Man Eater

XIII

‘Is going to rain.’

Good, thought Claudia, taking half a step back from the Celt. You might be tempted to stand out in it.

‘And Sergius, he not look so good.’ Taranis fell into step along the colonnade, his long hair flicking up at the ends as he walked. A stranger to the strigil, it was difficult to see what Tulola saw in him. Ruff-tuff hairy types Pallas had said, and from that aspect Taranis certainly fitted the bill. Self-respecting Romans shave their body hair…they don’t have whopping great tufts of it sticking out the neck of their tunics and the hems of their sleeves like horsehair stuffing from an old couch. Idly she wondered how Tulola came by so many oddballs.

‘You visit west wing later, heh? We play fours, you go with Barea and I do Tulola?’

‘I’d sooner drink hemlock.’

‘Ah!’ Two paws latched over her breasts. ‘You want Taranis to yourself-eeeeeeeeh.’

Claudia squeezed his testicles tighter. ‘Listen to me, lizardbreath. Lay so much as one black fingernail on me again, and I shall twist these right off and stuff them up your nostrils. Do I make myself plain?’

She took the tears in his eyes as affirmative and stalked off to her bedroom for a wrap. Drusilla, her ancestry bestowing magnanimity despite the string of indignities, was balanced on the windowsill studiously washing behind her ears. So the barbarian was right? It was going to rain.

‘Brrp.’ The cat bounded down. ‘Brrip, brrip.’

‘I know, poppet, but it won’t be for much longer.’ She raked her fingers along Drusilla’s arched spine. ‘Only we have a slight problem here.’

‘Mrra.’ The cat stretched up on tippytoes, her eyes squeezed tight in ecstasy.

‘The Prefect, you see, is a moron.’ Although he had yet to appreciate that particular aspect of his character.

‘Mrrap, mrrap.’ Drusilla’s stiffened tail received the fingernail treatment right up to its tip.

‘Are you getting dandruff? Oh no, it’s only flaky plaster. Anyway, what I was saying was, to avoid the idiocy of a trial, it is up to us to show Macer the error of his ways, is it not?’

‘Prrr.’

‘Prrrcisely. And in order to do this we must unveil the killer ourselves.’ One murder is undesirable. Two murders smacks of self-indulgence. ‘Do you have any suggestions where to begin?’

‘Brrrp.’

‘Neither do I.’

Drusilla lifted her wedge-shaped head. ‘Mrrow.’

‘Me? Framed? You’re getting as bad as Supersnoop.’ The wrong place at the wrong time, Orbilio. You’ll see. ‘But we have a nose for sniffing out murderers, don’t we, poppet? We’ll get him-or her, it could be a her, I suppose-and that’ll put paid to this ridiculous talk about exile. Ah! I have a treat for you.’

A cold partridge plopped on to the mosaic and the cat sniffed it carefully from all angles. You might call flabby poultry a treat, her manner seemed to imply, but you forget, my lady, that I’m used to dining on food I’ve hunted myself. Even as we speak, there’s a fresh mouse outside with my name on it. Catch you later.

With a smile at her lips, Claudia covered her shoulders with her palla.

‘I wouldn’t venture far, if I were you.’ The voice of the trainer in the courtyard made her jump. She’d forgotten how light he was on his feet.

‘Oh?’ Was this a warning?

The Etruscan quickly closed the distance between them. ‘There’s a storm brewing.’

Claudia’s breath came out in a hiss from where she’d been holding it. ‘I need the fresh air.’ Fresh? With that number of wild beasts? ‘What about you? Do you always work this late?’

He held the gate open for her. ‘Work? Oh, you’re thinking about that scene back there with Sergius.’

I wasn’t, but go on.

‘We do that, him and me. I throw pots, he throws insults, then it’s forgotten.’ A big cat snarled as they passed its shed. ‘Quiet, Sheba!’ He paused by the ostrich pen. ‘May I walk with you a way?’

Intense grey eyes bored into hers. For a man who works all day with animals, she thought, you always manage to smell of citron and woodsmoke.

‘Why not?’

In silence they passed along a line of clipped laurels, the imminence of the storm intensifying the scent of the leaves. A flash of lightning silhouetted a rhino against the sky and a bear growled.

‘You have a farm in my homeland, I gather?’

‘Vineyards,’ she corrected. ‘Across the Tiber then half-a-day’s hard ride. Is that close to your stomping ground?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m from the coast, but like most other Etruscans you’ll meet, I was uprooted without a great deal of ceremony.’

She picked up on the sour note. ‘The Emperor’s Land Purchase Scheme strikes again, eh?’

‘Worse than that. I lived in Carrera before Augustus turned it into a marble quarry.’

‘Well, if it’s any consolation, Corbulo, you shifted for a good cause. When you do take those show beasts to Rome, you’ll see half your motherland slapped over the temples.’ The Oil Market is positively dazzling.

‘Don’t start on about the Games, Claudia,’ he said, but this time there was a jocular tone to his words. ‘I’m getting enough of an earful from Sergius. He expects bloody miracles.’

Was it the distant rumble of thunder that made the air electric? Or the proximity of the Etruscan?

‘From what I saw of the elephant, you’ve delivered bloody miracles. Is he really as ill as Taranis says?’

‘Nothing’s ever like Taranis says. I think you’ll find Sergius has miscalculated on the amount of wine an empty stomach can cope with.’

‘They say things come in threes,’ she replied carefully. ‘Fronto, then Coronis. It makes me wonder who’s next.’ The trainer’s face creased into a grin. ‘Well, stop,’ he said. ‘Accidents happen all the time.’

‘Fronto was no accident, and Macer has me pegged for a murderess, remember?’

‘Macer has straw for brains. None of us think you killed Fronto, and Sergius intends to draft a complaint to the Emperor himself when he’s feeling a bit more chipper. Now let’s turn back, those clouds look ugly.’ Claudia couldn’t decide whether the deafening noise was thunder or the thumping of her heart. It wasn’t that she was drawn to him physically-he did not, after all, have the desperate magnetism that, say for instance, Marcus Cornelius possessed by the boatload (as of course did hundreds of others whose names would no doubt come to her later)-but the intensity of those tundra eyes was incredibly flattering, and who doesn’t respond to that? Moreover, he was strong and he really wasn’t bad looking once you got past the double bump that proclaimed his heritage. Most of all, Corbulo looks the type who takes his time-and aeons had passed since Claudia Seferius had felt the slow touch of a man’s hand…

Plus which, unlike an affair with a certain security policeman, there would be no repercussions afterwards. It was certainly something to think about.

‘I’ll venture another hundred paces,’ she said, hoping the rumbles would drown the hoarseness of her voice. What did he see in Tulola-apart from the obvious? ‘Alone, if you don’t mind.’

You don’t associate Corbulo with a role in the harem. ‘I can’t leave you out here.’

He was as far removed from the likes of Timoleon as Neptune from a wood nymph.

‘I can look after myself,’ she assured him. Always have. Always will. ‘Goodnight.’

‘Very well, then.’ He reached for her hand and kissed the back of it. ‘If you insist.’

Surprisingly he did not retrace his steps, but turned to the right instead. ‘It’s you who needs help,’ she quipped. ‘The house is straight on.’

He hesitated. ‘I don’t sleep in the house,’ he called back. ‘My quarters back on to the elephant house.’ There was a moment’s silence before he added, ‘If you should ever want to call on me.’

She walked on up the hill, her thoughts chasing each other like puppies in hay. It made sense-in retrospect. She’d never seen Corbulo with Tulola, simply made an assumption. Which changed everything.

A bolt of white lightning shattered the night, its jagged veins scarring the sky. Claudia shivered. There was a primeval quality to storms without rain. Flashes of whitehot fire. Crashes of Jupiter’s thundersticks. She pulled her wrap tight and watched the night tear itself apart. In their sheds in the valley, the wild beasts roared and bucked and faced down the elements. Up here, familiar shapes contorted into sinister strangers. Mundane branches of gnarled oak became the twisted limbs of fiends. The perky stream that gave the Pictors their water turned into a menacing river of blood.

It’s getting to me, she thought. The strain is beginning to tell.

The wind began to howl through the trees. Time to turn back. She wished now she’d brought a brand to light her way. Perhaps she should follow the brook? Dammit, she’d forgotten the hedge that fenced in the gazelles. Her palla snagged on the thorns. Damn!

The path. Where was it?

A barn owl, white and silent, swooped for the safety of the canopy.

Uneasy now, Claudia stumbled through the undergrowth, tripping on a stone, stubbing her toe on a fallen branch…

Far below, the house shone in a blaze of light. It was just a question of reaching it…

A wild-eyed doe crashed through the brambles and Claudia cried out. She could taste juniper in the air, and sickly sweet manna. Bats! There’s a bat in my hair! But it was just a briar, which drew blood when she pulled free. High above, the wind conducted a malevolent orchestra. Poplars whistled, chestnuts wailed and there was a tuneless flute in the pines. Then, suddenly, the path showed clear in a flare of white.

Dear Diana. I thought I’d never find you.

Blindly she raced down the hill, heedless of rocks that trip and roots that trap, and only when she was well clear of the woods did she begin to slow down. Claudia Seferius, pull yourself together. This is foolish. She brushed away cobs of blood where the briar had scratched. Extremely foolish.

Yet the sense of evil was all-pervasive…

Ridiculous. Fancy letting yourself be frightened by a storm! Now get a grip. It won’t do, walking through the atrium with every goddamned bone rattling.

Resisting the urge to belt the rest of the way, Claudia decided to beat the demons by singing. That, and the rumpus from the menagerie, should put the wind up even the Minotaur. She was passing the monkey house and was well into the second verse of a bawdy winehouse ballad when her scalp began to prickle. Half of her, the educated half, said this is silly, slow down, you’re on edge. But the other half, the half that remembered growing up in the slums, said stand by your instincts and remember that in situations like this, only one word applies.

Runlikehell.

But she could not run fast enough.

Out of the blackness a hand lashed out and caught at her wrap. She shrugged the palla free but the hand was prepared for that. Like a striking cobra, it lunged at her flying tunic. She heard that tear, too, but the grip was solid and she was spun helplessly round. Suddenly a sack was flung over her head, blinding her, pinning her arms. Frantically she scrabbled and clawed, but with the advantage of sight, her assailant twisted and dodged, and none of the kicks found their target. The cloth muffled her screams. An arm clamped round her waist like a band round a barrel. She heard thunderclaps and bellows and terrified roars from the pens. The rhino charged its shed wall, the elephant trumpeted. Yelling and fighting, she was dragged backwards into the bushes. Another rip, as her hem caught on holly.

Rape! The bastard intended to rape her!

A second vice locked round her neck, forcing her head back. The sacking rasped against her cheek, clogged her mouth, blocked her nostrils. She could hear herself gagging on the dust. Desperately she tried to break free, but the armlock tightened and she began to choke.

Progress was faster now her resistance was gone. Frenziedly fighting for breath, Claudia tried to get her bearings. He was dragging her up the hill, hardly surprising. No! Not a hill. That’s terraced. This was more an embankment. Why didn’t he throw her to the ground here and now? No one could see, no one could hear. What was he waiting for?

Then something hard collided with the small of her back. Wood. Sharp. Pointed, surely? A fence? Without warning, he let go her neck, grabbed her ankles and tipped her backwards.

Oh, no. Sweet Jupiter, no!

As the reverberations of the fall crushed the breath out of her, the full horror became clear. This wasn’t rape. He intended to kill her! Because there was only one palisade on Sergius’ estate. It enclosed the crocodiles…

Hacking, choking, Claudia twisted her foot and found a toehold between the posts. Not much, just enough to give her purchase so she could jerk free of the sack. She heard a thud as he vaulted the fence, and too late she was back in a headlock. Claudia heard him (her?) grunt with the effort. Man or woman, it needed precious little brute force, a crime like this, based on the mechanics of haulage. Her ankle wrenched under the strain and she tasted blood where she bit through her lip with the pain. At her back, the sack was twisted round and round, tighter and tighter for leverage. Dear Juno, if there is any mercy in your breast, give him heart failure. Right here on the spot.

Utterly helpless, she was wrenched from the palisade. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Don’t let me die, she prayed. Don’t let me die in a grainsack. Not a grainsack. Not gagged and trussed and Wait a minute. Claudia gulped at the hope that dangled in front of her. He could have suffocated or strangled her at any point and he hadn’t. Why not?

Because her death must appear accidental, that’s why not. Dark night. Storm. Terrified beasts who might rampage any second. Poor Claudia. Took fright and ran. Didn’t know where she was going. Until it was too late.

Very soon, then, he would have to remove the evidence. But how? Pulling off the sack would free her to fight back, unless… of course! She’d have to be unconscious.

Bugger that for a game of knucklebones.

As the attacker fought to heave his struggling bundle over the peak of the earthworks, she let out a short moan and fell limp. Heaven knows there were enough rocks about, any one could have knocked her cold. But would he fall for it?

Minutes passed and nothing happened. Was this a test? Would a boot ram into her ribs any second and expose her trickery? Or was he taking advantage of the lull to get his wind back?

The tension was as terrifying as the struggle. Then he grabbed the top of the sack and yanked, and she prayed that in tipping a dead weight out in the dark, he wouldn’t be concentrating on where her hand went.

It closed over a rock.

Seizing hold of her ankles, he began to lug her over the brow. Above the storm and the growls and the trumpeting, she could hear him wheezing with the effort.

Sinister splashes came from the water below and she felt her heart lurch. Timing was crucial…

When he leaned forward to push his unconscious victim down the bank, Claudia lashed out. There was a sickening squelch as stone drove into flesh, and his mouth formed a wide O as the cry was drowned by a clap of thunder. Stunned only momentarily, his face twisted in fury and he swung towards her. With reflexes dulled by the fight, she just had time to brace herself as strong hands closed round her throat. The night, low and heavy, obscured her attacker’s face. Who are you? Why are you doing this? Thumbs pressed into her neck, deeper and deeper…then suddenly one hand released her and they both stumbled.

Blinded by the blood in his eyes, her assailant had lost his balance. As he looked round for a foothold, the rock she still clutched in her fist caught him on the nose, and this time she made no mistake in the force she should use. His nose exploded under the impact, his hands flew up to protect himself and, in that split second, he realized he had lost. A second cry rent the air as he stumbled backwards, his feet scrabbling furiously on the bank, his hands clawing gouges in the mud as the momentum carried him down the bank towards the snapping jaws of hell.

Then, in a flash of silver lightning, Claudia saw for the first time the face of the person who was trying to kill her.