Foreign Bodies Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Previous Titles by David Wishart

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dramatis Personae

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Author’s Note

  Previous Titles by David Wishart

  The Marcus Corvinus series

  OVID

  GERMANICUS

  THE LYDIAN BAKER

  SEJANUS

  OLD BONES

  LAST RITES

  WHITE MURDER

  A VOTE FOR MURDER

  PARTHIAN SHOT

  FOOD FOR THE FISHES

  IN AT THE DEATH

  ILLEGALLY DEAD

  BODIES POLITIC

  NO CAUSE FOR CONCERN

  SOLID CITIZENS *

  FINISHED BUSINESS *

  TRADE SECRETS *

  FOREIGN BODIES *

  * available from Severn House

  FOREIGN BODIES

  David Wishart

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  This first world edition published 2016

  in Great Britain and the USA by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  19 Cedar Road, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM2 5DA.

  Trade paperback edition first published 2016 in Great

  Britain and the USA by SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD.

  eBook edition first published in 2016 by Severn House Digital

  an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

  Copyright © 2016 by David Wishart.

  The right of David Wishart to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78029-087-4 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78029-570-1 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-793-6 (e-book)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents

  are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Except where actual historical events and characters are being described

  for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are

  fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

  business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  This ebook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited, Falkirk,

  Stirlingshire, Scotland.

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  (Only those who appear, or are referred to, in different parts of the text are included.)

  CORVINUS’S FAMILY

  AND HOUSEHOLD

  Bathyllus: the major-domo.

  Meton: the chef.

  Perilla, Rufia: Corvinus’s wife.

  Phryne: Perilla’s maid.

  ROMANS

  Bassus, Curtius: Catellus’s aide.

  Caninia: Nerva’s wife.

  Catellus: governor of Gallia Narbonensis.

  Claudius Caesar, Tiberius: the current emperor.

  Crinas, Lucius Domitius (‘Smarmer’): a doctor.

  Gabinius, Quintus: governor of Gallia Lugdunensis.

  Hister: governor of Gallia Belgica.

  Nerva, Publius Licinius: Gabinius’s aide.

  Saenius Balbinus, Quintus: Hister’s aide.

  GAULS/BRITONS

  Cabirus’s family and household

  Cabirus, Tiberius Claudius: the murdered man. Sons Titus and Publius, daughter Claudilla.

  Cabirus, Quintus: his brother.

  Cotuinda: servant in the Cabirus household.

  Diligenta: Cabirus’s wife.

  Licnus: Diligenta’s brother.

  Quadrunia: Diligenta’s sister.

  Silus: Quintus Cabirus’s clerk.

  OTHERS

  Aia: Titus Cabirus’s girlfriend.

  Anda: Drutus’s servant.

  Biracus, Julius: co-senior magistrate in Lugdunum.

  Drutus, Sextus: a merchant from Durocortorum, dealing in hides.

  Florus, Julius: leader of a Gallic revolt against Rome twenty years previously.

  Laco, Graecinius: the Belgic procurator.

  Oppianus, Julius: Cabirus’s political rival.

  Optima, Julia: Perilla’s companion in Augusta.

  Secundus, Julius: member of the Augustan senate, and Optima’s husband.

  Segomarus/Segus: a Burdigalan wine merchant.

  Severa: Drutus’s girlfriend.

  Sulinus: a silver- and goldware merchant.

  Tarbeisus, Trebonius: a jewellery merchant.

  Vindus, M Julius: Oppianus’s nephew.

  ONE

  The end of June can be pretty hot in Rome; plus, of course, at that time of year when old Father Tiber is stripped down to his metaphorical vest and underpants and there’s more mud to him at the edges than water, the low-lying bits of the city are fairly unpleasant, odour-wise; which is why most people who can manage it up sticks and head for cooler and more salubrious parts. Me, I’m OK with the heat, and so long as you remember to breathe through your mouth when circumstances demand, walking around is just this side of bearable. Perilla, now … well, on top of the temperature and the olfactory aspects of big-city life the lady’s always been the more outgoing member of the partnership, and between July and September when things begin to settle down again society’s thin on the ground. A good time, then, for touching base with the family – adopted daughter Marilla, her husband Clarus and the grand-sprog, young Marcus – at Castrimoenium in the Alban Hills.

  So that’s where we were off to bright and early the next morning, with all the arrangements made barring the finer details of the packing. That’s definitely Perilla’s department; me, while it’s happening I tend to lounge around on the atrium couch with half a jug of wine and let the lady and Bathyllus, our major-domo, get on with things between them.

  Which is what I was doing when Bathyllus himself oozed in to say that a slave had arrived with a message.

  ‘Is that so, now?’ I said. ‘Who from?’

  ‘The emperor, sir.’

  Wine splashed, and I sat up straight. ‘You what?’

  ‘A personal request.’ Bathyllus’s nose had a distinctly elevated tilt to it, and it had nothing to do with the drains: our major-domo is the snob’s snob. ‘He would be grateful if you could drop by some time today, at your earliest opportunity.’

  Uh-oh; this did not sound good. Oh, sure, Claudius was a different kettle of fish altogether to his predecessor – at least, unlike Loopy Gaius of not-so-fond memory, he had a fu
ll set of tiles on his roof (so far, anyway; give it time) and he was likeable enough in his own right – but impromptu invitations for a cosy imperial tête-à-tête weren’t exactly a regular occurrence in the Corvinus household. Not that I was complaining, mind; where mixing with the buggers at the top is concerned, I’ve always found that keeping your head well and truly below the parapet is the best way to make sure it stays attached to your neck.

  I set the now-empty wine-cup down, reached for a napkin, and mopped my wrist. ‘He mention what it was about, at all?’ I said.

  ‘No, sir. But I imagine, from the wording of the message, that it is a matter of some urgency. I’ll fetch your best mantle, shall I?’

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, you do that.’ I hate those things, particularly in the summer months when wearing one is like walking through a steam bath wrapped in a sixteen-foot barber’s towel, but turning up at the palace in a lounging-tunic wasn’t an option.

  Bathyllus exited, leaving me frowning: ‘a personal request’ and ‘at your earliest opportunity’ definitely boded. In spades. Still, I couldn’t very well tell the most powerful guy in the world to take a hike, now, could I?

  Damn.

  I stood up, just as Perilla came through from the direction of the stairs.

  ‘I’m sorry, dear,’ she said, ‘but if you were planning to take that old tunic you laid out on the bed with us you can think again. I’ve already thrown it out twice, and …’ She paused. ‘What’s the matter?’

  I told her. To give her her due, under the circumstances, the lady was distinctly unfazed; but then like I say Perilla’s the social animal in the household, and if she and Tiberius Claudius Caesar weren’t exactly long-standing bosom chums they’d at least had a nodding literary acquaintance before his elevation, and a summons to the palace didn’t have the effect on her that it would’ve had when Gaius was running things. Nowhere near. Puzzlement, at best. Plus, given that we were practically en route to the Alban Hills, the barest smidgeon of annoyance.

  ‘But what can he possibly want?’ she said.

  Bathyllus was back with the mantle. ‘Search me,’ I said, as he helped me on with it. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see. How do I look?’ I gathered up the last yard or so over my left arm in the obligatory fold. ‘Presentable?’

  She regarded me critically. ‘More or less.’

  Grudging as hell. ‘Come on!’ I said. ‘It’s the best I’ve got. You gave me it yourself at the Winter Festival, and it’s never been worn.’

  ‘True, Marcus. But then it never ceases to amaze me how even in a new mantle you still manage to appear slightly disreputable.’

  I grinned. ‘Call it a knack.’

  ‘Then it’s one that you should not be particularly proud of. All right; make that “louche”, if you prefer. You’ll need the litter as well, of course.’

  Bugger: swanning around in litters is another activity I can gladly do without. Still, she was absolutely right: turning up at the palace soaked with sweat and the accumulated mud and grime of a walk halfway across Rome wasn’t an option. And at least the wine stain on the tunic was now decently hidden. I was just lucky she hadn’t spotted that and had me change completely.

  ‘Fair enough,’ I said.

  She came over and kissed me. ‘Have a nice time,’ she said. ‘And give my regards to Tiberius Claudius.’

  I sent Bathyllus to roust out the litter guys.

  At least I couldn’t complain about being kept waiting. Under the new regime – well, Claudius had been emperor for a year and a half now, so maybe ‘new’ was pushing it a bit – the imperial admin system had gained an extra layer of unsightly fat, and arranging an appointment involved filling out forms in triplicate and smarming your way past an endless succession of snooty freedman clerks. OK if you’ve got a few days to spare for twiddling your thumbs in antechambers, but frustrating as hell otherwise. However, right from the point when I gave my name to the hefty Praetorian on the door it was obvious that I was being given the full five-star VIP fast-lane treatment. The clerk detailed to look after me led me straight through the public offices, up the staircase to the private living quarters above and to the same richly panelled door I’d been through eighteen months before, when I’d had my little chat with that bitch Messalina. I just hoped that she wasn’t in evidence this time around: cousin or not, emperor’s wife or not, that was a lady I wanted nothing whatsoever to do with that didn’t involve a ten-foot barge pole and an insulated pair of gloves.

  The clerk knocked, opened the door, and stepped aside. I went in.

  The room had been refurnished since Gaius’s day. Cozy enough, sure, if your idea of coziness is a functioning office with a no-nonsense desk and wall-to-wall book cubbies. Nice collection of bronzes, mind, and considering where I was they’d all be originals.

  The man himself was sitting behind the desk, writing. The desk was piled with book-rolls, plus a wine jug and cups that looked like they were permanent fixtures. He looked up.

  ‘Ah, C-Corvinus! Delighted you could come so promptly,’ he said. ‘Have a seat, my dear fellow. I’ll be with you in just a moment.’ Uh-huh; well, at least he sounded fairly affable, which was a good sign. Not that I felt particularly reassured, mind. The clerk who’d brought me bowed and went out, closing the door behind him. I pulled up a chair that was as old as the bronzes and probably just as expensive and sat down while he finished what he was doing and laid the pen aside. ‘You and your wife Rufia Perilla are well?’

  ‘Yes, Caesar,’ I said cautiously. ‘We’re both fine. Perilla sends her regards.’

  ‘That’s excellent. A cup of wine? It’s not too early for you?’

  ‘No. Not at all. That’d be great, thank you.’ Damn right it would; I wasn’t going to pass up what would no doubt be the best imperial Caecuban. One of Claudius’s good points – or good in my view anyway – was that he liked a cup or three of wine as much as I did. Besides, I suspected that I was going to need it. ‘Thank you.’

  He poured and filled his own cup to the brim. I took a sip. Nectar, pure nectar!

  ‘Now. To business. You’re w-wondering, no doubt, why I asked you to come and see me.’

  ‘Uh … yeah. Yes, sir, I am.’

  ‘Perfectly natural. I want you to look into a murder for me.’

  Oh, bugger. Bugger, bugger, bugger!

  ‘Really?’ I said faintly.

  ‘You do still handle them, don’t you? As a hobby, I mean. Only I recall our mutual friend Marcus Vinicius mentioning it. The evening of my late nephew’s dinner party when you and Perilla shared our table, if you remember.’

  Uh-huh; the one just before Gaius got himself chopped. I wasn’t likely to forget that little bean-feast in a hurry, was I?

  ‘Ah … yes,’ I said. ‘Yes, I do. Handle them, I mean.’ If that was the proper word for it. ‘On and off, as it were.’

  ‘That’s m-marvellous. Vinicius told me you did when I asked him, but it’s just as well to check up on these things.’

  I took another mouthful of the Caecuban, said nothing, and tried to look eager.

  ‘It happened just under a month ago, in Lugdunum. The victim was a Gallic chappie by the name of Cabirus. Tiberius Claudius Cabirus.’ He took another large swallow of wine and topped up the cup. ‘His father had the citizenship from mine when he was governor there shortly before the D-Divine Augustus passed over.’

  Maybe I’d misheard. At least, I hoped I had. ‘I’m sorry, Caesar,’ I said carefully. ‘You said “Lugdunum”, right?’

  ‘You know it? Charming place, quite delightful. Of course, I was born there, so I’m b-bound to be a little biased.’

  ‘That’d be, ah, Lugdunum in Gaul, yes?’

  ‘Naturally; where else would it be? Cabirus was one of the town’s leading citizens.’

  Oh, hell.

  ‘So this would, like, involve me in actually going there?’ I said carefully. ‘To Lugdunum. Over in, ah, Gaul.’

  ‘Well, Corvinus, it might be a little diffic
ult m-managing things otherwise, mightn’t it?’ He must’ve noticed the look on my face. ‘Oh, my dear fellow, do forgive me! I’m not a tyrant! If you’re b-busy at present with other things then you only have to say. I’ll understand completely.’

  Yeah. Right. And I was Cleopatra’s grandmother.

  Fuck.

  ‘Only it would be a great pity. A very great pity. Vinicius said you’d had p-plenty of experience in this sort of thing, and that you’d be absolutely perfect for the job.’

  Did he, indeed? Fuck again. Double fuck; I was screwed. Thank you, Marcus bloody Vinicius. With knobs on.

  ‘Ah … no, Caesar,’ I said. ‘I’m not busy as such. We had been planning to go through to the Alban Hills tomorrow, but under the circumstances I expect that can wait.’ It would sodding well have to, wouldn’t it? Perilla would be absolutely thrilled when I told her. Even so, it served her right: Vinicius was her literary pal, not mine, and if he’d put Claudius on to me then it was only because Big Mouth had given him the information in the first place.

  Claudius beamed. ‘Excellent! I’m m-most relieved that I can leave things in your capable hands. And if you’re already p-packed for travelling then it’s even more fortunate. You can leave right away. Don’t worry about travel arrangements; they’re already taken care of.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘My dear chap, do credit me with a little consideration! I am the emperor, after all, and I do have some clout. There’s a g-government yacht berthed at Ostia, ready to leave whenever suits you. This time of year, you can be in Massilia inside of three days. And I’m giving you – wait a m-moment, it’s here somewhere.’ He rummaged about among the papers on his desk and came up with a small, tightly fastened scroll. ‘Ah. Here we are. I’m giving you imperial procurator status for the duration, as my p-personal representative.’ He handed me the scroll. ‘All properly sealed and signed. I’ve already written to Gabinius, so he’ll be expecting you and he’ll p-probably already have done the needful at his end, but it’s as well to be sure. In any case, show that to any official in the three provinces, Roman or local, of any rank, and he’ll fall over himself to be helpful.’