Sejanus

'You do that, little guy,' I said at last. 'And keep me informed. When that bastard in there sobers up enough to move the table I want to see him.'

'Certainly, sir,' Bathyllus said primly, and turned to go. 'It will be a positive pleasure.'

A thought struck me. 'Hey, Bathyllus. One more thing. Where does Vibius Celsus hang out, do you know?'

'No, sir.' A sniff. 'I've no idea.'

Sure he knew; Bathyllus knew everything. He just wasn't co-operating. Jupiter! Slaves! There must be a better way to run a household. 'So find out, sunshine. Ask around when you go for the sausages.'

'I'll try my best, sir.'

'And take something for that cold.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Who's this Celsus?' Perilla was her normal cool self by now, except for a certain raggedness round the edges that I found sexy as hell.

'Just someone I want to talk to.' I put my arm round her waist. 'Come into the living room and I'll tell you about it. Hey, and Bathyllus?'

'Yes, sir. At your orders, sir.'

'Cut the sarcasm. And bring us a jug.' That was one thing saved. After the first time Meton threw an alcoholic wobbler I'd made damn sure we had a separate wine cellar with a solid lock.

Bathyllus sidled in with the address an hour or so later, like I knew he would: one thing Bathyllus can't stand is to smudge his reputation with me for omniscience.

With the first premonitory rumbles in my stomach I set out for the Esquiline.

Celsus lived in a modest house just off Patrician Street near the Temple of Juno the Light-Bringer. Not a particularly good neighbourhood, and the outside walls were pretty tatty, with the brick showing in places through the cement facing. The mosaic in the entrance lobby was patched as well, and it hadn't been all that impressive to begin with. The Venus had a distinct squint and there was something wrong with her legs.

I gave my name to the door slave. Luckily the master was at home.

He was a thin, weak-chinned man of about my own age, maybe a bit older, and going bald on top. The minute I saw his eyes I knew I wouldn't trust him further than I could throw him.

'Valerius Corvinus?' We shook hands and he showed me to the guest couch. 'What can I do for you?'

I ignored the question. No point in coming on heavy until I had to, and the situation was pretty delicate.

'You're a relation of Vibius Marsus?' I said. 'We met in Syria ten years back, when he was deputy governor.'

'He's a distant cousin.' Like I'd hoped he would, Celsus relaxed slightly. There're rules to these things. Establish a connection with the family and you're half way there. You've shown your credentials, even if they're bogus as hell, like mine were. I was glad, though, that Marsus wasn't a close relative because I'd liked the guy, even though he had been on the other side. Celsus I didn't like at all. 'You were in Syria, you say?'

'Antioch. I spent some time there just after Germanicus died.'

Did his eyes flicker? I couldn't be sure, because he was turning to his own couch. A slave brought wine in plain silver cups. Not much, and no jug. I drank. Massic, and not the best vintage either. That fitted with everything else I'd seen so far. Money was tight in the Vibius household; and that told me something in itself.

'I've never been to Syria.' Celsus was sipping his own wine. 'A charming province, they say. My own service was in the west.'

'With your father in Spain.'

'That's right.' His voice was neutral. 'I was on his staff. A junior tribune.'

'That'd be when he was prosecuted the first time, for maladministration.'

Celsus gave me a long, slow look. Finally he said:

'Corvinus, what exactly do you want with me?'

I shrugged. 'Just making conversation.'

'Is that what it is?' The carefully-brushed eyebrows dropped. 'Curious. You're from a good family, I know that from your name. And of course although we haven't met I've heard of your father and uncle.'

'So?'

'So didn't anyone ever tell you that to begin a conversation with a reference to the other person's criminal antecedents is terribly bad form?'

I grinned and took another sip of the wine. What there was of it. Two more decent swallows and it'd be gone.

'Yeah, they told me that,' I said.

'Why do it, then?' His mouth pouted like a puzzled child's. 'I assume it wasn't accidental.'

'I shouldn't've thought you'd've been too sensitive on the topic. Considering the second time you blew the whistle on Serenus yourself.'

I was still getting that long, puzzled look. I wondered if Celsus was altogether sane, and a small cold finger touched my spine.

'My father was a traitor,' he said slowly, 'and treachery supersedes family loyalties. What I did was unpleasant but necessary. And the fact is that we were never very close.'

'Close enough for him to want you on his staff.'

Celsus drew his mouth into a thin line, like a child who's decided it isn't going to play any longer.

'I'm sorry, Valerius Corvinus,' he said. 'I'm trying hard to be polite, but you really are making it very difficult. Father has been in exile for over six years now, deservedly so. I rarely even think of him, let alone talk about him, certainly not with a total stranger. So would you mind either changing the subject or telling me straight out what you want from me?'

'Let's just say I'm curious. I was wondering why a son would accuse his own father of treason.'

'And I've answered your question, to my own satisfaction if not to yours. I did what I considered and still consider was my duty.' Celsus got up and set his wine cup on a small side table. 'Now if your curiosity is satisfied then perhaps we can end this ridiculous conversation and part in reasonable amity.'

I hadn't moved. 'So you were working for Aelius Sejanus.'

'What?' He turned quickly. The puzzled look had gone. If he was a child now, he wasn't a very pleasant one.

'Your father was mixed up in a Julian plot against the emperor. Sejanus used you to nail him.'

'My father was certainly plotting against Tiberius. But my accusations had nothing to do with Sejanus. I told you, I was motivated by duty. And now' he cleared his throat, 'I really do think you ought to leave.'

I ignored him. 'The thing I don't understand is why you should accuse Lentulus and Tubero. If you were working for Sejanus then that wouldn't make sense. It's almost as if you wanted…' I stopped as the answer hit me. Fool!

'Wanted what?' He'd been plucking up the nerve to call the slaves. Now he shot me a look like I'd caught him with his hand in the biscuit jar.

Duty. Oh, Jupiter! Yeah, yeah, sure it was. That was it exactly. But not duty to the emperor. There were other varieties. I'd done the man an injustice.

'Celsus,' I said, 'I apologise. You weren't working for Sejanus at all, were you? Or for Tiberius.'

He stared at me, and said nothing.

'You were working for your father.'

Smack on the button. His face turned chalk-white and very slowly he walked back to the table, picked up the wine cup and took a swallow. I felt almost sorry for him. For all his bluster and man-of-the-world polish he hadn't the guts of a frog, and he'd reached his limit.

'That's nonsense,' he said at last. I doubt if he sounded convincing even to himself. 'Absolute nonsense. It doesn't even make a modicum of sense.'

'Doesn't it?' I could almost hear the clicks as the bits of the puzzle fell into place. 'The whole thing was a setup from start to finish. A piece of pure theatre. Your father knew he was blown, so instead of waiting for Sejanus to bring the charge through one of his chums he had you do it. He even fed you your line by challenging you to name his accomplices so that by citing Lentulus and Tubero you could destroy your own credibility as a prosecutor. He hoped that once that happened the case against him would collapse because our lickspittle senate wouldn't touch these guys with a bargepole.'