‘Oh, yes. Quite a lot, in fact. They were certainly lovers in the physical sense; I was treated to a good half hour’s worth of juicy circumstantial evidence to that effect. Probably not an invention in this case, because Plauta’s maid is Albucilla’s maid’s cousin.’
‘And that affair had been going on how long?’
‘Again, two or three months. Possibly not the sexual side of things, but certainly the attachment.’
I took a mouthful of wine. ‘And Albucilla engineered it, right?’
‘Oh, yes. I was wrong about her cradle-snatching tendencies, or lack of them. Seemingly she quite often used Soranus as a means to pick up young men, and as I say they had quite an open relationship. She was very discreet, though, and the affairs never lasted long.’
Yeah, well, I’d got that already from Crispus, too, or some of it. I should’ve made the obvious inference, though. ‘Long enough to get her into their confidence, maybe,’ I said. ‘Winkle out any little secret they had that she could pass on.’
‘Mm.’ Perilla sipped her tisane. ‘Yes. That’s what I thought.’
‘No wonder the bastard was so accommodating. The two of them had a nice steady racket going. Soranus gets in with the young lads-about-town set, then when he finds a likely mark Albucilla seduces the kid and gets him to tell her bedtime stories. Whereupon Soranus puts the bite on.’ I swallowed another gulp of Setinian. ‘Neat.’
‘Neat and very nasty. Yes.’
‘Only with Papatius they bit off more than they could chew. They found they were tangling with Ahenobarbus.’
Perilla frowned. ‘Yes, but Marcus, they must’ve known that at the very outset. I mean, the secret they were blackmailing Papatius over involved Ahenobarbus from the very beginning.’
I shrugged. ‘Well, maybe they got greedy. Thought the returns were worth the risk. Or Soranus did. That’d explain why they quarrelled, wouldn’t it? Albucilla wasn’t keen on things from the start and Soranus persuaded her. Then when everything went pear-shaped the lady wanted out, only it was too late; she was already in shtuck up to her ears.’
‘Yes.’ Perilla was still looking thoughtful. ‘Yes, that would fit.’
‘In which case now Soranus is dead — murdered — she’ll be really panicking.’ I finished off the wine in my cup. ‘Maybe I should have another talk with Albucilla.’
‘Mmm.’ She looked up. ‘Well, that’s about all I have. Now tell me about your day.’
Here we went. I took a deep breath. ‘Aponius and Pettius are Praetorians. At least, Aponius is.’
She almost spilled her tisane. ‘What?’
‘Yeah. He served on the Rhine with Publius, the head trainer down at Scylax’s, nine years back. Publius said he’d been transferred to the Praetorian Guard.’
Her eyes were wide. ‘Oh, Marcus! That’s why you were so shocked when I told you about Fregellanus!’
‘“Shocked” doesn’t cover it,’ I said grimly. ‘There has to be a link.’
‘Sertorius Macro?’
No fool, Perilla. Still, there was no point in both of us worrying. ‘Not necessarily,’ I said. ‘After all, why should Macro involve himself in anything shady? It’d do him far more harm than good. He’s a big man these days, bigger than anyone in Rome, and when Tiberius pops his clogs and Gaius is emperor he’ll be even bigger. He’s got other fish to fry than settling the hash of some cheap blackmailer, and all he has to do is sit pretty, keep his nose clean and wait. Plus, where the hell he’d fit in with young Sextus Papatius’s death Jupiter only knows.’ I refilled my wine-cup. ‘Uh-uh. Don’t look for bogeymen under the bed before we have to. Fregellanus is link enough for the present.’
She was quiet for a good half minute, sipping her tisane. Then she said: ‘You’re going to the Praetorian camp tomorrow, aren’t you?’
I hadn’t missed the overtones. ‘Uh…yeah,’ I said casually. ‘Yeah, that would seem the logical next step.’
‘And you’ll be seeing Macro?’
‘If he’s around, sure. After all, it’s only polite. He is the boss, and — ’
‘Marcus, be careful! I know you have to do it, but please be careful! No accusations, no heavy-handed questions. Macro’s far too powerful to offend, and if he is involved then letting him know you think he is would be very dangerous indeed.’ She paused. ‘Besides. I’ve got a feeling about all this, and it isn’t a pleasant one.’
I got up, went over and kissed her. ‘We’ve been through this before,’ I said. ‘Yeah, I’ll be careful. No sass, I promise.’
Definitely no sass. Especially since I’d got a nasty feeling about all this, too.
27
The Praetorian barracks are to the north-east of the city, between Viminal Field and Nomentan Road. They’re pretty new, only about fifteen years old: before Sejanus persuaded the Wart to bring them all together the nine Praetorian cohorts — with extras, just short of five thousand men — were spread through Italy, with only a single cohort stationed in Rome itself. Yeah, sure, having what amounts almost to a full legion, and that made up of the best troops in the empire, free, ready and waiting to send off to a sudden trouble spot at a moment’s notice makes sense, but it’s a double-edged sword: whoever commands the Praetorians effectively controls the city, or could do if push came to serious shove. Which was why, of course, Sejanus had suggested the amalgamation in the first place; why the Wart, when he sent Macro to pull Sejanus’s plug, gave him a letter appointing him as the guy’s replacement; and why, currently, the said Macro was de facto the most powerful, most dangerous bugger in Rome.
I was doing this properly. Oh, yeah, although the barracks weren’t exactly next door it would’ve been an easy hour and a half’s stroll, quite pleasant in good weather, which that morning it was; and although I’d pass by the Caeliolan, where according to Perilla’s satyric librarian pal Albucilla hung out, this early in the day was too soon for a social call. I could have my second talk with the lady on the way back. If there was an ‘on the way back’. On the other hand, arriving at Macro’s front door on foot and in a travel-stained tunic wouldn’t do much for my personal street-cred.
So I put on my best mantle and took the litter again. Apart from anything else, the long run would do our lardballs good: Perilla did use them whenever she went out, sure, but that didn’t happen too often and litter-slaves need to be constantly exercised if you don’t want a team bulging with unsightly fat and panting at the slightest incline. I also took four of the Wrecking Crew along, this time in their best tunics. Mostly for the show when I reached the barracks: if things got sticky, as they might, even four extra-large trolls on the staff wouldn’t be much help against nine cohorts of Praetorians. I didn’t even think of taking Placida. Praetorians aren’t exactly notable for their sunny, easy-going natures, and just one anarchic paw out of line in the wrong company could have us both in shtuck.
We processed up to the gate in fine style, and the squaddies on guard even came to attention when I got out of the litter. I gave my name to the duty officer, twiddled my thumbs in the guard-house for ten minutes while he checked with higher authority and was then escorted up the Headquarters Road towards the headquarters building itself.
When he’d had the place built, Sejanus had done himself and his men proud. There weren’t any fripperies, sure, visible ones anyway — this was a working army camp, after all — but the barrack blocks were solid, concrete-built with heavy tile roofs. They all had verandas, too, and there were quite a few squaddies lounging about them in tunics or leathers shooting the after-breakfast breeze. I remembered what Publius had said about the Praetorians being a cushy posting. Yeah, that squared. As the empire’s elite, they’d be fairly certain of staying put for the duration of their service unless something drastic went wrong on one of the frontiers that the local troops couldn’t handle, they had Rome on their doorstep when they were off duty and, best of all, they were paid at three times the rate of the ordinary legionary squaddie. If the buggers weren’t exactly laughing, they could at least raise a chuckle.