I turned the thing over in my hand. ‘It’s an old one. Augustan,’ I said. ‘But so what? There’re thousands of — ’
‘Look at the reverse.’
I did. It showed a figure standing next to a horse, and the legend ‘Germanicus Caesar Leader of the Youth’, so worn away that I could hardly make out the letters. Not surprising: the thing had to be almost forty years old. ‘So what again, pal? Unless it’s another cryptic allusion to the Greens’ stables, but we’ve had that already.’
‘Hmm. Ah, well, perhaps I was being a little too obscure there. Let me say, though, that it was the best I could get in the short time available because it was not an easy coin to find. I had to look through several bags at the mint.’ He waited. ‘No? Still nothing?’
‘Felix — ’
‘Think of our conspirators, sir. Who was it who idolised Germanicus when he was young? You learned that in the course of the investigation, I’m sure.’
— and then I had it. Jupiter and all the bloody gods! I’d never have got that one, never in a million years! The twisted, devious, clever..!
‘Carsidius,’ I said. ‘Felix, you bastard!’
‘Quite, sir. We haven’t finished yet, though. Look on this as a piece of extra information, completely outwith the case but possibly of academic interest. To you especially. Did you happen to find out about the only previous occasion when Carsidius found himself…well, at odds with the authorities?’
‘Uh…’ Shit, Crispus had told me that! Now what was it? Something about…
Oh, gods! ‘He was acquitted of supplying army grain to the rebels in the North African war.’ Bugger, the Germanicus scam, when he and Agrippina were engaged in stitching up the frontier provinces! The only gap I’d been left with, when I was putting that scenario together, had been in the south-west, the Africa-Numidia stretch; but then that’d been the least important area, and I’d ignored it. Now it seemed that Germanicus — or maybe Agrippina, rather, because she had been the real brains of the partnership — had had that part covered as well. ‘You mean Carsidius was guilty? He was a traitor, part of the Germanicus plot?’
Felix was beaming. ‘Of course he was. Although naturally he would not have thought of himself in these terms. Carsidius always was a fervent Julian supporter, which was why he hated…Well, we won’t go into that.’ Yeah, right: why he hated Gaius, who might be a Julian himself but who’d been responsible for shelving the remaining members of his family. I couldn’t agree with Felix about that angle not being relevant — far from it — but the guy had his own loyalties, and up to a point I respected them. Still, it was yet another proof — if I needed one — that politicians like Carsidius could bend the truth when it suited. Even be blind to it themselves. ‘It’s ancient history now, and it doesn’t really matter, but I thought you might like to know. Well done again, sir, you’ve redeemed yourself admirably.’ He stood up. ‘I think that’s everything now. Unless you have any more questions.’
I looked at Perilla. She shook her head. ‘No,’ I said. ‘That just about covers it.’
‘Then I’ll be — ’
‘Wait. There is one more thing. Not a question as such. Or not exactly.’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘What do I tell Natalis? And the boy’s mother?’
‘Tell them what you like. As far as we’re concerned, barring any mention of Tiberius’s involvement, naturally, you can even tell them the truth; although personally I wouldn’t so advise. They may not want to hear it.’
Yeah, that was fair enough, although it would be for different reasons: Rupilia, because her son had turned out a crypto-potential killer, Natalis — his feelings for the boy aside — because the bugger would have a heart attack if he knew how close his faction stables had come to hosting the assassination of Rome’s crown prince. Still, I’d think of something. I always did.
Felix beamed at us both. ‘So that’s that,’ he said. ‘Again — as always — my congratulations and respect, Valerius Corvinus. And I’m sure my master and Sertorius Macro would wish me to add theirs as well. No doubt our paths will cross again.’
Not if I could help it. But I didn’t say that to Felix: the times were changing, and a comment like that could be dangerous.
He left.
Perilla was very quiet after he’d gone, nursing her cup of fruit juice.
‘Well, Marcus?’ she said at last. ‘It’s over. Are you pleased?’
I sank a quarter-pint of the Special. Powerful stuff or not, it wasn’t having much effect. ‘What do you think, lady?’ I said.
Long pause. Then, quietly:
‘Would you rather they’d succeeded? Assassinated Prince Gaius and Macro?’
I didn’t answer. That was the question I was trying not to ask myself. Mercifully, it was academic: the conspiracy had been a dead duck before Natalis had even sent me his letter, and Carsidius and his pals were already living on borrowed time. I hadn’t made a pennyworth of difference; I certainly hadn’t been responsible for the whole thing going down the tubes. Still…
I’d slagged the Wart off practically all my life, not to mention career politicians like my father and Papinius Allenius. Oh, they weren’t paragons, no, and at times they could be real out-and-out five-star bastards; times like when Lucius Arruntius and his broad-striper mates had been responsible for the violation and strangling of Sejanus’s twelve-year-old daughter. I’d never forgive Arruntius for that, never, not even when hell froze over. But at least they were predictable and they cared; they had their code and they stuck to it, whatever the cost to them personally. The Wart especially. He’d been a good emperor by his lights, even if he’d got little credit for it and hated the job; and whatever he’d done, he’d done it because he thought it was for the good of Rome…
The good of Rome.
Livia had used that phrase to me, too, a long, long time ago. She was out of the same mould, a real, hard-nosed, first-class bitch, a murderess a dozen times over, no argument; but again she’d done what she’d done because she’d genuinely cared. Maybe, now, with the principate of Gaius looming, I could even sympathise with Livia. Gaius didn’t care about anything, except himself.
Like I said, we were into a whole new ball-game. Yeah, in retrospect maybe I would’ve preferred it if Gaius and Macro had died. I suspected that, in a few months’ time, a couple of years at most, Rome in general would agree with me.
Still, like the man said, you can’t cheat the stars, and there ain’t no point in trying.
I picked up the wine-jug…
‘Marcus?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Perhaps this isn’t the time to mention it, but I was talking to Alexis earlier. Did you know that Placida was pregnant?’
The wine splashed on the table. ‘What?’
‘There are certain signs, apparently. Besides the obvious one, or prior to it rather. Eating the cucumber frame could be one of them, but Alexis wasn’t sure about that, he thought it might just be normal behaviour for Gallic boarhounds.’
I was goggling. ‘Eating the — ?’
‘- cucumber frame. Yes. Or most of it, anyway. In any case, he’s quite certain she’s pupping.’ Perilla looked down. ‘So I was wondering if…’
Shit; I knew what was coming, I just knew it! ‘Lady, read my lips: we are not having a dog, okay? Especially not a Mark Two Placida. With that thing’s predilections the father was probably star billing at the Games. Not necessarily canine, either.’
‘Don’t be silly, dear. And I’m sure Sestia Calvina wouldn’t mind parting with one of the litter if I asked her.’
‘Damn right she wouldn’t! In fact she probably…’ I stopped. Hell!
‘She probably what?’
Probably planned it from the start, that was what. Bugger! Felix hadn’t been the only one pulling strings in this case: we’d been manipulated again, right down the line! If Sestia bloody smart-as-paint Calvina hadn’t known the brute was pregnant when she stuck us with her then I was a blue-rinsed Briton. Yeah, well. You can’t cheat the stars, especially when they’ve got Perilla fighting their corner. And if the lady had decided we needed a dog — loosely speaking — then that was that. No point arguing, I’d only lose in the end anyway.