Bodies Politic Page 20

  ‘There’s such a thing as incitement, lady. Under the old policy - Augustus’s, the Wart’s, Gaius’s up until now - the Alexandrian Jews’ve been perfectly happy. They’re allowed to worship as they like with an indulgent eye turned to their little foibles, given their own courts and assemblies and so on outside the city’s general admin structure. Protected. Privileged. The same goes for Jews everywhere else in the empire. So long as they don’t meddle with the pax romana Rome’s got no quarrel with them, and the Alexandrian Greeks have to sit on their hands and grind their teeth. Yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fine. Only recently over in Judea that’s just what happens. The Jews there start getting political, throwing rocks at the troops and generally making themselves a pain in the backside. That gives Helicon and his pals their opportunity. Judea’s useful up to a point, but who in Rome, including the emperor, gives a toss what a pack of backwoods goat-herders get up to? Especially if it’s no real threat to the safety of the empire as a whole? Alexandria’s different: it’s the empire’s second biggest city, and it’s got a thirty-per-cent-plus Jewish population. If they can stir up the same sort of trouble there then they’re really cooking.’

  ‘So they set out deliberately to provoke the Alexandrian Jews into violence, hoping that it’ll spread to other cities in the east and result in a pogrom and a change to a much more repressive policy.’ She tugged at the strand of hair. ‘Marcus, you’re convincing me.’

  ‘One gets you ten that it was Helicon who suggested that Herod Agrippa stop by in Alex on the way to his kingdom, too. There ain’t nothing like a bit of positive incitement to riot on both sides to get things moving.’

  ‘But it’s dreadful! Completely irresponsible! And it could wreck the peace of the entire east!’

  ‘Right. I’d bet that’s exactly what Etruscus thinks. Only the poor bugger can’t do anything to stop it happening, which is why he came to me. It’s working, too. If all Helicon wants to do is cause the maximum mayhem then Isidorus is the perfect agent; the guy’s a fanatic, a mad dog. You can’t reason with people like that, and Flaccus knows it. He has only two choices, to co-operate all the way down the line - and Isidorus’ll make sure it’s a very long line - or Helicon slips Gaius the packet of whacky correspondence while they’re scraping down after their matey game of handball and he finds himself chopped before you can say “Macro”. Which brings us neatly to the link between the two plots.’

  ‘Carry on.’ I had her hooked good and proper. She’d started on another strand of hair.

  ‘You said it to me yourself: you can’t use Macro twice in different roles. Helicon and his pals couldn’t do that either, and it was stymying them. On the one hand, they needed the fake treasonable correspondence with Macro to burn Flaccus, and ipso facto in that case Gaius couldn’t know about it; on the other, unless the emperor was convinced that Macro was definitely implicated in the Gemellus plot and had him chopped as a result then they’d no stick to beat Flaccus with.’

  ‘Oh, my!’ Perilla tugged at the tuft. ‘So they’d need another body of proof. To give to the emperor.’

  ‘Right. Only - I’m guessing here - they jibbed at that. If they started, propriae personae, to mix themselves up in Palace politics it could quickly get them out of their depth. I mean, how far would they have to go before they could be sure the emperor was convinced? Besides, it was far too dangerous: Macro was the most powerful man in Rome after Gaius himself, he was no fool, and neither was Gaius. And both of them were on the spot, not half the empire away. It’d only take one of them to smell a rat and the whole thing would go down the tubes.’

  ‘So they needed an ally. Someone to manage the Macro side of things for them.’

  ‘Yeah. How they and the imperials found out about each other, like I say, I don’t know and it doesn’t matter. My guess is the impetus came from Lepidus, or maybe Agrippina, because she’s the brains of the partnership like her mother was. Flaccus is on record as being a supporter of Gemellus, whatever the hell that is, he and Macro knew each other personally, it was common knowledge that he was out of favour with Gaius, and besides because he’d been instrumental in getting Agrippina Senior exiled she’d have her personal reasons for choosing him to put the knife into. He’d certainly make the top five on any list of candidates, however you slice it. And since he was currently in Alexandria sounding out the Alexandrian contingent in the civil service at Rome for a potential rotten apple would be a natural thing to do.’ I took a sip of the Mareotis. ‘In any case, that had to be what happened. Lepidus and Agrippina pulled the plug on Macro...’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Mmm?’ I blinked.

  ‘How exactly did they do that? I’m sorry, Marcus, but you can’t just gloss over that part. If Macro wasn’t killed because of his treasonable correspondence with Flaccus - and I’ll admit that I agree that he couldn’t have been - then why was he? What other proof could Lepidus and Agrippina offer?’

  ‘Jupiter, lady,’ I said irritably. ‘I don’t know. Or not exactly. The civil service guys may’ve sharked up another letter to or from Gemellus or Silanus. Or a batch of letters, maybe. They could do that without breaking sweat, and so long as they didn’t have to submit them to Gaius first hand, just give them to the imperials to use how they liked, they’d be well out of it. And remember Gaius was getting pretty jaundiced with Macro and Ennia as it was. Plus with two of his closest friends and his sister bad-mouthing the guy at every opportunity - as they no doubt did - it isn’t difficult to see he’d be more than half-way likely to believe them to begin with.’

  ‘Very well, dear.’ Perilla sniffed. ‘I suppose it’s possible.’

  ‘You have a better idea?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then clam up.’

  She grinned. ‘All right. So what now?’

  ‘Now is the difficult part. Getting concrete proof that I can take to Gaius.’

  ‘And how do you propose to do that?’

  ‘Lady, I don’t know.’ I took a morose swig of wine. ‘Oh, sure, he’d listen to me. With a great deal of attention and respect, what’s more, because modesty aside and saving my blushes he knows from past acquaintance that I don’t whistle through my ears. None the less, all I’ve got is circumstantial evidence and theory. Good circumstantial evidence and theory, sure, I grant you, but still. If I tell him that one of his best friends and both of his sisters are conspiring with another best friend and half the imperial civil service to put him in an urn, not to mention at least one of the top military legates in the empire, he’s going to ask for hard proof before he blows his wig and starts chopping heads off. Quite rightly so. And if he doesn’t, and goes ahead anyway, then the gods help Rome because we have a lunatic in charge.’

  ‘What about Etruscus? Surely he would back you publicly now?’

  ‘Jupiter, Perilla! You just don’t listen! Etruscus has kept his head well down below the parapet so far and he isn’t likely to stick it up now. With justification. He’s no hero, he’s just a conscientious pen-pusher with Rome’s best interests at heart. Besides, I’d bet I know a hell of a lot more about this business now than he does. I wouldn’t even ask him.’

  ‘Then what?’

  I sighed. ‘I told you. I don’t know. Oh, I’ve still got a couple more shots in the locker, for what they’re worth: a tribune on the Pannonian staff to see, plus gate-crashing Helicon’s birthday party in five days’ time, but -’

  ‘What?’

  Bugger, I hadn’t told her about that one either. ‘Ah...’

  ‘Marcus, if you think you can -’

  ‘Dinner is served, sir.’ Bathyllus, drifting in like a welcome ray of sunshine from the direction of the dining-room.

  Saved by the apricot-stuffed duck with turnips.

  Ah, well. We’d just have to see what transpired.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  A messenger came next morning from Secundus with Titus Vinius’s address: the family house, hardly a ten-minute walk away on Hea
d of Africa. Yeah, well; we might as well get this over with, and at least I didn’t have to traipse over half of Rome to find him.

  Good property: the family had money, which probably meant he’d had good reason to come back and oversee investments. There’d be a bailiff, sure, but even the best of these you have to keep an eye on, and if his father was at death’s door and he was the only son then there wouldn’t be anyone else to do it.

  I went up the steps and knocked.

  ‘Could I speak to Titus Vinius, please?’ I said to the door-slave who answered. ‘The name’s Valerius Corvinus. He doesn’t know me but -’

  ‘Would that be senior or junior, sir?’

  I frowned. ‘Ah...junior, of course. I thought...Uh, forgive me, pal, but I thought Vinius senior was dying.’

  He gave me an odd look. ‘Of course not, sir. The old master’s in perfect health. Come in, please. If you’d like to wait I’ll tell the young master you’re here.’

  He left me in the lobby, sorely puzzled.

  Shit, what was going on? Oh, yeah, people did make miraculous recoveries, especially if they’d kicked their doctors out at the first sniffle, but there’s a big gap between at death’s door and in perfect health. Something was screwy here.

  The slave came back. ‘The young master’s in the garden, sir. Follow me, please.’

  He led me through the atrium into the peristyle beyond. Nice garden. A bit over-regimented for my taste and cluttered with too many statues, but okay if you like that sort of thing. Vinius - I presumed it was Vinius - was sitting in a basketwork chair in one of the arbours.

  ‘Valerius Corvinus?’ he said. ‘What can I do for you?’

  Another slave had brought a second chair. I sat down.

  He was a youngster, of course - being a tribune he’d have to be -, no more than early twenties, if that. I noticed two things at once. One, he was pretty - not good-looking, pretty, with what was almost a girl’s face, long eyelashes and pouting lips. The second thing was he was frightened.

  Not of me, or I didn’t think so: his body was relaxed and there was nothing in his tone of voice. The look was in his whole face; withdrawn, slightly out of it, with something strange about the eyes. Like recently he’d been to hell and back, and hadn’t got over it yet.

  ‘Vibullius Secundus over at the military admin offices suggested I have a word with you,’ I said; I’d thought about this, and it seemed the safest way to do things. ‘See if I could get you to reconsider your decision to resign your commission.’

  There it was; that frightened look again. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No, I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Even although your father’s’ - I paused, and chose the words carefully, without stressing them - ‘no longer in danger of dying?’

  Another flash; if he’d noticed the pause, or wondered how I’d known, he didn’t comment. ‘No. Not even for that reason.’

  I leaned back. I’d have to watch how I played this, because there was something here. What it was I didn’t know yet, but it was there in spades and I could feel the beginnings of a prickle at the nape of my neck. ‘Care to tell me why?’ I said. ‘I mean, if the original reason was that you needed to look after the family affairs -’

  ‘I think that’s my business, Valerius Corvinus,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to cause offence, but you’ve had a wasted journey.’

  ‘Uh-uh.’ I shook my head. ‘I don’t think that myself. Not at all.’ That got me another scared glance, but this time it was meant for me personally. I gave things a moment, and then I said: ‘So why did you resign? The real reason?’

  I’d spoken quietly, but he was on his feet like he’d been jerked up on strings. ‘Go now,’ he said. ‘Please. I’ve told you it’s my business, no one else’s, and -’

  ‘Sit down, pal.’ I still hadn’t raised my voice or moved, and I knew if I did either he’d call for the slaves and have me pitched out on my ear. All this was fright, pure and simple. The guy was like a frightened mare. He had to be gentled.

  He sat, like the strings had been cut. He was breathing hard and fast, his eyes fixed beyond my ear.

  ‘Now,’ I said, still talking quietly, hardly above a whisper, ‘I’m going to level with you. Secundus is a friend of mine, sure, but he’s got nothing to do with this, nothing at all. I’m here off my own bat, on a commission from the emperor. No’ - he’d shied away - ‘nothing to worry about, so long as you tell me the truth and don’t try to cover anything up. I’m not going to drag you off to the Mamertine or anything like that. But I need some information, and I need you to be frank or I can’t help you. Okay?’

  He swallowed. ‘Okay,’ he said. It was the ghost of a whisper.

  ‘It had something to do with an incitement to the Pannonian legions to mutiny, didn’t it?’

  The look I got now was pure terror. He half-rose, and I pulled him down. Gently.

  ‘I shouldn’t’ve done it,’ he whispered. ‘I was a fool, a complete fool. But the chance...well, the chance was just too good to miss.’

  Shit. The thought of this kid going round the barracks inciting two legions-ful of hard-bitten squaddies to mutiny against their commander just wouldn’t stand up. They’d’ve laughed in his pretty face. Done it politely, mind, because kid or not he’d been an officer, but still -

  ‘What chance?’ I said.

  He swallowed again. ‘Corvinus, I told you: I’ve been a complete fool. I admit that. I’ve thought about nothing else for the past two months. I’m greedy, yes, and very, very silly, but I’m not a traitor. You have to tell the emperor that, convince him not to -’

  ‘What chance?’ No answer. ‘Come on, pal! I’ll do my best, I promise you, but I can’t do anything until I know the whole story.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Could you go inside and tell Sator - that’s the slave who brought you through - to bring us out a cup of wine?’

  I got up without a word and did what he’d asked. It was safe enough: he wasn’t going to run out on me, I knew that. Besides, where could he go? Then I came back and we sat in silence until the guy had brought the wine and padded off.

  Vinius drained his cup in a oner. I waited, my own wine untasted.

  ‘Now,’ I said.

  The kid wiped his mouth and took another deep breath. He was looking a better colour, but not by much. ‘You know Sulpicius Galba?’ he said.

  I blinked but kept my voice neutral. ‘Yeah. Yeah, of course.’

  ‘He and I...well, we’re friends. Good friends.’ Oh, hell. I could see which way things were heading. Still, it didn’t surprise me: I’d run across Galba five years back, when he’d been consul, the time of the business with the dead Vestal, and I knew where his predilections lay. Mostly from a conversation with his wife Aemilia, who was one of Perilla’s poetry-klatsch pals. And from the looks of Vinius the next leap of the imagination wasn’t Olympics standard. ‘It was here in Rome, about four months ago, just before I went out to Pannonia.’

  ‘You can’t’ve been there long, pal,’ I said. ‘You’ve been back almost a month already.’

  ‘No. Only a few days.’ He ducked his head and smiled. ‘But you’re right. Me and the legions aren’t cut out for each other. I discovered that very quickly, and it’s another reason why I don’t mind not -’ He stopped. ‘Anyway. I found out from Galba that the emperor was putting him in charge of the Rhine legions. Or rather, he didn’t actually tell me, I put two and two together from what he let slip. Caesar had just told him, you see, and I think he was very pleased with himself. Also perhaps’ - he blushed - ‘at that stage of our friendship he was anxious to impress me. Could I have your wine, Corvinus? If you’re not going to drink it?’

  ‘What?’ I’d forgotten that I was still holding the cup. ‘Oh, sure. Help yourself.’

  I handed it over. He didn’t down it like the last one, but he took a good swallow and set the cup on the flagstones beside his chair.

  ‘So I went out to Pannonia. You know the legate’s wife - Sabinus’s wife - is L
entulus Gaetulicus’s daughter? Cornelia?’

  Things were beginning to come together. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I knew that.’

  ‘I thought that...perhaps...her father might be interested in some information I had.’ He lowered his eyes again. ‘For a price. You understand? I told you: I was a fool, and greedy.’

  I said nothing.

  ‘She wrote to Gaetulicus, he wrote back agreeing on principle, and there you are. I told her what Galba had said. Or what I’d worked out, anyway. That he was to be her father’s replacement for the coming campaign. Then she paid me. A hundred gold pieces.’ He looked up. ‘That’s all that happened. I swear.’

  ‘What about the incitement to mutiny?’

  ‘That wasn’t me. I wouldn’t. And anyway, I wouldn’t know how.’ Well, that was true enough. ‘Oh, Cornelia tried to persuade me to help, but she gave up after a while and said she’d arrange it herself. She’s a very...strong woman, Cornelia.’

  Yeah, I’d bet. Mind you, coming from that background and having spent most of her life in an army environment I supposed she’d have to be. A hell of a lot stronger, certainly, than this wilting violet. ‘So why did you cut and run?’ I said. ‘Which is what you did, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’ His eyelashes fluttered. ‘Corvinus, wouldn’t you? Under the circumstances? It was only a matter of time before Sabinus noticed what was going on, and it was my fault. And Cornelia was trying to force me to get involved by threatening to tell her husband that I already was. The whole thing was a nightmare. I had to get out.’

  ‘So you wrote resigning your commission,’ I said.

  ‘Yes. I didn’t even wait for the reply. I went to Sabinus, told him my father was dying and that I was giving up the tribuneship, and he gave me leave of absence.’

  ‘He didn’t suspect anything?’

  ‘No. Or I don’t think he did. Why should he?’

  Why should he? No; the kid was right. As an agent provocateur Titus Vinius was a non-starter. The thought wouldn’t even have crossed Sabinus’s mind.