Germanicus

Scylax looked up, saw me and grunted. 'Hey. Be with you in a minute, Corvinus.'

'No hurry.' I sat down on the bench next the door and watched while the little bald-head prised two plates of muscle apart and inserted a knuckle. The punter's feet drummed the table and he chewed on the towel Scylax had thoughtfully provided. The knuckle slowly worked its way in and down and I found my balls contracting in sympathy. Scylax might be the best masseur in Rome, but he was also an evil minded bastard who liked his job far more than was decent. Finally, when he'd rearranged the guy's anatomy to his own satisfaction and rubbed the oil in, he let him up.

'That's all, sir,' he said. Polite as hell.

The customer swung his shaky legs over the side of the table, grabbed his towel and tottered off towards the changing rooms without a word. Supercilious bugger. Or maybe he was just afraid Scylax would change his mind and haul him back.

Scylax wiped his oily hands on a rag and looked at me. 'You next, Corvinus?'

'Uh-uh. No way.' I held up my hands. Having a massage from Scylax is like being mugged by a gorilla with a degree in anatomy. You may feel great afterwards but it's a pleasure to be rationed. 'This is business.'

'If you want to go over the accounts you can forget it.'

'Not that kind of business, pal. I need you to find someone for me.'

'Yeah?' He gave me a look and flung the rag onto the table. 'Okay. So tell me. But I can only spare you ten minutes, right?'

So much for the respect due from client to patron, but I was used to Scylax by now. If he'd called me 'sir' and licked my boots like your normal client I'd've had the doctors in. 'You ever heard of a guy called Carillus?'

'What kind of guy? Gladiator? Race driver? Knifeman?' Scylax sat down on the empty table. 'Pimp?'

'Freedman. I don't know what line he's in. Patron was Gnaeus Calpurnius Piso, before he slit his throat.'

A long whistle. 'You mixed up with that stuff again, boy?'

'Yeah.' I didn't go into details. Scylax would understand. 'You know him?'

'No. But if he was a freedman of Piso's I can put you on to somebody who does. Right now, in fact.' He got up and moved to the open door. 'Daphnis!' he yelled. 'Hey, Daphnis!'

There was a long pause while the ball of Spanish fire parked his rake, shambled over from the other side of the exercise ground and propped up the door frame with his shoulder.

'Yeah?' he said.

'Corvinus is asking about one of the Piso freedmen.'

'No kidding?' Daphnis looked unimpressed, but then he always did.

Scylax turned back to me. 'Daphnis's cousin's a litterman with the Pisos. Or was.'

Daphnis nodded glumly. 'The bastard's been cadging free drinks on the strength of it ever since the trial.'

'Is that right?' Hey! Someone up there liked me after all. 'This cousin of yours have a name?'

'Capax. Bought himself out after Piso's death. He runs half a chair now out of Augustus Square.'

'Great! He'll be there today?'

'Maybe.' The big Spaniard spat carefully onto the sand outside. 'You know the litter business, Corvinus. They don't work office hours. Stand around long enough in the Square and you might get lucky.'

'Gee, thanks.' I got up and he moved aside. 'I owe you one.'

'Just tell Capax I sent you.' Daphnis was already heading back to his rake. 'Then if you can manage to leave him pissed the stingy bastard might feel obliged to return the favour for once.'

It had to be Augustus Square, of course; right back the way across town, not far from where I'd just come from. I could've taken a litter, but litters aren't thick on the ground in the Eleventh District except on race days. Besides, it was getting late and my belly was rumbling. I decided to go back home first and see what Perilla had been doing.

She was out, visiting her mother at the Fabius place further up the hill. I thought of going round to join her. Then I thought again. Call me a selfish coward if you like, but as I think I've said somewhere else insanity's the one thing I can't hack, even if it's the gentle empty-headed kind Perilla's mother suffered from. When we'd got married I'd offered to give Fabia Camilla her own suite in the house, but I was relieved when Perilla turned me down. The old woman was happy enough staying with her cousin, and Marcia saw she was well looked after. There was no point in moving her. Luckily.

So I grabbed a slice of meat, a hunk of bread and a travelling flask of Setinian and took my own litter downtown. It'd be faster that way, and the litter slaves could do with losing a few pounds of unsightly flab. Eccentricity's fine, but unless you exercise them now and again chairmen can turn into real lardballs. I let them go just short of the Market Square, though, and walked the rest: picking up likely looking young chairmen from a litter of your own is a favourite game of a certain set of my acquaintance, and I didn't want to get myself that reputation.

As usual, there were a few chairs hanging about the south side of the square. I went up to the first one. The lead was a big Nubian, which more or less disqualified him for Daphnis's cousin unless the sisters'd had seriously different tastes in men.

'Hey, friend,' I said. 'You know Capax?'

The Nubian gave me a long careful stare that took in my slightly soiled but expensive mantle with its narrow purple stripe and my straight patrician nose. Obviously the guy had heard all about the young chairman dodge. From the look he gave me I'd've bet he could've written the script.

'Maybe,' he said at last. 'Tall thin man. Spaniard. Heavy breather. One eye gone.'

So; hardly Chairman of the Year material. When his parents had named him Capax they must've had their fingers crossed.

'Yeah. That's the guy,' I said, and hoped it was. 'Daphnis's cousin.'

The Nubian relaxed; either at the mention of Daphnis or more likely because having mentally placed Capax he couldn't imagine him as any narrow striper's sexual fantasy. 'He went out an hour ago with a customer for the Viminal, sir. He should be back any minute unless he gets another fare or stops off on the Sacred Way for a quick one.'

Yeah. That fitted in with what Daphnis had told me too; at least if by a quick one the Nubian meant booze, which wasn't necessarily so because the Sacred Way brothels are open all hours. To kill time I wandered over to the open booths behind the litter rank and bought a bilious looking pastry peacock with squinty currant eyes for Perilla and a new hernia support for Bathyllus. I was turning over a collection of amulets and wondering what the chances were of being caught in an earthquake or catching leprosy, and whether or not I needed the insurance, when the Nubian shouted over. I looked up. A litter was coming in on a wing and a prayer, and its second man was obviously Capax.

Not a pretty sight. Forget Chairman of the Year. Capax wouldn't even've made the last five.

I pulled my eyes away. 'Hey, pal,' I said, turning to the stallowner. 'You got anything for flat feet?'

He rummaged around and held up two evil-eyed little figurines.

'One Greek, one Egyptian. Both good, sir. Which you want?'

'Give me the pair. Put them on the one chain.' I reckoned the poor guy needed all the help he could get. Besides, a silver piece covered it easy. Gods who look after flat feet come pretty low down in the divine pecking order.

I tossed another silver piece to the Nubian, who caught it and grinned. Then I went over to the tall thin guy on the new chair, who was busily engaged in trying to keep his lungs working.

'Your name Capax, friend?' I asked.

'Yeah,' he wheezed (eventually). 'So what?'

Obviously the open, cheerful type. I could see the family resemblance already. 'These're for you.' I gave him the amulets. 'Also your cousin Daphnis suggested I buy you a drink. There somewhere near here we can go?'