by Marilyn Todd
‘I’m not sure I’d be much help, madam.’
‘Probably not, but at least you can run like the wind for a doctor.’
He seemed a little nonplussed at the oddity of the request, and hesitated, his mouth open slightly.
‘Well, go on, then. Shoo.’
Junius glanced over his shoulder. ‘I don’t like to leave you, madam. Not when…not when that thug Otho’s hovering.’
‘Otho? Here?’ Juno, Jupiter and Mars! ‘Where is he?’
‘Right behind you, Claudia.’
The thick accent startled them both.
‘Otho, I’m warning you, start anything here and I’ll kill you.’
She teased a dagger out of her tunic just sufficiently to show him she meant business. Junius stepped forward, his eyes betraying the anger his face was masking. The Thracian held up a hand and smiled. She was right. He had lost a couple of front teeth the other night. Perhaps Orbilio had some uses, after all.
‘Claudia, Claudia. Is no need for violence. I bring message from Master Lucan.’ His face was criss-crossed with livid lacerations.
‘I’ve already had two of his messages, thank you very much. Tell him to send a letter next time.’
‘Is good message, Claudia. I deliver it personally, though. And’—his sibilant voice hardened as he turned to Junius—‘in private.’
She shrugged and the Gaul backed out of earshot. What the hell? Otho was hardly going to beat her up here and—incredibly—she was becoming inured to his threats. Surprising what you get used to, really.
His eyes lingered on the fullness of her breasts. ‘Master Lucan say you very lucky, Claudia. Your debt, it has been settled, yes?’
What did he mean, it had been settled? Who by? She glanced over at Junius, whose teeth were bared. Whether in fear, anger or pleasure it was impossible to tell.
‘Of course it’s been settled, you big oaf. Ages ago.’ Dear Diana, nobody knew about the problem but her. Why should another person cough up two grand? Claudia’s chin went up a fraction higher. She’d die rather than ask this pig who was responsible.
‘Then is pity we can’t get together Claudia. Maybe some day, yes?’
Claudia smiled sweetly. ‘Go fuck your mother Otho.’ His eyes flashed and his lips went white, but all he said was, ‘Nice tits,’ before melting into the crowd. Junius came bounding over. Either his hearing was above average or maybe he could lipread, but he’d certainly caught the gist of Otho’s message. The relief on his rugged face was undisguised.
‘You’ll be all right on your own, now.’
‘Of course I will, Junius. Now sod off home, will you?’
XXII
A blast of silver trumpets signalled the end of the interval, but Claudia barely noticed the twelve chariots that came thundering out of the stables kicking up a cloud of yellow sand in their wake. Even when Blue lost a wheel on the third bend she didn’t turn a hair. Who knew about her and Lucan? Nobody, she thought. Nobody, nobody, nobody! Which is obviously baloney, a small voice answered. Somebody obviously does, so think.
Well, there was Junius. But Junius was a slave and slaves don’t have money. Hang on a mo, what about that grand Gaius gave him? Oh, come on, Claudia, why should the boy settle your account, it doesn’t add up. Who else knows? Larentia, of course. Her spies had reported back about the debt, almost to the last quadran, but of all people in this world, her mother-in-law was the last person with a desire to make life easy for Claudia Seferius!
The roars of the cheers around her were deafening. It had turned into a two-chariot race, between Red and Blue, both equally matched at handling a team of four. They were approaching the last and final turn, a test of nerves and skill which would decide the race. At a glance, Claudia knew it would be Red, from the way he leaned back against the reins. He was luring Blue into cutting the corner. They charged towards the posts, enveloped by clouds of dust and sand. Too close and the chariot would swing into the centre wall. Too wide and the game was lost. Distractedly she saw Blue dive into the spot Red had left, realizing too late the trap he’d fallen into. Unable to squeeze through, the inside horse pulled towards the middle and from a jumble of hooves and wheels Blue was somersaulting through sand. Red punched the air with his whip and surged on to victory. Absently Claudia thought of the laurels that would be his later. Rich wines, rare aromatics—and a choice of girls in his bed.
Gaius knew, because when Otho was captured in her room he wasn’t slow in broadcasting the purpose of his visit. However Gaius wasn’t a likely contender for paying off massive debts out of hand, he would certainly have taken his wife to task about gambling away two grand in as many months. Naturally, Claudia had a perfectly plausible answer sitting right on the tip of her tongue. Blackmail, she was going to tell him. Simple as that. An anonymous (what else?) blackmailer had demanded hefty payments to ensure her husband’s secret remained safe, what could she do but pay? Gaius would swallow that. He was pretty gullible on some things, but he was definitely not the type to pay off Lucan on the quiet. Besides, only last night he’d announced his intention to get to the root of the matter.
Which left Marcus Cornelius Orbilio. His was a fine patrician family whose ancestry could be traced right back to Apollo, by all accounts. Wealthy, too. (By necessity she’d had to do her homework on him, seeing that he was Adversary Number One in this sordid business.) Not necessarily super-rich, but this boy wasn’t stuck for an ass or three, that’s for sure. But why would Orbilio settle her debt?
‘Excuse me.’
The gentle tap on her shoulder made her jump. A small child, clean and reasonably well dressed, was standing behind her holding a scroll in her little fat hand.
‘Gentleman said to give you this.’
Claudia took the letter. ‘Which gentleman?’
The small face screwed itself up and the tiny shoulders shrugged. ‘Don’t know,’ she said quietly.
Claudia smiled and passed the girl a peach, which was instantly pounced upon. Freeborn she might be, but you had to have a lot of money in this city to afford a peach of that quality. She watched the child skip off to rejoin her family, gleefully waving her trophy. She pointed towards Claudia, who waved back, but when she tried to show them who had given her the letter in the first place, it was clear the child could neither remember nor spot him in the crowd. Too bad. Claudia ripped open the seal.
I love you.
She turned it over. Was that it? I love you? No endearments, no flattery, no compliments, no signature? Just a bald I-love-you?
More equestrian prowess, this time in the form of bare-back riding, swooping down to collect trophies from the sand. The riders could fall off and get trampled to death, for all she cared. Had the author of this feeble missive settled Lucan’s bill? Why should the two be connected, anyway? Hell, she’d had more love letters than glasses of Seferius wine, and the fact that she was married didn’t mean a damned thing, either. She’d lost count of the number of young bloods falling at her feet, swearing undying devotion and threatening suicide. She’d had poetry written for her, plays staged in her honour, more songs about unrequited love sung than you could tally.
Claudia stood up, straightening her back, smoothed her curls and ran her hands down the side of her body. Slowly. Very, very slowly. I know you’re watching me, you bastard, so take note. She let splayed fingers glide down her neck, pausing tantalizingly at the neck of her tunic. With her eyes on the racetrack, she twisted her head this way and that, tossed her curls, stretched and yawned. Let this be a lesson to you. Claudia Seferius is a sophisticated, sensual woman—she held the parchment high and tore it slowly and deliberately into a dozen pieces—for whom three poxy words on a page isn’t enough. Fragments fluttered away on the breeze. Got it?
Smiling to herself, she sat back in her seat. And next time, you can damned well put your name to it.
Whoever the author, one thing was certain. It wasn’t Cousin Markie! Dammit, for a while she’d had to watch herself, because wheneve
r Orbilio was around the air seemed to crackle between them. It wasn’t anything he said—his words were professional enough—or in his facial expressions, which he masked more often than not. But his eyes. Dear Diana, his eyes! They twinkled and danced and laughed and blazed, telling more stories than a minstrel. Oh, yes. There was sin in those eyes.
The feelings he’d dredged up, feelings she thought she’d left long behind, were too dangerous to dwell on. It was nothing deeper than sexual chemistry, any fool could tell that, but she’d be damned glad when he disappeared back into the hole he crawled out of and left her in peace.
Weary in spite of the races, Claudia made her way towards the exit at the Appian end. What the hell’s wrong with you, anyway, wasting time on that two-faced, smooth-tongued, womanizing bastard? He’s got nothing other men haven’t got. You need your head testing if you think his attentions meant anything special. Did they hell! So long as he was on the case and had his famous hunch about apple-green cotton, he was as charming as they come, the minute Callisunus puts him to work on something else, we see the little weasel in his true colours, don’t we?
She slapped one of the race attendants out of her way.
So much time wasted! The catch in her breath every time she saw him. The way he walked. His famous halfsmile. Oh, she’d like to bet he practised that one in the mirror of a morning.
‘Bastard!’
The janitor’s eyes popped out of their sockets in surprise.
‘Not you, you imbecile. Now open this bloody door, will you?’
The heat outside was intolerable. Far too hot to walk. Well you’ve got no one to blame but yourself, Claudia Seferius. You made this choice. You were the one who said it was too hot for the litter-bearers to hang around all day and sent them home again. If you’d stuck inside the Circus as you’d planned, you wouldn’t have to walk home, would you? Not you, though. You decide you’ve had enough by midday. Well, you’ll have to bloody well pay the price, won’t you?
She’d taken the best part of a hundred paces before she realized she was stomping up the wrong hill. Swearing loudly, she turned round and stomped up the right one.
Why on earth did they have to build Rome on seven bloody great hills? She glanced down. These were not the sandals she would have chosen for walking in, either. Bugger, bugger, bugger. Over the heads of the crowds, Claudia caught a glimpse of bright orange. Terrific! Her very own litter was beating a path through the throng—then suddenly she realized it was a cheap imitation. She ducked into a doorway as it went past. Sweet Jupiter it was Marcia, the linen merchant’s widow. Claudia kicked the doorpost. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but she’d be damned if she’d let that little cow get away with this. First thing in the morning she’d have her own litter re-upholstered.
She paused to let through a consignment of timber, recognizing the portico as one of her brother-in-law’s projects. Strange, Marcellus being on his uppers. What did he call it, a few unwise investments? Serves him right, she thought. Gaius had been carrying him for years. The lazy sod never put much effort into anything, and that included his marriage. She wondered how far Julia’s awareness stretched. Did she condone embezzling Flavia’s funds? Did she even know about it? One thing was sure. If Gaius finds out he’ll hit the roof.
The last of the timber rumbled past as Claudia wondered why Marcellus was so keen to talk about Orbilio’s behaviour at dinner last night. Until Gaius came home, the five of them—Julia, Flavia, Antonius, Marcellus and herself—had been discussing the banquet for the wedding. Mentally Claudia had been counting off the days (fourteen, to be exact!) when her husband and so-called cousin had come rolling arm in arm through the front door. Orbilio was singing at the top of his off-key voice, something to do with the sexual adventures of a particularly well-endowed youth called Varex, if her memory served her correctly. Strangely enough, she’d got a fleeting impression that he wanted to rush over and kiss her, not a peck on the cheek, but the sort of kiss that lasts for ever. Which only goes to show how stupid you can be at times.
They’d all trooped upstairs to the dining room (that was where Claudia’s breast assaulted Marcellus’s hand), kicked off their shoes and reclined in preparation for eating. Except for Flavia. Until then, Claudia had been only vaguely aware that the girl’s sulky expression had vanished, but in the dining room the child turned into…well, what could, quite honestly, only be described as a tramp. With a sensuality Claudia could never have imagined in the child, she slipped off one sandal (showing far more leg than was decent), then the other and instead of filling the gap between her aunt and her betrothed, the little trollop slid slowly between Marcellus and Orbilio, wriggling her adolescent hips in a thoroughly vulgar fashion. Claudia felt Antonius stiffen with rage, although at this stage Julia and Marcellus were embroiled in the trivia of the wedding arrangements and Gaius was staring solemnly into his glass. His eyes dancing with mischief, Orbilio gave one slow, blatant wink at Claudia as Flavia nestled closer and after that—well! It was sickening to watch them. The little hussy giggled and fawned and made doe eyes at him all bloody night, and he was no better. Flattering her on everything from her fingertips to her toes.
It took a few quiet words to calm Scaevola, whose face was positively suffused by the time the first set of dishes was cleared away. Claudia barely touched her own food. Orbilio’s plate, on the other hand, was littered with chicken bones. That idle strumpet grew bolder and bolder with every course, and Orbilio positively lapped it up. She was shoulder to shoulder with him after the eggs and lettuce, and by the time the fruit was wheeled in, she was running her little fat ankle up and down his calf and lifting his tunic with her toes.
At one stage, Claudia had to put her hand on Scaevola’s arm to steady him when he growled: ‘What the fuck’s her game?’ and began to clamber to his feet.
Quick thinking was called for. She promised him it was the usual case of pre-wedding nerves with dear little Flavia testing her fiancé to see whether he really loved her, which she could only prove by making him jealous, couldn’t he see that? Naturally she also assured him her cousin’s affections were firmly engaged elsewhere, it was something of a family joke, ha, ha, ha, but on this occasion he had to agree to conspire with the bride-to-be on such an important issue, surely Antonius could understand that? From the look he shot her, it seemed unlikely Antonius was convinced on any point, but at least he calmed down sufficiently to continue the meal without making a scene in front of Gaius who, by now, had tears rolling down his cheeks and was mumbling to himself. He needed to buck himself up, he really did. It was bad enough at the villa, though Rollo and the huge amount of work seemed to hold him in check, but since coming home he’d fallen apart. If he wasn’t slobbering in his cups he was wailing to everyone and anyone who happened to be passing that his babies, his babies, look what was happening to his babies. His mother was dying, his children were dead, his grandchild, they were all dead. Dead or dying.
Sod that for a game of knucklebones, she thought now, dodging a small boy playing in the gutter. Gaius had precious little time to pull himself together. The business was falling apart, he wasn’t meeting clients, he was negligent about deliveries, sloppy over pricing. Heaven only knew what muddle poor old Rollo was having to contend with, but the main thing was, in thirteen days’ time, Flavia Seferius was marrying Antonius Scaevola. If he hadn’t slapped himself into shape by then, by Jupiter Claudia would bloody well do it for him.
For all the hordes crammed into the Circus Maximus, the streets were no less of an ant’s nest. A builder’s wagon, one of the few vehicles allowed into the city during the daytime and that only due to the urgency of the work, was blocking one of the narrower streets and causing chaos. People were trying to clamber over the cart, marble and all, as the driver was torn between fighting them off and goading his oxen, the same oaths encompassing both. Claudia decided to avoid the route in case the weight of the people on top of the load collapsed the axle. Too many crushed limbs f
or her taste.
As she rounded the corner she collided with a soldier, whose nailed sole ground into her toe. He quickly apologized, but the string of obscenities with which he was greeted fairly took his breath away. She swerved round porters’ poles, shoved a beggar out of the way, heedless of upturning his bowl in the process, and elbowed aside a juggler in mid-juggle. It was truly a pleasure to turn into her own street, away from the congestion, knowing that, inside, the fountains and frescoes, marbles and mosaics could soothe away the foulest of tempers. There was something wonderfully refreshing about the pale blue frieze with its long-necked cranes and elegant panthers—the whiteness of the ostriches, the grace of the antelope—which was missing in almost every other house she’d visited.
The minute she crossed the threshold she realized something was wrong. For once the usual criss-crossing of slaves was absent. There was a strange hush in the air. Her eyes sought Leonides, but it was Junius who shuffled forward to meet her.
‘It’s Flavia, isn’t it?’ She could tell. ‘Don’t tell me! She’s run off with that snake Orbilio, am I right?’
Ashen-faced, the young Gaul shook his head. ‘No, madam. I’m sorry, but—’
‘But what, Junius? I haven’t got all bloody day, spit it out.’
‘It—it’s the master.’
She noticed his eyes had flicked to Gaius’s bedroom. ‘Oh, no, not another seizure. Have you fetched the doctor?’
She flew across the atrium towards the staircase, but Junius ran after her. Strong hands on her shoulders stopped her from going any further.
‘Don’t go up,’ he pleaded.
From his tunic waistband he drew out a letter sealed with wax and imprinted with Gaius’s own private seal of two leaping dolphins. She noticed the boy’s hand was trembling.
‘He’s dead, madam.’
Colour flooded Claudia’s face. ‘Juno, I knew this would happen! That bloody child and her tantrums! How dare she! Where is the little bitch? I’ll give her a seizure, you wait and see.’