Ovid

'Segestes,' he stuttered, 'is a friend to Rome. He has no time for his son-in-law's schemes. If Segestes thought it important enough to warn us that Arminius was plotting treachery then-'

'Screw Segestes.' Ceionius glanced at Eggius. 'Germans are all alike, Vela. You know that. He probably told us just so we'd follow the cowardly piss-your-pants course you seem to favour.'

The warlike Eggius rose like a fish to a mayfly.

'I agree. We've a force five times anything Arminius could field against us and a hundred times better trained and disciplined. Ignore this, General, and we'll be a laughing-stock of the army from here to the eastern frontier. And quite rightly so.'

'Nevertheless,' I said, my eye upon Vela, 'it would mean a march through unfamiliar territory. And the campaigning season is almost over.'

'Are we children, to be afraid of the dark and wet?' Eggius the orator loves a fine phrase. 'Would Drusus Caesar have hesitated? Would General Tiberius?'

'Tiberius would certainly hesitate,' Vela was still punching. 'Tiberius is a soldier. And you do not have to be a child to be afraid of the Teutoburg, especially in winter.'

I temporised, again with Rome in mind. I must assume that Vela knows nothing, and continue constructing my future defence in the hope that my credibility is not already destroyed.

'Vela has a point, gentlemen,' I said. 'We must weigh our responsibilities carefully. Think. The campaigning season is over. We are leading our men back into winter quarters. If we are to investigate this matter it will mean a gruelling march late in the season through difficult and potentially hostile territory. The question is, is such a drastic and dangerous course of action justifiable?'

'Yes!' from Eggius. 'No!' from Vela; both responses immediate and decisively-delivered. I turned to Ceionius, my eyebrows raised; which was the signal my louse and I had agreed on for his set speech.

'What would be the emperor's word, sir,' he said slowly, 'what would be Rome's word, for a general who put the comfort of himself and his men before the safety and integrity of the empire's borders?'

I nodded, as did Eggius. 'A fair summing-up,' I said gravely. 'Gentlemen, we have no choice. The threat is there, and despite the undoubted danger as loyal soldiers of Rome it is our duty' — I stressed the word — 'not to ignore it.'

As a piece of ham acting in the good old austere Roman manner I flatter myself that it was perfect. Eggius's lips were set firm, and I swear I saw a manly tear glisten in the young warrior's eye.

'However.' I paused until I was sure I had their full attention, especially Vela's. This was going to be important. 'I do not intend, gentlemen, to indulge in any death-or-glory heroics.' I let my eyes rest for a moment on Eggius. 'An investigation is one thing, prudence is another. I am quite aware of the difficulties, and of the dangers. We will take the matter as it comes and make our decisions accordingly.'

'Yet we turn east?' That, of course, from Eggius.

I was magisterial. 'We turn east.'

Vela stared at me, his hands clenching and unclenching spasmodically. Then he turned and, without a word, swept out of the tent.

18

I've got a lot of time for the Floralia. For six days the whole dingy city breaks out into colour like an old oak tree bursting into spring leaf. There're flowers and garlands everywhere, even on the Speakers' Platform in the Market Square and in the dead empty eye sockets of the city tenements. Girls, too; Jupiter knows where they come from but for some reason there're more around, and better lookers, at the Spring Festival than at any other time. And I don't mean whores either although you'll see plenty of them about. People are friendlier. They actually smile at you, genuinely smile, and it's not uncommon to meet someone in the middle of the day who's drunker than you are. Happy-drunk, I mean, not looking for a fight; Flora's a civilised goddess, the kind you wouldn't mind being parked next to at a drinking party. Even some of my father's cronies take the pokers out of their arses and unbend at the Floralia. Some of them. And not all the way. Flora may be a goddess, but even she has her limits.

I went round to Perilla's early, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and (more to the point) clean-shaven, wearing my best mantle and carrying my party slippers. Callias led me through to the sitting-room.

By the look of her Perilla was just up. Beautiful as usual but crotchety as hell.

'Happy Floralia.' I gave her the bunch of flowers I'd had Bathyllus out gathering earlier. Added to all his other accomplishments the little guy weaves a mean garland. She wasn't as impressed as I'd hoped she'd be.

'I thought I said dinner, Corvinus.'

'Yeah, well, maybe I'm a bit early but all the same…'

'Look, I've got several very pressing things to do before I even think in terms of breakfast. Like waking up, for example. So if you'll excuse me…'

'Oh, come on, Perilla!' I wasn't giving up that easy. 'It's the Floralia! Let's go out somewhere.'

She looked at me as if I'd suggested a bump-and-grind up the steps of the Capitol.

'Corvinus,' she said slowly. 'I am married. Nominally so, I grant you, but married nonetheless. Respectable matrons don't go gadding about with young bachelors.'

'It's a beautiful day outside.'

'The weather is immaterial.'

'Separate litters.'

'Where to? If you were thinking of a mime…'

'No mime,' I said hastily. Mimes are traditional to the Floralia. Only to the Floralia, and understandably so. What other patron but Flora would allow actors to appear with their faces bare? And not only actors, but actresses? And not only their faces… 'No mime. I give you my solemn oath.'

I was serious. I'd more sense than to take Perilla to a mime. She was fully capable of standing up at the first blue joke and demanding a public apology from the producer. Getting it, too.

'So what did you have in mind?' she said after a pause.

'Just a walk. I thought maybe the Sallust Gardens would be nice.' The Sallust Gardens are on the Quirinal, and they make up one of the most beautiful public parks in Rome. 'Come on, Perilla! Just this once.'

'Separate litters?' I could see she was weakening.

'Yeah. Borne by octogenarian eunuchs fitted with blinkers. You have my word.'

'Just a walk in the Sallust Gardens? You're sure?'

'I saw the Chief Vestal there the other day. She goes regularly, just for the moral uplift.'

Perilla was smiling now. Genuinely smiling. I knew I'd won and was trying very hard not to crow about it.

'All right,' she said. 'Give me a while to do my hair.' There wasn't a thing wrong with it, but I wasn't going to argue. 'Have a seat and I'll tell Callias to bring you some wine. It's not too early for you, I take it?'

'Just this once,' I said, 'I'll make an exception.'

I'd been kidding about the octogenarian eunuchs but Perilla didn't seem to mind so long as the other proprieties were observed. The four Sunshine Boys tagged along as well. I drew the line at being beaten up on holiday, and with Perilla in tow I was taking no chances. They shambled along beside the litters, two on each side, flashing their pectorals and mouthing Gallic obscenities at any passer-by who paid us the slightest bit of notice. Most people gave us a wide berth. I didn't blame them.

We got caught up with the crowds going to watch the Goddess's official procession. I should've thought of that — Flora's temple is just inside the Quirinal Gate — but it was too late to do anything about it. At least with the combined muscle of the litter bearers and my four Gauls we managed to keep the litters side by side so we could talk while the punters broke and flowed round us.

The crowds fascinated Perilla; but then the poor girl obviously didn't go out much.