you were right. It's all water under the bridge, it's not important, it doesn't matter.' I looked at him. 'Father, why couldn't you trust me?'

  He shook his head and said nothing. He looked grey.

  'There's only one thing I don't know, or not for sure,' I went on. 'Who was the fourth conspirator? The guy Ovid saw at Paullus's? Was it Quinctilius Varus, or Vela, or someone else? Come on, you can tell me now.'

  My father's head came up, and he stared at me. His face was blank, completely blank. He couldn't've been acting. The reaction was far too natural and unrehearsed for that.

  He simply didn't know what I was talking about.

  'Ovid was exiled because he found out the truth behind Julia's adultery,’ he said. ‘It had nothing to do with Paullus's conspiracy. And why should Varus be involved?'

  'But Julia didn't commit adultery.' I'd been living with the problem so long that the simple statement came out as self-evident, almost naïve.

  'Of course she did! Silanus seduced her on Livia's instructions. Then Livia reported her to the emperor.'

  It was my turn to shake my head. 'No, Dad. That wasn't how it happened. There was no adultery. None at all. Paullus and Julia were conspiring to bring back Postumus and take him to the Rhine legions.'

  'But...'

  I had never seen my father look so confused, so lost; but I'd no time for sympathy, or for explanations. It wasn't important now anyway. 'Look,’ I said. ‘None of this matters. The important thing is that Perilla's missing and I think the imperials may be responsible. I'm asking you please, Father, to do your best to find her. I'll do anything they want, anything you want, I'll give up asking questions. Anything! Just get her back!'

  He hesitated. 'Very well, son. I'll do my best. I don't accept that the emperor is responsible, mind. Or the Empress Livia. But I can at least make enquiries through the proper channels.'

  I felt my face flush. 'And how the hell long is that going to take?'

  'I don't know.' My father's voice was gentle. '
Several days, probably, at least.'

  'Several days?'

  'Marcus, I can't just go to the palace, demand an audience with Tiberius and Livia and accuse them both to their faces of kidnapping. It has to be done diplomatically.'

  'Oh, sure!' I turned away. 'We wouldn't want to put anyone's nose out of joint, now, would we?'

  My father sighed. 'I'll do my best, believe me. But I'm not going to go storming in there casting unfounded accusations around right left and centre for you or for anyone. Especially where the empress is concerned.'

  I was facing him again. 'A bit too close to the bone, right?'

  'If you choose to see it that way, yes. Far too close to the bone.'

  I looked at his stiff expression and remembered my promise to Perilla. 'Hey, I'm sorry, Dad. Yeah, anything you can do, I'd be grateful. However you do it, however long it takes, and whether it works or not.'

  His expression softened.

  'We'll get her back,' he said. 'Don't worry. If she's still...' He stopped. 'We'll get her back for you.'

  I left the house in a better frame of mind than I'd entered it. All the same I couldn't help thinking of the words my father so carefully hadn't said at our parting; and I prayed to every god I knew, and any that I didn't who might be listening, that Perilla wasn't already dead.

  I didn't sleep that night.

  35.

  My next stop was the gym, to talk to Scylax. Dad would handle the official side of things, but if the emperor was responsible short of waving the white flag for me I knew there wasn't a lot he could do. With Scylax's help I could start from the other end. Scylax had contacts that spread throughout the city's underground as deep and as far as an oak tree's roots. If anyone could track Perilla down, or put the finger on who'd taken her, then Scylax could. First, though, I had to persuade the guy I was serious. In Scylax's book women ranked somewhere between mules and chickens. Even then on a good day the chickens had them beat three times out of four.

  I found him in the tackle room he used as an office, putting an edge on a dagger.

  'What makes you so sure she's been kidnapped?' His leathery thumb worked spittle into the whetstone's surface. 'Time's nothing to these bubbleheads. Maybe she just decided to stay over with friends and forgot to mention it.'

  'She didn't.'

  He scowled. 'Hey, that's good, Corvinus! Nice touch in certainties! You got your own Thessalian witch tucked away somewhere? Or do you do the palm readings yourself?'

  Before I knew what I was doing I'd grabbed the whetstone away from him and thrown it into a corner.

  'Look, you bastard,' I shouted. 'Are you going to help me or not?'

  He didn't move; just looked at me and held out his hand until I'd picked up the stone and given it back.

  'Take it easy, boy,' he said quietly. 'That was a joke. Remember jokes?'

  I swallowed; my nerves were scraped raw. 'Yeah. Okay. I'm sorry. No, I don't know that she's been kidnapped. Not for sure. But she has disappeared. And if she was visiting friends she'd've told me, or at least told her house slaves. That I am certain of.'

  Scylax frowned. The dagger slid across the stone with a swchhh! swchhh! that set my teeth on edge.

  'Okay,' he said at last. 'I'll help. Sure I will. Only if I end up looking ten kinds of fool when she comes home tomorrow trailing a new boyfriend I'll break your neck.'

  'She won't. She won't, believe me.'

  'You'd better be right, boy, because that's no joke. So let's have the details.'

  I told him as much as I knew, which wasn't a lot.

  'You've checked with the Watch?'

  'Of course I've bloody–' I stopped. 'Yeah. No corpses.'

  'And you haven't been contacted?'

  'No. Nor have her family.'

  'Early days yet. They want you to sweat.'

  I stood up and moved to the door. Out on the sand, Scylax's chief trainer was giving a dandified young narrow-striper hell for dropping his guard. I watched with dull eyes.

  'So who took her?' Scylax spoke softly.

  I spun round.

  'How the hell should I know? That's what I want you to find out!

  'You know, boy. Not the names of the guys who actually grabbed her, no. That's my end. The big guy, though, the one who gives the orders, the guy you've been having all this trouble with. You know who he is, don't you?'

  'Maybe.' I'd no intentions of springing the names Tiberius and Livia on him, not unless I had to.

  'There's no maybe about it.' Scylax tested the edge of the dagger against his thumb and laid it aside. 'Listen, Corvinus, because I'll only say this once. I don't turn my back on a friend, and if he asks me to hold my tongue then I don't blab. But it cuts both ways. You want my help, you pay my price.'

  'Which is?'

  'Trust me. Tell me the whole thing from the beginning. The whole thing, not the edited highlights. Then we'll see where we stand.'

  'We've been through that already. I can't do it.'

  He shrugged and got up.

  'Okay,' he said. 'If that's the way you want it.'

  'Look, you don't understand! Just knowing about this could get you killed. There're big names involved.'

  'I said it was okay.' He picked up a wooden training-sword and made for the door. 'Good luck anyway. I'll see you around.'

  I stood in the doorway, blocking his path.

  'You mean you're not going to help?' He said nothing, just kept on coming. 'Answer me, you bastard!'

  His shoulder caught me in the side of the chest like the business end of a battering-ram. I fell winded, and he stepped over me. I thought he'd simply keep on going but he stopped and looked back.

  'Never mind the names, Marcus,' he said. 'Just trust me. That's all I ask.'

  I lay on the dirt floor gasping and kneading my ribs. They felt like they'd been crushed by a runaway marble column.

  'Okay,' I said when I could talk again. 'Okay, you've asked for it. But don't blame me if you wake up tomorrow with your throat cut.'

  He grinned and pulled me to my feet. 'I'm a light sleeper, boy. Besides, who wants to be old anyway?'

  So I told him. The whole story from the beginning, with nothing missed out. I thought maybe he'd balk at the political stuff, but he didn't: Scylax had been around, and he wasn't stupid.

  'You sure the imperials're behind this?' he said.

  'They have to be. I was stonewalled that first day at the palace, and no one else has that kind of clout. Anyway, it's in their interests.' I glanced at him. 'Worried?'

  'Yeah. Shit-scared, if you want the truth. Who wouldn't be?'

  'Does it make a difference?'

  Scylax inspected the blade of his dagger and laid it down. 'I gave you my word, remember? I don't do that often, and when I do no one questions it, not even you. You get me?'

  I swallowed and said nothing.

  'Okay. So Tiberius and Livia wouldn't involve themselves directly in something as dirty as this. If we want to find your girlfriend we're looking for a middle-man. I'll put the word out. Meanwhile we stake you out. Watch you, watch your house.'

  'What good will that do?

  'Jupiter, Corvinus!' He spat. 'What do you use for a brain? You say these guys haven't made contact yet?'

  'Not yet, no.'

  'They will. And when they do we have a face we can follow.'

  'Yeah, but they – the imperials, whoever – they just want the investigation killed, right? They don't have to contact me to tell me the obvious.'

  'You got a better idea?'

  'No, but...'

  'So shut up and trust me. I've done this before, and I know what I'm doing. When – not if, when – someone puts the bite on you I'll know it. Know it without him knowing I know. And then we'll find the guy and take him apart piece by fucking piece.' He grinned. 'Unless it's Tiberius himself in a big black cloak and false beard, in which case you're on your own. So sod off and let me organise things, okay?'

  I checked Perilla's house before I went home, ju
st on the off-chance; but there was still no news.

  36.

  I was getting ready for bed when Bathyllus shoved his head round the door to tell me Agron was outside and wanted to talk to me privately.

  Privately. Yeah. Sure. I could quote him now. We've got your girlfriend, pal. Stop screwing around or you can kiss her goodbye. It looked as if old Quinctilia had been spinning me a line after all. Shit, I'd believed in her and that fat-faced nephew of hers, and I didn't think my judgement could be that much out. Sure, Asprenas I could understand: Fat Face had struck me as the sort of guy who wouldn't balk at kidnapping if he decided it was the only way to shut me up. But not Quinctilia. I'd've thought the old girl would've had more pride.

  I got my sword out and told Bathyllus to wheel the big guy in and make sure the Sunshine Boys made themselves conspicuous in the lobby. The Illyrian walked past them as if they were part of the furniture. If he'd been wearing a hat I swear he'd've used one of them to hang it on.

  'Sorry to hear about your girlfriend,' he said.

  I set the point of the sword against his chest.

  'Oka,’ I said. ‘Where is she? You've got three seconds.'

  Although I must've looked pretty mean Agron didn't bat an eyelid. He brushed the sword aside, drew up a chair and sat down.

  'Put that pig-sticker away, boy, you look ridiculous. If you can't look after your women it's no concern of mine.'

  Slowly, I sheathed the sword and sat down facing him. The guy had more guts than I had, I'll say that for him; but I wasn't going to leave things there.

  'If she's come to any harm,' I said carefully, 'you're dead meat, understand? You and Chubby-Chops Asprenas both. I'm telling you that now.'

  He laughed. 'Think you can do any better than last time? And what's Asprenas got to do with it?'

  I made a sign to the Sunshine Boys who were hovering in the open doorway. They trooped inside grinning and nudging each other, cracking knuckles and flexing biceps. As a performance it was subtle as a Suburan mugging, but that suited me. This was one message I wanted spelt out in capitals.

  Agron didn't even look round. 'Look, Corvinus. We may not particularly like each other but I don't need the hassle and I don't want to bait you, okay? I'm telling you now that I've no more idea where the girl is or who took her than you do. Nor has Asprenas and nor has the mistress. So call off your performing monkeys back there before you make yourself out to be a bigger fool than you are already.'