Germanicus

'You want to stay out of barroom brawls if you can't hack them, boy,' Cotta said.

So much for sympathy; but at least it showed he hadn't heard about Carillus. I took a swallow of the wine. Hell, my best Falernian! Jupiter knew how Cotta had wangled it, and I didn't grudge him, but the last time I'd checked the cellar we were down to three jars, and Cotta had a throat like the Great Drain. I made a mental note to hand Bathyllus his head when I got him alone later.

'Where's Perilla?' I said.

'Round at the Fabian place seeing her mother.' Cotta absently sank a straight half pint. I winced. 'That's a dutiful little wifelet you've got there.'

'Uh-huh.' I was glad the dutiful little wifelet wasn't around to hear it or there'd've been more than one loose head up for grabs. 'So what can I do for you, Uncle? Or did you just come round to snicker?'

'Would I do that?'

'Sure you would. Not that I hold it against you.' He'd ducked my question; which should've made me suspicious but didn't.

'You want to tell me what happened exactly, Marcus?'

'I stood on a guy's corns, that's all. He was bigger and faster than me.' I sipped at the Falernian. It was practically neat, my first real wine for days, and I felt a warming, relaxing glow spread up from my stomach. 'How did you hear about it?'

'Oh, us consuls hear everything eventually.' He paused and looked into his wine cup. 'Including reports about pushy young smartasses who get themselves thrown out of imperial provinces.'

I stiffened. 'You don't say?'

Uncle Cotta set his cup down, and he wasn't smiling any longer. So this was an official visit. I should've expected it, of course, but somehow for me the words 'Cotta' and 'consul' never did go happily together.

'The Castor brought a formal complaint from Aelius Lamia to the emperor,' he said. 'I don't know the details because I wasn't told, but that's enough for me. Marcus, what the hell do you think you're playing at, boy?'

'Pissing around. What do I usually play at?'

'Well, cut it out as from now. I'm serious.' He was, I could see that. 'The Wart's fit to be tied; the gods know why, personally I don't and I don't want to either because whatever his reasons are he isn't giving them out to anyone and that isn't healthy.'

'You've seen him?' I took another swallow of wine: a big one, this time. I needed it.

'It was the other way round. Tiberius saw me, first thing this morning. He wants to keep the warning private but it is a warning, don't make any mistake about that. A final one. Any more pissing around, as you put it, and you'll find yourself hauled up the Palatine so fast your arse won't touch the ground. And you may not come down again, either. That's official, Marcus. You understand me?'

'Yeah. Yeah, I understand.' My stomach now felt cold and empty, and the wine lay on it like a lead weight. 'Thanks, Uncle. Thanks a bunch.'

If he noticed the tone he ignored it. 'Don't thank me, I'm only the messenger boy. Just drop whatever you're up to. Or next time I might be passing on an order for you to slit your wrists, and I don't want to do that.' Jupiter! 'Okay? Enough said?'

'Enough said.' More than enough: I couldn't go against a direct order from the emperor, and I knew it. Tiberius had just put the lid on the case and screwed it down hard.

'Good.' Cotta reached for the jug and I saw that his hand was shaking. Bathyllus had made himself scarce. 'Now let's change the subject. Tell me about Antioch. You come across a dive called the Garden of Aphrodite? In Three Springs Street, just off the Old Marketplace?'

We talked wine shops and brothels, but my heart wasn't in it. This was what I'd been afraid of, and it was something I couldn't ignore or laugh off. My only hope was that our visit to Trio's place wouldn't be reported; and there was a chance it wouldn't, because if I was right about Trio working for someone else — and I knew I was — then the slimy bastard wouldn't want to make too many waves either, despite his parting threat. It was hard, though, when I'd been so close.

'Perilla enjoy herself out there?' Cotta was saying.

I pulled my mind back to the conversation. 'Yeah. Yeah, I think so. She could've stayed another month, at least if it hadn't been for the social side. Diplomatic wives can be pretty wearing.'

'Tell me something I don't know!' Cotta chuckled and absently pulled at his ear; now the official proceedings were over he was his usual easy-going self. 'Hairstyles and harmless gossip, right? And Rufia Perilla isn't exactly one of the soirée crowd.'

'She made one pal.' I reached for the jug. 'Girl called Acutia. Not my taste, and to call that birdbrain sharp is about the most unlikely…shit!' The wine splashed over the table. 'Sorry.'

Cotta lowered his hand. He was looking at me curiously. 'You okay?' he said.

'Just a twinge in the ribs.' I poured more carefully — only half a cup because the Falernian was already beginning to get to me — and reached for a napkin. 'Catches me sometimes when I stretch. Hey, now you've made consul you'll be on the diplomatic circuit yourself soon, right? You got any preferences for a province?'

'One of the senatorials, Asia or Africa, I don't mind which.' Cotta held his own cup out and I filled it. 'With my background the Wart wouldn't look at me for an imperial, but screw that, I'll settle for the easy life any day.'

'Yeah.' I was trying to keep my voice level and half my brain on small talk while the other half worked like fury. Jupiter! Sharp..! 'Yeah, I don't blame you. Syria'd be nice, though. I could take Syria.'

The front door banged.

'Marcus?' Perilla shouted.

'Through here, Perilla.'

She came in. 'Marcus, I'm glad you're back. I had the most interesting conversation with…' She paused. 'Oh, Uncle Cotta. I'm sorry, I didn't know you were coming round. I would've stayed in.'

'Didn't know myself until this morning.' Cotta was on his feet. 'Bathyllus looked after me. No problem.'

'So I notice.' Perilla's disapproving eyes were on the almost-empty wine jug. 'Corvinus, you're remembering what the doctor said about lots of water, I hope.'

'Yeah. Sure I am.' That was true enough. The fact that I'd ignored it was another thing entirely. 'Bathyllus will tell you.' Let the little bastard squirm. Jupiter knew where he'd got to, but he was keeping a low profile. 'You have a nice time? How's your mother?'

'It was one of her bad days, I'm afraid. They've been getting more frequent recently.' She turned to Cotta and said in her most unpressing voice: 'You're staying for dinner?'

'No, I'll push off now.' Cotta drained his cup and winked at me. 'A private engagement of my own. I just called in to see how the invalid was doing.'

'He'd do better if he took more care of himself.'

'Maybe he will from now on.' Cotta shot me a look. 'That right, Marcus?'

'Sure. I'll try, anyway.'

'You try, boy. You try very hard. Catch you later, okay?'

I walked Cotta to the door and saw him out. When I got back Perilla was lying on the couch. She was frowning.

'What was that all about?' she said.

'Nothing. You know Cotta.'

'I thought I did, but he sounded serious. And I don't think he and I were talking about quite the same thing.'

'He was canned, lady, that's all.' I kissed her. 'So would you be with the best part of a flask of Falernian inside you. I was surprised the bastard made it to the door.'

'Cotta wasn't drunk, and you're hiding something, but we'll let that go. How was your talk with Trio?'

Talk. Yeah, well, I suppose that was one word for it. 'Okay. No hassle.' I crossed my fingers and hoped she didn't notice: one lie at a time was enough to risk with Perilla. 'Quite friendly, really.'