I, Claudia

XI

The journey to the villa was hot and dry and dusty. The wagon’s wheels sought out every bump on the road, the slaves sulked and the driver remained disgustingly cheerful. Drusilla, joggling along in a specially constructed cage, howled incessant protests. Dear Diana, who deserves this, Claudia thought, gouging her initials out of the woodwork with a bone hairpin. It was all right for Gaius, shooting off in his two-wheeled car. He didn’t have to contend with three obstreperous horses being wound up by a skittish fourth possessing a truly evil sense of humour.

‘I suppose it’s asking too much of you to get these nags to break into a gallop?’

Kano, the driver broke off from his whistling. ‘’Fraid so,’ he said happily. ‘’Cos horses is like wives, see? Give ’em free rein and a full belly and they’ll serve you well enough-so long as they sets the pace, anyroad.’

‘I’ve never heard such tripe in my life. Now for heaven’s sake use the whip, man, or they’ll die of old age before we reach the next changing station.’

She rolled her eyes as Kano gave a half-hearted crack of the whip. If anything, the wretched animals slowed down and Claudia vowed to have a word with the wagoner’s wife when she got back to Rome. She glanced at the milestone. Actually it wasn’t bad progress. A quick break for a change of animals and they’d make the tavern with an hour to spare before dusk. The cart tipped to one side as the wheels caught the camber and everyone groaned. It would have been better had Junius and Melissa been with her. They were slaves she felt comfortable with-unlike this miserable rabble. Junius, though, was in no fit state even to get out of bed and the girl Claudia had left behind deliberately, because that poxy banquet still needed to be organized, even if it had been postponed. Besides, who else could she trust to deliver the money to Lucan?

They passed a cart clanking with pottery and glassware. Claudia’s eyes narrowed. A shipment like that would be worth a small fortune, she calculated, it would only be a matter of finding a buyer… Impossible, Claudia! Out of the question! Never in a month of Bacchanalias could you of all people hijack a load that size. Robbery needs time and skilful planning, not to mention a healthy contingent of willing, strapping men. One could hardly use slaves-what would you say? Hey you, you and you, cover your faces and come with me, we’re going to hold up a wagon? Supposing in the unlikely event they got away with it, the roads were too well patrolled, she’d be lucky to get five miles. But, and this was a very big but, even if she didn’t get caught, how could she offload the stuff?

Come on, Claudia. There must be smarter ways of raising two or three grand.

‘Kano, exactly why are you stopping in this godforsaken place?’

‘Goldie’s shoe’s fell off,’ the driver replied. ‘Won’t be a tick.’

She watched him lumber up the road, collect the horse’s sandal, then tie it back on, taking advantage of the break to fish out a flask of heady Judean perfume. There was, after all, a limit to what a girl could put up with.

‘Mmmmmrow!’

‘Drusilla, you’ll have to jolly well lump it. Animal smells might be acceptable to you, but I tell you, I’ve had it up to here with the rear end of those bloody nags.’

‘Mmmmmrow.’

‘Oh, don’t sulk!’ She waggled her finger through the bars to scratch the cat’s ear. ‘Fancy this?’

Drusilla scowled at the piece of raw meat that plopped on to the floor of her cage and backed away from it, glowering.

‘I see.’ Claudia sniffed. ‘Well, I’ve no sympathy for you, we’re all in the same wretched boat.’ It hadn’t occurred to either of them that Drusilla might be left behind in Rome.

Kano resettled himself and the wagon began to lurch and rattle once more. She was in a tight spot and no mistake. Gaius did his reckonings once a month on the dot and, bereavement or no, he’d not put the job off. He couldn’t fail to notice a shortfall of three hundred sesterces… A heat haze shimmered over the horizon, casting make-believe pools of water on the road. Bugger decorum, she thought, pulling off her stola. She only wore the bloody thing since it was deemed decent and proper to do so. Julia, being childless, hadn’t been conferred one, why should she be the lucky one? You could poach to death in your own sweat in all this clothing. Her heart missed a beat as she remembered yesterday. Was it really only yesterday? Her clothes were wringing with sweat when she got home after that run-in with Otho, and one thing was sure, she’d never wear Minoan blue again. A flurry of lavender linen flew across the wagon.

And Otho wasn’t the only one she clashed with, either. This is your doing, Minerva, I can smell it! Her toe thudded into the woodwork. That Minerva’s always had it in for me, ever since the day I was born, and I’ll bet she was chuckling her bloomers off yesterday.

It had been a real pig of a day. First she’d been scared spitless by that Thracian psychopath. (When I’ve paid off Lucan, I’m going to get you for that, you bastard!) Then, having sponged herself down and tidied herself up, Claudia had decided the best way to regain her equilibrium was to lose herself in the street bustle. What better way to unwind than in the cries of the pedlars, the smells of the cookshops, the banter of the street barbers urging young dandies to have their hair curled like Nerva the charioteer or dyed like Totila the gladiator? She paused to watch a cobbler astride his sturdy bench, hammering at his last, as she savoured the rich, acidic smell of the leather when a shadow fell over her.

‘Ligarius! Good grief, have you been on the sand with the gladiators?’

‘Oh, this.’ A huge hand gingerly explored the cuts and bruises. ‘Fights come with the territory if you keep a tavern.’

Only the sort you keep.

‘Well, I do hope you get better soon. Nice meeting you again, Ligarius, cheerio.’ She gave him a smile and tried to move on.

‘This is a quiet place. I thought we could talk.’

She felt the afternoon temperature plummet. What did he mean, quiet? ‘Ligarius, have you been following me?’

The big man shrugged. ‘I only want to talk.’

‘And I thought I made it plain last Thursday: I don’t.’

‘But the old days…’ A hand fell on her arm. ‘We had some good times, Claudie.’

Any minute now and someone would see them together. She jerked her head and ducked down a sidestreet. Behind them the clanking of the huge grinding stone of the bakery drowned any conversation from would-be eavesdroppers.

‘How much?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Don’t play games with me, Ligarius.’ This was what he’d been building up to at the games, just before Marcellus interrupted. ‘How many sesterces will it take before you don’t want to talk about the good old days?’

The smell of freshly baked bread seemed horribly incongruous.

His bearded face puckered into a frown. ‘Don’t be daft, I’m not trying to blackmail you. This is the first proper chance I’ve had to talk to you face to face.’

The sound of her breath coming out nearly obliterated the creaking and thumping of the millstone. That was Ligarius all over. All heart and no brains. She wondered what or who Jupiter was thinking of when he dished out Ligarius’s organs, because something had certainly distracted him.

‘Hey.’ He nudged her. ‘We had some good times together, you and me.’

‘Nonsense. You used to drool over that little scrubber, what was her name?’

‘Antonia. I married her when you went away.’

‘More fool you. So what’s the problem? Left you, has she?’

‘She died.’

‘Oh!’ The big ugly lump looked close to tears. ‘Oh, Liggy, I’m sorry! Really I am.’

Dammit, they were good times. Times when she could laugh, times when she could cry, times when she could feel pain.

‘Me too. Mind,’ the sound he let out was half-hiccup, half-laugh, ‘she could be a right shrew when she wanted. Worse than you, sometimes.’

‘Watch your mouth, Ligarius. I have a serious reputation to uphold and I can’t afford word getting around I’m second best.’ She stuck out her tongue. ‘Still as sharp as ever, see?’

‘Hey, remember that striping you gave Lefty for pinching your bum when it weren’t him at all? Poor sod never drank in my tavern again after that.’

‘Talking of which, whatever happened to that old sea captain who used to fancy himself so much? Strutting around like a peacock-totally unaware we’d nicknamed him Bumface, poor bugger.’

‘And what about that Sicilian woman, eh? Remember her? Big as a barn door, used to drink the men under the table and fight ’em afterwards. We always called her Brutus!’

‘Not in her hearing, we didn’t!’

‘Too bleeding right, nobody dared.’

‘Except Shorty forgot that night, didn’t he?’ Claudia stepped back and made her legs go bandy and put on a high falsetto. ‘Poor old Shorty, he was walking and talking funny for a week!’

‘Aye, right in the nutmegs, she got him. Ooh, makes yer eyes water even after all this time.’

They were doubled up by the time the baker’s boy emerged from the shop with a tray of steaming loaves. Sobering instantly, Claudia spun round and covered her face with her pulla.

Damn you, Ligarius. You have no right to remind me of the old times, no right at all! She bit her lip. Those days were long past, she was perfectly content in the sanitized vacuum of her life today. Every day she woke in the morning knowing she could eat and drink till her belly was full, and sleep in a proper bed at night. She had clothes on her back, and damned fine ones at that. She could bathe every day, had slaves at her beck and call, wore jewels till she stooped from the weight if she wanted. And Claudia Seferius was quite prepared to take whatever steps were necessary to protect this precious existence.

The bearded giant had launched into another trip down Memory Lane, but she refused to listen. ‘Ligarius, you’re the only person in the whole of Rome who knows my past. I’m asking you-no, I’m begging you. Please don’t ruin it for me.’

His mouth dropped open. ‘I wouldn’t do that, Claudie. Never! Only,’ his mood also changed and a big, fat tear trickled slowly down his cheek, ‘you’re my only friend in the entire city.’

‘We’re hardly friends, Ligarius.’

‘Close enough.’ He sniffed loudly and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

Juno, Jupiter and Mars! ‘How long since whatsername, Antonia, died?’

‘December.’

‘Tell you what, Liggy. I can’t stop now, but why don’t I come and visit you in the tavern? Perhaps early one morning, before you open? We could have a quiet little chat?’

‘I’d like that, because well, you know how I’ve always felt about you.’

Sentimental claptrap, of course, and without Antonia to whip him into line, he’d gone soft again. Why is it people always look back and see only the good times? She turned on her heel and marched back to the house. With any luck, the packing would be finished by now, and wouldn’t Gaius be happy to have her at the villa five days ahead of schedule? Damn that slimeball Lucan for diddling her out of the fun of the games!

It was only when she was changing her stola that Claudia realized she’d forgotten to ask the whereabouts of Liggy’s tavern. No matter. When she blurted out her offer to call it was genuine, though in the cold light of day she realized it was folly to even think about it. Oh, he’d get over it. Hell, he might not even remember it, because she had a suspicion he’d been drinking his profits of late. The main thing was, his loyalty was firm, he wouldn’t give her away. Of course, it had come as a real shock, seeing him at the games-and his shadowing of her this afternoon didn’t bear thinking about. But no, she was satisfied Ligarius wouldn’t spoil it for her. Unless… Unless…

‘Your cousin to see you, madam.’

‘Melissa, how many times do I have to tell you, girl? They’re Gaius’s cousins-’

‘No, madam. Your cousin, he said. Marcus Cornelius Orbilio.’

Minerva, how could you do this to me? How could you! Otho, Ligarius and now…this! Well, Orbilio, you can’t say I didn’t give you fair warning. This time I’ll suck you in then blow you out in tinksy winksy bubbles, so help me I will.

He was standing in the atrium, admiring the newly painted frieze which Gaius had commissioned to celebrate all things Egyptian. Unfortunately, this afternoon he wasn’t alone.

‘Good grief, you and the oik? What a frightful combination.’

‘I’ve missed you, too, Claudia.’

‘Difficult to recognize him without the headlice. What do you want?’

‘I heard you were in a spot of trouble this morning.’

‘You heard wrong. Goodbye.’

He ran after her as she flounced towards the garden. ‘No, I heard right, Claudia.’

She paused. ‘Oh, don’t tell me. That scruffy little tike is your chief witness? Again.’

‘It doesn’t matter who the witness-’

‘Yep!’ Rufus had run up to join them. ‘I saw you. You was fighting with this real big geezer-umph!’

A hand clamped itself over the boy’s mouth. ‘Listen to me, you spiteful little monster. One more lie from your duplicitous lips and I’ll rip your skinny liver out and serve it up for breakfast. Is that clear?’

The boy’s eyes swivelled round to Orbilio, but Orbilio was giving intense study to the capital of the column beside him.

‘Oi, don’t get shirty, missus. Can I help if it’s the truth?’

‘Truth?’ Claudia pinched his earlobe and dragged him into a secluded corner of the garden. ‘You wouldn’t know the truth if it landed on your face and pecked your nose off. Now if I hear one more-’

‘Leave him alone, Claudia.’

‘You keep out of this.’

‘I said that’s enough. Let him go.’

She gave the earlobe a sharp tweak before releasing it. The ghastly child seemed more interested in the two adults than his wretched ear. Well, she hoped it turned black and dropped off in the night.

‘The gaffer’s in a bad mood,’ Rufus said cheerfully. ‘Callisunus raked him over the coals a couple of hours ago and, boy,’ he let his breath out in a whistle, ‘were them coals hot!’

‘Splendid.’ Claudia smiled radiantly at Orbilio. ‘Now you can run along and chase criminals-and leave me in peace. Toodle-oo.’

‘For heaven’s sake, woman, I’m trying to catch a murderer.’

‘So who’s stopping you?’

‘Tell me about this morning.’

She scowled at the boy, then she scowled at Orbilio. ‘Very well. Claudia-on her way to the baths. Claudia-tipped out of her litter. Wee bit of a scrap. Junius-vital organs rearranged. Claudia-came home.’ She held her hands out, palms upwards, and arranged her face in a smile. ‘End of story.’

‘Tell me about the Thracian.’

‘Good heavens, man. You don’t think we stopped to exchange pleasantries with them, do you? Oh, what a charming riot, but tell me, didn’t we meet in Thrace a year or two back? Don’t be ridiculous.’

Orbilio settled himself against the trunk of an apple tree. ‘I’m a patient man, Claudia. I can wait.’

She turned to Rufus. ‘You.’ She jabbed him with her finger. ‘Kitchen.’

He looked over at Orbilio and opened his mouth to speak.

‘Now!’

The boy ran off so fast that had the floor been made of wood it might well have caught fire.

‘And you.’ A slave came running. ‘Follow that urchin. Make sure he doesn’t steal anything.’ She clapped her hands and sent the rest of the slaves packing.

‘Wine?’ she asked pleasantly.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but finding nothing except ingenuousness, Orbilio slowly nodded acceptance.

‘You’re derisive about Rufus, but his testimony is reliable, I’m afraid, and since-Claudia, are you listening to me?’

‘Try the figs. Come along, they’re not poisoned!’ She busied herself with pouring wine and settling herself on the bench, then patted the marble beside her in invitation. Seeing the scepticism on his face, she added, ‘I don’t bite.’

He glanced under the shrubs, but didn’t sit.

‘And Drusilla’s indoors.’

He sat.

‘Now you seem very tense today, Orbilio,’ she said, patting his thigh. ‘Something the matter?’ She was met by a look of undisguised distrust, and she shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’

She leant backwards, picked up her lyre and began to strum. From the corner of her eye she could see he was as stiff as a ramrod.

‘Tell me about the Thracian,’ he said quietly. ‘Who was he?’

‘Have you adopted that guttersnipe?’

‘What?’

‘Simple question. I’m asking you whether you’ve adopted that little arab out there.’

‘No, of course I haven’t. Oh, come on, you can’t believe I’m bribing the boy.’

Claudia smiled. ‘As if I would. No, no. I merely wondered why he’s trailing round with you. I presume you’re the one responsible for cleaning him up and giving him a proper tunic?’

Orbilio’s back lost some of its starch. ‘I felt sorry for him. Living off scraps, sleeping in doorways. That’s no life for a lad of his age.’

‘And what do you propose to do with him now?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Give him some money, I suppose.’

‘You’ve picked him up, washed him down, filled his belly, filled his pocket-and that absolves you of any further responsibility? Orbilio, you’re a fool. You should have left him where he was.’

‘I couldn’t.’

‘Yes, you could. It would have been kinder for the boy. Now you’ve given him a taste of what he can never have, how do you think he’ll feel after that?’

She placed the lyre on the seat, stood up, smoothed her tunic and smiled. ‘As I said, Orbilio. You really are a fool.’

With that, she opened her mouth and let out a bloodcurdling scream. Orbilio sprang to his feet. ‘What the-’

‘Aaaargh!’

‘Claudia, for pity’s sake!’

‘I’m sorry, Orbilio. I did warn you that if you came back, there’d be trouble. There’s only one rock, you see, and we can’t both be cock of it. Aaaargh!’

In two quick strides, Orbilio was across the garden, covering her mouth with his hand. She bit it and he let go. ‘Aaaargh!’

‘Claudia, for pity’s sake, what are you doing?’

He lunged towards her, but the move had been anticipated. Claudia sidestepped him. Unfortunately, she’d under-estimated his athleticism and on the next move he’d overpowered her. Terrific, she thought. Better than I’d hoped. There can be little doubt about Cousin Markie’s intentions now. Squirming free, Claudia opened her mouth to scream again. Bloody slaves. Always earwigging when they’re not supposed to, never around when you need them!

From behind, Orbilio’s hand suddenly clamped over her mouth to stifle the scream, and this time he’d preempted the bite. She tried to elbow him in the ribs, but his free arm lashed her shoulders tight against his body. Entwined, they fought and writhed until the backs of his knees collided with the seat, toppling them both backwards into a bed of lavender and parsley. And when help did finally come, it was to find Marcus Cornelius Orbilio spreadeagled on his back with Claudia’s head grasped firmly underneath his arm.