I, Claudia

XII

It was characteristic of Gaius Seferius that, having decided to make his fortune from wine, he should do so with the same style of military precision that was proving so successful in broadening the Empire. Well-thought-out strategies, attention to detail and a modicum of luck until, day by day, little by little, the outposts of his own empire were extended to the point where it, too, became almost unassailable. For any man this was a considerable achievement, but for the son of a road builder it was truly exceptional.

Despite an outward appearance of bonhomie, Claudia quickly realized he was as ruthless as he was logical. He divorced his first wife, Plotina, because he believed her barren, and a man like Gaius Seferius would not allow fourteen years of marriage to stand in the way of what he called progress. By the age of twenty-four, he’d accumulated sufficient funds from his foray into the world of viniculture to purchase land suitable for the production of his own wine and when, at the age of twenty-eight, no heir stood to inherit his flourishing empire, he felt he had little option but to put Plotina aside. To his credit, Gaius had gone to considerable lengths to arrange a decent remarriage for her and it was one of life’s ironies, Claudia reflected soulfully, that the poor woman had fallen pregnant almost immediately and then had had the misfortune to die in childbirth.

The fright that Plotina’s pregnancy had given Gaius was immense. It set him questioning his own fertility until, to his utter relief, his new bride allayed his worst fears by announcing her own gravidity and when she finally produced a bouncing boy she named Lucius it coincided with Gaius’s twenty-ninth birthday. In the eight years that followed she dutifully birthed several more children, three of them healthy, until she, too, was claimed by childbed fever. By then Lucius, small as he was, had been groomed to take over. Gaius had engaged personal tutors at the expense of Secundus and Calpumia, whose upbringing he entrusted to his mother without asking or even caring, and he fostered baby, Flavia, out to his sister, with scant regard to either her or Marcellus who, at the time, was struggling to set up as an architect.

It was equally characteristic of Gaius, Claudia thought, that he should choose his land so carefully. Call it luck, call it fate, call it skill if you like, but the hundred hectares of fertile land he’d purchased was as good as you’d get anywhere for the price. Near a main road and with access to the sea, he could ship his wine all round the Mediterranean from the one place. You had to hand it to him, you really did. Under his shrewd and careful eye, his fortune seemed to multiply with an almost consummate ease, the pinnacle of his career, of course, being his appointment to the equestrian order.

The wagon rumbled into the farmyard after what seemed an eternity on the road, and Claudia wondered whether she’d be bow-legged for the rest of her life or whether it would pass after a week or two. Certainly she’d never lose the stoop. The scene before her presented a picture of rural tranquillity-clear skies and pure air, interrupted only by the droning of bumble bees and the warble of songbirds. Moonshine, of course. The place was a seething hive of labouring activity, with slaves of every creed and colour from every corner of the Empire working their skins off to fill a never-ending succession of barrels with the very finest Seferius wine. But that, thought Claudia, is always the case. Turbulence is invariably hidden below the surface and that, unfortunately, is when it’s at its most dangerous.

Gaius ambled into the yard to greet her. She had hoped he’d be busy inspecting whatever frightful little things one had to inspect on a vineyard in the middle of July, thus giving her ample time to plaster a spot of white chalk on her face to cover the bruises and disguise the whole damn lot with a generous dollop of rouge. Isn’t life a bitch?

‘Good grief, Claudia, what happened?’ There was no mistaking the look of genuine consternation on his face.

‘It’s a long story, Gaius,’ she said, twisting her mouth. ‘I’ll tell you about it later.’

He helped her out of the wagon. ‘Good journey?’

‘Foul. I’m covered in dung and dust, splinters and blisters.’

‘Then what you need is a bath. It’s all ready.’

Claudia did something she’d only ever done twice before in her life. She wrapped her arms around her husband and kissed him warmly on the cheek. ‘Bless you.’ You can shower me with gems, Gaius, but sometimes water can be more precious than gold.

‘I’ll come with you, we can talk.’

He looks old, she thought. The lines on his face had deepened, his eyes had retired so far that if they went much further they’d come out of the back of his head.

‘I’d prefer to be alone, if you don’t mind.’ It was bad enough they’d have to share a bedroom in this godforsaken dump, she didn’t want him in the bath house with her as well. She’d never taken her clothes off in front of him before, why the hell start now? Besides-she swallowed a mouthful of dust-he looked so lost, so vulnerable all of a sudden, she had a sneaky feeling that, although he’d never pestered her for sex before, sweet Hymen, he might just change his mind!

She smiled apologetically and patted her stomach. ‘Women’s troubles.’

‘Oh.’ He went pink and his arm fell away from her shoulder. ‘Oh. Well in that case, I, er, I’ll see you later.’

Sometimes we forget how lucky we are, she thought, breaking into a whistle as she headed towards the bath house. We girls take ourselves for granted far too often, we really do.

*

‘You know, Drusilla, I’ve never understood why people enjoy living in the country.’

The cat, curled into a tight ball on Claudia’s lap, didn’t twitch so much as a solitary whisker, even though she was far from sleepy.

‘Look over there. Nothing but fields and trees, vines and hills.’ She stared blankly into her empty glass. ‘Turn your head the other way, and still nothing but fields and trees, vines and hills. Miles of them.’ She hiccuped.

‘And what happens, eh? I’ll tell you what happens, Drusilla. Bugger all.’

She picked up the jug, but it was already drained.

‘Bloody countryside.’

The earthenware jug smashed into a dozen pieces as she hurled it into the middle of the yard. Drusilla, instantly on the alert, found herself being soothed back to sleep.

‘Sorry, poppet, but just look at it, will you? Back home, around now,’ she hiccuped again, ‘the gates would be cranking open to let in the first of the carts. Yep. Lots of wagons piled right up to here with grain and fruit and wine and oil and…and…and…stuff.’

She clapped her hands for wine, but no one answered. It served her right, she supposed, settling down in this stinking yard. The house had been designed to face away from the farm, so who’d know she was even here? The slaves would be clustered round Gaius and his awful, awful family, who’d have finished dinner and would be sitting on the terrace, boring themselves into an early grave. Well, sod the lot of them!

‘And these carts will be rumbling round the city, delivering here, delivering there, and there’d be donkeys braying and torch-bearers to light the way, and the eating houses and the taverns will be mowry and derry…uh-uh, rowdy and merry and everyone’ll be having a wonderful, wonderful time. But here?’

She pointed at the red ball of fire slowly sinking behind the horizon.

‘That, Drusilla, is tonight’s entertainment. No brawls. No robberies. No accidents, no fires, not even a bloody riot to liven things up.’

Another hiccup.

‘They say Rome never sleeps. Well this place, Drusilla, this place never bloody wakes up.’

The cat, hearing a rustle from one of the rectangular cottages that served as labourers’ quarters, stiffened and pricked up her ears. For her the pulsating heart of the Empire wasn’t Rome, it was here-with that big, fat, juicy rat!

‘Mmrrr.’ She crouched low on Claudia’s lap.

‘No gambling. D’you hear that, Drusilla? No gambling. Out here,’ Claudia giggled, ‘I’d have to bet with myself. Oh, to hell with it!’

The glass hurtled through the air and splintered against the cottage wall. A head poked round.

‘Hey, you! Fetch some wine. And another bloody glass.’

The head hesitated.

‘Move!’

Drusilla, unfazed by the rat’s vanishing trick at the sound of breaking glass, yawned, stretched and clambered off in search of another victim to harry. By the time the slave had returned with the wine, she’d found it, in the form of a fat, hairy spider.

‘I know you’re going to tell me there’s been a death in the family and I should make allowances and,’ she gave a soft belch, ‘excuse me, and you’re probably right. But this place is so dull, poppet, it’d bore the freckles off a frog. Not, you understand, that that’s the only reason I hate this poxy place.’

Drusilla looked round, reassured herself that it didn’t matter that Claudia hadn’t noticed her absence, and busied herself with her quarry.

‘It’s that mummified bag of bones I can’t stick. Larentia.’

Claudia gulped at her glass.

‘Do you know what she calls me, eh?’ She wagged her finger. ‘She calls me a gold-digger. Me? I’ve never heard you complain about this life of luxury, I said to her last time I was here. You never wore rings like those when you were a navvy’s wife. Insult me if you like, she says, I recognize your type. Not surprised, I said, you only have to look in the mirror you miserable old fossil. Yes, yes, call me what you will, she says, but you can’t fool me, you only married my son for his money. Ah, well, I had her there, Drusilla. Pinned like a winkle, she was. I leaned forward, till my nose was nearly touching hers. And your son only married me for my looks, I said. Which is more than you can say for your old man! Drusilla? Drusilla?’ Her eyes swept the courtyard. ‘Juno, even the bloody cat’s gone now.’

She staggered to her feet, steadied herself against the brick wall and set her sights on the door. Cursing the threshold gods for tripping her she kicked off her sandals and padded silently across the mosaic. What a frightful design. She’d lay money it was Larentia’s choice, because what that woman knew about taste could be engraved on one of the tesselae.

‘Claudia! How lovely.’ Bugger. It would be Marcellus she ran into. ‘Have you been avoiding us? I say, what happened? Looks like you’ve been on the sand with the gladiators.’

Claudia’s senses were never so addled that she couldn’t remember the things that were important. She sobered instantly. He couldn’t have overheard! This was coincidence, surely. Yet-yes, those were the self-same words she’d used to Ligarius on Friday…

‘No, Marcellus. I only wrestle elephants on my birthday. When did you arrive at the villa?’

‘Came out for a breather.’ He nodded towards the garden. ‘Heavy stuff going on out there.’

‘Hardly surprising, but-’

‘It’s always hard going after a funeral. Of course, Gaius’s taken the blow like a man and Valeria’s putting a brave face on widowhood, but as for Larentia, well-you can never tell with her, and Flavia’s really cut up about it.’

‘Don’t be naive, Marcellus. Flavia hated her brother, she was as jealous as sin. Tell me, when did you get here?’

‘Felt dutybound to come, of course, if only to give Julia a break from being cooped up with the presence of death all the time.’

Give me strength. ‘I asked when, not why.’

‘Dunno. Not long. Who cares? Coming to join us?’

Not bloody likely. ‘I’m tired.’

‘It’s early.’

‘It’s boring.’

Marcellus ran the flat of his hand over her shoulder blade. ‘We could change that, you and I.’ He glanced around. ‘No one would even notice we were missing.’

‘You know, Marcellus, you really are an offensive little wart.’

For some unaccountable reason, he seemed to find that funny-although not quite funny enough to leave his hand where it was. ‘So why the black eye, Claudia? Did some bloke try to-’

‘If he did, Marcellus, he’d be in the city mortuary by now.’

‘What, then?’

She jerked away from the hand that was tracing the wound on her forehead. ‘It’s hardly a shiner and you lay so much as one more finger on me, you miserable worm, I’ll snap it clean off.’ She gingerly rubbed the cut. ‘And if you’ve infected this wound, I swear by all things holy you’ll pay with your life.’

‘Bad journey up, then?’

‘Find me a good one. Look, why don’t you run along and join Lucius, there’s a good chap?’

‘Lucius is…oh, very droll. Claudia, you ought at least to give you condolences to poor Valeria.’

‘In the morning.’

Another day wouldn’t make any difference, and what can you say to a young widow eight months pregnant with a child whose father’s ashes are still smouldering?

‘Ah!’ There was a knowing look in his eye. ‘It’s Larentia, isn’t it? You know, she’s not so bad once you get to know her.’

‘I don’t want to know her better thank you very much.’ Venomous old bitch.

Claudia began to dab at the corner of her eye. ‘I can’t see anyone now, Marcellus. You must remember that this is…extremely painful for me. Why, it was only five years ago that I was in the very same position myself.’

The catch in her voice was masterful, she thought. Absolutely bloody masterful. As Mulberrychops retreated, his head bowed in shame and embarrassment, Claudia was left to ponder why her brother-in-law was suddenly making overtures lacking in both subtlety and discretion. No matter, she could sort out that smarmy reptile any old time, there were more pressing matters on hand.

Slamming the rec room door in the face of Galla, the one who had replaced Melissa and was supposed to help her undress (because the last thing she wanted at the moment was company, especially from a girl who lisped), Claudia flung her sandals into the corner. On the whole, she thought, splashing water over her face, you’ve managed rather well. That exquisite soak in hot water had eased the aches and pains, the cold plunge had sharpened her wits and by the time she’d met up with Gaius again in the privacy of their bedroom, her spirits and confidence had buoyed themselves up.

Naturally he’d been flabbergasted when she told him about the riot. ‘Surely you notified the authorities? Good grief, my dove, they nearly killed you!’

She’d thought about that one.

‘At the time I was too concerned for the slaves,’ she said. ‘Then, afterwards, I was glad I hadn’t summoned the police.’ She patted his arm. ‘You’ve had so much to contend with lately, Gaius, the last thing you needed was your good name dragged into a common street brawl.’

‘You’re a very considerate woman, Claudia, do you know that? No, don’t look so modest. Most wives would have panicked and pandemonium would have been let loose. Instead, you mop up trouble like a wine spill and no one’s the wiser.’

Certainly not once you’ve set Junius free, they won’t be.

‘One of our slaves-oh dear I can’t remember his name-anyway, the poor boy stepped straight in and practically saved my life. I’ve hinted, only hinted, mind, that you might see your way clear to setting him free as a reward for his heroism.’

‘Could I do less, my brave little dove? Now, Claudia,’ the furrows on his brow deepened, ‘what’s this nonsense about your cousin Marcus? You said he made a pass at you?’

Honestly! The best playwright in the whole of the Empire couldn’t have penned a better script, she thought afterwards. The timing was perfection itself and Gaius, poor soul, fell into every trap. Now, waiting for him to come up to bed, she calculated there was no better time to play the loaded dice she had up her sleeve…

The oil in the lamp was burning low before Claudia, fully sober, heard her husband’s hand on the latch. He dismissed the slave with a growl. Hmm. If Marcellus believed he was taking Lucius’s death well, Claudia knew better. Gaius Seferius took every knock on the chin without obvious sign of damage. It was his way.

‘You’re not still awake?’

Claudia mentally rolled the dice down her arm and began weighing it.

‘I was worried about you, Gaius.’

‘That’s very sweet of you.’ He eased his tunic over his head, then paused while his breath came back. ‘Jupiter, I’m getting old.’

He’d been having chest pains again. She could tell by the way he massaged his breast. ‘Rubbish,’ she countered.

‘No, no, Claudia, I feel myself teetering on the border of death-’

‘For heaven’s sake, Gaius, cut that out. You’re fifty-three, not eighty-three.’

Grunt.

‘Good grief, your mother’s across the hall-she’s knocking seventy and, Gaius, I swear Larentia will outlive the pair of us, just to spite me!’

Thank Juno, he began to chuckle. Claudia shook her mental dice and decided there was no better time for a roll.

‘Couple of things I meant to tell you, Gaius.’

‘Oh?’

There was an unexpected edge to his voice, which caught her off guard. She propped herself up on one elbow and forced a smile.

‘Yes. Business matters you asked me to handle in your absence, remember?’

‘Ah.’ The relief was unmistakable.

Claudia carefully recounted the gist of the meetings he’d entrusted her with, but her mind was only half on them. Something was up, she could smell it. The bed tilted as Gaius sat on the edge and kicked off his sandals.

‘And, Gaius, I’m afraid I’ve got a confession to make.’

His eyes bored into hers and suddenly the air was so heavy you could have sliced it up and served it with honey.

‘You know-’ Claudia cleared her throat and started again. ‘You know the shipment that was due the day you left?’

Again the ominous exhalation of breath. ‘What about it, my dove?’

There was a definite smell of fish in the air but Claudia chose to pass over it. There was an iron which needed to be struck while it was still red hot.

‘The captain called at the house to collect the three hundred sesterces outstanding on the account. I’m afraid I was terribly upset about Lucius, I mean you can imagine how it brought back my grief…’ She tailed off and sniffed. ‘Five years and it still seems like yesterday!’ She turned away and sobbed into the pillow.

‘There, there, I understand… What the hell did he mean, three hundred outstanding?’

‘That’s the point, Gaius. I was so distraught, I paid him on the spot. Then when I sent down to the wharf for a receipt, I realized we…I…had been conned. The ship was there, so was the captain. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the same man!’ She flung herself face down into the pillows. ‘I’m most terribly sorry.’

He was cross-Juno, was the man cross! — but thankfully not with her. Claudia let her breath out ever so slowly and peered out between her fingers. Dammit, had she known he’d take it this lightly, she’d have given Lucan five hundred. Too late now, but this was the time to get to the source of that fishy smell in the air.

‘Gaius, there’s something worrying you, isn’t there?’

‘As a matter of fact-’ He stood up and began to pace the chamber. ‘This is very difficult for me, Claudia, but the morning I left Rome, a letter arrived-an anonymous letter. It…it made some rather unsavoury accusations.’ So Gaius’s secret was finally out, was it?

‘About you?’

‘Um, no. About you, actually.’

Once, when she was very small, an earth tremor rocked the town where she was living. Nothing serious, no lives lost, just a couple of statues which lost their heads when they toppled over and a few shopfronts which tumbled down. But during the tremor, when the ground rumbled and buildings rocked, it had scared a five-year-old girl to her marrow.

‘You threw it straight on the fire, I hope. Pass me another pillow, will you, this one’s stuffed with old boots.’ Come on, Claudia. Force a laugh.

There was a tortuous silence as she forced herself to continue the feign of disinterest. Pillows were plumped, tried, replaced. Come on, Gaius, change the subject.

‘It-er, it suggested you were…’

‘Not spinning my own wool? Not sending your tunics to the fullers? Sneaking titbits for Drusilla?’ Thatta girl.

He chuckled. ‘Worse! It said you were-promiscuous!’

‘Prom-?’ Dear Diana, he must surely have heard the catch in her breath? ‘Promiscuous?’ She slapped his arm and fell back in a heap of pretended mirth. ‘What, when you and I don’t even share a bedroom?’

‘I know! The daft thing is, that damned letter had me worried for a while.’

Got you worried?

‘Of course,’ he began to sober up, ‘I suppose the writer meant with lots of other men.’

Deep breaths. One, two, three.

‘Gaius. If you start thinking along those lines, it’s a victory for the spiteful lunatic who penned the letter. Have you got it with you?’

He shook his head.

Bugger!

‘When you get home, throw it away and forget it, because if you can tell me where I get the time, running a house that size, to go gallivanting with hordes of lovers without arousing a single rumourmonger’s suspicions in the whole of Rome, I’ll eat your best tunic with onions.’

Claudia blew out the lamp and stared up at the ceiling in the darkness. By heaven she’d have to kill that lunatic soon and put a stop to both killings and rumours. It might mean finding other means for paying Lucan off, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. In the meantime, unless she was careful, she’d be needing a whole sack of onions if it meant eating one of Gaius’s tunics.