‘Fine. I’ll see you out.’ He followed me back through the curtain. I stopped at the counter outside, where the sample artwork was displayed, and took a proper look.
‘This is pretty good,’ I said. ‘Especially the portraits. You self-taught?’
‘There was an old man in my father’s household. One of the slaves. He taught me the basics, and I took it from there. Now, Corvinus, I’m afraid I’ll have to rush you off. I’ve got work to do.’
‘On a commission?’
‘On a commission. Which, as you know, is my bread and butter.’
‘Not for much longer, though, pal.’ I gave him my best smile. ‘After your father’s will goes through probate, you’ll be pretty well-off, right?’
‘Yes, I suppose I will. Nonetheless, it’s a commitment, and I promised the customer it’d be finished by the end of the month.’
‘Fair enough.’ I turned, then turned back again. ‘Oh, one more thing. An address for the lawyer, can you let me have that? Venullius, wasn’t it?’
‘Titus Venullius. That’s right.’ He frowned. ‘He has an office next to the Aemilian Hall.’
Just beyond Market Square itself. Yeah, well, checking with him would be easy-peasy, although I didn’t expect any surprises from that angle. ‘That’s great,’ I said. ‘I’ll see you around.’
I left, but with my brain buzzing. There’d been a reason for that sudden rush, and for Hellenus’s obvious nervousness, sure there had: the guy had wanted me gone, and quickly. Gone, specifically, from the neighbourhood of the artwork that was on display. Which wasn’t surprising, really, because when you looked at it closely, it was clear one of the portraits was of Tarquitia.
Interesting.
TWELVE
The rain had slackened off again to a drizzle, but the sky wasn’t looking too cheerfuclass="underline" a solid iron-grey lid that, as far as I could see, covered the whole city, with some ominous-looking black bits over to the west that were getting steadily closer. Bugger. I reckoned a couple of calls — a quickie at the Five Poppies off the vegetable market, just to confirm a suspicion I had, plus one on Lawyer Venullius — and that would do me for the day. Certainly not a trip all the way over to the Vatican, which was the only other thing I had on the cards at present; I wasn’t going to risk getting caught out in the open proper when Jupiter chose to send down the mighty flood, and in any case I didn’t know for sure that Tarquitia would actually be in residence. That I could only hope for, because if she wasn’t — if she was still keeping up the flat that Surdinus had got for her in the dizzy early days of their romance, for example — then I was screwed.
I made my way back along the south side of the Circus and up through Cattlemarket Square to the veggie market and the Poppies. Fortunately, Vulpis was around again, and he gave me the confirmation I needed. Not that I’d been in much doubt that he would, because it fitted in too neatly, and it was the only explanation.
I was heading for Market Square and the Aemilian Hall when the heavens opened in earnest. Bugger. Double bugger. I had on my hooded cloak, of course, but it was wringing wet already, and the dampness was beginning to reach my tunic. Time for another wine shop, at least until Rainy Jupiter decided not to piss down on poor quivering humanity quite so hard. There was one place I knew, Tasso’s, at the foot of the Palatine’s Market Square edge, that catered for the imperial and senatorial admin staff from the government offices round about. Pretentious and overpriced, sure, and normally I’d’ve avoided it, but beggars — especially wet ones — can’t be choosers. At least they served decent wine, albeit at twice the price of anywhere else. I found it, pushed open the door and went inside.
‘Marcus?’
I’d been taking the cloak off to hang on one of the pegs by the door, where it could drip in solitary comfort. I turned round.
Gaius Vibullius Secundus and I go a long way back, practically to childhood. We didn’t see a lot of each other these days, mainly because he’s a big wheel in army admin and our lives have pretty much diverged, but we bump into one another occasionally. I hadn’t seen him for a couple of years, mind, not since I’d picked his brains about Gaetulicus and the German frontier legions. A nice guy, Secundus. And, of course, since he was based at Augustus House on the Palatine, this was his local.
‘Hi, Gaius,’ I said. ‘How’s it going? Skiving off work early as usual, are you?’
‘I’m on a flexible lunch break.’ He indicated what was left of a plate of cheese and olives in front of him. ‘Boss’s privilege. Pull up a stool and join me.’ I did, and he raised a hand towards the bar. ‘Hey, Quintus!’ he shouted. ‘Let’s have a half-jug of the Massic over here, OK? And another cup.’ He turned back to me. ‘So. How are you doing? How’s Perilla?’
‘She’s fine. You, uh, got a replacement for Furia Gemella yet?’ Gemella was Secundus’s ex-wife. Ex as of a month or so before I’d last seen him. Loud, brash, went in for large earrings. We hadn’t got on. Mind you, she and Secundus hadn’t, especially, either.
‘Not as such, no,’ he said. ‘At least, no one official. I might keep it like that. Makes things much simpler.’ The wine came, and he poured. ‘Help yourself to the cheese and olives. I’ve had enough.’
I took a bit of cheese. ‘You in the same job?’ I said.
‘More or less. I’ve moved up the ladder a notch, mind, since old Curio got his wooden sword, but yeah, more or less.’ He took a swallow of the Massic. ‘How about you? Still bumming around with the sleuthing?’
‘Off and on.’
‘Which is it currently? Off or on?’
‘On, as it happens. Old guy had his head flattened by a lump of falling masonry.’
He set down his cup. ‘Naevius Surdinus?’ he said.
‘Yeah, that’s him. You heard?’
‘Sure I heard. But I heard it was an accident.’
‘Yeah, well.’ I took a swig of the Massic. Beautiful. ‘It wasn’t. Most definitely not. Even so, I’m surprised the death is common knowledge. From all reports, he’d been out of the loop for years.’
Secundus shrugged. ‘He was an ex-consul, Marcus,’ he said. ‘Suffect, sure, only for six months and that ten years back, but a consular none the less. A consular’s death gets noticed, and when it’s as unusual as Surdinus’s was, it gets talked about as well. And out of the loop the guy might have been, but when old Aulus Plautius told him it came as a real shock to his ex-colleague, at least, I can tell you that.’
‘Ex-colleague?’
‘In the consulship. Cassius Longinus.’
‘I thought Longinus was Asian governor at present,’ I said.
That got me a sharp look: Secundus might not be the brightest button in the box, but he wasn’t stupid by any means. Despite having made it, in his time, to city judge’s level.
‘You developed a sudden interest in who’s who in current politics, Marcus?’ he said. ‘Or does Longinus figure somewhere in that case of yours?’
‘Neither,’ I lied: friend or not, I wasn’t going to tell him about Cornelia Sullana’s little admitted indiscretion. Besides, it was probably just coincidence: bed-hopping, in the circles people like Sullana and Longinus moved in, was pretty much taken for granted as a fact of everyday life. ‘I just happened to know, that’s all.’
‘Mmm.’ Secundus swallowed some of his wine. ‘Yeah, right. He was, certainly.’
‘Was what?’
‘Asian governor. Not any more, though. The emperor recalled him ahead of time, so as of ten or twelve days ago, he’s back in Rome.’
‘Recalled him? Why would he do that?’ Governors were governors; they were fixtures, at least until their term of office expired naturally. Plus, Asia was one of the senatorial provinces, in fact the plum appointment. Oh, sure, ever since Augustus’s day the emperor has had overriding proconsular authority where appointments and removals are concerned throughout the empire, no matter what kind of province is at issue, but it’s not been used all that often, certainly not blatantly, and never without a reason in the case of a senatorial governor. Senatorial provinces are the concern of the senate; imperial ones — where most of the legions are — are the concern of the emperor, and neither treads on the other’s toes. At least in public. If Gaius Caesar had shoved his oar in and removed one of the senate’s prime appointees from office ahead of time, then he must have given a reason. A bloody good one, too.