David Wishart - Finished Business

The names of historical characters are given in upper case. Only those who appear, or are referred to, in more than one part of the text are included.

Corvinuss household

Bathyllus: the major-domo

Meton: the chef

Perilla, Rufia: Corvinuss wife

Imperials, senators, civil servants and the military

ASIATICUS, D Valerius: Gaiuss former brother-in-law; a wealthy senatorial recluse

BASSUS, T Herennius: a junior finance officer (quaestor), friend of Sextus Papinius

CAESONIA: Gaiuss wife

CALLISTUS, Julius: Gaiuss freedman-secretary, de facto head of the imperial fiscal department

CAPITO, C Herennius: Bassuss father, an imperial fiscal officer (procurator)

CERIALIS, Anicius: a backbench senator

CLAUDIUS, Tiberius: Gaiuss uncle

CLEMENS, M Arrecinus: co-commander of the Praetorian Guard

GAIUS CAESAR: the emperor (Caligula)

GRAECINUS, Julius: senator and philosopher, currently a city judge (praetor)

LONGINUS, Cassius: Surdinuss erstwhile colleague in the consulship. Currently governor of Asia, but recalled to Rome by Gaius

MESSALINA, Valeria: Claudiuss wife

PAPINIUS, Sextus: a tribune (officer) in the Praetorian Guard

PAPINIUS, Lucius: his brother; also a Praetorian tribune

Surdinus, L Naevius: the victim

Surdinus, L Naevius Junior: his elder son

VINICIANUS, L Annius: a respected and influential senator, friend of Gaius, and Marcus Viniciuss nephew

VINICIUS, Marcus: a literary friend of Perillas, married to Gaiuss sister Livilla

Others

Cilix: a garden slave on Surdinuss estate

Crispus, Caelius: Corvinuss acquaintance in the foreign judges office; an expert in scandal

Felix, Julius: Gaiuss freedman-spymaster

Gallio, Naevius: Surdinuss bailiff

Hellenus (Marcus Naevius Surdinus): Surdinuss estranged younger son

Leonidas: Surdinuss estate manager

Otillius, Titus: Tarquitias husband

Postuma, Naevia: Surdinuss niece

Secundus, C Vibullius: Corvinuss friend in army admin

SOSIBIUS, Valerius: a freedman

Sullana, Cornelia: Surdinuss ex-wife

Tarquitia: Surdinuss mistress

Trupho: a heavy

November in Rome sucks.

Oh, sure, the temperatures still OK, and in any case, me, Id far rather have to put on an extra tunic than be broiled alive as happens in the summer months, when most of the Great and Good head for the Alban Hills or further afield. But November is wet, wet, wet; things can get pretty miserable after the fifth consecutive morning of trudging through the rain-soaked streets for your Market Square shave-and-gossip, and until you get to the end of the month, the Winter Festival seems a lifetime away. So, barring the days when the sun does consent to shine and they can be glorious I generally stick pretty close to home.

Which was what I was doing, with the usual half-jug to keep me company, when our major-domo, Bathyllus, buttled in to say I had a visitor.

The Lady Naevia Postuma, sir, he said. Smarmed. Yeah, well, I knew the reason for that as soon as he mentioned the name: Bathyllus is the snobs snob, and it wasnt often we got a visit from the wife of the senior serving consul. Particularly when she was a total stranger.

I sat up straight on the couch just as the lady herself sailed in. Sailed being the operative word, or maybe barged would be more apt. Something suitably nautical, anyway, not to say aggressive, because Naevia Postuma had a nose like a triremes beak and the armoured superstructure to match. Plus an overall weigh-in tonnage that wouldve been enough and to spare for two consuls wives. Luckily for him, our little bald-head had stepped aside pretty smartly to let her past, or he wouldve been scuttled.

Valerius Corvinus! It is so nice to meet you! She hove to and glanced behind her. Bathyllus quickly pulled up a chair and she docked, smoothing her voluminous but impeccable mantle around thighs as thick as tree trunks. I was, though, also hoping to see your wife? There was the faintest tinge of a question at the end.

Mid-mornings not exactly the time a visitor from the top social bracket expects to see the visitee sinking the booze. As surreptitiously as I could, I replaced the wine cup on the table beside me and tried to look as if Id only been taking the occasional sip, possibly for medicinal reasons. Not that it worked, mind: the cup got a look that had ice forming on the inlay.

Ah Perillas out, Im afraid, I said.

So it would appear. The Look turned to me, just long enough to register but stay within the boundaries of politeness. A pity, but no great matter. I did have my reasons, which I will come to in due course, but fortunately my principal business is with you.

Fortunately. Yeah, right. Still, I was the host here, and the duties of a host are sacrosanct. Could I offer you some refreshment, Naevia Postuma? I said.

Very kind. If your kitchen staff could provide a cup of warmed milk? With a spoonful of honey, and just a touch of nutmeg.

Sure, I said. Warm milk? No problem. Bathyllus, would you-?

Buffalos, or goats at a pinch. Certainly not sheeps, please, and warm cows milk is an abomination of nature. Well, Id agree with her there. I drink nothing else at this time of day, in this weather. The wine cup got another pointed glance. Nor should you.

Right. Right. Bathyllus, ah, see what you can do, pal, OK? Like find a passing goat to mug. Outside bet though that was, you saw even fewer buffaloes than goats on the Caelian, and I doubted if their milk featured to any great extent in our chef Metons store cupboard. Now, Naevia Postuma. About this business of yours

She sniffed. I would have thought that was obvious. If not its precise nature, then at least in general terms.

Really?

Certainly, with the exercise of some basic nous on your part. Ouch. According to various friends of mine with whom I discussed the matter, you have considerable past experience in handling, ah, problems of this sort which, although personally I find a little eccentric in someone of your social class, is rather convenient, under the circumstances. It concerns a murder.

Uh is that so, now?

Of my uncle, Naevius Surdinus. You knew him, of course.

No, I cant say that I did.

She frowned. That is extremely odd. He certainly knew you, or at least he knew your family. And he most definitely knew your wife, Rufia Perilla, of that Im positive, for reasons which, as I said, I will come to. Then, when I still looked blank: Lucius Naevius Surdinus? Suffect consul with Cassius Longinus ten years ago?

Im sorry. No bells. I cant answer for Perilla, mind. She gets about socially more than I do.

Well, again its no matter. Although it is strange.

I prompted, A murder, you said.

Yes. At his estate on Vatican Hill. His head was crushed by a lump of masonry.

Delivered straight out and deadpan, without a smidgeon of expression.

He was hit from behind?

Oh, no. From above. A considerable way above. The block came from the top of a tower at the edge of the property, some distance from the villa itself. Uncle Lucius was having it renovated and he liked to see how the work was progressing.

Renovated? Then it was in poor condition?

Dreadful. Ruinous, in fact. It was centuries old, originally some sort of watchtower, I think, and it had been abandoned for years. Hed taken a fancy to turn it into a philosophers sanctum. Philosophy was his hobby, you know, or rather more than a hobby, particularly astronomy and astrology. Also, he wanted somewhere quiet to take himself off to on an evening. Away from the villa itself.