I, Claudia

XVIII

For centuries, the Roman people had revered their gods through propitiation, be it the sacrifice of a pregnant sheep, the donation of valuables, a hefty tithe or simply the pouring of a libation to remind the immortals they had not been forgotten. From mighty Jupiter to the humblest guardians of the storecupboard, the underlying factor was fear. And the message? Anger the gods at your peril. So with this so firmly instilled in his fine patrician blood, Orbilio couldn’t fathom why Claudia’s performance at the household shrine didn’t so much as break his stride.

‘You miserable sons of bitches,’ she was saying. ‘Every single day for the past four and a half years you’ve had more bloody attention than a bride on her wedding night. You’ve seen this shrine doubled in size, rebuilt in the finest Carrara marble money-and try telling me you’ve seen carvings to match and I’ll call you liars to your faces.’ She made a great show of pouring the libation.

‘Saw that, did you? Right. This is your final warning! I’ve done my bit, it’s about bloody time you started doing yours, do you hear me?’

Orbilio reckoned every deity in existence probably heard her-and was undoubtedly quaking in their celestial shoes with it. ‘Have you considered the possibility they’ve already fled in terror?’ he asked mildly.

‘Better still! If Gaius’s ancestors were half as bad as the present lot, good riddance.’

‘Not ideal, then?’

She snorted. ‘His mother’s a viper in human form, his sister’s got feathers for brains and his daughter would try the patience of Poseidon.’

‘I hear she’s marrying Scaevola next month.’

‘Damn right.’ She sounded relieved.

‘Is he the one with the weak chin and gappy teeth?’

‘No, that’s Marcellus, the one whose hands cover more ground than a legion on the march.’

‘At least that’s a problem I don’t have to contend with,’ he replied. ‘In-laws, I mean, not your brother-in-law’s wandering hands.’

In many ways, he rather wished he did have an inlaw problem, because once the notion of remarrying had entered his head there seemed little he could do to dislodge it. Petronella had come round eventually, as he knew she would, but it wasn’t what you’d call a satisfactory encounter. Physically, maybe (although even then he felt it was a question of going through the motions), but spiritually these casual encounters were turning more and more into emotional suicide since Claudia Seferius had crashed into his life. Like it or not, she was part of him now. Day and night she walked beside him, he saw her face in every mental picture, heard her voice in every conversation. His stomach lurched at the memory of her the other night, hair tumbling over her breasts, the moonlight on her face. In a pretence of questioning the Thracian, he’d bent over her bed to drink in the smell of her. The crumpled pillows, the spicy perfume, the brush of fine linen against his hand…those memories would take a long, long time to fade. Assuming he ever allowed them to.

‘You’d been married, though?’

His pulse quickened. So she’d been interested enough to find out about him?

‘Long ago, yes. She ran off with a sea captain and the last I heard they were holed up in Lusitania with three plug-ugly kids and a herd of goats. Or maybe it was the other way around?’

Mother of Tarquin, he loved it when she smiled. Her eyes were the colour of beechnuts, her cheeks as soft as sealskin. Orbilio folded his arms across his chest to stop himself reaching out.

‘Hardly a love match, then?’

‘She was a flighty piece to start with, despite her patrician blood. Frankly, I was glad to see the back of her.’ He wondered why he was telling her this. More to the point, he wondered why she was listening. ‘But it was the old, old story. Her father, my father, a good marriage contract. Of course, it all blew up in their faces when she ran off.’

Everyone knew Roman law and the role of the father in the family, but suddenly it was important to tell her that his own father no longer had a say in what Orbilio did.

‘Her father demanded the dowry back, my father refused and so it went on. The case went to court, but unfortunately the strain was too much for the old man. He collapsed and died.’

Could he make it any plainer without shouting it out? My father’s death releases me from the burden of arranged marriages, Claudia. Do you hear what I’m saying?

‘Don’t let Flavia hear that story, it might give the little madam ideas. Her opinion of Gaius is extremely low at the moment.’

He paused. ‘And you?’

‘Scaevola is an excellent choice,’ she replied emphatically, leaving him with the feeling she’d deliberately misinterpreted him. ‘However’-there was a flash of emotion in her eyes that he couldn’t define-‘never let it be said I tried to influence the child in the matter of her marriage.’

The atmosphere had changed. A second ago it had been joky and relaxed, suddenly it was taut. He had the impression she was telling him something. Something important. But for the life of him he didn’t know what. Orbilio the star-crossed lover vanished, Orbilio the investigator was pricking his ears, alive to the slightest nuance. She was polishing a spot on the marble with the hem of her tunic.

‘How’s Gaius?’ he asked, forcing his eyes not to stare at her bare leg.

If she was surprised by the question she didn’t show it. Orbilio had not only helped to carry Seferius across to his own room, he’d sat up while the doctor made his examination.

‘Oh, you know my husband. The quack told him to take it easy, but Gaius went off anyway, swearing he wouldn’t miss the Wine Festival yesterday, not for all the mud on the Nile. Orbilio, my patience with you is running out. Could you please explain what you’re doing in my house?’

This second change in tempo threw him completely. He should have known, he thought, she was always doing this. Yet every time he found himself caught on the wrong damned foot.

‘I’m still your guest, remember?’

‘Uh-uh. You moved out.’

‘I what?’ He looked round wildly. ‘Claudia, you haven’t thrown my stuff into the street? Please tell me you haven’t thrown my stuff into the street!’

Four days had passed since Rufus had brought the news about Caldus, four days and nights in which Orbilio had been chasing his tail following every single lead. He’d eaten when he’d remembered, slept where he dropped, practically. His eyes were gritty, his limbs where leaden, in fact he was almost dead on his feet, but, by Jupiter, he was this close to solving this bloody murder! The last thing he wanted to hear, when it boiled down to it, was that his clean clothes had been trampled by oxen then stolen by beggars.

‘What did you expect? We’d heard neither hide nor hair of you for a week. This isn’t a common tavern, you know.’

‘It’s been two days, don’t exaggerate. And you missed me every single hour of them, admit it.’

He wanted to scoop her in his arms here and now. Whirl her round and round until they were dizzy. He wanted to pull the pins from her hair in that little pool of morning sunshine over there. Then he’d slide her rose pink tunic down-over her shoulders, her breasts, her hips. To a backdrop of splashing fountains he’d ease off her breast band, untie the tiny thong that hid her delicious feminine secrets and together they would dance under the open sky, laugh as they kissed, cry as they loved…

‘Don’t be absurd! I’ve got better things to do than moon after some little upstart masquerading as a relative.’

Dammit, Claudia, you don’t have to be so bloody brutal!

‘Oh, stop sulking, Orbilio! I haven’t thrown all your stuff out, just the oik. Seeing as you weren’t here to do it.’

Rufus? Oh shit, he knew there was something he’d forgotten! Even as he was dashing out on Tuesday night, he had a feeling there was something he’d forgotten to do. Well, he was buggered if he was going to apologize. She was being totally irrational about the kid, anyway. Irrational and unreasonable!

‘How did he take the eviction?’ Funnily enough, he’d grown used to the lad’s chirpy banter and his wily ways. He didn’t like to think of Rufus fending for himself again.

‘I believe he muttered something about it being my gaff, I could do what I liked in it and sodded off without another word. You could do worse than learn from him, Orbilio.’

He didn’t know quite which way to take that and decided the best course was to stay silent. Watching her yawn and stretch, thrusting out those splendid breasts, he found his mouth had gone dry. Absently he sipped the wine Claudia had poured for her husband’s ancestors.

‘By the way, the Thracian escaped,’ he said nonchalantly.

She flashed him a look. ‘Why?’

Mother of Tarquin, Claudia, you’re wonderful, you really are! Is it surprising no other woman matches up to you? I tell you Otho’s escaped, yet you don’t ask how. You don’t gasp or clap your hand over your mouth in horror. You don’t scream and say we must post a guard in case he comes back. You don’t panic and cry What shall I do? What shall I do? You ask why.

One delectable eyebrow rose slightly. ‘Orbilio, we are talking about the same gorilla who broke into my room the night before last? The one you half-strangled? The one who was reeling from that punch in the mouth? In fact, the one you personally trussed tighter than a boiling fowl?’ Orbilio spread his hands and shrugged. ‘So I need more practice tying knots.’

‘Well, you needn’t have bothered on my account, the oaf was lying through his teeth.’

‘Skip it, Claudia, you don’t need to pretend with me. Whatever he was up to when I burst in, his original purpose was to deliver another warning. Am I right?’

‘Tripe!’

‘Notice I say another warning. I know all about the riot, Claudia. In fact,’ he added quietly, ‘I know just about everything.’

Melissa had been whoring, he knew that now, hence his thorough search of her room. She’d have her money stashed somewhere, that was certain, and the chances are it would be under this roof. But she’d need a pimp. Who would steer her towards these high-ranking officials? There could be only one answer, it was just a question of proving it. There were a couple of points that bothered him, such as why, for instance, did nobody see the killer? How could he slip in and out without attracting attention? Also, a man covered with blood would not be difficult to miss-unless his toga covered the stains. But these were minor quibbles, his curiosity would be satisfied at the confession stage. And, by Jupiter, he had no worries about extracting one. Not with the case he’d so painstakingly built up! His hardest task had been unearthing a motive. Without it, of course, he had no killer but once he’d found the motive, Minerva’s magic, it had been plain sailing all the way. One more interrogation was all he needed to clinch it.

She stared at him long and hard for at least a minute. There was a twinkle in his eye, he couldn’t help it, because he knew, he just knew, she was dying to ask. She wouldn’t be able to resist. Who? she’d say, and that’s when Orbilio would come into his own. He’d been preparing for this moment. Nothing could throw him, not at this stage, he was ready for anything. Or was he? As an impish smile spread over her face, he had an uneasy feeling in his gut.

‘You will let me know,’ she said sweetly, ‘when you’ve quite finished drinking that sacred libation to our household gods?’

*

Without a breath of wind in the air it was simply too hot to sit in the garden, and her bedroom was stuffy. Unfortunately, to tackle the task she had in mind privacy was crucial.

‘Hey, you!’

A snap of the fingers brought a small slave boy running. Born to one of the kitchen women, Claudia had never thought to enquire who the father might be. Quite often, she thought, it was best not to know these things.

‘Send Cypassis to me at once. Tell her to pack a picnic, some raisins, a dish of almonds and a bowl of plums. Oh, a flagon of wine and a glass. Hurry, now.’

The little lad beetled off, his pudgy legs stumping this way and that as he ran. Claudia’s nose wrinkled. Surely the father couldn’t be anyone in this house! She resolved to give the men a closer inspection in future, because if they were going to breed, for heaven’s sake, they really oughtn’t be allowed to spawn such ugly sprogs. She’d have to have a word with Gaius, really she would. She tucked a roll of parchment into the folds of her stola. It was high time, she decided, to make a written list of her clients because, thanks to the deluge of other problems, her mental resources had become decidedly stretched of late and it was a simple enough task on the face of it. Who’s dead, who’s in the clear…and who’s still in the frame?

Her litter, its distinctive orange canopy attracting curious glances wherever it went, set her down in one of the public gardens in the Field of Mars. Once a swamp more or less encircled by a great loop of the Tiber, it had been transformed over the last ten to fifteen years into one of the most beautiful spots in the whole of Rome. Adorned by temples and baths and flanked by hills that ran down to the water’s edge, the Field was all things to all men. A peaceful haven to read or gossip. A place to work out, with ball games and gymnastics. Space for chariot practice, military exercises, horse races and all manner of outdoor athletics that could be grouped under the general heading of Showing Off. Claudia settled herself on the steps of the small but elaborate temple to Anna and chewed the end of her reed pen.

The first list was simple enough. There was Tigellinus, in charge of Juturna’s sacred pool. Horatius, the aedile responsible for the Megalesian Games. Fabianus, the jurist. Crassus the retired senator. And now Publius Caldus the banker. Five men who had met with an undeserved and grisly end, steps urgently needed to be taken to ensure the tally stayed at five. Not out of sentiment, particularly, but before Gaius discovered the link. Amiable as he might appear on the surface, rumour spread like a forest fire in this city and it would need but one small whiff of misdemeanour and Claudia would be out. O-U-T, out. She bit an almond in half and flicked the rest into a clump of pinks. A person had to watch their step with Gaius Seferius. Yes, indeed they did.

Glancing up, she was met by the comical sight of Cypassis staggering under the weight of a silver tray piled high with fruit and wine, a monstrous fan of ostrich plumes trailing across the grass behind her.

‘You don’t have to bring everything at once,’ she said.

Cypassis smiled. ‘Saves a second trip.’

‘A longer tunic, my girl, and you’ll have a different kind of trip. Now for goodness’ sake, drink some of this wine and stop wheezing. No, no, you can start fanning when you’ve got your breath back.’

She’d found Melissa’s replacement at the slave auction on Wednesday. The oil merchant’s widow who Cypassis had served for the past three years was selling up and going to live with her daughter in Capua, and Claudia snapped up the bargain. Gaius expressed surprise at her choice of this big-boned girl from Thessaly, but Claudia had warmed to her instantly, attracted to her wide smile and obvious desire to please. She suspected that had Cypassis been left to her own devices she’d have tumbled not only every boy in her own village but neighbouring villages and surrounding farms as well, leaving them with smiles on their faces and warm memories in their hearts. Maybe it was something to do with the dimples in her cheeks, or maybe it was her bosom, which resembled two diving otters desperate to surface for air, but whatever the reason, Claudia reckoned those memories would have lasted them a lifetime. Reluctantly she returned to the task in hand.

List three, the list of suspects, remained depressingly long. Although she’d questioned several punters over the last few weeks and cleared them of any involvement, there always seemed to be someone she’d forgotten, another contestant for the title ‘Maniac of the Month’.

‘I brought you some cheese, madam.’

‘What? Oh, it’s pecorino! That’s-’

‘Your favourite. Yes, I know, madam.’

Claudia nodded appreciatively. This girl had potential, she really did. Within the space of an hour, Cypassis had made the house her home, her eyebrows twitching a come-on to the male slaves, her dimples instantly diffusing jealousy among the women. Another almond shot into the pinks. Assuming those broad hips intended to fulfil the promise made in her eyes, Claudia might need to teach her maid some tricks about contraception, because she was damned if she was going to lose this gem to childbed fever!

The gentle waving of the ostrich plumes sent ripples of pleasure down her backbone. She leaned back, closed her eyes and began to hum. It was her own special song, the one she had composed years back in Genoa, plaintive, haunting, blatantly sentimental, the perfect accompaniment to the languorous dance with which she always finished her act. Or, to put it more bluntly, the perfect way of ensuring generous tips.

There was one further nominee for list three, a name she’d been reluctant to add. That of Antonius Scaevola, dammit. She liked Scaevola. For a start they enjoyed a different arrangement, since he was no pervert wanting to be trussed up and beaten, or clamped and humiliated. His was a healthy, energetic libido, all bounce and chortle. But for all that, his two previous marriages had failed to provide him with an heir, leaving him with a zest for procreation, even in middle age. Claudia bit clean through her pen and spat out the tip. Scaevola was pivotal in her plans, she couldn’t think of him as a crazed killer. Dear Diana, what am I thinking of? In less than a fortnight he’ll be married off to Flavia and if he doesn’t get her pregnant on her wedding night he will by the second, I’ll lay odds on it.

‘Good morning, my sweet!’

‘Gaius!’

Juno, Jupiter and Mars, look who was with him! Of all people, it was that pasty-faced twit, Balbus, staring at her with a strange half-smile on his face. The sort of halfsmile that is remembering a tune and can’t yet place it…

In her haste to stand up, the parchment fell to the ground. Faster than she could have imagined, Gaius swooped to pick it up.

‘What’s this, then? You? Writing a letter?’

She could barely speak, her legs had turned to aspic. ‘Oh. Yes. You remember Octavia?’

He looked blank.

‘Octavia whatsername. Husband’s big in olive oil. Lives up on the Palatine. Seven children. Mother’s a cripple.’ What on earth’s making her trot out this drivel? ‘Well, she’s sick-thought I’d drop her a note, cheer her up. Usual thing.’

‘Very thoughtful. What’s wrong with her?’

‘VD.’

Claudia, shut your mouth before you swallow your foot altogether!

‘So what brings you this way, Gaius?’ She snatched the list out of his hand, surreptitiously glancing at Ventidius Balbus, who was still smiling blandly. Please, please, please don’t let him make the connection!

‘Oh…things. Business…’ Gaius trailed off. ‘Bumped into Balbus, you remember him?’ he added by way of belated introduction.

I do, Gaius, I do. The question is, does he remember me?

‘You are indeed looking lovelier than ever, Claudia.’ There was little enthusiasm in his voice, but his eyes bored into hers and she decided no, she wouldn’t have slept with him back in Genoa. Starving and desperate she might have been, but never suicidal.

There was a brief lull, then Claudia’s prayers were answered when a short, bald-headed man came puffing up.

‘Ventidius, what luck! I was just on my way to your office.’

Apparently some property that Balbus had been interested in purchasing had suddenly come up for sale, and so linking her arm through Gaius’s, as much for her own support as for his, Claudia made what she hoped were polite noises at Balbus’s departure. As she fell into step with her husband, she thought again he looked old. Really old. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks seemed to have collapsed and several times recently she’d stumbled upon him sobbing like a baby.

‘You look tired, Gaius. I think you overdid it yesterday.’

‘Oh, don’t fuss. It was only a mild seizure, the doctor said so. Besides, what would people think if I missed the Festival of Wine? What good would that be for business, eh?’

‘Seferius wine tells its own tale, Gaius.’

‘Yes, but to miss the augur pronounce the vintage? Claudia, how could I not attend?’

She snorted. ‘With Flavia’s wedding coming up, you should take it easy, conserve your strength…’ She paused as a thought struck her, and indicated to Cypassis by a gesture to hang back so she could speak more privately. ‘Gaius, exactly what are you doing out here this morning?’

‘The, er, library, my dove-’

She stiffened and snatched her hand back. ‘Liar! You’ve been to one of those foul little backstreet parlours, haven’t you?’

‘Don’t look at me like that, I’ve been discretion itself. We agreed-’

She made no effort to hide her contempt. ‘Don’t tell me what we agreed, Gaius, you conned me into marriage.’

‘Hardly conned, Claudia. I didn’t realize you wanted children, I thought after three you wouldn’t want any more.’

‘They died, Gaius.’ Dammit, now she couldn’t even remember how old this fictitious brood was! ‘Of course I wanted more.’

Tears filled the big man’s eyes. ‘My son-my babies, Claudia. There’s only little Flavia left. You can surely forgive a man his pleasures now and again?’

Claudia scrunched her list into a ball and pummelled it.

‘Your letter…Claudia, what about your letter?’

‘What about it?’ she snapped, hurling it into a grove of lotus trees. ‘Couldn’t stand the woman, anyway.’

If Orbilio was half as clever as he made out, she wouldn’t need the bloody list. She’d kill the bugger long before it got to the confession stage, even if it meant poison.

Gaius stood staring at her, his face haggard but his jaw set. ‘I’m sorry you feel I’ve let you down, but this is the way it is, Claudia.’

‘I accepted that long ago, but if I find it’s anyone I know’-the unspoken name hung in the air between them-‘a day won’t pass when you don’t live to regret it, Gaius, you have my solemn promise on that.’