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Sejanus - Chapter 1
The smoke from Dad's pyre gusted among the tombs, plain, ordinary
woodsmoke, with no spices or perfume to mask the more unpleasant
smells. His idea, not mine, and specified in his will: Tiberius
disapproved of extravagant funerals, and the old trimmer Messalinus had
toed a politically correct line to the last. Specks of soot blew into
my eyes, and I wiped them away. After so long in Athens I'd forgotten
how windy Rome could be.
Beside me, Perilla touched my hand. 'Marcus?' She said. 'Are you all right?'
'Sure.' I watched as the logs shifted. The fire was
at its hottest, and I couldn't see the bier any more; he wouldn't last
long at this rate. 'Why shouldn't I be?'
'No reason.' Her fingers wrapped round mine as we watched the flames together. 'I was just checking.'
It had been a good funeral; the old guy would've
been pleased that even for a consular he'd rated such a healthy
turnout, and I was glad his senatorial cronies had done him proud at
the finish. Both consuls had come, Memmius Regulus and Fulcinius Trio.
Trio was ignoring me. That came as no surprise. The last time we'd seen
each other I'd accused him to his face of treason, and he'd never
forgiven me because it'd been the truth,
Also conspicuous by his
presence was Trio's boss, the imperial rep Aelius Sejanus. An honour,
maybe, but one I could do without, and one that Dad, to give him his
due, wouldn't've wanted either. When we'd shaken hands and he'd offered
his condolences the cold sweat had broken out all down my spine. The
last and only time I'd seen Sejanus had been ten years before in
Phlebas's curio shop, where I'd been buying an incense burner for
Mother's husband Priscus. Ten years may be a long time, but Sejanus was
the reason I'd spent them in Greece, and I hadn't forgotten why even if
he had. At least I hoped he had. A handshake at a funeral was as much
contact with him as I wanted, deal with Livia or no deal with Livia.
He was standing now a dozen yards off, his back to
the flames, chatting to Trio and my Uncle Cotta. I was surprised he'd
stayed so long now he was the Wart's de facto deputy and he had an
empire to run, but maybe it was business. I didn't want to know about
that, either.
'Marcus, dear, I don't think you've met Cosconia.'
I turned. Mother had come up on my blind side. Even
in her mourning and without jewellery she still looked good, and twenty
years short of her real age. I felt Perilla's fingers tighten on mine
as Dad's widow gave me a thin smile. We might not've met formally, but
I'd seen Cosconia around. Like Mother, she was a looker; if nothing
else Dad had had a good eye for women. Cosconia wouldn't stay single
for long, that was sure. Female relatives of Sejanus - even distant
ones like she was - tended to get snapped up as soon as they hit the
market.
'Pleased to meet you, Cosconia.' Perilla's fingers
left mine and she held out her hand. Cosconia took it smiling. 'I'm so
sorry about Messalinus.'
'He didn't suffer much.' The widow's voice was brisk, and I found
myself wondering if she'd started looking round for a replacement
already. 'He wasn't conscious towards the end.'
'I wish Marcus and I had got back in time.' Perilla was smiling too. 'But there wasn't a ship.'
'It doesn't matter.' Cosconia gave me a quick
glance. 'And I'm glad to have met you both finally after all this time.
These family quarrels are such silly things, aren't they, Marcus?'
'Yeah,' I said. 'Yeah, I suppose they are.' I
looked away, at the flames. Dad was gone by now, the fire was beginning
to die down and the pyre was collapsing in on itself. People would be
getting ready to call it a day and head for home and a cup of warm
spiced wine. Some of the older ones, like Appianus who'd read the
funeral speech, had left already, but there were still a few who looked
like hanging on to the very end when the embers were doused and the
bones cooled with wine and put in the urn. Sejanus for one, which was
bad news. I wanted nothing from that bastard, least of all false
sympathy.
Over to my left - and well away from Sejanus - a
white-haired old man was deep in conversation with a senator. He saw me
looking and raised his hand. I frowned, trying to fit the name to the
face. I knew him, sure, but not from Rome. Athens? Alexandria?
Pergamum, maybe, or any of a dozen other places; Perilla and I had
moved around a lot these past few years. Whoever he was I had the
feeling the acquaintance hadn't been all that pleasant.
'Marcus!' Perilla's elbow dug me in the ribs. I turned back. She was looking frosty as hell. Mother, too.
'Cosconia's lips had tightened into a line. 'No,
don't bother, Perilla,' she said. 'I only wanted to introduce myself
properly and welcome you home. Another time, perhaps, if and when
Marcus has more liberty for conversation.' She walked off unsmiling
before I had a chance to apologise and explain.
'Oh, shit,' I murmured.
'Marcus, I am ashamed of you!' I'd never seen Mother
so angry. 'Your behaviour was abominable! And that is no sort of
language for a funeral!'
She was right, of course. I knew that without being
told, even though I hadn't meant to offend anyone. Still, Mother ought
to have known better than spring Dad's second wife on me without
warning and expect light social chit-chat.
'Uh, yeah,' I said. The white-haired guy was looking
at me again. I still couldn't place him, and it worried me. 'Yeah, I'm
sorry. Excuse me, will you?'
'Marcus!' Perilla snapped. I ignored her and moved towards him.
Sejanus peeled himself away from Trio and Cotta like bark from an elm branch and stepped into my path.
'Bought any good bronze ducks recently, Corvinus?' he said.
So he did remember. 'It was a goose,' I said. 'Etruscan.'
'Really?' His eyes measured me. 'I thought it was a duck. That's right, Trio, isn't it?'
The consul had joined us, smiling the doughy smile I
remembered from other days. Cotta had made himself scarce. That shifty
old chancer can scent trouble a mile off.
'A duck it was.' Trio was fingering the broad purple
stripe on his expensive mantle. That had come since my day; when I'd
seen him last he'd been a lightweight narrow-striper on the make. He'd
risen high since then, if you can call it rising. 'A dead one.' He gave
me a sour nod. 'How are you these days, Corvinus? Doing well, are we?'
I didn't answer. Sejanus laughed. His eyes hadn't left my face.
'A pity you never took me up on my offer,' he said.
'You'd've done much better working for me than...' He paused. 'Just
what are you doing at present, exactly?'
'Oh, this and that.' I remembered Dad asking me the
same question at Priscus's birthday party. The one I'd brought the
Etruscan goose to. I'd given him the same answer, and for the same
reasons. 'I'm not a politician, Sejanus. As you know.'
'Who could be, in Athens? It's the world's
backside.' He was studying me carefully. 'I'm speaking politically, of
course.'
'Yeah. Sure.' I was shaking, and trying hard to hide
it. He was being friendly enough once you'd made allowance, but he
still made my skin crawl and I had to admit that he terrified me. It
wasn't the power, although Sejanus had more of that than anyone in
Rome, probably more than the Wart himself these days, in real terms; it
was just who he was. 'We're happy enough there, Perilla and me.'
'Oh, yes. Your wife. You must introduce us.' He
looked across at Perilla, but she was still talking to Mother and
Cosconia, who'd rejoined them now the grouchy stepson had made himself
scarce. The three of them were probably raking over my roasted giblets.
If that isn't an unfortunate phrase at a funeral.
'Yes, I must do that,' I said. 'At some stage.'
Whether he had the high on me or not, I wasn't letting the bastard
within a mile of Perilla if I could help it, no way. 'Perilla likes the
academic atmosphere there. Me, well, the wine's not bad. And as you say
it's peaceful.'
'But hardly the place for a Roman.' Sejanus's smile
hadn't shifted. 'Or have you decided that being a Roman is outwith your
capacities?'
Trio sniggered. I shrugged and turned away. The guy
meant to needle me, obviously, but if he thought he could make me lose
my temper in public that was one satisfaction I didn't intend giving
him.
He laid a hand on my arm and gently pulled me back. 'You're staying here long?' he said.
'No.' I looked past him. The old man with the white
hair was still talking to his friend, who I did recognise: Lucius
Arruntius, one of the Senate's leading lights. A straight guy, as that
mealy-mouthed crew went, but getting on now as were most of the people
at Dad's funeral. 'No, not very long. A month or two at most.'
He nodded. 'Good. Rome's no place for slackers.' Another measuring pause. 'Or for fools. Not now.'
'It takes all kinds.' My fist itched to smash itself into his gut. I buried it in the fold of my mantle.
Another nod, a satisfied one this time; whatever I'd
said Sejanus seemed to have got what he wanted. I remembered the old
empress's words, the last time I'd seen her: You're beneath his notice, Corvinus. Killing you wouldn't be worth either the trouble or the risk. Not very flattering, but true enough. I meant to keep it that way.
Sejanus let go of my arm. 'Well, pleasant as this
is,' he said, 'I must be off. Affairs of state call, even though I am
simply a private citizen nowadays.' He smiled at Trio, who smiled back.
Until the beginning of the month Sejanus had been co-consul with the
Wart. When Tiberius had given up his cosulship he had done the same; a
prelude, so rumour went, to even greater honours. 'It's a little late
to change your mind, but there might still be something for you. If you
ask nicely.'
My fist was clenched so hard now the nails were
cutting into my palm. I didn't trust myself enough to say anything, but
it seemed an answer wasn't required. Sejanus gave me a bright smile and
a wave, then walked with Trio towards the consul's waiting guard of
axemen. I was still glaring after them when someone spoke.
'You don't recognise me, Corvinus.' It was the
white-haired guy. He put out a trembling hand. 'Aelius Lamia.'
I hesitated, then took the hand and shook it. I
remembered him now, sure I did, but remembering I wasn't surprised I
hadn't known him. The last time I'd seen Lamia was when he'd thrown me
out of Syria for asking too many questions about the Wart's adopted son
Germanicus Caesar. Then, he'd been a middle-aged man in his prime. Now
something had eaten him up from the inside, and all that was left was
the shell.
'How are you. Governor?' I said.
'Well enough.' The skull grinned. 'My condolences.
Your father was a splendid man. Splendid.' No reference to Syria, but
then I wouldn't've expected it. Even when he was chewing my balls off
Lamia had been the perfect diplomat. 'You know Lucius Arruntius?'
'No. At least, we've never met formally.' We shook
hands. Arruntius would be about Lamia's age, I'd guess, but he looked a
dozen years younger and good for a dozen or two more. I'd give Lamia
twelve months at the outside.
'You're here for long?' Arruntius asked.
The same question as Sejanus's, and with the same
edge. Maybe coincidence, but the hair on my neck still bristled.
'Just a visit,' I said. 'Rome doesn't suit me any more.'
'The place or the climate?'
I was cautious. 'I miss the Subura, sure. And the smell of the Tiber. Other things.'
'But not the politics?'
Sejanus's question again. I was beginning to get bad
feelings about this, especially the way they were looking at me. Like
lepidopterists deciding where to shove the pin. 'Politics doesn't
interest me,' I said. I glanced over to where Dad's pyre was sinking
into a pile of glowing ashes. 'I haven't even notched up a junior
magistracy.'
'So I hear.' Arruntius dropped his voice. 'Yet you were exiled.'
'I was never exiled. Formally or informally.' This
was familiar ground. I'd been over it a dozen times in the last ten
years until I had the answer off pat; so pat that I'd begun to believe
it myself. 'Choose to live outside Italy if you come from one of the
top families and you're automatically in exile, voluntarily or
otherwise. Finish, end of story. That's the way the Roman mind works;
only crooks and disgraced politicians live abroad from choice. I'm no
crook, sir, and my reasons had nothing to do with politics.'
Arruntius smiled. Then he said quietly: 'Come now,
young man, of course they did. That's why we need to talk.'
Uh-huh. Coincidence nothing; this was a proposition
if I'd ever heard one. The old guys were still looking at me like I was
some sort of pickled specimen, and I knew I should just walk away from
them, collect Perilla and make a run for Puteoli and the first ship
out. Wherever it was headed.
Lamia's hand was on my arm, and he moved me further
out of earshot. Not that there were many people left to overhear. The
crowd was thinning fast.
'Corvinus,' he said, 'matters have reached a crisis.
You may or may not know that Tiberius is on the point of naming Aelius
Sejanus formally as his successor.'
'Is that right, now?' I tried to keep my voice level. Confidences like this I could do without.
'That is right.' Evidently my tone hadn't fazed him.
'Since you claim to have no interest in politics it may not concern you
overmuch. On the other hand, knowing the man as you do you may share
our opinion that his nomination would be a disaster for Rome.'
Yeah. No prizes for what was coming next. I could've
scripted it myself. And I'd bet good money the 'our' didn't mean just
him and Arruntius; it smelled of broad purple stripes.
'Governor,' I said wearily, 'I've met the guy
exactly twice, once ten years ago and once today. Neither meeting
lasted above five minutes. That's hardly time for a valid assessment.
And as far as his being bad for Rome is concerned the emperor obviously
thinks otherwise. Or are you calling Tiberius a fool?'
'Personal acquaintance isn't the issue. And as you know, Tiberius is not in full possession of the facts.'
'Oh, really?'
'Corvinus, don't play games!' Lamia snapped. Either
he had a lot less patience than when he'd been running one of the
empire's top provinces or he was more keyed up than he appeared.
'You're too old for that now, an I certainly am. Ten years ago you were
involved in an investigation which it was my duty as the emperor's
representative to impede. I wasn't in full possession of the facts then
myself, I don't claim to be now and I have no wish to be; however, I
suspect they proved that while Sejanus was acting with the emperor's
mandate he was also engaged in secret activities of which Tiberius was
unaware, and which he would certainly have viewed as dubious.'
'Dubious', hell: the bastard had been committing
treason, only not the kind he could be easily nailed for. Even so, I
didn't see why I should make Lamia's job any easier. Let alone agree to
what he obviously wanted from me.
'Like you said, Governor, that was ten years ago.' I
turned away briefly. Perilla was still talking to Mother and Cosconia,
but she shot a glance in my direction. She looked anxious. You and me
both, lady, I thought. I turned back to Lamia. 'Maybe you're right.
Maybe I am too old now to play games. Especially dangerous ones
involving Aelius Sejanus.'
Arruntius had been hanging back like a Greek chorus,
letting the governor take centre stage. Now he moved closer and took
hold of my wrist. He had strong, blunt fingers like a wrestler's.
'We were hoping that you might agree to resume that
investigation now, Corvinus,' he said softly, 'so that Tiberius can be
apprised of the true situation and change his mind. Before it's too
late.'
There it was. Masks down. We stared at one another,
and it may've been my imagination but Lamia didn't look any happier
than I felt. Well, at least he'd put out the right signals in advance,
and Livia had warned me this would happen one day. I'd always wondered,
if and when the time came, which way I'd jump.
The snag was that I still didn't know.
'So you want someone to dig the dirt on Aelius
Sejanus and hand it over in a nice neat package to the Wart?' I said.
Neither of them answered. 'Why me?'
'We've been over that,' Lamia grunted. 'You have a
head start, Corvinus. And you have the temperament for it. Uniquely
so.'
Well, flattery would get him nowhere. If it was flattery.
'I'm still surprised you need me, Lamia,' I said. 'You're the bastard's cousin, after all.'
I regretted the words even before his bony face
turned red with anger: I'd never believed even at the time that Lamia
was in Sejanus's pay, and I didn't believe it now. But it was a fair
point, and it needed making.
'We didn't expect immediate agreement,' Arruntius
said quickly. 'Let alone trust. Think it over first before you give us
your answer. But remember that in asking for your help we don't ask
lightly.'
Yeah, that I'd believe. I knew that
'we', I'd heard it all my life from Dad: the patriotic plural comes
second nature to broad-stripers, despite the fact that they're the most
disunited bunch of self-servers you'd never hope to meet. So. Rome's
Senate wanted the upstart Sejanus pegged out for the crows.No surprises
there, but I was surprised that Arruntius had agreed to do their asking
for them. If he had clout - and he had it in spades - it was because he
wasn't one of the gang. Of the three men Augustus once said could run
the empire Arruntius was the only one the cunning old bugger had no
reservations about. That sort of recommendation doesn't come cheap.
I turned away again; not towards Perilla this time
but in the direction of Dad's pyre. It was mostly ash now, with a few
glowing embers and a scattering of charred logs at the edges. Time,
soon, for the wine and the picking over of the bones. When we burned
him, I'd once said, we'd find a poker with the words Property of the Senate and People of Rome
written on it. I was sorry for that now; he hadn't deserved it, or not
the way I'd meant it at the time. No, there'd be no poker. But a good
part of the old guy had been Rome's after all.
'Oh, one more thing, Corvinus.' Arruntius was
reaching into the fold of his mantle. He brought out a sealed letter.
'I was instructed to give you this. I don't know the contents, but I
suspect they may be relevant, and they may help you decide.'
I took the letter and turned it over in my hands to
read the spidery superscription: 'For Marcus Valerius Messalla
Corvinus. Personal, to be delivered at the proper time.' No signature,
but I recognised the handwriting. Sure I did. I could even smell the
camphor.
Livia never let go, did she? Not even when she was two years dead.