Going Back, page 11
part #20 of Marcus Corvinus Series
The residential part was deserted, but there were a fair number of people about in the yard beyond: two or three pairs sparring, chaser against net-man, wearing loincloths, no armour and with practice weapons, and a few loungers in the portico chatting or throwing dice. No sign of Scarus, for which I was grateful: if I was going to check up on him then I didn’t want him breathing down the back of my neck while I did it.
I went up to one of the loungers.
‘Morning,’ I said. ‘The trainer around?’
‘On his lunch break.’ He jerked his thumb in the direction of the open doorway to my left. ‘That’s his office there.
I went inside.
The guy behind the desk with the plate of bread, cheese and olives in front of him wasn’t big, but what there was of him was solid muscle. Some trainers, like the doctors, are ex-army, legion centurions mostly, taking the closest civilian job they can get to what they’re used to. Others were in the business themselves and been given the sword-fighter’s equivalent of the military discharge diploma, a wooden practice sword with their name and years of service carved into the blade. That, evidently, from the example hanging on the wall behind him, was what we’d got here.
‘What can I do for you, sir?’ he said.
‘Uh, this is kind of delicate.’ I closed the door behind me. ‘The name’s Corvinus. Valerius Corvinus.’
He grunted. ‘The imperial procurator just arrived from Rome.’
‘Yeah, that’s right.’ Well, if he knew who I was it made things a lot easier. ‘Looking into the murder of the ex-praetor Decimus Cestius.’
‘And?’
‘I just wanted to check up on something. One of your lads. Cluvius Scarus.’
‘Scarus?’ The barest of pauses. Then: ‘What about him?’
‘There’s just a chance he might have been involved.’ His eyes shifted; yeah, well, if Scarus’s liaison with Verania was no secret elsewhere it’d hardly be one inside the school. ‘According to him, he spent the day of the murder here, getting ready for the fight the following day. Would that be right?’
‘If we’d games on the next day then yeah, it would be. Standard practice, no one leaves the premises the day before a fight.’
‘And did you? Have games on?’
‘Depends. What date are we talking about?’
‘Mid-July. The Ides.’
‘In that case, sure, that fits.’
Damn. ‘You’re certain? It was quite a while ago, after all.’
He gave me a long, slow look, reached for the bread, tore off a bit, dipped it into the olive oil and ate it. All very leisurely, without taking his eyes from my face. I felt my balls clench. Finally he said: ‘The day after the July Ides is a local festival. There’s always a fight on that day every year, this year not excepted. So yes, procurator, I am absolutely one hundred per cent cast-iron certain. That good enough for you?’
Hell. That was that, then. Still, it’d been worth a try.
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘That’s all. Sorry to have disturbed your lunch.’
I turned to go.
‘Hold on.’ I turned back. He was frowning.
‘Yeah?’
He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again and shook his head. ‘No. It’s nothing. Have a nice day.’
Uh-huh. He might be able to take me apart with one arm tied, but he was a lousy liar.
‘Look,’ I said carefully. ‘This is official, right? I’m under instruction from the emperor himself, and he can get very tetchy if he knows that someone has been fucking around with one of his reps. Now. If you’re hiding something vital to my investigation and I find out about it later then believe me you are so far up shit creek that even a paddle and a full set of sails wouldn’t do you any good. So tell me.’
He cleared his throat. ‘Half way through that morning Scarus says he’s pulled a muscle in his shoulder, right? I tell him to rest it up for a while under the portico, but he says he’d rather go back to his cubby and rest it there. Which he does. He doesn’t show up again until late afternoon.’
Glory and trumpets! We’d nailed the bastard! ‘Thanks, friend,’ I said. ‘Very helpful.’
I turned to go again.
‘Wait.’
I looked round. ‘Yeah?’
He was scowling. ‘You just remember, friend,’ he said. ‘Scarus is the best chaser I’ve got, best I’ve seen for years for that matter. So if you think he killed Cestius then you make damn sure you have your facts right before you do anything about it. Understand?’
‘Yeah. I understand.’ I opened the door. ‘Thanks again. Have a good day yourself.’
14.
Perilla was home by the time I got back, sitting out on the terrace. She wasn’t alone; Cornelia was with her, and a young man in his early twenties.
Uh-huh.
‘Oh, good, I was hoping you’d be back early, Marcus,’ Perilla said. ‘You remember Cornelia, of course. And this is her young man Quintus Cestius.’
Well done, lady! Brilliant! ‘Hi,’ I said.
‘You’ve been wanting to talk to me, I understand. About my father.’ Chalk and cheese, Gordius had called the guy and his elder brother, and I could see what he meant. It wasn’t that they looked all that different, although Publius was more heavily-built and rounder in the face; it was the at-first-sight impression they made. Publius had been in-your-face brash, the typical lad-about-town brimming with self-confidence and egotism; his brother had the same self-confidence, or at least he seemed perfectly at ease and comfortable with himself, but there was a settled calmness to him that Publius didn’t have. Despite the fact that he was three years younger, I’d bet Quintus was the more adult of the two.
‘Yeah, I have,’ I said. Bathyllus came up beside me carrying another wicker chair. I sat down. ‘Nothing formal, just a few questions and a chat.’
‘Go ahead, then.’
No more, only that; completely relaxed. I noticed that Cornelia was watching him closely.
‘He, uh, could be quite difficult,’ I said. ‘According to your brother.’
‘My father, Valerius Corvinus, was an egotistical, lying, manipulative swine.’
I blinked. He hadn’t raised his voice or changed his tone, and the assessment was delivered as a simple statement of fact. ‘Egotistical’ and ‘manipulative’; yeah, well, no surprises there, and no doubt ‘swine’ fitted, too; but ‘lying’... That was odd. Still, maybe now wasn’t the time to pursue the matter.
‘Is that so, now?’ I said.
‘You want the truth of it, there you are. I’m delighted he’s dead, and I hope he’s roasting in hell.’
Jupiter! This guy didn’t pull his punches, did he? Interestingly, Cornelia hadn’t batted an eyelid; in fact, I wouldn’t swear to it on oath, but I had the impression that she’d given a slight involuntary nod of agreement. Perilla didn’t react either, but maybe she’d been made aware of his feelings on the matter earlier.
‘That a general assessment, or are you basing it on anything specific?’ I kept my tone matter-of-fact, to match his.
‘Yes to the second, as it happens. But that’s a family affair, and I’m sorry but it’s no concern of yours.’ He smiled, possibly to take the sting out of the words.
‘You don’t think maybe that’s for me to decide?’
‘No. In any case, I doubt if it had anything to do with his murder.’
Murder. Not ‘killing’ or ‘death’. That was interesting, too; I couldn’t remember either his brother or his mother using the word. ‘You doubt it?’ I said.
‘Yes. Very much so.’
Gods! Ordinary self-assurance was one thing, but his variety you could’ve bent iron bars around. ‘Fair enough,’ I said mildly. ‘We’ll leave that for the present. Anything you can tell me about the actual death?’
‘No.’ Again, just the simple negative.
‘You, uh, were occupied yourself that day, were you?’ The question had to be asked at some stage, and I might as well get it over. ‘Just for the record.’
‘He was with me,’ Cornelia said quickly. ‘It was the day after my father’s funeral. We took a picnic along the coast to a quiet cove I know of and stayed there all day.’
Uh-huh. Well, as far as alibis went, I’d heard better. Still, it might’ve been more suspicious if, like Scarus, they’d offered something more convincing. ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Moving on. Have you any idea who might have done it? Any enemies your father had, that you know of?’
‘I’m not pointing any fingers, if that’s what you mean.’
Not exactly a straight answer to the question, but I supposed all I was going to get. ‘Your father’s factor, Sextus Gratius, mentioned the leader of one of the itinerant harvester gangs. A man called Medar.’
‘That’s not likely,’ Cornelia said. ‘That he was responsible, I mean. I know Medar well. He wouldn’t murder anyone, not even Quintus’s father, and he’d good–’ She stopped.
‘And he had good reason to do that,’ I said. ‘I know. Gratius told me about that side of things too.’ She and Quintus exchanged a quick glance that I couldn’t quite read; at least, that was the impression I got, but it was so fleeting I could’ve imagined it. ‘About the death of his son.’
Did they both relax? Again, I couldn’t be sure.
‘Gratius is a garrulous old woman,’ Quintus said, but there was another of those half-apologetic smiles. ‘Believe me, Corvinus, Cornelia is absolutely right. Medar wouldn’t have done it, whatever the provocation.’
Uh-huh. I hadn’t met the guy myself yet, of course, but it wasn’t something I’d be rushing to take on trust. It was interesting to know, though, not only that both of them admitted to knowing him but were obviously on close and very friendly terms. The social gap alone would’ve made that unlikely, under ordinary circumstances. Which suggested that the circumstances weren’t ordinary at all.
‘So,’ I said. ‘Moving on again. Did your father know about you and Cornelia? Being an item, I mean?’
‘No. Neither of our fathers did. None of the rest of my family, either.’
There was something there again; the way he said the word “family” sounded...I wasn’t sure how it sounded, but it wasn’t pleasant. Not pleasant at all. ‘They would’ve objected?’ I said.
‘Yes, they would. Strongly.’
Odd. Or partly odd, anyway. ‘Uh...forgive me, Cornelia,’ I said. ‘I can see why Quintus’s parents might’ve been against the relationship’ – she lowered her eyes – ‘but your father, well, frankly he’s a different matter. I’d’ve thought someone like Albus would’ve viewed Cestius’s son, the son of an ex-praetor, as quite a catch.’
Her eyes came up again. She looked like she was going to be sick. Quintus put his hand out and grasped hers.
‘Cornelia’s father,’ he said, very carefully, ‘would have been just as opposed to a marriage as mine would. More so, in fact.’
‘Yeah? And why would that be, now?’ His lips set in a hard line. ‘Come on! It’s a reasonable question.’
‘Maybe it is, but it’s one that I have no intention of answering. I’m sorry, but there you are.’
Bugger; we’d hit the stone wall again.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Even so, if the pair of you are serious both families will have to know eventually. In fact, since you’re planning to go back to Rome shortly they’d have to be told pretty soon.’
‘I’ve no intention of going back to Rome; I never have done. And now Cornelia’s father is dead there won’t be any opposition to a marriage on her side.’
I sat back. ‘You’re staying in Carthage?’
‘Yes. Why not? I like it here, it’s been home to me for most of my life, and I certainly wouldn’t want to live anywhere near either Publius or my mother.’ He must’ve noticed my expression, because he smiled. ‘Well? Would you? You’ve met both of them; you must’ve formed an opinion, and I’d be very surprised if it differed much from mine. Besides, it makes marriage with Cornelia a great deal easier.’
Yeah, both true; but still, there’d been more than simple familial dislike beneath the words. A lot more. ‘Do they know that either?’ I said. ‘Your mother and brother, that you’re not going back, I mean?’
‘No. I was leaving off telling them until the last minute, together with the news of our engagement. There’s no point in causing trouble before you have to, is there?’
‘So what are you going to do for a living?’
‘Oh, my father’s will is more than generous, and if Publius agrees – there’s no reason why he shouldn’t; he’ll have far more than he needs to make a success of things in Rome – I’ll take part of my inheritance in land. We won’t be all that rich, certainly not at first, but with Cornelia’s money and my own we won’t starve, not by a long way.’ He shifted in his chair. ‘Now, Corvinus, I really have told you all I can. Very little in total, I know, but if I’ve been reticent on some matters I give you my word it’s because they have no connection with my father’s death and are therefore not your business. Besides’ – he smiled again – ‘I’m taking you at your word, that this is an informal chat, not an interrogation.’
‘All right, pal,’ I said. ‘Grilling over. If you want to call it that.’ I turned to Cornelia. ‘No monkey today, I notice.’
‘Ptolemy?’ She was still holding Quintus’s hand, quite unselfconsciously. ‘No, I only brought him with me last time because I thought he’d like to see the house again. Generally when I go out I leave him at home. It’s much safer.’ She smiled. ‘Whatever interest hats hold for him, he really is terrible over them. It’s bad enough when they belong to someone you know – Perilla’s, or Gratius’s, that I had to return to him at father’s funeral, for instance; that was really embarrassing – but at least then you can give them back when you get them off him. The problem is that he’s just as likely to snatch one from a passer-by in the street, and there’s nothing to be done then but grovel.’
‘Couldn’t you put him on a leash, dear?’ Perilla said.
Cornelia turned to her. ‘Oh, no! That wouldn’t do at all, he’d hate that. It’s best just not to take him out in the first place. As I say, I almost never do.’
Interesting: she seemed, today, a completely different girl from the one I’d seen before. That smile, for a start. And she was a lot more...‘lively’ fitted, but I supposed a better word would be ‘normal’. It had everything to do, I suspected, with Quintus being there: despite the fact that there didn’t seem any purpose to it now, their two hands were still clasped together.
Well, good luck to them. It didn’t stop there being several large question marks hanging over what the guy had just been telling me, though. Or rather not telling me.
He stood up, followed by Cornelia.
‘We have to go,’ he said. ‘Cornelia told her aunt that she was showing Perilla round the sights this morning, and while that was mostly true she’ll have been expecting her back before now. It was nice meeting you, Corvinus. After a fashion.’
‘You too,’ I said.
‘I’ll be in touch again soon, Cornelia,’ Perilla said, netting herself another smile.
We watched them leave.
‘Well, Marcus.’ Perilla turned to me. ‘What did you think?’
‘About Quintus? He seems okay, on the surface at least, if a tad disconcerting. And your Cornelia is obviously completely smitten.’
‘Yes, she is.’
‘How did you manage it, by the way? Get Quintus to come and talk to me, I mean.’
‘Oh, that was easy. I just told Cornelia, as a fait accompli, that I knew about her relationship with him and that I wholeheartedly approved of it. Which I do. You must’ve noticed the change in her when he was here from the last time.’
‘Yeah. Yes, I did, as it happens.’
‘Anyway, after that it was easy. She was most concerned, of course, that I wouldn’t give the secret away, but once I’d made a promise on that score she was quite happy. Delighted, even. The fact that I don’t belong here was important, too; I suspect that she’s been longing to share with someone for some time, but couldn’t bring herself to take the risk. Most of all, I think, she wanted to show him off.’ She smiled. ‘She really is very young for her age.’
‘Uhuh.’ I was frowning; this was going to be tricky. ‘Look, Perilla, before I go on to the next bit I want your word that you won’t jump down my throat as soon as I start, right? That you’ll let me argue it through.’
‘Argue what through?’
‘Just give me your word, okay?’
She sniffed. ‘Very well, dear. You have it. Although why on earth you should–’
‘I think there’s a possibility that young Quintus, with or without the connivance of Cornelia, was responsible for Cornelius Albus’s death.’
‘What?’ Perilla stared at me. ‘Marcus Valerius Corvinus, that is absolutely the stupidest, most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard in my entire–!’ I held up a finger, and she stopped dead. ‘All right. Explain. But it had better be good.’
‘Yeah, well, like I say it’s only a possibility. Maybe, now I’ve met the guy, not as likely a one as I’d originally thought, I’ll give you that. All the same, the theory holds together as far as it goes.’
‘Very well. I’m listening.’ Stiff as hell, and her ears had gone pink, which is always a bad sign. Even so.
‘First off. We’ve been through this part before. When we first met Cornelia she reminded us both of Marilla when I sprang her from her father’s house on the Janiculan. Yes?’
‘Yes, she did. Strongly. But as you said– ’
‘I know what I said. Just wait. Marius had been abusing Marilla, sleeping with her, for years. According to him, she was his...what did he call her? Something in Punic.’
‘His Ta’anit-pene-Ba’al. His “Lady, Face of the Lord”.’ She frowned. ‘But Marcus, Sextus Marius was mad. That’s crucial.’
‘Oh, sure. No arguments there. Only he wasn’t doing it completely out of madness, was he? He believed – genuinely believed – that with her he’d breed a magical son, like the Phoenician folk-hero who grew up to destroy the country’s enemies. To wit, in this instance, Rome.’
