by Marilyn Todd
‘Throw in a couple of chickens, something to go with them, say, onions, leeks, a few eggs, and perhaps a rabbit. I think I smelled honey cakes cooking in the kitchen, so they’d go down well, oh, and some almonds. What’s the matter?’
The girl quickly shook her head. ‘Nothing, madam.’
‘Then wipe that stupid look off your face.’
‘Yeth, madam.’
Bloody girl. Why couldn’t they find her a slave who didn’t lisp?
‘And if there’s any pecorino cheese floating round the kitchen, pack that, too—it’s my favourite.’
‘Yeth, madam.’
‘And apples. Don’t forget the apples.’
Claudia tested her boots for comfort and found them wanting. I’ll get blisters, I know. Bloody countryside. Trees and sky and hills and whatnot—dull as a dolphin’s dongler. Now then. To wear a pulla, or not to wear a pulla, that was the question. Not, she finally decided. The girl could carry it.
‘Galla, aren’t you ready yet?’ For heaven’s sake, what was keeping her? ‘Dear Diana, what’s that?’
‘We’ll need the donkey for the food, madam.’
‘Galla.’ Claudia crooked her finger. ‘Galla, come here, I want to explain something to you. We’re going for a walk, not a bloody route march. The moke stays.’
‘What about—’
‘You’re not listening to me, Galla. The ugly sod stays, that is my final word. What the—’
Flavia was shouting and waving from the doorway, apparently signalling to Claudia to wait for her, she was coming with them. Claudia wrinkled her nose.
‘Second thoughts, Galla, the donkey’s fine. Gee up, boy.’
She set a cracking pace and when she looked back Flavia was still in the yard flapping her arms and looking for all the world like a windmill with sacks for sails.
Blisters. Donkeys. No doubt she’d get bitten to bits by gnats and midges as well. Juno, Jupiter and Mars! To think people actually put up with this in the name of enjoyment! Oh well, the big Nubian seems happy, that’s something, she supposed. First she tried counting vines, but, since they spread as far as the eye could see, she gave that the elbow in favour of a succession of nonsense. Spotting roadside flowers. Birds. Not stepping on the cracks between the octagonal slabs. Composing idiotic rhymes. At the fourth milestone, she spun smartly on her heel and marched home, tutting as her bodyguard tripped over both themselves and the donkey at the suddenness of the turn.
‘Good walk, my sweet?’
Gaius and Rollo the bailiff were deep in conversation when the sorry procession straggled through the gates.
‘The sun was too bright,
The breeze was too slight,
The hills were too steep,
Now I’m going to sleep.’
Her husband blinked and she thought he muttered something about the heat getting to her.
‘And you. Yes, you, girl.’ Galla limped over. ‘What’s the idea of packing so much stuff? Can’t you see that wretched animal’s wilting?’
‘You said—’
‘You should never have allowed it out in this heat. Give that poor creature water at once.’
Now, as the heat haze danced and glimmered for the first time over the seven distant hills that were Rome, Claudia decided it was difficult to see why people took to this walking lark—after all, it wasn’t as though there was anything to see. Still, never let it be said of Claudia Seferius she wasn’t willing to try out new experiences.
Gaius had taken the two-wheeled car, which made better time, but Claudia was happy just to be home. The comforting street cacophony, her own room, her own bed, even her own maid. Galla’s irritating lisp was grinding her nerves to pulp, it would be a relief to return to the rhythm of Melissa’s unassuming ministrations. Oh yes, it had been an uphill struggle at the villa, especially with Larentia, although luckily the old cow hadn’t been anywhere near as sure of herself as she’d made out. No accusations were made publicly and the constant sniping at her son’s wife had effectively served to alienate Larentia from Gaius, although she hadn’t noticed until it was too late.
‘I’ll see you get your come-uppance, you conniving bitch.’ She’d finally bearded her daughter-in-law in the bath house the day before she was due to leave.
Claudia stretched. ‘Maybe you will, maybe you won’t,’ she said, rubbing oil into her thighs. ‘But if you have any sense, you’ll take a word of advice from me.’
‘Never!’ The old woman spat the word out as though it were a glowing ember burning through her tongue.
Claudia smiled slowly, her eyes glistening. ‘Take it or leave it, Larentia, but if I were you I’d certainly be careful what I ate from now on.’
‘Why you…you…’
Revelling in both physical and psychological superiority, Claudia stood up and proceeded to oil her breasts. ‘Hedonistic whore?’ she asked sweetly.
‘…grasping bitch,’ snapped Larentia. ‘But you’ll pay. And when retribution comes I’ll be there, in the front row, you just wait and see. You won’t get a quadran of Gaius’s money.’ Her mouth fell open as the colour drained from her face. ‘Merciful Juno, that’s your game! You’re poisoning my son!’
Claudia shot her an amused glance. ‘Ah! So you’ve noticed the haunted eyes, the lacklustre expression, the dark circles? I wondered how long it would take you.’ The horror on Larentia’s face aged her ten years. She looked like a walking skeleton.
‘I must warn him,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I’m going straight…straight…’ She was panting and wheezing, gulping for air. ‘I…I…’
She began to sway and clutch her throat. Claudia caught her before she hit the tiles. Dammit, the old bat didn’t even have the decency to die! Claudia sighed, threw a towel over herself and called for assistance, ensuring Larentia’s seizure was passed off as a fainting fit and that no talk of collapse came to Gaius’s ears.
As the wagon rolled downhill, she threw a fig in the air and caught it in her fist. If nothing else, this wretched sojourn has cleared my mind and brought matters into perspective. Lucan. Otho. Junius. Larentia. Anonymous letters. Murders. Accusations. Gaius. Orbilio… Oh yes, she was feeling confident again now. Gaius had finally lost patience and Flavia’s wedding to Scaevola was firmly fixed for the beginning of September, which was a niggling weight off Claudia’s mind. Larentia’s seizure would put the old fossil out of action for as long as it took for counter-measures to be set in motion. She’d had an idea about Lucan, and Otho could be dealt with any old time. Junius would be a loss, because, without him, who could she trust to place bets discreetly? And as for that other nasty business, whoever the bastard was his days were well and truly numbered, Claudia reckoned she’d have him nailed within a week, two at the outside.
‘Life is wonderful, don’t you think so, Galla?’
Sulky cow.
At long last the shimmering haze became solid walls, which in turn became roofs and streets and columns and arches. The lifeless road turned into a clamour of men and women, children and oxen, beggars and pedlars. There were shopkeepers shouting, dogs snapping, slaves yapping, porters rumbling amphorae over the cobbles. The smell of hard-earned sweat mingled with charcoal, animal ordure and dusky, musky scents. Graffiti on the walls, sacred fires outside the temples, deep shadows cast by the mighty aqueducts which straddled all Rome. You could practically smell the steam from the baths as the cart joggled past, hear the babble of gossip echo through the vaulted chambers.
Claudia thought of Gaius, of the weight that had fallen away, of the breathing problems that had been plaguing him of late. Almost overnight he’d become an old man. She was slumped into her cushions, chewing her thumbnail and calculating how long before Gaius Seferius left a grieving widow, when the wagon finally drew to a halt outside the house. There was a song on her lips as she lifted the flap of Drusilla’s cage.
‘Home, poppet. Home with a vengeance.’
Gaius’s banquet had been rearranged for this coming Thursday,
with Melissa sorting out all the tedious chores. Acrobats, dancers, you name it, she’ll have them lined up, and Verres would have had his dainties worked out ages ago. The Wine Festival starts on Saturday, but let me see, today’s only Tuesday. What’s on tomorrow? Isn’t there a hearing in the Senate House she could toddle along to?
Leonides, the household steward, was hovering in the atrium beside the bust of Gaius’s father.
‘I wonder if I might—’
‘Not now.’
‘It’s rather important, madam.’
Claudia twisted her lip. ‘Leonides, if you wish to keep your ears attached to your neck—and I fully understand that you might not, because they don’t seem to serve you particularly well—but should you want to keep them, I suggest you listen more closely. When I said not now, I meant not now.’
The lanky Macedonian coloured, nodded and retreated hurriedly. Her eyes scanning unsuccessfully for Melissa, Claudia dismissed Galla with a wave and marched towards the garden. She could catch up on the banquet details later. Right now a glass of wine among the roses and lilies was just what the doctor ordered.
‘Gaius? I thought you’d be working.’
‘I’m entertaining a house guest.’
Not another of those boring colleagues of yours, I can’t stand it.
‘Splendid. Have I met him?’
‘Indeed you have…cousin.’ Orbilio’s curly mop peered round a laurel shrub. His face had a schoolboy grin plastered all over it.
‘Gaius…!’
‘Calm down, my sweet, let me—’
‘Calm down?’ She grabbed hold of her husband’s arm, jerked him to his feet and dragged him aside. ‘Gaius, that monster tried to rape me!’
Fat fingers patted her shoulder. ‘He’s explained that.’ She shot a glance in Orbilio’s direction. The bastard was watching a butterfly flitting round the lavender as though this was no concern of his.
‘Said he had no idea re-enacting those childhood wrestling matches might be misconstrued, so make up with your cousin, Claudia. Tell him you’re sorry.’
I am not sorry, Gaius. I am incandescent. In-can-bloody-descent!
‘Marcus! What can I say?’ There was more honey on her tongue than in those twenty beehives up at the villa. ‘What a silly, silly goose you must think me!’
Orbilio covered his mouth with the back of his hand to stifle what might have been a cough.
‘Oh, boys will be boys.’
‘Ha, ha. Absolutely.’ Her mouth was beginning to ache. ‘And why did you say you were here? I think I missed that.’
‘His house burned down.’ Gaius brushed specks of dandruff from his shoulder.
Claudia turned to Orbilio. ‘Tragic, Cousin Markie. Absolutely tragic!’
‘Weren’t it just?’
A second, smaller head popped up. It looked better nourished than on previous occasions.
‘Oh no! Don’t tell me that filthy little arab is staying here as well?’
She shot Orbilio a look which said, What the hell are you trying to do to me?, but he pretended he hadn’t noticed. The next look told him she’d flay him alive for this, and he pretended not to notice that, either.
‘Try to be charitable, my sweet. Marcus plucked this poor child from the gutter, we owe him our support, what?’
‘Like hell.’
‘Ah…well… I daresay it’ll only be for a week or two, eh, Marcus?’ Gaius ruffled the urchin’s hair. ‘Come along, Rufus.’
Claudia felt the colour drain from her face to her toes. ‘You’re not…you’re not going out?’
The boy’s face lit up. ‘Yep. Master Seferius has promised to show me his warehouse.’
He glanced up at Gaius, then signalled to Claudia by drawing one finger across his lips and winking that it was all right, he wouldn’t say a word about that day in the Forum. Claudia rubbed her forehead. There must be something she could do to stop them.
‘I’ll take him out,’ she said.
‘You?’ It was a joint male chorus.
‘Yes, me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Rufus?’
‘Nope. I wanna go with the gaffer.’
‘Then I’ll come with you.’
Gaius frowned. ‘Claudia, you ought to stay here and keep Marcus company.’
Rufus repeated his I-promise-to-keep-my-mouth-shut gesture, but she ignored it. ‘Let’s all go.’
Orbilio shrugged. ‘Suits me,’ he said, but Gaius aimed a mock punch to the child’s chin.
‘Ah, we’ll keep it the two of us, eh, lad? Have fun, you two.’
Wonderful! Absolutely bloody wonderful! Claudia slumped on to the bench while Orbilio leaned back, draping his elbow over the ridge of the seat with the air of a man expecting to be crucified but who’d got away with a tongue-lashing instead. She poured herself a full glass of wine and swallowed it without stopping for breath.
‘I won’t ask why,’ she said wearily. ‘I’ll just ask when.’
‘When did I arrive? Yesterday.’
‘I see. And how long do you estimate before your house will be…habitable again?’
‘As long as it takes, Claudia,’ he said so quietly she almost missed it.
It felt as though snow had suddenly fallen.
She pursed her lips. ‘Is it better than sex, prying and spying in other people’s underwear?’
‘Claudia—’
‘I’m serious, Orbilio, I want to know. Do you get off on this lark?’
‘For pity’s sake, woman, can’t you get it through your thick skull, I’ve got a job to do? Four men have been butchered, their eyes chiselled out of their sockets, and it would be naive in the extreme to imagine the carnage has stopped—’
‘Stop right there.’ Claudia held up a hand. ‘Let me ask another question. Do you suspect me of killing them?’
‘Don’t be daft.’
‘So what’s stopping you from packing up this very minute? And spare me that hogwash about your roof still smouldering. You’ve poked and prodded in every little corner, what’s keeping—’
‘You’re wrong.’
She gave a half-laugh. ‘Still a few nooks and crannies left, are there? I do so admire a man who’s thorough.’ Orbilio rubbed his chin as though checking for stubble. His eyelids, she noticed, were blinking rapidly and he was avoiding her gaze. So this pondscum had a conscience, did he? Or was it pure embarrassment, finding a collection of whips and manacles in her bedroom? If challenged, she’d say it was strictly between her and Gaius what they got up to, and if he drew a comparison between her paraphernalia and Crassus, so what? Her client list—their names and proclivities—she kept in her head, he couldn’t prove a damned thing. No, it wasn’t that which troubled her. It was the fact that someone had violated her privacy by systematically rifling through her personal belongings. That the man who had laid her soul bare happened to be Marcus Cornelius Orbilio was neither here nor there, she told herself. Neither here nor there.
‘It didn’t seem…decent to ransack the place in your absence.’
The wine spilled over the table, forming a dark red pool which she made no effort to mop up. ‘Are you seriously expecting me to believe you’ve spent two days under my roof without making a search?’
Rivulets of wine trickled across the wood to drip noisily on to the tiles below. He puckered his lips. ‘Believe what you like,’ he said. ‘You asked and I answered.’
The snow melted, the sun came out, birds began to sing.
‘Oi!’ She clapped her hands. ‘Clear up this mess,’ she commanded the slave who came running. ‘Fetch another jug—and be quick about it.’
Orbilio brushed a fly away from the sticky puddle. ‘You ought to know, however, that I do intend to search this house. Ideally with your permission and you can be present, by all means, but if I have to get written authority from Callisunus, so be it.’
Claudia filled both glasses from the new flagon. ‘Why this house?’
‘I’ve got a hunch,’ he said simply.
> ‘Never mind, dear.’ She patted his knee. ‘There’s a way of hanging the toga that’ll disguise it completely.’
What the hell? Let him search the bloody place! She’d have ample time to move her knick-knacks in the course of his ferreting.
The corners of his mouth twitched. ‘You can be a real pain in the backside at times, Claudia Seferius.’
‘I simply take the shortest route to your brain, Cousin Markie.’
His eyes twinkled as he topped up his glass. ‘We could go out together this evening, just the two of us.’
‘We could, yes. Alternatively you could go to hell all by yourself,’ she replied companionably, ‘and I know which I’d prefer.’
Orbilio laughed aloud and for several minutes they sat in silence in the garden, sipping wine and listening to nothing but the drone of bumblebees heavy with pollen and the hiss of water, foaming white as it hit the marble fountain.
‘There’s one thing I discovered,’ he said at last. ‘You and Gaius have separate bedrooms.’
‘He snores.’
‘Come off it, Claudia. He’s on the opposite side of the house. In fact, it’s a separate bloody staircase.’
She shot him a look out of the corner of her eye. ‘Don’t tell me, let me guess. You just happen to be installed in a bedroom on my side, right?’
‘Wishful thinking, I’m afraid. If you want me, you’ll have to tiptoe past your husband’s door.’
She smiled. ‘You couldn’t afford me, Orbilio.’
‘Wanna bet?’
Any time, lover boy. ‘One million sesterces.’
‘What is?’
‘My price. One million sesterces.’
His breath came out in a whistle. ‘A million?’
‘A million.’
‘Then I suppose there’s little point in leaving my door unlocked tonight?’
‘You suppose right, Orbilio. However, while we’re on the subject of accommodation, I have something to say and I’ll make it plain. I don’t want you in my house. You’ve wormed your way round Gaius, so it looks like I’m lumbered, but the oik goes.’
‘That’s unreasonable, he’s—’