I, Claudia

XIII

The face that stared back from the looking-glass was like nothing on earth. The bruises ranged in hue from yellow to green to purple, the bags below her eyes could have carried sufficient water to see a whole legion through a week’s campaign.

‘Ouch!’

If she’d told that stupid girl once, she’d told her a hundred times. Twist the curls to the left. Twist them both ways and you get knots!

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, get out and leave me alone! A blind man with a broken arm could make a better job of it than you.’

The slave, the one with the lisp, the one whose name she could never be bothered with, pulled a sulky face and slunk off as Claudia slumped in front of the mirror, her head in her hands. For all her making light of last night’s thunderbolt, the anonymous letter had unnerved her and no matter how many times she told herself she was hungry, she was tired, she’d had too much to drink, she was simply overwrought, nothing dissipated the deep-rooted feeling of anxiety.

All night long she’d tossed and turned, turned and tossed-but no matter how desperately she invoked it, sleep simply wouldn’t come. The same questions followed in the same sequence. Who sent the letter? What did it say? What was its purpose? The night was one of the longest she’d ever known, yet no sooner had the Great Healer finally heard her summons than the most atrocious racket started up right outside the window. She was bolt upright within seconds.

‘What the hell…?’

‘Relax! It’s only the dawn chorus.’

‘Well, bugger the dawn chorus, that’s all I can say.’

The couch had joggled as Gaius Seferius’s huge body shook with laughter. ‘You lie back and get some shut-eye,’ he’d said, rolling off the bed. ‘I want to check the vines.’

‘At this hour?’

‘Why not?’ He ruffled her hair. ‘Don’t think you’ve got a monopoly on unorthodox behaviour, my dove.’

Drusilla, who had been biding her time outside the window for Gaius to leave, had leapt on to the bed the moment he’d closed the door behind him, and, soothed by the cat’s purring, Claudia had fallen asleep. And with sleep had come dreams. Dark, diabolical dreams. There was Flamininus, the censor chained to the bloated corpse of Quintus Aurelius Crassus, urging her to whip harder because he’d pay her another quadran for every strike. A quadran’s not enough, she was saying, I need two thousand sesterces. Suddenly the corpse on the chain rolled over. ‘I’ll double that if you find my eyes,’ it said. ‘I dropped them with my sandals.’ ‘I sold ’em,’ Rufus piped up, ‘swapped ’em for a pig’s head.’ When Claudia turned to give him a clip round the ear the boy wore Otho’s scarred face and she had woken up sweating. Drusilla had snuggled closer and thanks to her rhythmic washing, Claudia had drifted off again. This time Gaius-on his back, naked and wriggling like a big, fat baby-was crying, ‘Help me, Claudie, help me,’ and while she watched, doing nothing, the tears dissolved his eyes into raw, red sockets and she had woken up again, shaking.

‘There’s a perfectly simple explanation for all this,’ Claudia Seferius told her reflection. ‘You’re hungry, you’re tired, you drank too much last night. What do you expect, you silly cow?’

Expert fingers began to cover the bruises with chalk, drawing a thin (but steady!) line of antimony round her eyes and rubbing ochre into her cheeks and lips. By the time she’d stuck the last bone pin into her curls, Claudia Seferius was equipped to deal with any obstacle in her path, and had she come face to face with the Minotaur himself raging on the other side of her bedroom door, her stride would not have been broken. Unfortunately, as it happened, it was Marcellus she bumped into.

‘Remus, Claudia, you look like shit.’

‘Why, thank you, brother-in-law, you look terrific yourself.’

He was, she noticed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

‘Did you want me?’

Marcellus flashed a lecherous grin. ‘Any time, darling, any time. Although, at this particular moment, it’s your old man I’m after.’

She jerked her head towards the fields. ‘At dawn, would you believe? He went off to potter round his precious vines. Could be anywhere by now.’

She wondered what Marcellus wanted. In fact, she wondered why an architect embroiled in the restoration works was at the villa at all. He seemed edgy, that was certain. Claudia quickly forgot him and followed her nose in the direction of freshly baked bread.

‘So you’ve condescended to join us at last.’

Her mother-in-law, lips pursed, forehead puckered, didn’t even bother to look up.

‘Larentia, darling! Lovely to see you again.’

Claudia swept over to her and planted a loud kiss on her mother-in-law’s withered cheek.

‘And good morning to you too, ladies.’ Julia, Flavia and Valeria were also reclining in the dining room.

Larentia snorted. ‘You’d best throw another salt cake on the fire,’ she said to the slave hovering at her shoulder. ‘I’ve already put one on today, madam.’-

‘I know,’ Larentia replied dryly, darting a reptilian glance at Claudia. ‘But Vesta will need a damn sight more than that to appease her.’

The slave bowed and went off to toss another offering on the sacred flame. Claudia inspected a pear and, pretending she’d missed the jibe, turned to Valeria.

‘How are you doing, kid?’

‘Can’t complain.’ The girl patted her swollen belly. ‘This baby’s been thumping half the day and all of the night since Lucius died.’

‘You’ll call him after his father, I presume?’ Julia stared at the bulge under Valeria’s tunic.

‘Not if it’s a girl,’ she replied with a chuckle, ‘and besides, I never cared for the name. Antonius has a nice ring to it.’ Flavia’s expression darkened, so she added quickly, ‘As has Sylvanus.’ She turned to Claudia. ‘That was my father’s name.’

‘I like that, Sylvanus.’

Pulling off a chunk of bread, Claudia decided Valeria didn’t strike the traditional pose of a grief-stricken widow. It was common knowledge, of course, that Gaius had arranged the marriage purely to advance the Seferius cause, though Lucius and Valeria seemed to have knuckled down and made the most of it, as indeed most young couples did. Uppermost in both their minds was the provision of an heir, and this was their fourth try. The tally so far ran to two miscarriages, plus one stillborn.

‘I wouldn’t call my son after my father.’ Trust Flavia to muddy the waters. ‘Anyway, I’ve told Antonius, I don’t want babies.’

‘Flavia!’

Julia was scandalized. It wasn’t something you ever said aloud, even if you meant it. Times were hard enough, as Valeria could testify, and the Empire sorely needed more stout citizens. Wasn’t Augustus imposing financial penalties on couples having less than four children or on men who remained single?

‘I think your aunt is trying to tell you that a global shortage of babies is something to be deplored, rather than encouraged.’

Flavia turned to her stepmother. ‘Well, I don’t want them, so there. What’s more, I shan’t sleep with Antonius-’

The slap that rang out stopped everyone in their tracks, including the slaves. Flavia blinked at her aunt in momentary disbelief, then burst into her usual flood of tears and ran out. Surprised and mortified by her unaccustomed outburst, Julia apologetically gathered up her skirts and went after her. Larentia chewed her lower lip as she stared at Claudia.

‘Don’t look at me, Larentia. You can’t be putting the right cakes on the fire.’

‘They’re the right ones, just not enough of them when you’re in the house. Didn’t have no trouble till you arrived.’

Claudia rolled her eyes and turned to Valeria. ‘So you think the little one might come early?’

‘Yes, and it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if-’

‘My daughter was right, though. You will call him Lucius.’

Both women’s eyes turned to Larentia, who was presiding over the dining room like a judge over a trial. Valeria, Claudia noticed, had turned quite pink. No doubt without her husband to stick up for her, she’d been in for a rough ride of late.

‘She’ll call her baby what she damn well pleases.’

‘Got nothing to do with you, keep your stuck-up nose out of my family affairs.’

‘Valeria’s her own woman, let her make her own decisions.’

‘She’s carrying my great-grandchild and if it’s a boy she’ll call him Lucius, won’t you, Valeria?’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake stop bullying the girl. Valeria, why don’t you lie down, love?’

Valeria flashed a brief smile of gratitude and tottered off. Claudia pitied her, poor little bitch, suffering six years under the same roof as this imperious old cow, and if Gaius was entertaining any thoughts about inviting his mother to live with him in Rome he could damned well think again!

‘Ach, there’s always trouble when you’re around.’

Claudia settled herself deeper into the couch, concentrating on the new frieze whereby each wall represented a different season. If that scraggy old bag of bones believed she could cower Claudia Seferius with her poisonous tongue she was in for a surprise.

‘Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, either.’

Claudia continued to ignore her and broke off a piece of crumbly yellow cheese.

‘You won’t get away with it.’ She spat the words out, syllable by syllable.

Slowly Claudia laid down her goblet and dabbled her fingers in the bowl of water. ‘Something on your mind, Larentia?’ she asked sweetly.

‘Bitch!’

Claudia smiled. ‘Don’t suppose you could be a little more specific?’

Of course! She hadn’t considered this old harpy when she was looking for the writer of a poison pen letter but who else? Weren’t anonymous letters always written by women? And who better equipped with venom?

‘Whore! You’re nothing but a vain, idle, good-for-nothing, gold-digging harlot!’

Unless Julia watched her ways, she’d end up the very image of her mother in thirty years’ time. Crabbed and bony, with claws for fingers and only spite to keep her going. With a jerk of her head, which sent two curls loose from their moorings, Claudia indicated to the slaves in no uncertain terms to get lost and stay lost.

‘What really interests me is, did you write it yourself?’

A puzzled frown bit into the old woman’s forehead. ‘Write what?’

‘Come, come, Larentia. I know. And you know. And Gaius knows. But he’s thrown it away. Thinks it’s a load of old codswallop, if you must know. Doesn’t believe a word of it.’

‘Thrown what away? Codswallop? What are you going on about?’

‘Don’t play games with me, Larentia. I simply wondered whether you wrote it all on your own, or whether you brought in a third party to write it for you.’ Everyone knew Larentia had very little schooling, and what she had she wasn’t very good at.

‘Don’t try and sidetrack me, you scheming hussy. It won’t work, I tell you. I know what you’re up to, and I’m warning you here and now, you won’t get away with your nasty tricks any longer.’

‘You’re terrifying me.’

‘Think this is funny, do you? Well, you’ll laugh on the other side of your face when they throw you to the bears, my girl. And guess who’ll be there to cheer them on?’ Good heavens, the old duck was senile! She wondered whether Gaius was aware of it, and, if so, how far down the line she’d gone.

‘Well I’ll be sure to blow you a kiss, Larentia.’

At least when Gaius realizes what she’s like he won’t give another thought to that bloody letter. Dreadful coincidence, though. Larentia accusing her of promiscuity. Claudia pushed her plate away and prepared to leave.

‘Not so fast, my girl.’ To her surprise, Larentia’s claws closed over her wrist. ‘I want to hear what you plan to do now.’

Claudia sighed. ‘Very little, if you must know. I hate the country, there’s sod all to do here.’

‘Don’t mess with me, you scheming slag. You know damned fine what I’m talking about. Believe it or not, I’m giving you a choice. Disappear now, or I’m going straight to Gaius and the authorities.’

‘Magic’s not my strong point, Larentia.’

‘Lying bitch. Sleight of hand’s what you’re best at. Poison, accidents, what next, eh?’

A chill wind seemed to have infiltrated the room. Claudia concentrated on the spring frieze. Was that a myrtle wreath round her head?

‘Oh, that’s got to you, hasn’t it? All ears, aren’t you, Claudia High-and-Mighty Seferius?’

Maybe Summer was prettier? No, she was worse. Had a bit of a squint, did poor old Summer. ‘Are you insinuating-’

Larentia laughed. ‘Insinuating? Bit late for that, isn’t it? You’ve murdered three of my grandchildren…oh, not personally, no. You wouldn’t sully your dainty little fingers, would you? But because I’m old doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Think, woman. Think where Gaius got his shrewdness from-and I’ll give you a clue, it wasn’t from his father.’

That’s right, he built roads all his life.

‘I didn’t suspect, not at first. Not with my beautiful Calpumia.’ The old woman’s rheumy eyes began to fill with tears. ‘Lovely child, she was. Sent by Venus to bring joy on earth. My, I had such plans for the girl…until you killed her.’

Claudia lolled back in a show of indifference and picked up a small bunch of red grapes.

‘Calpurnia died of a fever, Larentia. F-e-v-e-r, fever.’

‘That’s what you wanted us to think. Thought yourself clever, didn’t you, but you’re rumbled. Who else caught that fever, eh? I’ll tell you who else, no one, that’s who. Just my lovely Calpurnia. And what a coincidence she was on the brink of marriage.’

The old girl sniffed and blew her nose.

‘The key word here, Larentia, is coincidence.’

‘Huh! And was it coincidence that her brother fell under the wheels of a grain wagon?’

‘He was steaming drunk by all accounts, and it was midnight, when only full loads are rolling into the city.’ The grapes had turned to ash in her mouth, but Claudia kept on chewing.

‘Drunk, my arse. Secundus was pushed. Which left Flavia and Lucius between you and my son’s fortune, didn’t it? How many times had you tried before you were successful, eh?’

‘You’re raving.’

Colour flooded Larentia’s gnarled old face. She jabbed Claudia on the breastbone with her index finger.

‘Well, you left it too late, you gold-digging bitch. That child of Valeria’s will inherit jointly alongside Flavia. Or did you plan to murder them both?’

‘I know who I’d like to murder.’

The old woman cackled. ‘Go ahead, let them catch you in the act. I’ve had my day, I’m willing to make the sacrifice. But you can’t do it face to face, can you? No. You pay people to do your dirty work for you. Scum, prepared to slip a poison to a fifteen-year-old girl and watch her die in agony, scum who don’t mind pushing a total stranger under a heavy cart just so long as they get paid. How much did it cost you to poison Lucius?’

Claudia stood up. Funny. Her knees suddenly seemed to find the weight too much for them and idly she wondered whether Larentia could hear them knocking.

‘I’ve had it up to here with you, you fossilized old bat. One more slur from your venomous mouth and I’ll have you buried alive so fast, you’ll be chewing worms within the hour. Do you hear me?’

Larentia curled a lip. ‘You and who else? Think your threats can touch an old woman? If you’re so innocent, why don’t we lay the evidence before Gaius, see what he makes of it?’

‘Leave my husband out of this. He’s had enough on his plate lately.’

‘Worrying himself sick about your debts, most like. Ho, ho, that took the wind out of your sails, didn’t it? Thought because I was stuck out here I didn’t know what was going on? Well, I told you before, Larentia Seferius is nobody’s fool. Two thousand sesterces you owe. Is that how much it cost to murder my grandson?’

Claudia’s teeth were clamped together so hard her jawbones were hurting. She forced herself to take several deep breaths.

‘Larentia, you are one sick woman.’

‘Oh, you’re the one who’ll be sick. Sick as a parrot. You under-estimated me, daughter-in-law, and now you’re going to pay the price. I’m going straight to Gaius, then I’m going to the authorities.’

Claudia made a great show of rearranging her tunic, flicked several imaginary crumbs off her bodice, then walked slowly but purposefully towards the door, Precisely how much this old trout knew and how much of it was guesswork remained to be seen.

‘Nothing you do, Larentia, either interests or concerns me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a very busy day ahead.’