Sejanus

David Wishart

1

The smoke from Dad's pyre gusted among the tombs, plain, ordinary wood smoke, with no spices or perfume to mask the more unpleasant smells. His idea, not mine, and specified in his wilclass="underline" Tiberius disapproved of extravagant funerals, and the old trimmer Messalinus had toed a politically correct line to the last. Specks of soot blew into my eyes, and I wiped them away. After so long in Athens I'd forgotten how windy Rome could be.

Beside me, Perilla touched my hand.

'Marcus?' she said. 'Are you all right?'

'Sure.' I watched as the logs shifted. The fire was at its hottest, and I couldn't see the bier any more; he wouldn't last long at this rate. 'Why shouldn't I be?'

'No reason.' Her fingers wrapped round mine as we watched the flames together. 'I was just checking.'

It had been a good funeral; the old guy would've been pleased that even for a consular he'd rated such a healthy turnout, and I was glad his senatorial cronies had done him proud at the finish. Both consuls had come, Memmius Regulus and Fulcinius Trio. Trio was ignoring me. That came as no surprise. The last time we'd seen each other I'd accused him to his face of treason, and he'd never forgiven me because it had been the truth.

Also conspicuous by his presence was Trio's boss, the imperial rep Aelius Sejanus. An honour, maybe, but one I could do without, and one that Dad, to give him his due, wouldn't have wanted either. When we'd shaken hands and he'd offered his condolences the cold sweat had broken out all down my spine. The last and only time I'd seen Sejanus had been ten years before in Phlebas's curio shop, where I'd been buying an incense burner for Mother's husband Priscus. Ten years may be a long time, but Sejanus was the reason I'd spent them in Greece, and I hadn't forgotten why even if he had. At least I hoped he had. A handshake at a funeral was as much contact with him as I ever wanted, deal with Livia or no deal with Livia.

He was standing now a dozen yards off, his back to the flames, chatting to Trio and my Uncle Cotta. I was surprised he'd stayed so long now he was the Wart's de facto deputy and had an empire to run, but maybe it was business. I didn't want to know about that, either.

'Marcus, dear, I don't think you've met Cosconia.'

I turned. Mother had come up on my blind side. Even in her mourning and without jewellery she still looked good, and twenty years short of her real age. I felt Perilla's fingers tighten on mine as Dad's widow gave me a thin smile. We might not have met formally but I'd seen Cosconia around. Like Mother, she was a looker; if nothing else Dad had had a good eye for women. Cosconia wouldn't stay single for long, that was sure. Female relatives of Sejanus — even distant ones like she was — tended to get snapped up as soon as they hit the market.

'Pleased to meet you, Cosconia.' Perilla's fingers left mine and she held out her hand. Cosconia took it. 'I'm so sorry about Messalinus.'

'He didn't suffer much.' The widow's voice was brisk, and I found myself wondering if she'd started looking round for a replacement already. 'He wasn't conscious towards the end.'

'I wish Marcus and I had got back in time.' Perilla was smiling too. 'But there wasn't a ship.'

'It doesn't matter.' Cosconia gave me a quick glance. 'And I'm glad to have met you both finally after all this time. These family quarrels are such silly things, aren't they, Marcus?'

'Yeah,' I said. 'Yeah, I suppose they are.' I looked away, at the flames. Dad was gone by now, the fire was beginning to die down and the pyre was collapsing in on itself. People would be getting ready to call it a day and head for home and a cup of warm spiced wine. Some of the older ones, like Appianus who'd read the funeral speech, had left already, but there were still a few who looked like hanging on to the very end when the embers were doused and the bones cooled with wine and put in the urn. Sejanus for one, which was bad news. I wanted nothing from that bastard, least of all false sympathy.

Over to my left — and well away from Sejanus — a white-haired old man was deep in conversation with a senator. He saw me looking and raised his hand. I frowned, trying to fit the name to the face. I knew him, sure, but not from Rome. Athens? Alexandria? Pergamum, maybe, or any of a dozen other places; Perilla and I had moved around a lot these past few years. Whoever he was I had the feeling the acquaintance hadn't been all that pleasant.

'Marcus!' Perilla's elbow dug me in the ribs. I turned back. She was looking frosty as hell. Mother, too.

Cosconia's lips had tightened into a line. 'No, don't bother, Perilla,' she said. 'I only wanted to introduce myself properly and welcome you home. Another time, perhaps, if and when Marcus has more liberty for conversation.' She walked off unsmiling before I had a chance to apologise and explain.

'Oh, shit,' I murmured.

'Marcus, I am ashamed of you!' I'd never seen Mother so angry. 'Your behaviour was abominable! And that is no sort of language for a funeral!'

She was right, of course. I knew that without being told, even though I hadn't meant to offend anyone. Still, Mother ought to have known better than spring Dad's second wife on me without warning and expect light social chitchat.

'Uh, yeah,' I said. The white-haired guy was looking at me again. I still couldn't place him, and it worried me. 'I'm sorry. Excuse me, will you?'

'Marcus!' Perilla snapped. I ignored her and moved towards him.

Sejanus peeled himself away from Trio and Cotta like bark from an elm branch and stepped into my path.

'Bought any good bronze ducks recently, Corvinus?' he said.

So he did remember. 'It was a goose,' I said. 'Etruscan.'

'Really?' His eyes measured me. 'I thought it was a duck. That's right, Trio, isn't it?'

The consul had joined us, smiling the doughy smile I remembered from other days. Cotta had made himself scarce. That shifty old chancer can scent trouble a mile off.

'A duck it was.' Trio was fingering the broad purple stripe on his expensive mantle. That had come since my day; when I'd seen him last he'd been a lightweight narrow-striper on the make. He'd risen high since then, if you can call it rising. 'A dead one.' He gave me a sour nod. 'How are you these days, Corvinus? Doing well, are we?'

I didn't answer. Sejanus laughed. His eyes hadn't left my face.

'A pity you never took me up on my offer,' he said. 'You'd've done much better working with me than…' He paused. 'Just what are you doing at present, exactly?'

'Oh, this and that.' I remembered Dad asking me the same question at Priscus's birthday party. The one I'd brought the Etruscan goose to. I'd given him the same answer, and for the same reasons. 'I'm not a politician. As you know.'

'Who could be, in Athens? It's the world's backside.' He was studying me carefully. 'I'm speaking politically, of course.'

'Yeah. Sure.' I was shaking, and trying hard to hide it. He was being friendly enough once you'd made allowances, but he still made my skin crawl and I had to admit he terrified me. It wasn't the power, although Sejanus had more of that than anyone in Rome, probably more than the Wart himself these days, in real terms; it was just who he was. 'We're happy enough there, Perilla and me.'

'Oh, yes. Your wife. You must introduce us.' He looked across at Perilla, but she was still talking to Mother and Cosconia, who'd rejoined them now the grouchy stepson had made himself scarce. The three of them were probably raking over my roasted giblets. If that isn't an unfortunate phrase at a funeral.

'Yes. I must do that,' I said. 'At some stage.' Whether he had the high on me or not, I wasn't letting the bastard within a mile of Perilla if I could help it, no way. 'Perilla likes the academic atmosphere there. Me, well, the wine's not bad. And as you say it's peaceful.'

'But hardly the place for a Roman.' Sejanus's smile hadn't shifted. 'Or have you decided that being a Roman is outwith your capacities?'