She pulled herself free without a word. Then she went over to the desk and began opening and closing drawers. Another sheet of — presumably — incriminating evidence went into the brazier. The room was full of floating bits of ash.
‘Albucilla! Come on!’ I said. ‘This is your last chance! You never wanted any part of this from the beginning, did you? Tell me what’s going on and I swear I’ll do what I can for you.’
That stopped her again. She stood staring at me like I’d grown an extra head.
‘I didn’t want any part in it?’ she said. ‘I didn’t? Corvinus, you are so…bloody…thick! You don’t know a thing about it. Besides, there’s nothing you can do for me. Nothing anyone can do. Now just go and leave me alone. Find out the truth for yourself.’
Ah, well, if that was the way she wanted it that was how it’d have to be. I couldn’t force her to talk, and whoever she was running from, Ahenobarbus or Macro — I didn’t dare even think about Prince Gaius — she was far more frightened of them than of me.
‘Okay, lady,’ I said, turning for the door. ‘Have a pleasant trip.’
She didn’t answer. I doubt if she’d even heard.
Thick, right? Yeah, that just about covered it.
Home, and on foot, this time: the weather had picked up again, and I didn’t fancy another half hour of lolling around on cushions. I unlimbered the heavy mantle, bundled it inside and told the litter guys with their attendant trolls to go on ahead.
Okay; if I was being thick then what was I missing? Let’s start with what we’d got for sure. First of all, a definite grouping: Soranus, Albucilla, Acutia and Fregellanus. They’d been involved in some sort of scam which wasn’t — this, just now, from Albucilla — connected with the fire commission…
Only that didn’t make sense. The fire commission link was the one that brought in Ahenobarbus and Papinius himself, not to mention sideline characters like Carsidius and Balbus. If I scrapped that then my whole case, or virtually all of it, went down the tubes.
Hell!
Don’t panic, Corvinus. If I was stymied there then let’s look at things from the other angle, the group itself. What would bring them together in the first place? What did they have in common?
The answer was, Not a lot. To put it mildly. The two couples were as different as chalk and cheese. Soranus and Albucilla were a pair of fast-living out-and-out crooks; Acutia was — on the face of it, at least — a dumb but respectable Roman matron, and from all accounts her boyfriend Fregellanus’s idea of a good time was cataloguing his rock collection. Hardly a compatible menage a quatre. Of course, there was the Sejanus link between the two women, we’d spotted that already. Still, that couldn’t be relevant, not at this late date five years down the road. Sejanus was dead, his family was dead, the Sejanan party were all dead as mutton or rotting in exile. There wasn’t even so much as a single statue to the guy out of the dozens that there’d been in Rome six years ago because after he was executed they’d all been pulled down and replaced with…
The hairs rose on my neck. I stopped.
Oh, shit.
Oh, holy Jupiter Best and Greatest!
Well, at least it was something I could check up on right away; not that I’d much doubt what the result would be because in its own twisted way it fitted.
Bloody, bloody games!
I’d been walking along Caelimontan Road, heading towards the Caelian. Now I took a right at the next major junction and headed for the centre of town. Just my luck to be completely the wrong side of Rome. Still, I was rested after the litter journey.
The caretaker would know. He’d said he’d been in the job since Augustus rebuilt the place, and it wasn’t something you’d miss.
Bugger!
29
It was mid-afternoon when I finally got home, but Perilla was in the dining room and the table was still set for lunch. She came off the couch like the upholstery had just spontaneously combusted.
‘Marcus! Where the hell have you been?’ she snapped.
Bugger, I should’ve thought of that: when the last thing you’ve told your wife is that you’re just popping over to the Praetorian camp to have a word with Sertorius Macro re a mysterious death probably involving two of his soldiers, unscheduled detours on the way back aren’t such a bright idea. And the litter would’ve arrived back hours ago.
‘Pompey’s theatre,’ I said. ‘No hassles, lady. Seriously.’ I lay down on the other couch and reached for the cold pork and pickles. I wasn’t feeling proud of myself where making connections was concerned, not proud at all. Albucilla’s ‘thick’ had been spot-on. ‘Something came up.’
‘Namely?’
‘You remember that statue of Diana I found Soranus propped against?’
‘Of course I do! What about it?’
‘It wasn’t. Or rather in a way it wasn’t. I had a chat with the caretaker. The thing’s new, only been there for eighteen months. Prior that the plinth was empty; but prior to that — three years or so prior — it had another statue on it. Care to guess whose?’
She threw herself back on the couch. ‘Marcus, I have spent the last two hours worried sick waiting for you to get home, and I am in no mood for guessing! Just tell me.’
‘Aelius Sejanus’s.’
She stared at me. ‘What?’
‘Yeah. That can’t be coincidence. If we’re playing games here — which we are — then we’ve got the Sejanus connection again. Whether we like it or not.’
‘But we’ve already been through all this! Anything involving Sejanus can’t be relevant! Tiberius and Macro together stamped out — ’ She stopped and put a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh!’
‘“Oh”’ is right.’ I tore a bread-roll in half and bit savagely into one of the pieces. ‘I made that jump myself about ten seconds after I came up with the theory about the statue. Sejanus is the key to this whole business, and I’ve been too sodding blind to see it. Macro was responsible — directly responsible — for hunting down and killing his supporters after the guy himself was chopped. Albucilla was Sejanus’s mistress, and Acutia lost a husband. Acutia just happens to take up with Pontius Fregellanus, who’s on Macro’s staff and therefore has direct access to him on a regular basis.’ I scowled. ‘Hell! Of all the stupid, myopic — !’
‘Marcus, stop it.’ Perilla was frowning. ‘Let me get this clear. What you’re saying — or are about to say — is that Albucilla and Acutia are plotting to kill Sertorius Macro. The motivating factor being revenge.’
‘It makes sense. And don’t discount revenge as a motive, either.’
‘I’m not discounting revenge at all; in fact motive is one of your strongest arguments, and I have nothing against it. But you don’t think there are, well,’ — she hesitated — ‘inconsistencies?’
Damn. When Perilla adopted that tone you learned to go careful. I laid down the bread. ‘What inconsistencies would these be?’ I said.
‘First of all, why now? They’ve had over five years, life has moved on.’
That one I was ready for. ‘Opportunity. They’re women — assuming the core of the conspiracy is Albucilla and Acutia, who’ve got the real axes to grind — and Macro’s a public figure. More, he’s the Praetorian commander. He’s squirrelled away in the Praetorian barracks and he’s got four thousand plus of the best troops in the empire to guard his back. Before they could make their move they needed an insider like Fregellanus. And before you say anything, lady, persuading him to join the team would’ve taken time and delicacy. He’s not the hasty type, and he’s no natural killer.’
‘All right. But that leads me on to my second point. It’s all very amateurish, isn’t it?’
‘Of course it is. It had to be. However badly they hate Macro, Albucilla and Acutia are the women they are. Acutia especially. She’s a mouse, but even a mouse can turn given the right circumstances. And as far as Fregellanus is concerned, poor sap though he is he was the best they were likely to get.’ I reached for the cold pork stew. ‘Added to which, who else could they rope in? Macro was pretty thorough. All Sejanus’s supporters — his real supporters, not just the fair weather guys who licked his backside while he was in charge — are either dead or eating beets in Lusitania. And if they’re not — like Albucilla’s ex Secundus — then they’re keeping their heads well down in case next time Macro decides to chop them off. Which he would. Lady, I am right!’