A Capitol Death by Lindsey Davis

Author:Lindsey Davis [Davis, Lindsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781250152701
Amazon: 1250152704
Goodreads: 41150396
Publisher: Minotaur Books
Published: 2019-07-29T23:00:00+00:00

31

When I left Alichsantre, I saw Scorpus. That saved me having to find him, but now the inquiry chief was in conference with Nestor. They were standing at the top of the Gemonian Stairs so we could not avoid acknowledging each other.

I walked up and found they were not discussing the murder case at all; they were comparing military careers. Typical. I had to wait while they ploughed through details. Nestor had served in Lower Germany, Pannonia, Rhaetia and Africa, where he ended up a centurion; even he said this showed what a crap province Africa had been. Scorpus had had a posting in Upper Germany and was also in Pannonia, though at a different time from Nestor.

I stood there patiently while Nestor quizzed Scorpus on whether he had ever thought of moving up from the vigiles to at least the Urban Cohorts; no, said Scorpus, he had found his niche. Besides, his gammy leg would count against him. Nestor agreed that would rule out the Guard, which was such an élite corps (what – full of deadbeats like him?). However, he reckoned the lower-caste Urbans accommodated plenty of lads with stiff bits, one eye gone, or even missing body parts. Finally becoming tetchy, Scorpus growled, well, that was it. He didn’t want to join such duds.

He gave no opinion of the supposedly élite guards; I hoped that meant he despised them. I could not tell from the conversation. But that is how ex-soldiers talk when face to face, especially with a woman listening. Those veterans had to stick together.

I knew men who would have growled, ‘Listen, Nestor – the guards are garbage!’ Meanwhile everyone in Rome sneers at the Urbans, and even I regard the vigiles as tarnished heroes. The fact I had an uncle in the Fourth Cohort only means I know it at first hand.

For two men in military boots, Scorpus and Nestor were a contrast. Scorpus wore a red vigilis tunic that was probably clean but bore marks of much previous action. He had a nightstick pushed through his battered belt and a seen-it-all air, although with a grim undertone, as if he believed life could yet throw up more filthy surprises. Nestor had changed his cloak today, fastening this green one on a shoulder with a brooch; presumably his superior pay scale allowed him to own extra garments. A sword showed under the new one. In a white tunic, long on him and gathered under his fancy belt in heavy folds, he remained everything a Praetorian liked to be: big, threatening, cash-rich and privileged. Scorpus gave an impression of acute intelligence; Nestor looked dumb. Scorpus would help an old lady through traffic, if he could be bothered; Nestor would never even notice her. Scorpus had risen on merit; Nestor survived despite having none.

‘What happened to Karus?’ I broke in to ask the vigilis lightly.

‘I sent him to pick up more flatbreads for the lads.’ Scorpus must have been joking though he did not explain. I left it.

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