Germanicus

On the word 'drink' his one eye had lit up like Polyphemus the Cyclops's.

'Sure,' he said. 'The White Poplar. In Gaul's Alley.'

'Let's do it, then.' I turned to his partner: a short beefy German who must've been mentally subnormal to have hitched up with Old Capable here. 'Sorry, friend. You mind finding a jug of your own someplace else?'

'Was?'

Gods! You'd think someone would teach these guys Latin before letting them come over. I slipped him another Wart's Head. The German may've been slow, but not that slow. He made the coin vanish. Then he vanished too, along with the Nubian and his mate, in the direction of an evil-smelling cookshop that sidled onto the square. I wished them luck. I'd bet whatever went into the rissoles would keep them running all afternoon.

We made our way to Gaul's Alley, a hundred yards off the square, and bagged a choice table under the eponymous poplar. From the state of the ground under the tree the neighbourhood dogs must've thought it was a prime site too, but I doubted if Capax could've made it inside and I didn't want the guy folding up on me before I'd milked him dry, so I just watched where I put my feet and tried not to breathe too often. Then I ordered up a jug of their best and grinned with professional appreciation while Capax sank his cup at one go. I tasted mine more gingerly. Not bad stuff, not bad at all; in fact, it might even be Calenan, and you don't see that stuff often these days since the vineyards deteriorated. Dog shit or not, this place was a find, and I tagged it for future reference. Old Capable might be a walking disaster but he obviously had the soul of a wine drinker.

'So.' He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 'Daphnis sent you, did he? You want to tell me why?'

No. That was one thing I didn't want to do, unless I had to. I ducked the question. 'He said you were Calpurnius Piso's chairman. Before he had the run-in with the razor.'

'It wasn't no razor, friend. But yeah, I carried him, off and on.'

'You were in Syria?'

'Nah.' He poured himself another belt of wine and drank it straight down. Jupiter! And Perilla thought I was bad! I signalled the waiter for a second jug. 'I was one of the house slaves.'

That made sense. Piso would've taken the cream with him, sure: major-domo, chef, his wife's maid, his own valet. Maybe even a coachman. Not the rest. It would've been cheaper to buy them over there and sell when he left; and of course the Residence would have its own staff.

'But he kept you on in Rome?' I asked.

'That's right.' Capax sank another cupful. For a thin guy he could really put it down; maybe he was well named after all. I just hoped he could hold it too. 'Some of us were farmed out to his brother, but mostly we just hung around.'

'He was a good master?'

'He was okay. Nothing special. Plancina was a bitch, though. I was sorry she got off.'

That gave me my opening. 'You think they did it, then? Murdered Germanicus?'

'How should I know?'

A fair answer; but then sometimes litter slaves overhear things, so the question wasn't exactly stupid. I tried my main tack. 'Okay. So tell me about Piso's freedman Carillus.'

Capax upended the jug into his cup after pouring me a token splash. 'Carillus? Why the hell should you be interested in Carillus?'

'I'm buying, friend. Remember? And there's another of these on its way. Just answer the question.'

He shrugged. 'Fair enough. He worked in the kitchens. Skivvy, not chef. Bought himself out a few years back. He's got a butcher's business now in the Subura.'

So much for Regulus's statement that the guy had left Rome. But then I hadn't believed that for a minute anyway. 'You know the address?'

'Sure I do. Just behind the Shrine of Hermes, off Suburan Street.' I knew the place. Not a bad location, for the Subura. High class, in fact, comparatively speaking. 'He's doing quite well. Owns a slaughterhouse too now, up near Tannery Row.'

'What was his connection with Piso? Apart from the client-patron link?'

Capax shrugged again. The waiter came over and set the new jug on the table. This time I got in first and filled my cup before the bugger finished that one as well. At least the wine didn't seem to be affecting him, but at this rate Daphnis's request that I leave his cousin plastered looked like costing a small fortune.

'No idea. They may've had a scam or two going, though, because Carillus always was a bit of a wide boy. After he left the chef bought the family's meat from him and got his cut on the deal. The meat wasn't all that great, either.'

Something had been bugging me. 'You said Piso didn't use a razor to commit suicide.'

'Damned right he didn't!' Capax chuckled. 'His barber kept the things under his own mattress. Said if the master wanted to kill himself he was keeping the fuck out of it.'

'So what did he use? A dagger?'

'Cavalry sword. We found it by him the next morning. Not me personally, of course, but the word got around.'

I sat back. The hairs on the back of my neck were lifting, always a sure sign that something is screwy somewhere. But thinking could wait.

'Okay,' I said. 'So let's talk about something else now. Were you with the family through the trial?'

'Yeah. Right from the moment they landed.' Capax helped himself liberally from the jug. 'We got the word they were coming downriver and to meet them at the Mausoleum. Bloody stupid way to do things, especially the mood the mob were in, but that was Plancina for you. Didn't care a wet fart about anybody's opinion but her own.'

The tingling increased. I tried to put it to the back of my mind.

'Where is the Piso place, exactly?' I said.

'City centre.' He jerked his head towards the mass of the Capitol. 'One of these big old-fashioned places overlooking the Market Square.'

'Uh-huh.' I took a swallow of wine. 'So. Piso and Plancina get off the boat by Augustus's mausoleum and you take them all the way to Market Square. What time was this?'

'You mean what time of day?' I nodded. 'Must've been mid-morning because the streets were packed. Besides, Plancina had all their clients and hangers-on turn up. As well as the household, of course.'

'Okay. Then what? After they got home?'

'Not a lot. But they threw a party that evening. Thousand lamp job. You could've picked the house out from right across the river if there'd been nothing else in between.'

Shit! This guy was pure gold! I could've taken him home with me, but it would've cost a fortune to keep him in wine.

'One last thing,' I said. 'You know anything about a letter? A suicide note?'

'Sure.' Capax nodded. 'The master left one with the emperor's name on it. They say Tiberius read it out in the Senate.'

'Any idea how it got to him? The emperor, I mean?'

'Search me. How do these things usually get delivered? Somebody picked it up and passed it on, I suppose. You don't mess with the imperial mail.'

Forget the tingling at the back of the neck. What hit me now was a cold hook right deep in my bowels. '"Picked it up"? Picked it up from where?'

'How should I know?' Capax poured himself another full cup of the wine and drained it. 'And what does it matter, anyway? The desk? The floor? Where do suicides usually leave notes?'

'Hold on, pal.' I had to have this right. 'You mean the note to the emperor was still in the room when Piso's body was found the next morning?'

He looked at me like I'd suddenly grown an extra head. 'Sure it was,' he said. 'Where else would it be?'

Where else would it be? Oh, Jupiter!

8

I left Capax a jug and a half ahead and a gold piece richer and went back home (no, I didn't take a litter. If these guys in Augustus Square had been patronising the local cookshop I doubted if they'd make it as far as the Temple of Vesta). Perilla was already home, sitting by the pool and looking stunning in a light blue mantle. I kissed her.