‘So Soranus decided to blackmail Papinius on his own account.’
‘Yeah. Hence the loan, hence — after he found out — Ahenobarbus stepping in. Damage limitation, plug the leak.’
‘But why didn’t Ahenobarbus simply have Soranus killed?’ Perilla tugged at her curl. ‘Oh, yes, I know we discussed that, but it would make perfect sense now. As you say, Soranus was a spanner in the works, an outsider, isolated: not even Albucilla would defend him. And someone like Domitius Ahenobarbus wouldn’t have any scruples.’
‘I don’t know, lady. Rough spot four.’ I sipped my wine. ‘Now we come to the fifth conspirator.’
‘The fifth?’
‘Carsidius.’
‘Oh, Marcus, I’m sorry! Ahenobarbus is bad enough, but at least he’s morally questionable. Carsidius is a respected senator. Why on earth should he be involved?’
‘Call that rough spot five, lady, but he has to be because that’s where the keys come in, plus the whole Caepio business. Whatever else his job was, Carsidius supplied the safe house, the place where the conspirators could meet if they had to. Caepio was in on the secret. Again, he had to be because that’s the only possible explanation for the cover-up with the key-board. Also, for why he was so scared to open his mouth the second time I talked to him but insistent that Carsidius couldn’t’ve been behind the kid’s death. Not that it did the poor bastard any good in the end.’
‘You think Macro’s men killed him? Aponius and Pettius?’
‘It’s possible; but my money’s on Ahenobarbus. Damage limitation again, this time in-house. And Ahenobarbus wouldn’t have any problems finding a hit-man.’
Perilla frowned. ‘Wait a moment,’ she said. ‘You’ve explained Caepio but not Carsidius. Why not stop with the factor? Ahenobarbus or one of the others could easily have paid Caepio to allow them use of the flat and turn a blind eye. Why should Carsidius necessarily know anything about the conspiracy at all, even if he was the building’s owner?’
‘Because he lied to me over the bribery business. The only reason he’d do that is if he had a personal interest: he wanted to cover the conspirators’ backs, stop that line of the investigation. Damage limitation again.’ I stopped. ‘Shit!’
‘Marcus?’
‘We’ve got a sixth conspirator. Laelius Balbus.’ Sweet gods! This thing was sprouting more heads than a hydra. ‘Remember, the fake bribery story was a closed circle: me, Papinius’s boss Laelius Balbus and Carsidius. Balbus claimed he’d talked to the kid in private, so if the guy was genuinely on the level Ahenobarbus’d know nothing about it. The tip-off to Carsidius had to come from him.’
‘Oh, Marcus!’ Perilla put her head in her hands. ‘Listen to me, dear. I’m sorry, but this is getting more and more improbable. Ahenobarbus I’ll grant you, he’s the type, although as you say there’s no reason for him being involved. But we’ve now got three perfectly respectable, law-abiding senators caught up in this plot of yours, Fregellanus, Carsidius and Balbus. Don’t you think you’re straining credibility just a little too far? Especially since we started with the motive being simple revenge?’
Bugger. The lady was right; I wouldn’t go for it, and it was my theory. There were too many holes, and so many things just didn’t…bloody…fit! I took an irritated swig of wine and reached for the jug.
‘So we’re still missing something on the motive side,’ I said. ‘Something big. Oh, yeah, sure, I can see Macro being seriously persona non grata with some of the more poker-arsed members of the senate, maybe even unpopular enough and dangerous enough for them to want him in an urn. Given time and rope he could even turn out another Sejanus. But wishing and doing aren’t the same thing. These guys aren’t stupid, Perilla, and they know which side their bread is buttered. Macro’s Prince Gaius’s blue-eyed boy, Tiberius is on the skids and in a matter of months at most he’ll be dead and Gaius’ll be emperor. A conspiracy that took out Macro and left Gaius alive would be — ’ I froze as it hit me. ‘Oh, Jupiter,’ I whispered. ‘Oh, sweet Jupiter Best and Greatest!’
— and then something went click in what I had for a brain. Fool! Bloody, bloody fool!
Games…
Pastry-sellers…
‘Marcus?’ Perilla was staring. ‘Marcus, are you all right?’
I reached out a shaking hand for the wine-cup and took a big swallow. I’d never needed it more. ‘Pompey’s theatre,’ I said. ‘Pompey’s theatre.’
‘What on earth does — ?’
‘Pompey, lady. The man himself. And a corpse — a murdered corpse — at the base of a statue. Put all of them together. They make you think of anything?’
And then Perilla had it too. The colour left her face. ‘Caesar,’ she said. ‘Pompey was the enemy of Julius Caesar, and Caesar was assassinated at the foot of his statue.’
‘Right.’ Sweet gods alive! ‘We’re still playing games. The bastard who sent us the message wanted us to think of a dead Caesar. That’s who the conspiracy’s target was. Not Macro, or not just him; Gaius. The plan was to assassinate Prince Gaius.’
There was a long silence. Then Perilla said, very quietly: ‘Marcus, what are we going to do?’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think we’re supposed to do anything. That isn’t the point. Macro’s already done it.’
‘But — ’
‘I said “was”. Past tense. The conspiracy’s busted. Papinius is dead, the rest of them, Ahenobarbus included, are running scared. Fregellanus isn’t going nowhere, not from the middle of the Praetorian camp with Macro’s eye on him. Six gets you ten Albucilla didn’t make it past the city gate. Carsidius and Balbus — well, it’s up to Macro what happens to them, isn’t it?’ There was an itch at the back of my mind. I reached for it, but it was gone. ‘Apropos of which, Carsidius is someone I have to talk to soon. Just for confirmation, sure, but the guy has serious beans to spill and I may as well fill in the corners.’
‘You said getting you to do something wasn’t the point. So what was?’
‘The gods know, lady. That’s the first question I’m going to ask the devious bugger when I see him. After I let go of his throat and stop bashing his head against the nearest wall, that is.’
Perilla’s brow wrinkled. ‘What devious bugger?’ she said.
‘Oh, come on, Perilla! If we’re talking Prince Gaius then that clever sod will be in it up to his greasy little neck. Plus the games are him all over. No wonder I kept thinking of pastry-sellers.’
‘Pastry-sellers? Marcus, have you gone completely — !’
‘I was trying to tell myself something and I wouldn’t bloody listen. The woman — the pastry-seller — that Placida and me crashed into on Head of Africa. Her brother had a boarhound once called Lucky.’ I could see the penny drop; yeah, well, once we’d made the Gaius connection the next jump was pretty obvious. ‘Right. Him. Q E sodding D. Shit!’ I put my hands either side of my mouth and yelled: ‘Bathyllus!’
‘Marcus. Wait. One thing, the most important. How does Papinius fit in?’
The answer to that was obvious, too; at least, now it was. And it’d been staring me in the face right from the start. Fool!
I told her -
— at which point Bathyllus soft-shoed up.
‘Message to Sertorius Macro personal at the Praetorian barracks, little guy,’ I said. ‘Strictly personal, remember: no one else to be involved, right, or you’re cat’s-meat. Use your fastest runner.’