‘Ruber!’ he shouted. Then he turned back to me. ‘Get out,’ he said softly. ‘Get out now, while you can still walk, or I’ll have my slaves break your legs, arms and ribs and throw you out. And if I find that you’ve dared to make these disgusting accusations public, Valerius Corvinus, then believe me you will be very, very sorry indeed. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yeah,’ I said, standing. ‘That’s clear enough. You’ve been very informative. Thanks for your time, pal.’
He didn’t answer, just glared. I followed the silent slave to the exit.
I’d come by litter, naturally: a walk half way across Rome swathed in a formal mantle just isn’t on, especially when you have to arrive fresh, clean and sweet-smelling at the end of it. All the same, I’d done my duty now by the conventions and it was a lovely morning, far too good to be carried through the crowded streets in a curtained box. So once I was clear of the palace I told the litter-guys to stop, got out, stripped off the mantle and continued down the incline on foot.
Well, that’d been interesting. I’d made myself a serious enemy, mind, and no doubt when the blood stopped pounding in my temples I’d regret it, but all the same I wasn’t too unhappy. I’d rattled the bastard’s cage good and proper, and to good purpose: whatever Ahenobarbus’s involvement was in all this, I’d bet my last copper penny he wasn’t innocent. And I hadn’t missed the implications of that threat, either. Ahenobarbus wanted things buried, which meant there was something to bury.
So what was it? The smart money was on some sort of scam, current or previous, involving the fire commission. What it was, and how it worked, like I’d told Perilla, I hadn’t a clue, but it had to be possible. Given that, everything slipped into place, and it explained why Ahenobarbus had been nervous as a cat in an oven. Every one of my shots had gone home, that I’d swear to. Imperial the guy might be, but as long as the Wart was still on his perch getting caught with your hand seriously in the till was not a good idea whoever you were, because if there was one thing Tiberius really took exception to it was high officials on the make. And if the old emperor did hand in his feed-bowl shortly, that wouldn’t do Ahenobarbus any favours either. Brothers-in-law or not, he and Gaius were far from being bosom buddies, and that went for Rome’s next emperor and his sister, too. In spades. If rumour was to be believed, Agrippina hated Gaius’s guts, and it was mutual. Not that I blamed the lady there: family loyalty wasn’t exactly one of our crown prince’s leading features, however much he might pretend to the contrary, and cuddly and likeable were two things that the bastard wasn’t.
So no wonder Ahenobarbus was nervous. And if he was responsible for this whole boiling then it would explain a lot. Certainly he’d have the clout to put pressure on Balbus, no argument there; he’d even manage, if push came to shove, to make up a convincing case that proved young Papinius was taking bribes. Also if he’d known that a top-notcher like Domitius Ahenobarbus was behind Papinius’s death then it was no wonder that Caepio had been shitting bricks about pointing the finger.
Carsidius, mind…Carsidius was something else. He was the one bit of the puzzle that wouldn’t fit, whichever way you turned it. Carsidius worried me.
I was heading towards the Caelian and home, down Scaurus Incline. What made me look back, I don’t know — maybe just instinct — but just at that moment the crowd parted and I saw a couple of familiar faces. My stonemason chums Aponius and Pettius.
Uh-huh. Check.
I turned quickly and carried on walking. They might’ve noticed they’d been spotted, sure, but I’d managed not to make a big thing of it so maybe I was lucky. Okay, Corvinus, so let’s play this nice and gently; these were two bastards I really needed to talk to, but if it was mutual I’d be very surprised indeed. Ahead, where the incline met the flat of Caelian Valley, was seriously built-up area, with lots of tenements, shops and side alleyways. I slowed to make sure they didn’t lose me — not that I reckoned there was much chance of that —, ignored the first two openings on the right then turned the corner of the third, between a high-rise and a butcher’s shop. Then I ducked into a handy doorway and waited.
Aponius passed me first, eyes front scanning the pavement ahead. I stepped out and grabbed him.
‘Just a minute, pal,’ I said. ‘I’d like — ’
— which was as far as I got before Pettius’s shoulder slammed into my back, pitching me into one of the city’s ubiquitous bag-ladies coming the other way loaded down with half the vegetable market. She went down with a thump and a scream, scattering onions and turnips. Meanwhile, Aponius had twisted like an eel to one side and planted a fist in my ribs. It was like being slugged with a rock. I collapsed against the tenement wall gasping.
Aponius chuckled. ‘Sorry about that, Corvinus. No hard feelings, eh?’
And then he was gone. Both of them were gone, pushing their way through the gathering crowd and into the next alley.
Shit!
I started after them. A hand caught my ankle and I went arse-over-tip to the ground, landing on my sore arm. Pain lanced up.
‘What the hell d’you think you’re doing, sonny?’ the bag-lady snapped, letting the ankle go. ‘You think you own the fucking street?’
‘Uh…I’m sorry, grandma.’ I stood up, trying to hug my arm and my ribs at the same time. ‘Accident.’
‘Holy Mother, I’ll give you accident!’ She glared up at me like Allecto on a bad day. ‘That’s my Quintus’s dinner there, all over the fucking road!’
‘Ah…yeah. Yeah.’ I fumbled my belt-pouch open and took out a couple of silver pieces. ‘Look, buy him a chicken, okay?’
‘Chicken brings him out in a fucking rash!’
I pressed the money into her hand, shoved through a knot of supportive and very vociferous tunics and headed for the alleyway.
Too late. Miles too late.
Bugger.
Nothing else for it. I went home.
23
Perilla was in the atrium, having her hair done.
‘Oh, hello, dear,’ she said. ‘How did your talk with — ’ At which point she saw the state of my tunic. The streets of Rome might be okay to walk along, most of them, but rolling about in them is a bad, bad idea. ‘Marcus! Not again!’
I held up both hands. ‘Yeah, yeah, I know. But no damage this time, lady, it’s just dirt. I, uh, took a bit of a tumble.’
‘We’ll finish later, Chloe,’ she said to the maid. The girl nodded and scurried out, taking her curling-tongs with her and giving me a scared glance over her shoulder. New staff. She’d get used to it. ‘Marcus, you do not take a tumble in a litter! What happened, and where’s your mantle?’
‘That’s okay. I left it with the lardballs. They not back yet?’
‘No. Or not to my knowledge. And don’t change the subject.’
The buggers had probably stopped off at a wine-shop to refuel. I didn’t use them often, and they took every chance they could get to jump the wall. Well, I didn’t blame them. It was a nice day.
‘Look, I just banged into a bag-lady on Staurus Incline, all right?’ I said, and took a swig from the wine-cup Bathyllus had provided me with. ‘I wasn’t looking where I was going. It’s easy enough done.’
‘Marcus Valerius Corvinus!’
Ah, well, it was a fair cop. ‘Remember the two fake stonemasons?’ I said.
‘Yes, of course I do.’
I gave her the basic outline. When I’d finished, she said: ‘They were following you? Why? Who sent them?’
‘Jupiter, I don’t know! But I’d give it good odds, lady. And they’re not interested in conversation. Unfortunately, I had my chance and I blew it all over the shop. No bones broken, though. Seriously.’
She sniffed. ‘All right. What happened with Domitius Ahenobarbus?’
I told her the details. Such as they were. ‘He’s covering. The gods know for what, but he’s covering, and he’s scared.’
‘Ahenobarbus is scared? Be serious, Marcus! He’s one of the most powerful men in Rome!’