Sejanus

Lippillus frowned. 'A Spaniard?'

'Yeah. That's him.' I evicted a second snail.

'Accuser Calpurnius Salvianus. The case was thrown out unheard and Salvianus was exiled.'

I nearly choked. 'He was what?'

'Exiled. Tiberius gave him a public reprimand and packed him off east.' Lippillus was still watching me closely. 'I'd forgotten about Marius. Where did you dig him up?'

I told him what Celsus had told me. He nodded.

'That would fit. Salvianus was none too bright by all reports. Sejanus used him to kill the two birds with the one stone.'

He was ahead of me. 'Hold on. I understand why the Wart threw the case out, sure; as Sejanus's agent against the Julians Marius would have his protection. But who's your other bird?'

'Drusus himself, of course. Who else would it be?'

'Yeah?' I took a swallow of wine. 'You mind explaining why the Wart's accredited deputy should get himself into trouble by sitting in for his dad on the first stages of a treason trial?'

'Corvinus.' Lippillus sighed. 'You've got hold of the wrong end of the stick somewhere. We're not talking about Tiberius's son. This only happened five years ago. It was the other Drusus. Agrippina's boy.'

I sat back. Gods! My own fault, of course; Priscus hadn't given an exact date, and I'd assumed when he told me the story he'd meant the Wart's Drusus. Five years ago, that Drusus had been dead. If the judge concerned had been the Julian kid then that was a different thing entirely, and what Lippillus was saying made sense. A lot of sense.

'Sejanus used the same scam as Serenus did,' I said slowly. 'Only he was more successful. He had Marius accused on his own terms, and the case collapsed. Better, it never got started.'

'Right.' Lippillus nodded. 'Marius was charged during the Latin Festival, when Tiberius and the senior magistrates were out of Rome. Leaving the boy as a very junior City Prefect.'

'And if Salvianus was no mental heavyweight he wouldn't realise he was being used as a political cat's-paw until it was too late.' I pulled off another guinea-fowl leg and chewed on it while I thought over the implications. Yeah. Clever. Real clever. Sharp-as-a-brick Salvianus must've thought he was on to a sure thing, especially if he knew nothing about the Julians' involvement with the Gallic revolt: he was lodging a public-spirited accusation, and as a judge the inexperienced Drusus would be a walkover. Drusus was just as culpable, but in his case, like I said, it would've been through inexperience, not stupidity. During the Latin Festival no important business is conducted because none of those authorised to conduct it are in the city; so by agreeing to preside over a case of treason he was inadvertently laying public claim to the full powers of an imperial deputy. Given the Wart's fear of the Julians, it was no wonder he'd reacted as he did and thrown the case out the window. As a piece of slick political manoeuvring on Sejanus's part it was beautifuclass="underline" his agent got off, the Julian faction lost another brownie point with the Wart and Tiberius's own popularity slipped a further notch because rapping squeaky-clean young Drusus across the knuckles wouldn't go down well with the Roman public.

'So Marius is our man,' I said.

'It seems that way. He's not a straight Julian, that's for sure. Like Serenus. Only Sextus Marius was protected.'

Protected. Right. Protected was the word. Marius was someone I just had to see.

Just then Perilla came in wearing a clean mantle. I shifted over on my couch to give her room.

'You want to join us now you're sauce-free and respectable, lady?' I said.

She settled down beside me. 'Marcus, this is lovely. A banquet. What on earth happened?'

'Ask our resident military genius.'

'Bathyllus?'

'Not Bathyllus. The real military genius sitting over there looking smug and hogging the larks'-tongue pastries.'

'Cut it out, Corvinus.' Lippillus blandly reached for another canapé. 'It was simple. I'd've come round before if I'd known you were having problems.'

'Tell her about the smoke bomb.'

Lippillus explained while Perilla shelled a quail's egg and dipped it in fish pickle.

'You must give us the recipe,' she said. 'We may need it again some time.'

'I doubt it. Your husband here intends effecting a few domestic changes with an omelette pan.'

'Oh, he didn't mean that.' She leaned over and kissed my cheek. 'Did you, Marcus?'

'Yeah, well…'

'Pity.' Lippillus took a swallow of wine. 'You can send Meton to us any time. We could use a good chef, and Mother could keep him in the cupboard.'

I grinned. Yeah, as an experiment that might just work. Not that I intended making it, even on a temporary basis. Living in close proximity to Marcina Paullina might have its compensations. The guy might not want to come back.

'This is lovely, anyway.' Perilla popped in the quail's egg and licked the sauce from her fingertips. 'Absolutely delicious. Marcus, the mushrooms, please.'

'I thought you weren't hungry.'

'What on earth gave you that idea? I'm starving.'

'But in the litter you said…'

'Yes, I know.' She spooned mushrooms on to her plate. 'But then I can pretend to eat the nonsense Vipsania serves, even while I'm being splattered by her husband, whereas you can't. Besides, I doubt if her silk-route food will ever catch on. You feel hungry again too soon afterwards. Oh, incidentally' — she reached into a fold of her mantle and took out a pendant — 'I brought this down for you. It belonged to my mother. A present from Sidon.'

I picked the thing up and examined it. It was a small jet cylinder with tiny stick figures cut into the surface. Obviously some sort of primitive seal. And from Sidon, Phoenicia. Phoenicia as in Carthage…

Hey! I kissed her while Lippillus looked on smiling.

'I love you sometimes,' I said. 'You know that?'

'Yes, dear. Just be careful, won't you? And I don't mean with that.' She indicated the seal.

'Aren't I always?'

'Not especially. Are these meatballs over there beside your left elbow, by the way?'

I passed her the meatballs, plus the rest of the snails and what was left of the guinea-fowl. It was the least I could do, when she'd given me the key to Marius.

13

Next morning I called in at Phlebas's in the Saepta to get Marius's address, then crossed the Tiber to the Janiculan. Not my usual stamping ground, in fact I hadn't been in this part of the city for years; not since I'd interviewed Torquata's brother Decimus Silanus about what he didn't do to Augustus's granddaughter Julia, in fact. Silanus was still around, and rich as ever, as far as I knew. Not that I cared: him I didn't want to see again, ever. I just hoped this visit wouldn't have the same sort of ending.

Marius was out riding, and his head slave showed me into the garden. It may not have been quite as grand as Silanus's but you could still have squeezed my modest patch of the Palatine into the bit where they kept the compost.

'Perhaps you'd care to wait for the master in the summerhouse, sir,' the slave said.

'Sure. Wherever.'

He took me there. It was fitted out as a small dining room overlooking the villa itself, and open on three sides. Very nice, and very pricey.

'Some wine, sir?'

'Yeah. Yeah, that'd be great.' I lay down on one of the couches and looked around while he went to get it. The garden was neat as a new mantle. Marius obviously had money, but there were signs of taste here too, which you don't always get on the Janiculan: old money tends to prefer the east side of the river where the family has lived for generations, even if the houses are smaller and if the wind's in the right direction you can spit into your neighbour's fishpond. There were the usual bits and pieces; rose garden, formal hedges, a few bronze and marble statues. Not too many of these, either, and that impressed me too: the recently-wealthy tend to crowd them in like they were a job lot up for public auction. Also I might not be an expert but Marius's selection looked like good copies of good originals. Not provincial taste, either. If he didn't have style himself (and there was no reason why he shouldn't) he knew how to buy it.