Germanicus

'Perhaps not. But I just wondered what his reaction was.'

'Syria was his last posting. He was on his way to retiral and a prime seat in the senate while his daughter was marrying Germanicus's eldest, so he'd have an in with the imperials. Why the hell should he stick his neck out about Piso?'

'I expect you're right.' Perilla lowered her eyes. Shit. I never trusted that lady when she went demure on me. It usually meant she thought I was completely wrong, and was working out the most devastating way of telling me. 'So. Piso took control of Syria. And then Germanicus arrived and the quarrel began.'

'Yeah.' Taurus scooped up a last handful of loose grapes. 'When Germanicus went to dicker with the Parthians over Armenia he gave Piso a direct order to join him with two Eagles. Piso ignored it.' I winced; some things you just don't do, and ignoring a direct order from the heir apparent comes pretty high on the list. 'Then of course Germanicus went off on his Egyptian tour. When he got back Piso had cancelled or ignored all his arrangements and the shit really hit the fan.'

'At which point Piso left Syria. Or was thrown out. And Germanicus popped his clogs. Or had them popped for him. End of story.' I lifted the jug, but it was empty. 'You want more wine, Taurus?'

'Sure.'

'Perilla? Another prune juice?'

'Pomegranate.'

'Whatever.'

'No thank you. I've had my quota for the day.'

Very wise; like I said, I wasn't sure about her and that stuff. Critias had disappeared, so I went inside with the empty jug to look for him.

I found the guy in the hallway. He was talking to an army tribune. They looked up as I came through.

'Valerius Corvinus?' the tribune said in a voice that was trying to be ten years older than its real age.

'Yeah, that's me.' For a minute I was worried, but the kid was on his own and he didn't look old enough to shave, let alone mean enough to cause trouble. Maybe I wasn't being deported quite yet. Or beaten up, if he came from Rufus. Unless there were a dozen squaddies with brickbats waiting outside.

The tribune cleared his throat. 'I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but I wonder if you have Statilius Taurus with you.'

'I might have. So what, son?'

He went beetroot red under his helmet. 'Could I talk to him for a moment, sir, do you think?'

I hesitated, weighing the pros and cons of throwing the guy out on his squeaky-clean super-polite ear. The cons won hands down.

'Yeah, sure,' I said. 'He's in the garden. You want to follow me?'

'Should I bring out some more wine, lord?' Critias asked.

'Uh-uh.' I shook my head: Taurus's official orders had obviously caught up with him, and Junia was in for a major disappointment. 'Forget it. I think our guest's just leaving.'

I couldn't help feeling just a little smug as the tribune delivered his message. Sure, I was sorry to see Taurus go, especially since I'd been the one responsible for lousing up his trip to the big city, not to mention his plans for sweet Junia. But at least the home team had got off its backside for once and scored before the opposition moved the goalposts. That deserved a celebration, if anything did. So I collared Critias and got him to bring the wine anyway.

30

Perilla was on cake-klatsch duty again next day when Critias brought me a message from Giton the coachman. That surprised me; I wouldn't've thought the bastard could write much past his own name, if that.

Then again, maybe he couldn't.

'Hey, Critias.' The strip of paper had been torn from a receipted grain bill. I held it out. 'Who delivered this?'

Critias came back over. 'One of Apollonius's boys, lord.'

'You sure?'

'So he told me.'

'Uh-huh. What did this kid look like?'

A sniff. 'Squint eyed, as I remember, lord. With warts.'

Yeah, that checked out. I remembered that one of the lads who'd been throwing dice in the tackle room had had a vicious squint. Still, it was just as well to be careful. Especially since I hadn't told Giton who I was, let alone where I lived.

'He say what it was about?'

'No, lord. Only that the message came from the coachman.'

I read the thing again. It was neatly written and well spelled: ‘To Marcus Valerius Corvinus, at the house of Athenodorus. Meet me at the Shrine of the Dryads at two hours before sundown. Bring some real money’. 'So where's the Shrine of the Dryads?' I said.

'In Iopolis, lord, on the western side of the Capitol. Above Caesar's Baths.'

'Yeah. Got you.' It hadn't figured on our tour, although we'd been all over Iopolis. 'Not one of Antioch's major monuments, I take it?'

'No, lord. The shrine is a ruin, and quite isolated.'

'Uhuh. Thanks, sunshine.' It would be isolated. Isolated was par for the course. Taken all in all this whole thing smelled. Giton had told me all he knew when I'd seen the guy last. Why should he want to meet again? On the other hand 'bring some real money' sounded authentic Giton. And promising. Too promising to pass up just on a suspicion. Still…

I'd go, sure; but I'd go careful.I found the shrine eventually. Isolated ruin was right: it was nothing but a tumble of old masonry half-hidden by rocks and bushes at the end of a path that would've given a goat vertigo. When Critias had said 'above Caesar's Baths' he hadn't been kidding; I could practically have spat down the furnace chimney. If Giton wanted privacy inside the city limits he couldn't've chosen a better place.

He was there all right, sitting with another guy on the broken steps of the shrine.

'So you got the note, Corvinus.' he said.

'Yeah.' I scratched my left wrist under the long sleeve of the tunic, checking that my knife was taped in place. So far so good, but I still wasn't taking any chances. 'How did you know where to send?'

'I've got my methods. Young smartasses fresh from Rome aren't thick on the ground. You bring the money? Real money, like I said?'

'Maybe.' I indicated the other man. 'Who's this?'

'My name's Orosius, lord.' He was a weaselly little runt with the look of a clerk, or maybe a school teacher. 'A pleasure to meet you.'

'Orosius is a friend of mine,' Giton said. 'He works in the records office. Listen to him, Corvinus. He's smart.'

Yeah. And working in the records office he could spell, too. That was one mystery cleared up. I sat down with my back against a lump of column.

'So what's this about?'

It was Orosius who answered. 'You were enquiring about the Parthian Vonones, lord. I knew him.' The guy gave me a smile like third rate olive oil. 'Perhaps I can give you the information you need.'

'If the price is right,' Giton grunted.

They waited. I waited longer. I'd got Giton's measure at our last encounter.

'Three names,' Orosius said at last. I noticed for all his smile he was nervous as a cat, and sweating. 'Archelaus, Epiphanes and Philopator'

'That supposed to mean something to me, pal?'

'Archelaus of Cappadocia. Epiphanes of Commagene. Philopator of Amanus.'

I'd got them now. 'The client-kings?'

'Ex-client-kings, lord. That's the point. Very much the point.'

Giton laid a hand on his arm. 'Okay, Corvinus, that's all you get for free. You want more, you pay for it. Fifteen silver pieces. Sixty drachmas. Each.'

I whistled. Whatever Giton thought he'd got here he wasn't selling it cheap. Which meant the information might just be worth it.

'Thirty tetradrachs is a hell of a lot of gravy, pal,' I said. 'I haven't got that much with me.'

'Then screw you, Roman.' Giton stood up. 'I said bring real money and I meant it. You know where to find me.'

'Wait.' Orosius pulled him back. 'You agree in principle, lord? To the price?'

'If what you've got's that valuable, yeah. Fifteen on account, fifteen later.'