‘My father used to correspond with him regularly. Pomponius Graecinus?’ I must’ve looked blank. ‘Never mind, but no doubt your wife would remember. We’ve met on many occasions, she and I. At poetry readings, mostly. Unlike her, I don’t write, but I do take a keen interest. She’s very good, isn’t she?’
‘So I’m told, yes.’ I glanced at the tree. ‘I hope I wasn’t, uh, interrupting anything there, by the way.’
She laughed. ‘You mean my talking to the tamarisk? Oh, but you must always talk to your plants. It keeps them healthy and it encourages them to grow. And tamarisks are special, very special. You know that it was embedded in a tamarisk trunk that Mother Isis found the chest containing the Lord Osiris’s body? The chest was embedded, that is, not Mother Isis.’
Daft as a brush, this one, I thought. Still, at least she seemed relatively harmless. ‘No,’ I said. ‘No, I didn’t know that.’
‘Perfectly true. So you must be extra-specially polite to them. But I always make a tour of the garden round about now and have a quick word with everything, especially the ones that are looking a bit peaky. Early afternoon is the best time; they’re all fully awake by then. Aulus tells me I’m silly – you know Aulus? My husband Aulus Plautius? – but we have the largest and healthiest plants in the neighbourhood, so I tell him that I don’t care.’
Plautius, right? Currently the emperor’s commander-in-chief of the British expedition, and so the proto-province’s first designated governor. Well, for the sake of our future British prospects I was glad to hear that he, at least, wouldn’t be worrying his subordinates by fraternising with the local flora.
‘Now.’ Graecina signalled to a hovering slave. ‘There’s a very pleasant little arbour over there in the corner by the lemon tree. Sextus here will bring you a cup of wine – a barley water for me, please, Sextus – and you can sit and tell me why you’ve come.’
That sounded pretty good to me, especially since I’d done a fair bit of walking that morning and my throat was dry as a camel’s armpit. Or whatever. I followed her over to the arbour and we sat down on the Gallic wicker chairs.
‘So,’ she said. ‘The floor – or at least this patch of gravel – is yours.’
I was beginning to like Pomponia Graecina; even if she did talk to the trees and clank like a foundry when she moved there was a definite brain there, and a pretty considerable one, at that. Besides, for all I knew she was spot on about the plants: as I remembered it, our gardener Alexis had had a theory that you could improve the size and yield of pea-plants with the aid of a rabbit-tail brush inserted into the flowers, and Alexis was no fool. I’d have to mention her idea to him and see what he thought of it.
‘It’s about Julia Livia,’ I said. ‘I understand she was a friend of yours.’
‘Oh.’ She was suddenly serious. ‘Oh, yes, of course she was, poor girl. What happened to her was dreadful, simply dreadful. And I shall never forgive Claudius, not if I live to be ninety. Mind you, he’ll be long dead himself by then, and good riddance.’
Uh-huh. Well, hardly a tactful opening statement. But I suspected that the lady didn’t do tact to any great degree.
‘She was, uh, accused of misconduct,’ I said.
‘The word is immorality, Valerius Corvinus.’ Her mouth had set in a hard line; no sign of silliness now. ‘Sexual immorality. Complete and utter nonsense. Livia was the most virtuous soul alive, a totally devoted wife and mother. She wouldn’t have looked twice at any man, least of all poor Justus, who was sixty if he was a day and a model of honour.’
‘So why the charge?’
‘I’ve no idea. I said: there was no sense to it, none at all. Mind you, although Claudius behaved quite despicably throughout and must bear ultimate responsibility for her death I very much doubt if he was the moving force. He always was weak-willed and malleable, quite the wrong things for an emperor to be. It was that young hussy of a wife of his who persuaded him.’
My guts went cold. ‘Messalina?’
‘She’s a relative of yours, of course, so I’m sorry if I’m giving offence, and I’ve no objective proof whatsoever, but I am completely convinced of it. Poor Livia was, too; it was practically the last thing she said to me. “Tell Blandus” – that was her husband Rubellius Blandus, Bland by name and bland by nature, unfortunately, but we’ll let that pass – “that this was Messalina’s doing.”’
Oh, shit, this I could really do without!
The slave brought the tray and handed me my cup of wine. I swallowed half of it at a gulp, then wished I hadn’t: it was Massic, and top-grade Massic at that, which is really saying something. I took another sip; a careful one this time.
Graecina was watching me closely.
‘Forgive me,’ she said, ‘but you haven’t actually explained your interest. I mean, Livia was my closest friend, and her death is very fresh in my mind and always will be, so to me the circumstances surrounding it are of considerable weight and independent of time. But the trial and execution were all over and done with almost nine months ago. They really shouldn’t be any concern to anyone by now, let alone a complete stranger.’
Politely and indirectly phrased, sure, but the gist was unmistakable: ‘What the hell are you doing here, and why are you asking me these questions?’ An intelligent brain right enough, and she deserved an answer, even though it couldn’t be a full one.
‘Actually, my main interest is in Suillius Rufus,’ I said. ‘For other reasons not directly connected with your friend.’ If Messalina was involved then I was hoping desperately that such was the case. However, judging by my past dealings with the little viper I suspected the hope was in the flying pigs bracket.
‘Rufus?’ She frowned. ‘That’ – her lips closed on the next word – ‘gentleman. Well, Valerius Corvinus, if you’re attempting to bring some other instance of his villainy home to Suillius Rufus then you have my complete support. The man is scum, pure and simple. The world would be a far cleaner place without him.'
Yeah, I’d agree with her there. And it was yet another proof, if I needed one, that the lady didn’t mince her words.
‘He have any personal reasons for wanting to bring down Julia Livia and Justus that you know of? Any at all?’ I asked. It was worth checking, at least; always best to dot the i’s and cross the t’s.
‘Absolutely none. I’m sure of that, in Livia’s case, and very probably not in Justus’s. Besides, they weren’t his first by any means.’
‘How’s that again?’
‘There was Livia’s cousin, for a start. Gaius’s sister, Livilla.’ She sniffed. ‘I’d no time for Livilla myself; she was vain and vicious, a spoilt brat from birth and a thoroughly bad lot. If her prosecutor hadn’t been Rufus I wouldn’t have any sympathy for her whatsoever, she deserved all she got a dozen times over, but as it is I do feel a little sorry for the woman.’
Yeah, come to think of it Livilla was one I had known about. As well as being Gaius’s youngest sister she’d been married to Marcus Vinicius, a friend of Perilla’s through the lady’s poetry klatch. I’d met her a couple of times, most memorably at that hellish dinner party just before Gaius got chopped. And again I agreed with Graecina: although I had a lot of time for Vinicius despite him being solidly on the imperial side of the fence, his wife had been a horror. As I remembered it, like Julia Livia she’d been tried for immorality (although in her case the cap fitted perfectly nem. con.), exiled, and quietly got rid of. That would’ve been, what, three years back.
I hadn’t known that the prosecutor had been Rufus, mind. That was news.
‘So who else?’ I said.
‘Well, let’s see.’ She frowned. ‘There was Junius Silanus. He came shortly afterwards.’
That name rang a very large bell, too. ‘Gaius Junius Silanus?’ I said. ‘Consul about fifteen years back?’
‘Yes, that’s him.’
‘Accused of?’
‘Attempting to assassinate the emperor.’
‘What?’
&nb
sp; ‘Indeed. If it weren’t so tragic it would be funny. There was no actual attempt at all, as far as I’m aware. The evidence came from a dream, or rather two dreams, which Messalina and the emperor’s secretary Narcissus had simultaneously – or rather said they had, of course; each is as bad as the other – of Silanus with a dagger in his hand standing over Claudius while he was asleep in his room. That, seemingly, provided sufficient grounds for the emperor to have the man tried and condemn him to death.’ Another sniff. ‘For such a clever man – and Claudius certainly is that – he can be a complete, gullible fool at times.’
Junius Silanus and attempted assassination of the emperor by dagger, eh? History repeating itself, or rather going one step further this time round. And she was right: it was ludicrous. It had been ludicrous the previous time, too.
‘Then, let me think, oh, yes, Annius Vinicianus, a few months later. He was the last one before Livia.’
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Oh, shit; this was becoming far too relevant for comfort. I knew Vinicianus as well, and from the same context as Livilla: he’d been Marcus Vinicius’s nephew, definitely a wrong-‘un if there ever was, and a crony – at the least – of Messalina’s herself. I must’ve missed Vinicianus’s trial, though, for some reason, because that little snippet of information came as a surprise.
‘What was he charged with? You happen to know?’ I said. Not that I suspected it mattered, because it wouldn’t’ve been the real reason, whatever that might be, but still...
‘Treason, I think. I’m not sure. Anyway, he killed himself before the trial was convened. No great loss there, either.
Sweet immortal gods, we’d really been getting names out of my past here, and no mistake. Vinicianus’s made the set. And I was feeling more than a touch of chill on my spine: when you added all that up and took a cold, hard look at it it didn’t leave all that much room for doubt. While if Suillius Rufus was the common factor, then it didn’t leave any room at all...
We were in it up to the eyeballs yet again. Fuck. Double fuck. Perilla would be delighted.
I swallowed the last of the Massic and stood up.
‘You’re going?’ Graecina said.
‘Yeah, unless there’s anything else you think I should know.’ I set the empty cup down on the ground. ‘Thanks for your help, Pomponia Graecina, really thanks: you’ve given me a lot to think about.’ That was putting it mildly: my head was buzzing with it all, and what I really needed now was the walk back to the Caelian to put it into some sort of logical order.
‘Do give my best regards to your wife, then.’ She was regarding me critically, head tilted to one side. ‘You know, you do have the most extraordinarily bright aura. I noticed it straight away when you were coming from the house, even with the sunlight, but in this partial shade it’s very clear indeed. Perhaps I shouldn’t mention it, because no doubt you’ll think I’m silly at best or cracked at worst, but I couldn’t let you leave without saying something.’
‘Ah...right. Right.’ I backed away hastily. ‘Thanks again, lady.’
‘You’re welcome. And I do hope you’ll manage to hand Suillius Rufus his deserts, whatever he’s involved in. A shame you can’t do something about Valeria Messalina directly, but I’m afraid that will be impossible until that idiot Claudius wakes up to what she really is.’
True. That was partly what was worrying me. Still, we’d cross that particular bridge when we came to it.
I set off back home.
17
Perilla, too, was in the garden. I nodded in passing to the miniature palm beside the portico exit – we weren’t on speaking terms yet; I’d work up to that – and went over to where she was sitting with an open book-roll on her lap.
She smiled at me. ‘You’re looking rather grim, dear,’ she said. ‘Anything wrong? How did your meeting with Crispus go?’
‘We’re in deep trouble, lady,’ I said, putting Bathyllus’s welcome-home wine cup on the garden table and pulling up the other chair. ‘The case has just turned political. And whatever is going on six gets you ten that Messalina’s at the bottom of it.’
The smile disappeared. ‘Oh, Marcus!’
‘Right. Joy in the morning.’ I fortified myself with a hefty swig of wine and took her through the whole horrific boiling.
‘It could be a coincidence,’ she said after I’d finished. ‘I mean, the only common factor linking our Oplonius business with the trials is Rufus himself. And bringing Messalina into the equation was only Graecina’s idea, got from Julia Livia herself at a time when she might well not have been thinking very rationally.’
‘Fine. You want to bet on all that, or should I just take your money now?’
She grinned and ducked her head. ‘No, I’m sure we’ll find you’re perfectly correct. Unfortunately. What did you think of Pomponia Graecina, by the way? As a person?’
I hesitated. ‘I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘Oh, in some ways she’s six tiles short of a watertight roof, but she doesn’t miss much, and she struck me as a smart, smart cookie.’
‘Smart she certainly is. She’s an excellent mathematician and an expert on Aristotle: I believe she has the whole of his Physics by heart. It’s a pity about her other side, mind you, all this mystic nonsense, and quite surprising, too, considering the juxtaposition, but then that’s Graecina. And if she believes that Messalina is behind Rufus her opinion is worth taking seriously.’
‘Yeah, that’s what I thought.’ I frowned. ‘Okay, in that case let’s lay what we’ve got out on the table and have a look at it.’
‘Fair enough.’ She put the book-roll aside. ‘Where do you want to begin?’
‘Take it in the same order Graecina did, starting with Julia Livia herself. You ever meet her, by any chance?’
‘I knew her slightly, through Marcus Vinicius. He and she were always very close, even given the rather tenuous family connection, practically uncle and favourite niece. And from what I could tell Graecina is quite right: Livia wasn’t the philandering type. Her marriage to Nero was an arranged one, of course. She could only have been about fifteen at the time, and they weren’t really suited; I’m not surprised there were no children, and when he was exiled and put to death I suspect that if anything she was rather relieved. She married again a few years later; her own choice, I think, because although he wasn’t very prominent either politically or socially the man was much more her type.’
‘Yeah, Graecina mentioned him. Rubellius Blandus, right? She was a bit dismissive.’
‘Ah.’ She smiled. ‘That’s typical Graecina again, I’m afraid. She doesn’t do things, or judge people, by halves, and she has very strong likes and dislikes which aren’t always logical. Livia wasn’t an intellectual of her standard, nowhere near, but she did take a keen and intelligent interest in books, history especially, and Graecina felt that she was rather wasted on Blandus. I don’t think, whatever she says to the contrary, that she really understood that all the woman wanted was a steady family man for a husband. Which is what Blandus was. They had a son quite quickly, I believe. He’ll be about eight or nine years old now.’
‘So why should Rufus – Messalina – target her?’
‘I honestly don’t know, Marcus. Oh, she was one of the imperial family, yes, but on its own that would be no reason at all as far as I can see. I mean, she wasn’t ambitious or interfering, quite the reverse; all she wanted was a quiet life. She wasn’t a danger, and she couldn’t have had anything at all that Messalina wanted.’
‘What about Blandus himself?’
‘You mean as a lover?’ She shot me a look, smiled again, and shook her head. ‘No, dear. Definitely not. I’ve met him as well; he’s in his late fifties, fat and balding, and dull as ditch-water. Hardly a femme fatale’s daydream, particularly not one as choosy as Messalina.’
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Leave Livia for now and move on. Catonius Justus. Praetorian prefect, condemned and executed for treason and immorality with Livia. Any ideas there?’
‘Given his position the treason side of things is certainly a possibility.’
‘Yeah, I thought that myself.’ I took a swallow of the wine. ‘We don’t know anything about Justus. Still, Graecina seemed to think pretty highly of him, and linking the treason aspect of things with the obviously trumped-up immorality charge makes it suspect to say the least. Anyway, it’s something else to follow up. Maybe Gaius Secundus could help.’ Secundus was a long-standing friend of mine, currently in military admin. ‘Let him go for the present. Now we come to the biggies. Julia Livilla.’
‘Ah.’
‘Ah is right. As far as the charges are concerned, she had all-round form in spades.’
‘In Livilla’s case big and all-round are quite appropriate, aren’t they?’
‘Come again?’
‘Well, she was fairly large, wasn’t she? You remember her at that dreadful dinner party? She practically needed a whole couch to herself.’
‘Don’t be catty, lady. This is serious.’
She stifled a smile. ‘I’m sorry, dear. You’re quite right, and it isn’t relevant. So. What about Livilla?’
‘If we’re being honest we have to admit she was prime accuser bait to begin with. On the immorality front she must’ve screwed half the eligible studs in Rome in her time, including that tick Annaeus Seneca. Not to mention Brother Gaius himself.’
‘There’s no need to be crude, Marcus. Mind you, I agree with you about Seneca; he is a complete tick. And a terrible poet, what’s more.’
I ignored her. ‘She had form where the treason aspect of things is concerned, too,’ I said. ‘We know that from the Gaetulicus business. Okay, she was a complete bubblehead suckered into the plot by Lepidus and her sister, but still.’
‘It doesn’t explain why Messalina should engineer her trial and death, though, does it? If you’re assuming that she did, of course. She’s no more an obvious victim than Livia was. Or Justus, for that matter.’
‘No, it doesn’t.’ I frowned; bugger! ‘We’re not doing too well here, are we?’
Family Commitments (Marcus Corvinus Book 20) Page 15
