Germanicus

Maybe I'd overdone the eagerness, because Zoilus looked fazed for a second. Then he recovered and gave me a flash of teeth.

'But certainly, lord,' he said. We pushed our way into the crowd.

Smack in the middle of the square was a mass of new marble representing a funeral pyre. 'Here, lord,' Zoilus said, mounting its steps, 'Prince Germanicus lay in state for three days and nights, his noble blood soaking the rich tapestries which swathed the catafalque…'

'You mean the guy was stabbed?' I said.

'…while a whole city — a whole province- mourned. The blood, lord, is metaphorical.'

'Uh…right.' I cleared my throat. 'Metaphorical blood. Got you.' Perilla smiled. 'You were there?'

'I was. Everyone was.'

'Hey!' I beamed. 'That's great!'

'I was even fortunate enough, lord, to acquire two of the seed pearls which fringed the young prince's robe. Should you be interested in purchasing a souvenir…'

'Maybe later. How did he look? The body, I mean? Any signs of poison? Facial distortion? What about the colour? Any blueness round the mouth? What about his fingernails?'

'Marcus! I told you to behave!'

'Hey, I was just asking.'

Zoilus had come back down to ground level. I could see the guy was struggling between his professional instincts and his conscience. Officially Germanicus had died of a fever. If Zoilus claimed that the guy's face had been bright blue with the tongue sticking out it might be good tour guide stuff but it'd be lousy tact. There could be repercussions, and not metaphorical ones, either.

'No, lord,' he said at last. 'There were no external signs. But when we burned the prince his heart was unconsumed, which is a sure indication of poison. There is the famous parallel of King Philip's toe, which after his cremation…'

'That would be Pyrrhus's toe,' Perilla said.

Oh, hell! 'Perilla!' I hissed. 'Not now, lady, please!'

The guy was looking blank. 'Your pardon, ma'am?'

'The toe belonged to Pyrrhus, King of Epirus. He cured a man's diseased spleen with it by touch, as I remember. And Pyrrhus wasn't poisoned, he died in a street fight, so the parallel doesn't apply. I'm sorry, Zoilus. You were saying?'

Jupiter! Now wasn't the time for historical nit-picking! I dug her in the ribs. 'Look, Aristotle, just cut it out, okay?' I whispered in Latin. 'Stop rattling the guy. This is interesting.'

She grinned and ducked her head. I turned back to Zoilus, who was still looking pretty gobsmacked. 'Forget the toe, friend,' I said. 'You know anything about how Germanicus died exactly?'

He shook himself. 'Yes, lord. Who doesn't?' Me for a start, I thought; but the poor bugger had been slapped down by Perilla once already in the past five minutes and it wouldn't've been fair. 'The prince fell ill after his return from Egypt. He began to recover, and thank-offerings were made in the temples, although our governor Piso' — he spat politely — 'discouraged them, for reasons which the lord will understand.'

Yeah, sure. Like hell I did. 'And Germanicus had the idea that Piso and Plancina were poisoning him, right?'

'Not only poison but witchcraft was involved, lord. Things were found' — he spat again, for different reasons this time — 'behind the walls and beneath the floors of the prince's house. Wicked things.'

'Is that so? Inside the house itself, right?' Hey, this was good stuff. Maybe sightseeing wasn't so bad after all. I knew about the witchcraft, of course, but not the details. 'Give us a for instance.'

'Decomposing parts of corpses. A deformed foetus,' Zoilus said sombrely. Gods! The guy was enjoying himself more than I was! 'Other objects too disgusting to name, of remarkable filthiness and evil.'

'Marcus, we've just had lunch,' Perilla whispered in Latin. 'Do you really have to go into this now?'

'Can it.' I turned back to Zoilus. 'And this woman Martina was responsible?'

'Yes, lord. Or so the story goes.'

Perilla opened her mouth to say something else but I shut her up with a look. 'So tell me about Martina.'

'An evil woman. A friend of the governor's lady Plancina.'

'You know that for a fact?'

'No, lord. Not from personal knowledge. But certainly the woman was a witch. My cousin's wife knew her sister. They were children together in Litarba, and she, too, is an evil woman involved with magic and drugs. Such things run in families.'

Hey! Score another point for the cousins! I noticed Perilla stiffen. 'Let's get this right, pal,' I said carefully. 'Your cousin's wife knows Martina's sister?'

'Yes, lord.'

‘And the woman's in Antioch?'

'The sister? Yes, lord, of course.'

'Uh-huh.' I took out a gold piece and held it up. 'Can you find out where she lives?'

He blinked, his eyes on the coin. A gold piece was half what we were paying for the whole three day tour. Good money. 'Possibly,' he said. 'If the lord is interested.'

'The lord is fascinated.' I handed him the coin. It disappeared. 'We have a deal?'

Zoilus cleared his throat nervously. 'We have a deal,' he said.

'Okay. So what happened next?'

He slipped back into the patter like a rabbit going to safe ground. 'The noble prince died, blaming the governor and his lady for his death. Syria grieved, but not its governor. We burned him and built the empty tomb. He was a great man and a great benefactor to Antioch, lord, as I have told you.'

Yeah. He had, at that. Several times, ad nauseam, over the past three days. In his few months here Germanicus had made quite a splash. Fresh marble paving in the main streets, a dozen new statues that the place needed like a hole in the head and dedications in the temples you couldn't count without using an abacus. No wonder the guy rated a five-star encomium.

'And now, lord.' Zoilus turned away. 'To happier things. Perhaps you'd care to see the Temple of Jupiter? An exact copy of your own great temple in Rome…'

Okay. The guy had done his bit as far as I was concerned, and he deserved the nuts. The address of Martina's sister was definitely worth a temple or two on top of the gold piece I'd given him. And at least with all our trailing around in the past few days I had a fair idea where everything was. None of the dives Theon had mentioned, though. Maybe another time I should leave Perilla behind and get Zoilus to give me the alternative tour. If we were both up to it.

Not today, though. I sighed and followed Perilla up the steps of the temple.

22

It was too late when we got back home to make an appointment with the governor: Antioch's a lot more laid back than Rome, and nobody who can avoid it works later than mid-afternoon, just as nobody starts before the sun's half way through its first quarter or goes to bed until an hour or two before dawn. So it wasn't until the next day that I left Perilla house-hunting and went over to the palace to pay Aelius Lamia his courtesy visit.

The palace complex in Antioch fills most of the big island in the river to the north west of the city; Greek designed but Roman built, by our Marcius Rex about a hundred years back as a calculated goodwill gesture to the locals. It's impressive as hell. The Greeks may be stuck-up bastards where aesthetics are concerned, but when it comes to architecture they've got cause. Even where the guy picking up the tab is Roman.

The Syrian governor being one of the empire's top men I didn't expect any red carpet treatment, even on the strength of the introductory letter I'd screwed out of Cotta before we left. Sure enough, I was kept waiting in the anteroom for a good half hour. Not that I minded. Clerks and military adjutants were constantly in and out with reports and messages, and I picked up some useful information just by keeping my mouth shut and my ears flapping. Like the fact that Vibius Marsus, who'd been Piso's deputy before he fled the country, had the same job under Lamia. That surprised me, but then apart from his name I didn't know much about him. I gave the young tribune who'd mentioned him time to clear and drifted over to the secretary's desk.