‘Crispus, you are not helping here.’
Crispus shrugged. ‘I’m telling it like it is. They don’t come cleaner than Carsidius. He’s no time-server, never has been. Since the business with Nero he’s made his peace with the Wart and supported him right down the line, sure, but in the process he made no secret of his friendship with the Julians, especially when they started…dying off. That didn’t do him any harm. Quite the reverse. Tiberius might’ve hated Agrippina’s guts, but he never was one to hold a grudge, and Carsidius didn’t suffer.’
‘So he gets on well with Crown Prince Gaius?’
That got me a long look. ‘No,’ Crispus said slowly. ‘No, I can’t say that he does. Possibly for reasons that…well, you know as well as me. But then he’s not alone there, and like I said he’s no time-server. Stupid, in my view. Nothing wrong with a bit of judicious arse-licking, especially these days.’
Yeah; right. In a few months’ time — it couldn’t be longer — the Wart would be dead and Gaius would be emperor. Everyone knew that: the bugger might be twiddling his thumbs on Capri waiting to step into the imperial sandals, but in effect, through his sidekick Sertorius Macro, he already controlled Rome for definite and the empire by extension. ‘Crispus,’ I said. ‘If I told you that Carsidius had admitted bribing a junior city officer to accept a beefed-up property damage claim, what would you say?’
Crispus gave a bark of laughter. ‘I’d say you were talking through your ears, boy. Carsidius wouldn’t stoop to bribery if his life depended on it.’
Uh-huh. So much for that, then. Clear and unequivocal. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Leave Carsidius. Let’s move on to Mucius Soranus.’
‘Ah.’ Crispus smacked his lips. ‘Now that’s more like it! What do you want to know?’
‘Whatever you’ve got.’
‘We’re dragging the sewers here. That bastard’s crooked as a snake’s backbone.’
I grinned: definite pleasure, there, and relief. Also perhaps just a touch of respect: one professional talking about another. Maybe the new Crispus was only skin-deep after all. ‘Yeah. I already knew that, as it happens,’ I said. ‘Any details? Current, as it were?’
‘You kidding, Corvinus? How long’ve you got? Me, I’ve a report to write.’
‘Fine. Just to go with one name, then. Sextus Papinius. Papinius Allenius the consular’s son.’
‘Allenius’s son.’ Crispus shot me a look and sniggered. ‘Oh, yes. Right. You mean the kid who threw himself out of a tenement window a few days back. That what all this is about?’
‘Could be.’
‘Soranus was bleeding him, sure. What for I don’t know, but he’d got his hooks in good and proper. You have any idea yourself? I mean, one good turn deserves another.’
‘Uh-uh.’ We’d got the old Crispus back in spades: the guy lived from information, the grubbier the better, and blackmailing blackmailers was a nifty little earner. ‘Sorry, pal. I was hoping you might be able to tell me.’
‘Damn. You levelling?’
‘I’m levelling.’ I was, too: I didn’t owe Soranus any favours, and handing the bastard over to Crispus’s not-so-tender mercies would’ve been poetic justice. ‘Never mind. What’s his connection with Lucia Albucilla? You heard of her?’
‘Sure. Satrius Secundus’s widow. She and Soranus are an item, or they were until recently. Wild lady. She took up with him right after her husband died. Some say she gave Secundus the push herself to open up a little space. Some say she and Soranus were screwing already long-term, but’ — and he winked — ‘if they were then given her other long-term attachment it was three in a bed. Me, I have my doubts. Soranus wouldn’t’ve minded, but Sejanus was another matter, he was strictly hetero. Weird, but there you are. It takes all sorts.’
Bells were going off all over my brain. Shit! Perilla had told me who Albucilla was, but at the time it hadn’t registered: the widow of one of Aelius Sejanus’s closest supporters who’d turned informer to save his skin when the bastard fell but had died himself the following year. Now Crispus was telling me that she’d been a lot more at the time than just the surviving relict; and that, given certain much more recent events, was interesting. Oh, sure, we were talking old history — Sejanus had been dead for five years — and it could be pure coincidence. Nonetheless, it gave us a link. ‘You’re telling me that Albucilla was Sejanus’s mistress?’ I said.
‘A mistress. A mistress, Corvinus. One of several. That bastard got around, and being the charismatic guy he was he had more than one outwardly-respectable matron willing to drop her pants for him. If you ask me, Lucia Albucilla was the real Sejanan of the partnership. Certainly she’d more guts than Secundus had.’
‘You said she and Soranus were an item, a long-standing item.’ Hell. So much for the lady’s calling him an acquaintance; but then my guess was that at the time she’d been running scared and just wanted rid of me. ‘Any idea why they broke up?’
‘Uh-uh. She didn’t say, he didn’t say. Not to anyone. But whatever it was, it was sudden.’
‘She do much in the way of cradle-snatching?’
He gave me a sharp look. ‘What?’
‘Papinius’s ex-girlfriend seemed to think Albucilla had seduced him. That likely, do you suppose? She go for youngsters as a rule?’
‘It’s been known. Not that the lady’s unduly particular where the age of her menfriends is concerned. Eclectic’s the word I’d use.’ He beamed. ‘That’s Greek, Corvinus, as I hope you noticed. As was charismatic.’
‘Yeah, it did register.’
‘I’m teaching myself Greek in my free time.’
‘Oh, whoopee.’ Definitely a new model Crispus. The old type wouldn’t’ve recognised the aorist of pherein if it’d jumped up and bitten him. ‘You know whether there might’ve been any other reason for Albucilla to have taken Papatius on? Besides the sexual?’
‘No.’
‘And you don’t know either why he killed himself?’ I wasn’t going to suggest murder to Crispus. No way. The bugger would’ve used the information somehow, and I didn’t want the trail muddied at this stage.
‘I told you. Soranus was soaking him. That’s reason enough for me.’
Yeah, well, he’d done his best and I couldn’t complain. I stood up. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Thanks, Crispus, I owe you one. I’ll see you around.’
I was just leaving, my hand on the door-knob, when he said: ‘Corvinus?’
‘Yeah?’ I turned.
‘Wait a minute. A freebie. No skin off my nose, but you might be interested.’
‘What in?’
‘You called the kid Papinius Allenius’s son.’
‘So?’
‘Rumour is he wasn’t. Old rumour, nineteen years old. His natural father was Domitius Ahenobarbus.’
I stared at him.
Shit!
21
‘It explains a lot of things, lady,’ I said when I’d finished telling Perilla about the subsequent gossip with Crispus. ‘Why the divorce. Why Allenius never took any interest in him. Why the consular’s so bitter against his ex-wife. Allenius and Ahenobarbus were of an age, they were colleagues. Only thing was, Ahenobarbus was related to the imperial family. There wasn’t much a career politician like Allenius could do about it.’
‘You think he knew?’ Perilla said. We were in the garden, me with a half-jug of Setinian, Perilla with a chilled fruit juice. No Placida: the lady had relented and let Alexis take her out rabbit-chasing. ‘The boy, I mean.’
‘Sure he did. Cluvia told me: he was proud of his family, his father especially. I thought that was odd at the time; the Papinii are no great shakes, and although Allenius had made consul he was no ball of fire personally. Besides, he and young Sextus had hardly ever spoken. Change Ahenobarbus for Allenius and the Domitii for the Papinii and you’ve got a pretty good pedigree. In social terms anyway, because the gods know who’d want that bastard Ahenobarbus for a father.’