‘I’m afraid not, dear.’
‘Then we’re missing something. If Rufus instigated the prosecutions, and Rufus was Messalina’s man, then there has to be a reason common to all of them that’s in her interest.’
‘Unless you and Graecina are completely wrong and she wasn’t involved to begin with. Perhaps Rufus was acting for himself after all.’
‘Why should he do that? What’s in it for him? Look, two out of the three were Claudius’s relatives. A comparative nobody like Rufus wouldn’t risk going against four-star imperials unless he had some powerful backing of his own, and from someone who had serious clout with the emperor himself, at that. It had to be Messalina.’ A thought struck me. ‘Rufus’s suffect consulship. When was it exactly?’
‘Three years ago. November and December, right at the end of the consular term.’
‘The same year as the prosecutions. The bastard was squeezed in at the last minute, given his consular status as a reward for services rendered. Come on, Perilla! It fits all the way down the line, and you know it does.’
‘Marcus,’ she said gently, ‘suffect consuls are chosen by the emperor. If you were claiming that Rufus’s employer, as it were, was Claudius himself then unlikely as that would be, knowing the man, I might be more sympathetic to the idea. But–’
‘Lady, show some sense! Messalina has led that guy around by the nose like a performing bear ever since the wedding, especially since–’ I stopped. Oh, shit! Shit, I’d got it! Or maybe I had. ‘Wait a minute. Okay. So what else happened that year? Involving Messalina herself, personally?’
‘Well, of course, that was the year she had–’ I saw it hit her too. She stared at me wide-eyed. ‘Oh, my!’
‘Right. She had Britannicus. Their first male child. It’s about the succession again, protecting the line. Justus, okay, fine, we don’t know where he fits in. But both Livia and Livilla were female imperials of child-bearing age; in fact, Livia had a son already. Once she’d provided Claudius with an heir Messalina couldn’t take the risk of there being any other front runners in the future. And even if Rubellius Junior had been a likely contender his mother’s disgrace, plus the fact that his father was a virtual nobody, would’ve put the kibosh on his chances pretty effectively.’
‘But Livilla didn’t have any children.’
‘True. All the same, we don’t know why that was. She could’ve been barren, sure, but given her predilections it could equally have been out of choice: having a child would’ve cramped her style pretty effectively in that department, at least on a temporary basis.’
‘Marcus...’
‘Yeah, well, it would. Admitted, after all this time it wasn’t at all likely she and Vinicius would start a family, and it was pretty plain they weren’t on sleeping-together terms to begin with, but Messalina wouldn’t’ve wanted to chance it. Accidents happen. Plus what if the lady had suddenly got ambitious and set her cap at Claudius herself?’
‘Oh, now you really are fantasising!’
I shook my head. ‘Uh-uh. It was at least a viable possibility, or I bet it would’ve struck Messalina as such. Livilla might’ve been a bit on the well-padded side, but she was young, from the same class, virtually estranged from her husband, and a past and practised mistress where seduction was concerned. You know Claudius yourself. If she’d really set out in earnest to land the poor boob he would’ve been a pushover.’
‘That is pure gutter-reasoning!’
‘Even so. For that matter, what about Livia? For totally different reasons, granted, but still. Oh, sure, from what you tell me she was happy enough with the husband she’d got, but when all’s said and done he was a nobody, and a pretty dull one at that. You said she was a reader, interested in history; so’s Claudius, the guy’s a history nut, and what’s more he knows his stuff inside out. They’d have common ground in spades. On the other hand, I doubt if Messalina’s read a book all the way through in her life, and she sure as hell couldn’t keep up a conversation about the Etruscan League over the breakfast porridge. He was the emperor, for the gods’ sake! If he’d decided that he wanted Livia all he’d’ve had to do was order Blandus to divorce her and that would’ve been it, end of story. It’s happened before, after all. Look at Augustus and the old empress before she was the old empress.’
‘I’m sorry, Marcus, but this is getting silly. Stop it.’
I shrugged. ‘Fair enough. But remember, we’re thinking like Messalina would here. She may not be all that clever, but she’s thorough, and when it’s a case of self-protection she doesn’t take prisoners.’
‘Hmm.’ She reached up and pulled at a curl. ‘Well, you may be right. Not that I’d agree that any of it goes beyond the purely theoretical, mind. If that. In fact, I’d say “fanciful” would suit better.’
Definitely sniffy. I grinned.
‘Have it your own way,’ I said. ‘The thing’s academic now in any case. Both the ladies are long dead.’
‘What about Graecina’s other two victims? Silanus and Vinicianus? They can’t fit the same pattern, can they?’
‘Uh-uh, they can’t. Or at least there’s no obvious connection that I can see.’
She was twisting at the curl. ‘Silanus was married to Domitia Lepida, wasn’t he?’ she said. ‘Messalina’s mother.’
I gave her a sharp look. ‘Yeah. Yes, he was. So? There’s the connection with Messalina, sure, but–’
‘Then perhaps I might indulge in a little gutter-reasoning of my own. From a female perspective.’
‘Ah...sure. Sure, no problem.’ Jupiter! I wondered if I really wanted to hear this! ‘Feel free, lady.’
‘It’s the daughter/father thing. Oh, yes, of course, I know Silanus wasn’t Messalina’s biological father, of course he wasn’t, that’s just the point: he was no blood relation, and yet he was in an obvious sexual relationship with her mother. Perhaps she was just a little jealous, and being a mature woman with her lack of inhibitions she–’
I held up my hand. ‘Fine. Fine.’ Jupiter Best and Greatest! ‘Got you. You don’t need to spell it out.’
Perilla grinned. ‘You’re blushing, dear,’ she said. ‘You really are quite a prude underneath it all, aren’t you?’
‘So what you’re saying is that Messalina tried it on with her stepfather, he turned her down flat and she decided to pay him back.’ Gods!
‘That would more or less cover it, yes. Just a suggestion, no more, but I think you’d find that in the absence of a more obvious reason it’s a perfectly tenable theory. The circumstances of the charge are a bit odd, though, aren’t they? I mean, a dream, for goodness’ sake! I honestly wouldn’t have believed it of Claudius; he’s usually such a sensible man.’
‘Yeah, well, if you’re an emperor you’re bound to get a bit jumpy in the context of guys with knives. Particularly when your predecessor got himself chopped. Besides, Silanus had tried the same thing before, years ago with Tiberius, hadn’t he? Or would’ve done, rather, if I hadn’t queered Servaeus’s pitch for him by explaining to the gullible bugger how he’d been suckered.’ I took another sip of the wine. ‘But Claudius would know the story, and of course so would Messalina and Narcissus. Which is probably what put the idea into their heads.’
‘It’s interesting that Narcissus backed her up, though, isn’t it?’ Perilla said. ‘I mean, yes, we know from past experience that the two of them are hand-in-glove, or at least they were over putting Claudius where he is, but it was always a clandestine arrangement on both sides. And I would’ve expected that the business of two coincidental dreams might have raised Claudius’s suspicions rather than otherwise, even if he was afraid of assassination.’
‘Yeah. I thought that was a bit odd, myself. Particularly if, as you say, the quarrel with Silanus was Messalina’s alone and Narcissus had no personal axe to grind. Certainly, given that Claudius is no intellectual slouch, it brought its own added risks. Still, no doubt the scheming bastard had his reasons for coming out of the woodwork, whatever they
might have been.’ I shook my head. ‘Hell. Leave it and move on. Last one, Annius Vinicianus.’
‘Yes.’ Perilla frowned. ‘Marcus, Vinicianus makes no sense at all. Again we know that, like Narcissus, he was involved in the final conspiracy against Gaius, the real conspiracy, and he was one of the inner circle, very much so. Why should Messalina want to destroy him?’
‘Could be he’d decided to change sides for some reason, blow the whistle on what she and Narcissus were up to, or at least she was, over the succession, and Messalina had caught him out.’
‘No, dear. Oh, it’s an obvious solution, yes, but it won’t work.’
‘Is that so? Why not?’
‘First of all, because there aren’t any sides any more, not practically speaking: Messalina has won, she has everything she wants, all the power she needs, and Claudius trusts her absolutely, even to the extent of blindness, that much is only too clear. Vinicianus would be a fool to risk going against her; he’d never be believed, not for a moment, and he’d be well aware of the fact. Secondly, why would he betray her at that late date? He had nothing to gain personally, quite the reverse: he was definitely persona grata where Messalina was concerned, and that meant through her with the emperor. Thirdly, where was his proof? If he had gone to Claudius and told him Messalina had been central to the plot which killed Gaius for the emperor to believe him he would have to have revealed his own part in it. No, I’m sorry, but the whole thing would simply be too dangerous and completely pointless.’
Bugger. She was right, sure she was, all the way down the line. ‘Even so,’ I said, ‘Vinicianus was chopped. And by Messalina; he had to be. We can’t get round that.’
‘No.’ Perilla sighed. ‘No, we can’t. So. What now?’
‘There’s Secundus to see re Catonius Justus, of course. We need to check that angle. But I was wondering whether it might be an idea to have a word with Marcus Vinicius.’
She stared at me. ‘Vinicius? Why him?’
‘You have a better idea, lady?’ I finished off the wine and put the empty cup down. ‘Look. We know already that Vinicius had close personal connections with at least three out of our five victims: Livilla was his wife, Vinicianus was his nephew, and you told me he thought of Livia practically as a niece. Plus the fact that barring Claudius himself for obvious reasons he’s the nearest we’ve got to a friendly imperial, and I reckon that’s going to be important. Oh, sure, he might not be able or willing to help, in fact he might well throw me out on my ear, but it’s worth a shot.’
‘Very well, Marcus.’ She smiled. ‘You can be sure he won’t throw you out, anyway; Vinicius is far too polite to do any such thing, even if he didn’t have a genuine regard for you, which he does.’
‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘I’ll go round tomorrow.’
Well, at least things were moving.
18
Like I say, I had a lot of time for Marcus Vinicius. Five-star imperial he undoubtedly was – his marriage to Livilla had been at Tiberius’s own suggestion – and he’d been one of Claudius’s closest friends long before he became emperor. Perilla had known him for years, of course, through her poetry klatsch and various reading parties, but I’d only met him twice, the first time during the Macro business and the second at that dinner party just before Gaius’s assassination. On both occasions he’d struck me as a pretty okay guy, upper-class Rome at its best, which believe me you don’t get all that often; certainly someone I could talk to in the knowledge that he’d be as straight with me as he could manage. How far that would extend, mind you, was a different matter entirely. We’d just have to see.
Vinicius’s house, as befitted one of the inner circle, was on the Palatine not far from the imperial complex itself: big, but not flashy, in the old Augustan style. I gave my name to the door-slave and kicked my heels in the vestibule until Vinicius’s chief slave came through from the house proper.
‘Valerius Corvinus,’ he said. ‘A pleasure to see you again, sir.’
‘Uh...’ I searched my memory. ‘Tynnias, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right, sir.’ The major-domo smiled. He was an oldish guy, sixty at least, so he had ten years on Vinicius himself. Still, he had the same solid, dapper feel to him as his master. ‘And if you don’t mind my saying so you look a good deal better than you did the last time you were here.’
I grinned; yeah, that I’d believe. On my last, and only, visit to the place six years before, for one of the lady’s poetry parties, I’d come fresh – if that wasn’t exactly the word – from an almost-fatal encounter with a runaway mason’s cart on the Staurian Stairs.
‘Is Vinicius at home?’ I said.
‘Unfortunately not, sir. The senate’s in session today, and I doubt if he’ll be back much before late afternoon. Was there something urgent, or can I take a message?’
Damn. ‘No, that’s okay,’ I said. ‘It’s not urgent, exactly, but I did want to speak to him personally, and it isn’t about anything I can put into a message. You think it’d be all right if I go down to the senate house and try to catch him as he leaves?’
‘I’m sure it would, sir, if you prefer to do that. Although naturally I can’t guarantee the timing. It depends completely on the business being transacted, and that may prolong things until sundown.’
Damn again. Still, it was no big deal: being on the Palatine already, I was just round the corner from where Gaius Secundus was based in army admin headquarters. I could go round there first, talk to Secundus if he was available about Justus, and then head down the hill to the senate house in plenty of time to hang around until the meeting broke up. I just hoped that wouldn’t be too late, certainly not as late as sundown: Meton had very definite views on the subject of people not turning up for dinner on time without having given due warning, and I had enough troubles at present without adding a seriously-miffed chef to the mix.
‘Thanks, pal,’ I said. ‘Oh...just in case I do miss him, could you tell him I called, maybe ask him to send someone over to the Caelian with a time when he’ll be free? He knows where I am.’
‘Certainly, sir. I’ll be sure to do that.’
I left. Next stop Secundus.
I climbed the steps of the military admin building tacked onto the edge of Augustus House, nodded to the two squaddies on guard duty at the door, and went up to the reception desk.
‘The boss around this morning?’ I said to the clerk behind it. ‘Vibullius Secundus?’
‘Yes, sir, he’s just come in.’ The clerk signalled to a hovering slave. ‘Your name, please?’ I gave him it. ‘You have an appointment?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Just dropping in. On a personal matter.’
‘Then I’ll have to check if he’s free, sir. If you’d care to wait?’
Fair enough. The gopher disappeared on his assigned errand, while I moved over to one of the benches and sat down.
Gaius Secundus was the oldest friend I had. We’d hung out a lot together in our late, wild teens, gone to parties, even shared a girlfriend at one point, but then we went our very different ways. I’d opted out of the usual political rat-race, much to my father’s disgust, before I even got started; Secundus had stuck it, and thrived. Like most well-born youngsters, barring oddball drop-outs like me, he’d begun things with a posting as tribune to one of the legions, whereupon the silly fool had fallen badly from his horse, shattered most of the bones in his right leg, and had to be invalided home. End of military career, which was a pity, because if anyone had been cut out for the army it was Secundus. Since then we’d seen each other off and on as he moved up the ladder – he’d been a city judge ten or so years back – and he was currently sitting behind the top desk in the department of military administration, where as far as I knew he was happy to stay for the foreseeable future.
A nice guy, Secundus, and political life hadn’t spoiled him a bit.
The slave arrived back and I was taken in to the august presence. Secundus was at his desk, talking to another of the freedmen-c
lerks.
‘Marcus!’ he said. ‘How’s the boy?’ Then, to the clerk, ‘That’s fine, Acastus. We’ll finish up later.’ The man went out. ‘So. How’s it going? It’s been, what, two years?’
‘More. Over three. I’m sorry, Gaius. I should’ve kept in touch.’
Secundus shrugged. ‘It’s as much my fault as yours,’ he said. ‘I knew where you were. How’s Perilla?’
‘Fine. She sends her regards.’ I pulled up a stool and sat. ‘You, uh, got anything going yourself in that direction these days?’ The last time I’d seen him he’d been two years divorced from Furia Gemella and playing the field again, which before his injury and Gemella’s subsequent appearance on the scene as nursemaid had been Secundus’s natural state. Still, he wasn’t young any more, no more than I was, and it wasn’t unreasonable to suppose he was settling down.
He grinned. ‘Yeah. I married again, a couple of years back last December. One of Gemella’s pals, actually, but Helena’s a different thing altogether. You’d like her.’ Well, in that case it’d make a change from said Gemella: even on the shortest of acquaintances we’d never got on.
‘Look, pal, you have time to split a jug?’ I said. ‘We could go down to Tasso’s.’ His local, at the foot of the Palatine on the Market Square side. If I remembered, they did a good Massic; pricey, but that went with the place’s broad-striper clientele.
‘Sorry, Marcus. Not today.’ He indicated the pile of flimsies and tablets on the desk. ‘I’m snowed under. And I’ve an important meeting this afternoon that I have to get ready for.’
Bugger. Well, he wasn’t a man of leisure, like me; he’d a proper job to do. I made to get up.
‘If you’re busy,’ I said, ‘I can–’
‘No, no, you’re fine for half an hour or so,’ he said quickly. ‘Call it an early break. It’s just we have to go over to Tibur in four days, Helena and I – family wedding – and there’re things I need to clear up before then.’
Family Commitments (Marcus Corvinus Book 20) Page 16
