Germanicus

'But why should she actually go out of her way to ask you to investigate the death if she was partly responsible?'

I shrugged. 'Jupiter knows. She could have her reasons, oath or not. What I do know is that trying to second-guess the empress is like playing tag with a leopard, there's no future in it. Leave it for later. We've got enough to keep us going here already.'

'What about Piso? You say Tiberius sent him to Syria to keep an eye on Germanicus?'

'Yeah.' I took a swallow of wine: the chill was off it now, and I topped it up with fresh from the jug. 'That must've been a real facer for the lad. Germanicus had made the last governor Creticus sweet with the promise of a marriage between the guy's daughter and his eldest son. Now Piso comes out from Rome, gets in ahead of the game and changes everything round. Not for reasons of favouritism like Taurus said. Piso was acting on the Wart's instructions: cancel all the old appointments just in case the guys had been got at, replace them with his own men, people he trusted. And while he's at it, finesse Germanicus at his own game by getting the squaddies on his side so when the blue eyed boy does arrive Piso's well and truly in the saddle and there's nowhere left to go. No wonder the two couples hated each other right from the start. Germanicus and Agrippina had been rumbled, and they knew it. Knowing they couldn't let on, because they weren't at the stage yet of open revolt, must've driven them spare. It explains why Piso wouldn't let Germanicus have the legions he wanted in Armenia, too. They represented half his force and he couldn't risk them being got at, or used to trigger the revolt itself.'

'Do you think Germanicus and Agrippina knew? That Piso had been sent to keep them under observation?'

'Maybe not for sure. But they must've suspected. And in any case Germanicus would have to keep up the pretence by sending the Wart regular complaints. He couldn't afford not to; to admit even tacitly that Piso was acting under orders would've been to confess his own guilt. Or at least bring the issue out into the open, and that was something he couldn't afford to do until he was ready.' I took a mouthful of wine. 'Which, incidentally, was where the Vonones scam came in.'

Perilla frowned. 'Vonones was involved with Germanicus?'

I shook my head. 'No. That part of it was completely separate. Vonones's problem was that from Germanicus's point of view he was a prime nuisance. His plan for a general revolt in the east had been too like Germanicus's own for comfort, and it may even have put the idea into the Wart's head. Germanicus's other down on the guy was that he was muddying the waters. Even after Tiberius wrecked his plans Vonones carried on plotting, and he was drawing too much attention. Sure, Germanicus probably knew, maybe through Celer, that Vonones was bribing Piso, but he was trapped. He couldn't blow the whistle on Piso without calling attention to his own plans.'

'And so he had Vonones killed.'

'He had Vonones killed. To keep the bribes coming Piso had told the guy that Germanicus was under suspicion, and so long as Piso seemed to have the upper hand Vonones was happy to wait. But when Germanicus was riding high after the Parthian deal Vonones lost confidence. He cut and ran, probably with Germanicus's connivance. The poor bastard never even made the border.'

Perilla was quiet for a long time. Then she said:

'So you've got it all.'

I tipped the last of the wine into my cup. 'No. Not all. There're too many loose ends. If Germanicus was a traitor it explains a lot, but it doesn't explain everything. Sure, Piso's so-called treason makes sense. Even though Germanicus was dead his friends still held Syria because he'd reversed Piso's appointments, and Piso was only doing his job in trying to retake his province for the Wart. It explains why Piso and Plancina were so confident of Tiberius's support when they went back to Rome. It explains Lamia's cover-up. But it doesn't explain the way Germanicus died. It doesn't explain Regulus's murder or Carillus's missing letter. It doesn't explain why I was attacked on the ship or even why Orosius was shot. And it doesn't explain Martina's pal Mancus, either. Along with half a dozen other things that're simply wrong.'

'But Corvinus, surely if the emperor is responsible it could explain most of these things?'

'No.' I closed my eyes and leaned back. 'No, that's the point, lady. This whole business isn't like the Wart, none of it, not even at second hand. It's clumsy, it's ragged at the edges, it creaks like hell, it throws up too much dirt and it doesn't have his signature. Orosius said Tiberius was too clever for a Roman, and he was right. He'd've done things different and managed them better. Sure, he was the one to benefit from Germanicus's death and he must've approved it, but the way things panned out he might just as well have had the guy knifed or strangled and saved himself the hassle because everyone thinks he was responsible anyway. Livia's the same.'

'But-'

'Yeah, I know what I said, and maybe I'm still wrong. The poison angle, yes, that's her all over. But Livia would've managed things better as well. This way there's far too much mud flying around, and a lot of it sticks to her as well as to the Wart. Besides, if Livia's involved then we've still got to explain why she should get me to go through the motions. No, the case isn't solved yet. Not by a long chalk.'

'And now we only have five days.'

'Sure. But like I said I don't think it matters any more. Syria's played out.' I shook the jug. 'Like the wine. If we're looking for more answers than we've already got, we'll find them back in Rome.'

Yeah. Maybe

35

Acutia was right. The Castor was a lot more comfortable than the Artemis. Faster, too, even although the wind was against us all the way: being a trireme we didn't need the sails, and these boats can shift when the rowers hit form. Not that there was much difference otherwise. The captain was probably Theon's cousin, but I never asked; I lost my breakfast before we'd cleared Seleucia harbour and threw up all the way to Puteoli.

It was good to see Rome again, even in the dark (we got back after sunset). Smell it, too. Maybe it was my imagination but the first whiff of the Tiber seemed to hit my nostrils just as our hired carriage passed through the Appian Gate, and to a Roman coming home from abroad there ain't no better smell than ripe Tiber mud.

Bathyllus was waiting outside the front door when we pulled up. Jupiter knows how he knew we were coming, but he even had a flask of my best Falernian standing on the table in the hall, with a red ribbon round the neck and a tag saying 'Welcome home'. I was touched. While Meton shot off to check that nobody had filched his best omelette pan while he'd been away I gave the little guy the stoppered jar I'd picked up in the Old Market before we left.

'Thank you, sir.' He pulled the plug and took a cautious sniff. 'How interesting. What is it? Cockroach killer?'

'Hair restorer, you ungrateful bastard. The best in Antioch.' I was pouring my first cup of Falernian for two months. Slowly. Some pleasures you spin out. 'Made to an ancient Indian recipe based on silphium and tiger urine, handed down from father to son for six hundred years.'

'The urine or the recipe, sir?'

'Can it, sunshine.' Gods! Now even Bathyllus was making jokes. 'The shopkeeper swore it'd grow hair on the Golden Milestone, but if you don't want it…'

'Oh, Marcus!' Perilla was wearing her look of prim disapproval. 'You didn't actually buy that stuff, did you?'

'Sure I did.' I lifted the cup of Falernian and sipped, letting the liquid magic find its own way past my tonsils. Bliss! 'Don't knock it, lady. Come the next Games we'll have the hairiest major-domo in Rome.'

'Or possibly a total dearth of cockroaches, sir.'

'You say something, Bathyllus?'

'No, sir. Nothing of any importance.'