Sejanus

He swallowed again and nodded.

'Good. The question is, what is the name of the assassin? You have a count of five. One.'

'Corvinus!'

'Two.'

He was sweating. 'Corvinus, please! It's more than my life's worth!'

'Three.'

'Sejanus will…'

'Four.' I shifted my grip so that my other hand was behind his elbow.

'Okay!' he screamed. 'The guy's name's Silanus! Appius Junius Silanus!'

I let him go. 'The Asian governor's son?'

He was breathing heavily and rubbing his arm. 'Yeah. Now just leave me alone, okay? I've told you all I know.'

'How's he getting into Capri?'

'He's carrying a message. From Sejanus. I don't know the details, I swear I don't know!'

His voice was sulky, but he was telling the truth. I got up.

'Okay, Crispus.' I jerked my head. 'Piss off. Have a nice evening.'

'You won't tell Silanus I gave him away?'

'No, I won't tell him.' Junius Silanus. The exiled Asian governor's son. Well, well. Junia Torquata would have another scapegrace relative to add to her list: my nephew the assassin. That was some family.

Crispus scuttled off with a nervous glance over his shoulder. Agron loomed out of the darkness ahead of him and he squeaked and dodged, but I gave a wave and the big guy let him pass.

A good night's work. Now I had to talk to Silanus.

28

That wasn't going to be so easy. Appius Junius Silanus was a top-notch noble, consul three years back and a relative of Tiberius's through his mother. I didn't know the guy personally, but I knew of him. He was the perfect example of the dangers of inbreeding: a vain, fluff-brained dandy who fancied himself a politician but whose grasp of life's realities would've disgraced an average twelve-year-old. In other words, a natural tool for Sejanus.

My hope was that guys like that make the worst traitors; they don't last the pace, and when things get rough they go to pieces. If I could get Silanus alone and off his home ground I might just be able to scare him into doing something Sejanus would live to regret. The only problem was how. Sure, I could break into his house and face him with what I knew, but I'd be a fool to try because one shout out of place and I'd be on my way to a rock in the Cyclades, at best. No, the meeting had to be on my terms, another dark alleyway tête-å-tête; and that was going to be difficult, because social butterflies like Silanus were never alone. They never willingly went down alleyways, either, dark or otherwise. It might mean getting mud on their Cordovan leather sandals.

We said goodbye to the Ostians and went back to the flat. We were both starving: I don't know about Agron, but with me it was the unaccustomed fresh air and exercise. Perilla had gone to bed and so, for a wonder, had Bathyllus, but I did a bit of foraging and rousted us out a jug of wine and a plateful of bread and cheese. We ate while we discussed what Crispus had told me and how best to handle Silanus.

'Corvinus, don't rush into this, okay?' Agron advised. 'You need a lot more information about the guy first. His movements, his daily routine. There'll be something. He has to be vulnerable somewhere.'

'I could go to the Wart now. I've got enough to make him listen.' Sure. Who was I kidding? I didn't even sound convincing to myself. 'At least…'

'Yeah, I wouldn't put any bets on it either.' Agron speared a bit of cheese with his knife. 'Anyway, how do you get into Capri to do it? Pretend to be a seagull? Apply for a pass to Sejanus?'

I grunted. That was another problem, and Agron had given me the only two viable options. If Capri was a fortress Sejanus held the keys. I could have the whole thing worked out six ways from nothing with proof oozing out of its ears and it still wouldn't do me any good. No one crossed the channel from Surrentum to Tiberius's private island without his deputy's leave. That went for letters, too. And if I was fool enough to try busting in without permission — by taking a fishing boat over, say, and climbing the cliffs — I'd leave in an urn. Unless the rocks got me first.

'Maybe the Wart'll come back for the Apollinarian Games this time,' I said.

'Pigs might fly, too. Anyway, the Games don't start until we're into July, and by that time if you're right Tiberius'll be dead meat. Or Silanus will.' Agron frowned. 'Face it, Corvinus. If you want to stop the guy you'll have to do it from this end. And like I say to make that happen you'll need information.'

True, all of it. I chewed sadly on a roll and took a swallow of wine. 'So. You got any clever ideas?'

'Sure.'

'Really?'

If he noticed the sarcasm it didn't show. 'You're forgetting. I used to be a client of the Quinctilii.'

'I'm not forgetting.' Agron had served under Quinctilius Varus, the old villain who'd got himself massacred along with three of our legions in the Teutoburg, and then been taken up by Varus's sister. It was how we'd met in the first place. 'So what? Quinctilia's been dead for years and we're talking about the Silani here.'

'Yeah. But Quinctilia was a close friend of your Silanus's mother, and the households met quite often. I know a couple of the guy's slaves from way back. Give me a few days. Let me see what I can dig out.'

This I didn't like the sound of. I was remembering what had happened to Lippillus, and one friend damaged on my account over this business was enough. Still, we had to have the angle. And it looked like the only game in town.

'Okay,' I said. 'But go easy. No risks, right?'

He impaled the last piece of cheese. 'Corvinus,' he said, 'that is something you do not have to tell me.'

It took Agron four days. When Bathyllus let him in to the flat on the fifth evening he was grinning all over his face.

'Got the bastard,' he said.

'Yeah?' I was feeling pretty chirpy myself. It was a lovely evening and I'd left Perilla scribbling in the study and slipped out for a cup of wine at the local wineshop. I'd got talking to a guy who half an hour into the conversation turned out to be from Calatia, which is just down the road from Capua, and who had a cousin in Pergamum. It ought to've been a recipe for disaster but it wasn't. We ended up slagging off the Romans and the Roman upper classes in particular, and parted the best of friends.

'Yeah.' Agron sat down. 'He's seeing the wife of a senator who lives on the Viminal near Patrician Street.'

'Seeing as in "seeing"?'

'Definitely. Every evening. The affair seems to be hotting up, and the senator concerned is busy with committee work.'

'Handy.'

'That's what I thought. Understandably, Silanus doesn't come calling with a fanfare of trumpets. Just him, on foot, with a single slave. Very untypical, very low-key.'

'Uh huh.' It was perfect. 'How do we do it?'

Agron frowned. 'You sure you want this?'

'Sure I'm sure.'

'Okay. In that case we keep it nice and simple. Next time lover boy goes visiting I grab him and bring him here instead.'

I set down my wine cup. 'You do what?'

'Don't look at me like that.' He took one of the new season's grapes from the bowl in front of him and popped it into his mouth. 'It's the best way. I'll borrow two or three of the barge boys again and scare up a double litter with nice thick curtains. There'll be no hassle. None at all.'

'You want to bring Silanus here?' I was still staring at him.

'Why not? It's quiet, it's safe. What else do you want?

Jupiter! And Perilla accused me of having crazy ideas!

'Safe, hell!' I said. 'If he traces me back then we're in real trouble!'