Ovid

The statue raised its eyes and looked straight at me. It, too, was smiling. Slowly, horribly, with the grating sound of stone on stone, the head began to turn on the marble column that was its neck. Further and further it turned, beyond what I knew was humanly possible, until the face was in complete profile and I saw that it was not one face but two…

Two faces, one looking forwards, the other back, like the statues of the Door God Janus.

The head continued to turn, like the upper stone of a mill. The room faded and there was only the head and the terrible grating noise. I screamed…

And woke, sweating. Grey half-light shone through my study window, bringing with it the rumble of iron cartwheels on the stone surface of the street beyond.

29

I thought about the dream while Bathyllus hot-footed it round to old Quinctilia's. Most of it was pretty obvious. The naked woman was Julia, the guy with the death mask Paullus. Even Augustus was no surprise. I'd've expected the fourth man to be Varus, but after all he was only the emperor's stand-in. The only thing I didn't get was the business with the head. That was weird.

Maybe, I thought, I should see an augur.

Bathyllus came back with the news that the Lady Quinctilia would see me right away. That sounded promising. I whistled up the lads and set off for the Caelian. For once I took a litter. I was still pretty whacked after my disturbed night, and anyway I wanted to think about how I was going to play this. You don't just stroll into a Roman matron's house, accuse her dead brother of five different kinds of treason and expect to be asked to stay to dinner.

Not that Quinctilia would have any illusions, of course. Politicians need scapegoats, and Varus had carried the can for the whole German fiasco. Still, incompetence was one thing, outright treachery another. I'd have to be careful where I put my feet with Quinctilia.

We pulled up outside the door in great style. I rearranged my freshly-laundered mantle — Quinctilia was one of the old breed and wouldn't appreciate a caller with gravy stains down his front — and signed to one of the litter-bearers to knock. I gave my name to the door slave and was ushered straight into the atrium.

The old girl had obviously decided on a formal reception. She was sitting by the ornamental pool dressed in an impeccably draped mantle and elaborate wig. Behind her a guy in late middle age stood with his hand on her shoulder. Probably her son, I thought. Certainly, given the heavy jowls which were common to both of them, a close relative. Neither was smiling, and in front of them set square on was an empty chair.

Shit. So much for the softly-softly approach. I felt suddenly like a man accused of murder walking into a courtroom where the judge is itching to try out a new kind of axe.

'Valerius Corvinus.'

No salutation. No ‘Pleased to meet you’. Just the name, delivered in tones that'd freeze the arse off an Alpine chamois. I reckoned the Lady Quinctilia could give even Perilla lessons.

'That's right, Lady Quinctilia. I've come…'

'I know why you've come. Sit down. This is my nephew Lucius Asprenas.'

Fat Face nodded. You couldn't've prised his lips apart with a crowbar.

I eased myself into the chair. The old woman bent forwards to stare at me as if she was about to whisper a secret; but when she did speak it wasn't to me. And she didn't whisper either.

'You're there, Agron?'

'Yes, Lady.'

'Then you had better join us as well.'

I whipped round. There was Big Fritz, large as life and twice as ugly, standing behind my chair. He must've followed me in and I hadn't heard a thing. The guy could've given a panther lessons and worn hobnail boots while he did it.

'Sit still, Corvinus,' he said. 'No one's going to hurt you if you behave yourself.'

'That's quite enough, Agron.' Quinctilia turned back to me. Her eyes were curiously pale and empty. 'Forgive him, young man. You're quite safe here, I assure you.'

Oh, yeah. Sure. Safe as a lamb chop in a wolf's den. I cursed myself for having left the Sunshine Boys outside; but there again who'd've thought I'd need them against a respectable old biddy like Quinctilia? It just showed you that you can't go by appearances.

'So I'm right,' I said. 'Varus was our fourth conspirator.'

Fat Face Asprenas shot me a look that would've curdled milk. I didn't see Agron's reaction but from the hiss of indrawn breath you can bet he wasn't choking back a belly-laugh.

'I'm afraid I don't quite follow you,' Quinctilia said coldly. She was staring at a point about six inches past my left ear.

I sat more easily on my chair. Lounged, almost. When you have your back to the wall and there's no place else to go, look confident.

'Come on, lady,' I said. 'You know what I mean. Your brother was Augustus's agent in the Paullus plot. Only he got greedy and sold the emperor out.'

'Watch your mouth, Corvinus!' Agron whispered.

The old woman's expression was a mixture of distaste and puzzlement. 'I really must insist that you explain, young man.'

Jupiter! She'd got this respectable elderly dowager act polished to perfection!

'Okay.' I sat up straighter. 'If that's how you want to play it then fine. Augustus got your brother to offer a safe haven to the elder Julia and Postumus when they'd been sprung from exile. It was a put-up job because the emperor wanted to pull the teeth of the Julian faction. Only Varus had his own ideas. He played it for real and went over to the opposition.' No reaction. I decided to up the aggro. 'So what did Paullus and Julia promise him? For screwing up the northern frontier and putting the bite on the emperor? Money? A share of the political action? Or maybe just another lucrative governorship out east somewhere?'

Quinctilia turned to her nephew. 'Lucius? Will you answer the young man or shall I?'

Her expression hadn't changed. Fat Face, on the other hand, was staring at me as if I'd thrown up into the ornamental pool.

'Go on, Corvinus,' he said. 'Let's hear you prove it.' Something about his voice told me he didn't think I could; but both of them listened without expression or comment as I took them through the main points.

I'd expected flat denials, outrage, maybe even a veiled threat or two. What I got was silence.

Then Quinctilia stood up. Although she stooped she was taller than I'd thought, and from the set of her mouth I reckoned even in her old age she was one hell of a strong-minded lady. I began for the first time to feel less sure of myself. I'd've felt happier in a way if they'd denied everything and had the door slave pitch me out on my ear.

'Excuse us for a moment, Valerius Corvinus.' She reached out and gripped Asprenas's arm. 'My nephew and I have things to discuss. Agron, entertain our guest, please.'

I half-rose to my feet, but the big Illyrian's hand pushed me back down.

'You heard the mistress,' he said. 'Just take it easy, right?'

Quinctilia, with Fat Face supporting her by the arm, disappeared into the living-quarters proper at the back of the house. Agron took the chair she'd been sitting in, pulled it over until I was within reach and sat down facing me.

'You're a real shit, you know that?' he said. 'I should've killed you when I had the chance. Or left you to these knife-men to finish.'

Good start. Obviously the guy had eccentric notions of entertainment. 'So why didn't you?'

'I told you that at the time. I didn't like the odds. And the mistress wouldn't've been pleased.'

'You were Varus's protege, weren't you?' So long as we were having this cosy few minutes to ourselves I reckoned I might as well fill myself in with a bit of the background. 'Where did you meet up? Germany?'

'That's right.' He smiled without humour. 'I got into the legions by the back door when Tiberius was recruiting around Sirmium.' So Scylax had been right about that as well. I only hoped I'd live long enough to tell him. 'After the troubles were over we were sent to the Rhineland. I was the general's orderly.'