Foreign Bodies Read online

  ‘Even so, I hardly think—’

  Time for a little tact. ‘Actually, pal,’ I said, ‘I wanted to ask you about the elder son. Titus.’

  Nerva frowned. ‘Titus? Why on earth should you be asking about Titus?’

  ‘No reason. Or not much of one, anyway, just a niggle. He didn’t seem to have much time for his uncle. You know why that could be?’

  ‘I’ve absolutely no idea. Certainly, it comes as a surprise; Quintus seems a perfectly decent sort, he’s been a good uncle to the boy, from what I’m told, and they’ve always got on perfectly well together. Probably some temporary family spat that’s put the lad’s nose out of joint. You know youngsters of his age; they can take the smallest thing so seriously and let it rankle.’

  I had to hide a smile: Nerva wasn’t that much older than young Cabirus himself, early to mid-twenties as opposed to Titus’s nineteen. Hardly enough of a gap to justify this indulgent elder-man-of-the-world attitude. But then he was a political, and a potential high-flyer at that. ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘But I noticed another odd thing. You told me at dinner yesterday evening that he and his brother got on well with their father, too.’

  ‘Yes, I did. And they do, again as far as I know. The Cabiri are a very close family. They always have been.’

  ‘Then that’s not the impression I got when I talked to him. Oh, there was nothing obvious, certainly not anything I could put my finger on, but I had the distinct impression that young Titus had issues where his father was concerned.’

  ‘Issues?’ Nerva’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Really? Again, I’m surprised. They certainly wouldn’t be connected with his choice of career; Cabirus might have been disappointed that he didn’t choose to go into the family business, but he accepted the decision without a murmur. In fact, he was quite proud in a way. If you’re right then it’s due to something that I know nothing about. You’re certain you weren’t mistaken?’

  ‘Maybe I was, at that,’ I said. ‘In any case, it’s not all that important. Forget it.’ Uh-huh. Interesting; and I wasn’t wrong, that I was sure of. Even so, we’d let it ride for the present.

  Bathyllus came back in with the drinks.

  ‘You really should try this, Marcus,’ Perilla said, picking up her barley water concoction. ‘You might like it.’

  I winced. ‘No thanks, lady,’ I said. ‘I’ll stick to seriously watered wine.’

  ‘Actually, sir, I took the liberty of mixing you up some specially myself.’ Bathyllus offered the tray to me. I lifted the cup and took a cautious sip. Watered, sure, but no more than half and half, twice as strong as it should’ve been. Nectar; comparatively speaking. I glanced at Bathyllus, and got the ghost of a wink. Not a bad lad, at base, our major-domo. And Perilla couldn’t claim I’d put him up to it, either. I took a hefty swallow. Beautiful!

  ‘So,’ I said to Perilla as he went out with the empty tray. ‘What’s next on the agenda?’

  ‘Caninia suggested going across the river to Condate tomorrow.’ Perilla set her cup on the table beside her. ‘The complex around the Altar itself is very impressive, seemingly. Historically interesting, too: it’s been a sanctuary of Lug – he’s the Gallic Mercury, seemingly – time out of mind. There was a sacred grove there where the druids used to meet before they were eradicated, but of course that’s disappeared – been dug up – long since. You should come, Marcus. I’m sure you can spare a few hours.’

  ‘No, I’ll pass. You two go ahead. Enjoy. Will, ah, Crinas be joining you for that?’

  ‘He might, if he has the time.’

  I was damned sure he would. Bugger.

  ‘Actually, “eradicated” is too strong a term, Lady Rufia,’ Nerva said. ‘The druids haven’t been rooted out of Gaul altogether, certainly not. Unfortunate, but true; we’ve been trying ever since the Divine Augustus’s day, but they’re persistent beggars, and they still crop up on occasion. Particularly among the central and western tribes and in the country districts, where civilization’s spread thin. And, of course, any hint of trouble and they’re straight in, egging things on. That’s another reason for welcoming the upcoming British campaign.’

  ‘I’ve always thought that they were rather maligned as a sect,’ Perilla said. ‘Caesar spoke well of them, didn’t he? And didn’t one spend some time in Rome later on as a guest of Tullius Cicero?’

  Nerva laughed. ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong,’ he said. ‘We’d have no quarrel with them at all if they stuck to religion and philosophy. Barring the human sacrifice side of things, naturally. But they’re political animals by nature, always have been, that’s their role, and we can’t have that. Particularly if their politics takes an anti-Roman turn, which it always does. They’re rife all over in Britain, so I’m told. If the emperor really wants to dig them out root and branch, he needs to do it from the British end.’

  ‘I’d’ve thought—’ I said, and looked up: Bathyllus had just oiled back in. ‘Yeah, little guy? What is it?’

  ‘A message from the front gate, sir,’ Bathyllus said. ‘There’s someone to see you. A Gaul by the name of Silus.’

  I frowned; who the hell was Silus? Then I remembered: the clerk in Quintus’s office, who’d looked like he wanted a word with me as I was leaving. ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Show him in.’

  Bathyllus hesitated. ‘The man said he’d prefer to talk to you in private, sir.’

  Was that so, now? ‘OK by me,’ I said, getting up. ‘Excuse me, everyone.’ I followed Bathyllus out. ‘Where can I go, sunshine?’

  ‘There’s a small sitting room in the east wing, sir. I think that would be suitable. If you’d care to wait there I’ll have him brought.’

  Jupiter, this place was a real rabbit warren! ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘Lead on, Bathyllus.’

  ‘Small’ was a slight over-statement, but in a place like the residence that was understandable. There was a couch and a couple of chairs, and the walls had frescos on them that wouldn’t have been out of place in a formal dining room. A bust of the Wart eyeballed me from a pedestal; the Wart in his younger days, and with the blemishes tactfully edited out: I doubted that the Emperor Tiberius propria persona had been a sculptor’s ideal model even in his twenties. I’d brought my wine-cup with me, and I took another sip or two while I was waiting: I might have Bathyllus on my side, clandestinely, anyway, but the little guy wouldn’t get off with slipping me an extra ration all that often. Goodness knows how the lady latches on to those things, but she does, and it doesn’t do to push your luck.

  I waited. Finally, there was a polite knock, the door opened, and Bathyllus came in with the clerk from the office.

  ‘Silus, sir,’ he said.

  ‘That’s fine, Bathyllus,’ I said. ‘Leave us alone, OK?’ He went out, closing the door behind him. ‘Now, pal. Sit yourself down and tell me what this is about.’

  Not exactly prepossessing, this Silus: pushing sixty, small and podgy, with a few strands of thin hair carefully arranged across his bald scalp.

  ‘I’ll stand if you don’t mind, sir,’ he said. Add ‘nervous as hell’ to the above.

  ‘Suit yourself.’ I waited. Nothing. ‘Look, you came to see me. If I’m handling the conversation it’s going to be pretty short.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘This is difficult. Very difficult.’

  ‘Take your time, sunshine. Take a deep breath, then start wherever you like.’

  ‘Quintus Cabirus is embezzling the company funds.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s true, sir. I don’t know how long it’s been going on, and it’s not done on a regular basis, but I’ve known for fully six months now.’

  Jupiter! Yeah, well, it was plausible, all right; Diligenta had told me that her brother-in-law managed the sales side of things. Even so—

  ‘Why tell me?’ I said.

  ‘Because the master’s dead, sir, and you’re … well, you’re an outsider, and you’re official. I had to tell someone.’

  ‘Six months is a long time to ke
ep something like that to yourself, friend. And the question still stands: why me, not his widow Diligenta? She’d be the logical one to approach first off.’

  ‘Sir, I’d already told the master himself, when I was certain, when I’d plucked up the courage, Master Tiberius, just a few days before he died. He told me … he said that he’d take care of it. I don’t know if he did or not; it’s possible, because there’ve been no … irregularities since that I can see. But then of course …’ He stopped, and swallowed.

  Right. But then of course someone had stiffed him, and there might well be a connection. No wonder the poor guy was chewing his fingernails down to the knuckle.

  Gods!

  ‘I’ve worried about it ever since. My responsibility is to the family as a whole, it always has been. I couldn’t, in all conscience, continue to keep silent. But I thought that if I took it any further, told the mistress … Well, you must know what I thought.’

  Yeah; that if Quintus had murdered his brother to cover things up, and his chief clerk had gone and blabbed to the widow, he might be next on the list. Particularly if he could provide chapter and verse.

  ‘So you decided you’d tell me instead?’ I said. ‘To be on the safe side?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You’re absolutely cast-iron sure about this?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I deal with the customer invoices and receipts. There’s sometimes been a discrepancy between them and the final record of takings that Master Quintus enters into the monthly books; not a huge amount each time, and as I say not on any sort of regular basis, but it’s mounted up to quite a sum since the beginning of the financial year.’

  ‘So how much are we talking about, in total?’

  ‘Since January, sir, when I first began to check, about five thousand sesterces.’

  I whistled: five thousand in six months doubled up made ten thousand a year. Multiplied by however many years the scam had been operating and Silus didn’t know about. Brother Quintus had built himself up quite a nest-egg. And as a motive for murder, it’d run, easy. Sure it would.

  ‘You can prove it?’ I said.

  ‘Oh, yes. I made copies of the relevant documents. Two sets. I gave one to Master Tiberius and kept the other. That, I still have.’

  ‘Fair enough. You hang on to them for the present, pal, and leave things with me.’ I stood up. ‘Thanks for coming.’

  ‘You’re welcome, sir. It’s a great relief to know that someone else knows.’ He hesitated. ‘You won’t tell Master Quintus, will you? That I told you?’

  ‘Absolutely not. You’re out of it, as far as I can manage, I promise you that.’ How I was going to keep the promise, mind, was another matter; but we’d cross that bridge when we came to it. ‘Thanks for coming.’

  He left. Shit, what did I do now?

  Go back to the conservatory, for a start.

  Nerva and Caninia had left, and Perilla was there on her own. ‘Well, Marcus?’ she said. ‘What was that about?’

  ‘That was Brother Quintus’s chief clerk,’ I said. ‘To say Quintus has had his hand in the till for an indefinite period.’

  She stared at me. ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah, that was my reaction, too. Interesting development, right? And it turns out that Cabirus knew. As of a few days before his death, that is.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘“Ah” is right.’ I sat down. ‘So we have a new principal suspect.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  I shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. I could face him with it, of course, but then I’d have to say where the information came from, and I don’t want to do that at present. Or I could go to Diligenta. Technically, it’s her business, not mine; with her husband dead, she’s the other half of the company. And although it’s motive for murder, embezzlement isn’t actual proof, as such. So that’s what I’ll probably do: it’s her shout, after all, hers and her sons’. The guy may be a crook, but he’s still family.’

  ‘Is it possible that Quintus could’ve done it? In practical terms, I mean.’

  ‘Sure. No problem. He’d know Cabirus’s routine, and where he’d be that afternoon, plus that it wasn’t likely that anyone would be around to see him come and go. And if he has an alibi it’s the one he gave me himself when I asked him, that he’d stayed at home with a cold that day. Very convenient, in retrospect. I could go to his house, check with the bought or hired help, but there’d be no guarantee that I’d get a truthful answer. Probably not, if he’s primed them, like he probably has if he’s telling porkies.’ I was frowning. ‘I wonder if Titus knew? Or suspected?’

  ‘That he was the killer? Why should he?’

  ‘No, not that. Just that he was a wrong ’un. In himself, I mean. Young Titus has a head on his shoulders. And it might explain the coolness latterly between him and both his uncle and his father. If he’d found out somehow, and tried to convince Cabirus—’

  ‘But you said Titus had nothing to do with the wine business. How could he possibly know?’

  ‘Yeah, fair point. It was just an idea. Besides, Nerva gave me the name of another source of information on the family. One of the current chief magistrates, Julius Biracus. I’ll go and see him as well tomorrow.’ I’d been nursing what little wine was left in my wine-cup. I swallowed it at a gulp. ‘See what he has to say.’

  Perilla smiled. ‘By the way, you’re doing very well on the wine front, dear. Keep it up.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ I said sourly.

  Mind you, if I was to solve this case there’d have to be a bit of judicious back-sliding at some stage, and the lady would just have to lump it. Gathering evidence was one thing, but when it came to the theorizing, wine was an essential.

  SEVEN

  I started out next day with Julius Biracus. He wasn’t at home, but his housekeeper told me I’d find him in the council chambers back on the Hinge, near the market square, and I managed to nail him coming out of a meeting. I explained what I wanted.

  ‘Delighted to help in any way I can, Valerius Corvinus,’ he said. Wheezed: he was a big man, Biracus, and most of it was gut. ‘Tiberius was a tragic loss to the city. Tragic. Would you like to go to my office, or should we go elsewhere?’

  ‘Up to you, sir,’ I said. ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘We’ll make it Celer’s, then. I find I need something to sustain me mid-morning after a council meeting, and that’s where I usually go. He has a back room which is very private, so we won’t be disturbed.’

  ‘Fine by me,’ I said.

  I followed him down an alleyway off the Hinge to a small cookshop at the end, and we went inside. The place wasn’t full, but there were two or three punters perched on high stools at the counter. They turned, and one of them gave Biracus a nod. Their eyes had gone straight to my purple stripe, but I was getting used to that by this time.

  ‘Morning, Celer,’ Biracus said to the guy behind the counter. ‘All right to use your back room? Valerius Corvinus and I have business to discuss.’

  ‘Of course.’ Celer raised the wooden flap that barred the way between us and him. ‘The usual, is it, sir?’

  ‘Indeed, if you would.’ He turned to me. ‘Corvinus? Something to eat?’

  ‘No thanks,’ I said. ‘I had breakfast.’

  ‘So did I. What has that to do with anything? Some wine, then?’

  Bugger. ‘No. No, I’m OK.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ He squeezed through the gap – there wasn’t much clearance – and I followed. ‘I’m a bit of a traditionalist myself, mind, I prefer beer. Have you tried our Gaulish beer?’

  ‘Uh … no.’ And I wouldn’t be doing it, either: I still had nasty memories of having a quart of the German variety forced on me years back, and I’d no wish to repeat the experience.

  ‘Like some? Celer brews it himself, and it’s the best in Lugdunum.’

  ‘No, thanks. I’ll pass.’

  ‘Suit yourself.’ He pulled back the curtain. Behind it was a small room with a table and three or fou
r stools. ‘Have a seat.’ I sat. He perched. Overflowed. Whatever. ‘Now. Ask away.’

  ‘Licinius Nerva tells me you’ve known the Cabiri – the family as a whole, I mean – ever since they came here, yes?’

  ‘That’s right. They moved down from Treveran Augusta twenty years back, just after that bad business with Florus.’

  ‘You say that as if there was a connection.’

  Biracus frowned. ‘Do I?’ he said. ‘Then it wasn’t intentional. Even so, it isn’t important. You’re not a Gaul, Corvinus; you wouldn’t understand these things.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘It was a bad business, like I say, and water under the bridge. Oh, not here, we kept our heads down like most of the Gallic tribes. But the Treveri – they were Florus’s own folk, of course – well, some of them supported him, some didn’t, and that was that. After the revolt was put down and the main ringleaders were dealt with, the authorities drew a line. Very wisely, in my opinion, because taking things too far would just have led to more trouble. What was done was done, and there was an end of it.’ The curtain parted, and the cookshop owner came in with a laden tray. ‘Ah, good. Thank you, Celer. Most welcome.’

  I waited while the contents of the tray were unloaded: a large bowl of bean stew, the best part of a loaf, a plate of sliced sausage and a wooden mug of beer the size of a small keg. No wonder the guy was the size he was, if this was a mid-morning snack.

  ‘You’re sure you won’t join me, Corvinus?’ he said.

  ‘No. No, that’s OK.’ Celer went out again. ‘So. Are you saying the Cabiri supported the revolt?’

  ‘Oh, now, that I can’t tell you. It wasn’t the sort of thing you asked, at the time, and besides, it doesn’t matter now. Water under the bridge and best forgotten, like I said.’ He took a long swallow of the beer. ‘Ah, that’s better. Mind you, Diligenta’s brother was certainly involved on the Florus side.’

  ‘Her brother?’

  ‘That’s right. Licnus. I don’t know what happened to him, don’t know much about the man barring his name.’ He tore off a bit of bread and scooped up some of the beans. ‘Except that he and Diligenta were very close. Titus idolized him.’