Marilyn Todd - Sour Grapes

In her room at the hot springs, the rain drummed down on the terracotta roof tiles as Candace studied her perfect, unlined reflection in the mirror. Kushites, she was assured, were the handsomest race in the world. They were tall, graceful and naturally slender, they lived to six score years without a day's illness and their bows were so strong that no non-Kushite could pull them. She had also been assured that the grasslands of Kush were populated by spotted beasts with necks so long that they could browse the tops of the trees, that there was a lake where not even a petal would float but sank to the bottom like stone, and that gold oozed out of the rocks along the Nile. These things Candace had been assured for the simple reason that the only personal recollections she had of her homeland were memories that left her with nightmares more than two decades on. But, as everyone knows, hearsay is unreliable. One needs hard facts, not rumour, truth rather than fiction, and she dismissed the tittle-tattle with a shake of her closely cropped head. There were far more important issues to concern a sorceress, and if she was to walk the winds that blew over the Elysian Fields and open gateways to the next world, then this summoner of spirits has to live up to her reputation of belonging to the handsomest race in the world. Carefully Candace tweaked her eyebrows into an arch.

Four doors along, Orbilio listened to the rain swirling down the gutter spouts and splashing into the butts below. He hadn't bothered undressing, for how could he sleep after he'd caught Claudia in his arms beneath the cascade and felt electricity surge through his whole being? He'd thought of nothing else since. His interview with Hadrian he'd had to write down; he kept forgetting what had been said. That report on a local girl's suicide he must have read a dozen times, yet the details still failed to register. Claudia. It was all he could think of — Claudia, Claudia, Claudia — and he was as powerless to harness his emotions any more than he could harness the wind — or harness her, for that matter. She was untamed and untameable, unprincipled and unpredictable, a forest fire out of control. She could not, would not, trust anyone as a result of her past, and he would not, could not, risk harming her further. What she needed was time — lots of time — and if she married him as a matter of expediency to prevent Darius taking control of her business, he'd give her as much time as she needed. As for sex… as much as he yearned for her, any move there would have to come from her, and the reason he was happy to wait was because after yesterday he realized at long last why she persisted on keeping him at arm's length. Not because she wasn't interested. Hell, no. He saw — oh gods, how he saw — how her eyes darkened to pools when he gripped her. Felt the tremble that ran through her body. Claudia, he realized, was scared. Not scared of what happens when two bodies unite. But what happens when two souls fuse together. For the second night in succession, Orbilio sat at his desk, poring over his case files, and tried not to think about being turned down.

One floor below, Rex patted the concubine on her bare rump and tipped her an extra sesterce. Always felt better when he came to this spa place. Must be the air or something, but he never felt liverish here, and he was glad now he'd brought his son along. Do him good to get out and about. Bloody shock to see Marcus when they drove in, mind, but that was his own bloody fault, he supposed. Shouldn't have told Eunice he was bringing the boy; woman never keeps a damn thing to herself. Can't blame her, of course. Have to feel sorry for a respectable widow being taken advantage of by a lounge lizard like Lars. Scandalous. Absolute bloody disgrace. Rogue's only after her money, any fool can see that, though as it turned out, there was no harm done by her blabbing. Hadrian didn't tell Marcus anything he hadn't told him before, though god knows what the lad's father would say, may he rest in peace, having his son poking his nose in business he's no right to be poking in. Hardly a chip off the old block, young Marcus. Still. That's a millstone we all have to bear, what. Rex snapped his fingers and called the whore back. Perhaps she could do that last thing again? Pretty sure he was up to it this time.

Across the hallway, Hadrian sobbed into his pillow and the same word echoed round in his head. No, no, no, no. If only he could undo the things he had done. Unsay the things he had said. But he couldn't, he couldn't, and because of him Lichas was dead, and there was nothing he could do to bring him back. Not one bloody, damn thing. Hadrian turned his pillow over and proceeded to flood the underside.

Down in the cramped cubby-holes that passed for the slave quarters, a girl with dark olive skin and a nose like a hawk's and a man with the same olive skin and the same sharp nose went through their paces in silence. Their stretches were graceful, feline, lithe and athletic, Judith's movements in perfect harmony with Ezekiel's. The only odd thing about it was that the couple were two floors apart.

In her small stone hut in a grove of sweet chestnuts, old Etha stared at the bowl of soup on the table. She had to eat. Aye, she must keep her strength up, for already Deathmist hovered outside the door, waiting for her to bid him enter. She would not. So long as hope for Tages burned in her breast, Etha would not let him in. A spoonful at a time she sipped the broth. He was a smart boy, her Tages. Too smart to have got himself killed, and if he'd slipped in the storm they'd have found his body. Aye. They'd have found his body by now. Wouldn't they? In the pen, his sheep bleated pitifully. She'd milked those ewes that didn't have lambs the best she could, but her joints were stiff and her heart was aching, and one of them needed a thorn pulling out and two of the lambs had ticks. Etha was waiting for Tages to come home and fix that. It needed nimbler fingers than hers, and he'd come home. Sure he'd come home. He was a good boy. A smart boy…

Old Etha pushed the bowl away, laid down the spoon and rocked herself in the chair. Outside the door, Deathmist inched a little bit closer.

Alone in the workshop where her brother carved toys, Rosenna sharpened a small stabbing dagger. She had no qualms. She'd played it through many times in her mind, and besides, the omens were good. Blood was red. Her hair was red. She would strike on the night of the red-headed moon. Three reds, for three was an auspicious number. It was the number of gods in the triumvirate: Uni, Tins and Menvra. It was the number of favourable auguries in the sky: north, south and east. And, when the Brides of Fufluns danced in the firelight and all eyes were upon them, three was the number of lives Rosenna would take in retribution: Hadrian, Rex and the patrician. With deadpan indifference, she kept the edge to the grindstone.

'Mrrrow?'

Drusilla wove herself in a figure of eight between Claudia's ankles, but for once no stroke was forthcoming. In one liquid leap, she was up on the table, head-butting her mistress's chin.

'Mrrrrrow!'

'Damn right, poppet.' Claudia ruffled the cat's ears with her free hand as she traced Tarchis' gridlines with her finger. 'It's extremely irritating, but no, I haven't found the connection between Lichas and the six witnesses at Felix's trial.'

Nor, for that matter, any connection to Tages and Vorda.

'But I will'

Just give me time, and I'll have Felix connected to them so tight he won't be able to move, but in the meantime let's consolidate what we already have. Five decent, honest, hardworking freemen, who were ridiculously easy prey in this superstitious religious climate.

'Whereas Gaius was the odd one out.'

As a producer and merchant of fine wines, not to mention a pragmatic Roman of equestrian status, Gaius Seferius was no soft target for Felix's revenge. You couldn't ruin his livelihood by simply poisoning a well! On an estate of this magnitude and with this number of slaves, you couldn't set fire to his vineyards or sabotage his vintage and hope to get away with it, either.