Wolf Whistle

XVIII

When you think about it, there are only two ways to deal with fear. Let it in, or kick it out. And since Claudia was not the type of woman to allow a canker-worm to eat away her character, she left her fear licking its wounds in a dark recess of her consciousness.

‘Why, Claudia, what on earth are you doing with that hammer?’

Trust Julia to be wandering round, when she ought to be in her room preparing for the banquet.

‘Um.’ High female laughter floated down into the atrium. ‘Fannia asked me to fetch one.’ She gave a silvery laugh herself. ‘You know how eccentric she is.’

Julia’s hooded eyes narrowed. ‘She was always odd, that woman. Told me once, she not only shared a bed with her husband, she actually enjoyed what he…you know. Did to her.’ Her mouth turned down at the corners. ‘Frankly, that hammer doesn’t surprise me.’

Stifling a laugh, Claudia returned to her room. ‘What’s the matter, poppet? Still hankering after the monkey?’ Watching Drusilla disappear into the night, Claudia wished she could follow. We’ll stay on until after the Megalesian Games, Larentia had said. Claudia pressed the heels of her hands against her eyeballs. Hell, that’s another ten days, I’ll be dead before then. She rubbed the back of her neck and looked out. Poor old Rome! Never allowed to settle down for the evening with a good book and its feet up, already it’ll be cracking its knuckles, primed for the work which lies ahead. Musclemen cranking open the huge city gates to let wheeled traffic through, dressmakers squinting through lamplight they cannot afford because the client’s changed her mind-and pity the poor fisherman, who cannot rely on tides coinciding with daylight.

Claudia slammed the shutters and wished that had been her mother-in-law’s face.

It would be hard, the next ten days, but provided no cracks appeared in her facade, Larentia shouldn’t catch so much as the faintest rattle of a closeted skeleton, no matter how keen her goddammed hearing. It was called keeping up appearances, and Claudia was an expert.

For Gaius, marriage had merely meant another gaudy trophy, a wife to be wheeled out at social occasions and as such their paths had rarely crossed. With Larentia stuck in Etruria, his daughter fostered on Julia (who in any case had few dealings with her brother), deception had been easy to orchestrate.

Until that desiccated old fossil took it upon herself to test Claudia to the limits.

She inhaled from braziers redolent with the scent of dried herbs-balm and borage, lavender and mint-and thought, you want hospitality? I’ll give you hospitality. So much so, you’ll be gagging on it, begging to go home to the country. And tonight’s off to a good start. I hadn’t envisaged this, you wizened old crow, but we’ve got acrobats and jugglers, fire eaters and dancers, flautists and tumblers. And just to show you how bloody rich I am, guess whose robe matches the exact colours of the banqueting hall? Claudia twirled round in her feast gown. Searching examination would quickly reveal an ancient nightshift coloured with cheap vegetable dyes, but the old bats were short-sighted and a range of glittery accessories, coupled with oodles of perfume and some second-hand flounces would What was that?

Claudia laid down her gold torque and listened. There it was again, a soft scuffle from the balcony. Then she saw it. A tongue of metal, so thin it could fit between closed shutters, which could only be the blade of a knife…

Bloody burglars! There’d been a real upsurge of these bastards since Agrippa died, taking advantage of people’s grief and confusion and growing fat on their thieving. She blew out the lantern. I’ll give you bloody burglary, mate.

The blade had found the latch and she could hear the tinny scratch of metal upon metal. Picking up a red upholstered footstool by its leg, she weighted it in her hands. Just the job. The latch was lifting as she skipped to the side of the window. Climb up my balcony, would you, chum? The first leaf of the shutter opened to admit a blast of damp air. Claudia could see an inky outline in the gloom.

Taking a deep breath, she counted out his footsteps in the dark.

One…

Two…

Clonk!

With a thud, the intruder fell flat on the floor, his long thin knife skidding out of his hand and across the polished wooden timbers to land at Claudia’s feet. As the burglar began to groan, she covered the blade with one foot and kicked him in the ribs with the other.

‘How much are you carrying?’

‘Uh?’

‘Money, jewellery, come on. What’s your trawl so far this evening?’

You might not rob me, sunshine, but by the gods, I’ll take every copper quadran you have on you. Trust me. I have no compunction about paying the fowler with your pretty baubles!

‘Aaargh.’

‘Spare us the histrionics, chum. Just hand ’em over.’