Marilyn Todd - Sour Grapes

Satisfied that he was far too busy to be lonely, Orbilio sharpened his quill.

In the beginning, the Five-Headed Serpent rose from the Darkness and coiled herself round the Chaos. Then, having laid the Egg of the World, she separated the land from the sea, the sea from the sky, and the sky she divided into four quadrants in accordance with the status of the gods. To the east dwelled the highest deities known unto man: Tins, Uni and Menvra. To the north lay the home of the gods of good fortune, such as Ani, who presided over new beginnings, and winged Turan, goddess of love. In the south the gods of the earth made their home: Fana, Horta and Fufluns. But it was in the west, in the dark caves beyond the sun, where the abode of the demons of death could be found.

Here, in these drear caverns at the edge of the Universe, sat wolf-headed Aita beside his Queen, their thrones flanked by the silver-haired God of Time who sharpened his sickle on the Stone of Adversity, and Vanth, who opened tombs with her bright silver key.

Around the gods, moving between them like shadows, were the demons who guarded the Underworld, and it was here that the Guardians of the Graves conspired in hushed whispers with the gods of witchcraft and spells. Here, too, the Herald of Death conferred softly with Night before slipping on his winged sandals, and with snakes for hair and the beak of a vulture, the Goddess of Immortality stared into the Pool of Prophesy while Seraphs measured the span of human life with sand that trickled through a holed jug.

Amongst them all strode a young man wearing a wreath of laurel in his dark wavy hair, and holding a yew bow in his hand. On his back hung a quiver of arrows tipped with gold, for gold was sure, gold was certain, but most of all gold didn't rot.

The name of this young man was Veive.

Veive was the God of Revenge.

Notching another arrow into his bow, he took aim.

O ince you didn't bother to tell me you were coming,' Larentia Osaid, collaring Claudia in the atrium, 'you can hardly complain when I've invited a group of friends round for dinner.'

'Are you spelling friends with or without the "r"?'

'Don't get smart with me.' Larentia pushed her thin nose into her daughter-in-law's face. 'You only married my son to get your claws on his money. Oh, yes. I saw right through you, from the moment Gaius introduced us, you devious, gold-digging bitch!'

'Both transparent and devious at the same time. How clever I am, Larentia, but I do wish you wouldn't keep flattering me. You know it goes straight to my head.'

'Your backchat and smiles don't fool me, girl. Think I don't know why you came up to the villa? The old bag's gone senile, that's what you thought, but look around, daughter-in-law. Do you see weevils on any of these vines? Has the bailiff reported any signs of rust or blight? Are the slaves still as strong and healthy? Have the draught beasts caught the mange? Has any of the food in the cellars spoiled and gone rotten?'

'No, no, probably, I don't think so, to answer your questions in order — though as to that fifth one, you might want to double check the wine store, because what you've been drinking has turned straight to vinegar.'

'My tongue might be tart, but it's small fry compared with the tart my son married… Ah, Eunice.' Acid became honey in the blink of an eye. 'How are you, my dear? You look ravishing.'

'Ravishing is as ravished does, darling,' the newcomer said with a wink. 'It's the best form of exercise I know.'

Clearly this "exercise" was doing her good. Eunice must be knocking sixty, Claudia mused, yet her jaw line was taut, her skin clear, and her eyes shone with mischief and health. Even her movements were youthful and lithe, and the only trace of her true age — the inevitable brittle, grey hair — had been concealed beneath a flattering wig.

'I'll leave you two to chat,' Larentia said, casting a sly glance at her daughter-in-law. 'Oh, did I mention? Eunice has recently married again.'

'Don't get me wrong, darling,' Eunice said, linking her arm with Claudia's and taking a slow turn round a courtyard lit by a thousand oil lamps and bursting with flowers at every level, from spikes of acanthus surrounded by narcissus in tubs, to columbines and mignonette tumbling from baskets that hung from brackets and hooks. All of which, according to Larentia, had been paid for by Darius, including flowerbeds overflowing with verbena, delphinium, storks bill and alliums, while hollyhocks imported all the way from Damascus lounged indolently against the pillars. 'I had an absolutely wonderful life with my late husband, who gave me two marvellous sons, three lovely daughters, a hatful of grandchildren and, praise to Minerva, my very first greatgrandchild last month. But!'

When she leaned closer, Claudia detected a faint smell of wine and roses, a combination that, even after such a short acquaintance, she knew was far from accidental.

'I'm not one of those Celtish tribes who believes in reincarnation. As far as I'm concerned, we have one life and it's short. Pluck the cherry from the tree while it's ripe is my motto, and my particular cherry's called Lars.'

She indicated the man paying his respects to Flavia across the way, whose Etruscan heritage of swarthy skin, stocky build and rather over-long nose was made more pronounced by the flickering lamps. Far from classically handsome, Lars was however not without sex appeal, and his face suggested he smiled a lot. Although, looking at him, lowborn for all his fine clothes, Claudia suspected Lars had a lot to smile about.

'Some cherry.'

Thirty-seven last week,' Eunice said proudly, 'and thank Jupiter the family's finally come to terms with the arrangement. Why, only last month my eldest daughter came to visit.'

'You moved to Mercurium to be with your husband?' Somehow Claudia imagined it would be Lars following the money.

'What the hell, I thought, why not take a gamble? My little birds have flown the nest and have lives of their own. I'd only be an appendage in Rome. Thanks to Lars, I've a new life, new friends, a new style of living, and of course being happy gives you fewer wrinkles.'

Claudia could see that.

'Like I said, I don't regret a single day with my dear late husband, but since the State decrees that we women are incapable of looking after ourselves and need a man to make our decisions for us, it seems sensible to choose one over whom we have some influence, don't you agree?'

Eunice had no idea! 'Lars doesn't strike me as the sort who's easily manipulated.'

'Depends on your definition of influence, darling.' Eunice patted her wig and adjusted the choker of pearls that neatly obscured the crepe-like lines round her throat. 'If I'd stayed in Rome, my eldest son would have assumed the role as head of the household, and I am not sure I've reached the point where I'm comfortable answering to my own son. Not when I'm still tempted to spank his bare bottom from time to time! Whereas Lars, who is, as you so rightly point out, very much his own man, was a masseur at the hot springs when I met him, and to put it bluntly, my dear, masseurs don't live this well.'

In the courtyard, moths diced with death among the hundreds of lamps to drink at the bounty of nectar.

'I bought a delightful townhouse in Mercurium with my dowry, which of course I get back if Lars and I should divorce, so I suppose it wasn't much of a risk. In return for not being a burden on my eldest son, I get a place of my own, a husband who's thirty-seven years old and a sex life I'd all but forgotten. Which reminds me — how's Flavia coping with love's new bloom?'

'If you can imagine a couple of flabby haddocks staring into each other's eyes and with about as much conversation, that's my stepdaughter and Orson.'