Marilyn Todd - I, Claudia

The slaves came round with the eggs and salad. She would be a very wealthy woman one of these days, would Flavia, now there was only herself and Lucius to inherit the Seferius fortune. Gaius had made sound provision for his wife, but his children were the chief inheritors.

‘There’s a lot of talk going round about you, Claudia.’

Julia’s birdlike features seemed more pronounced than ever tonight.

‘Oh?’

You bastard, Orbilio! I’ll nail your balls to a post for this!

Julia sniffed. ‘I’m afraid so. Brother, you ought to be more careful, we don’t want the name of Seferius sullied.’

Gaius stiffened. ‘No, indeed.’

His eyes narrowed as he looked at his wife. She opened hers ingenuously wide and shrugged. Lips pursed, Gaius turned to Julia.

‘What have you heard, sister?’

All eyes were on Julia as she laced her fingers together. ‘They say that if it’s good enough for the Emperor’s wife, it’s good enough for Claudia Seferius.’

‘What, exactly, are you driving at, dear?’ This time it was Claudia who spoke, her lips parted in what she hoped would be taken as a smile.

‘Spinning, of course! I mean, honestly, Claudia, you don’t do any of the weaving and clothmaking expected of a woman of your social standing, it’s an absolute disgrace.’ Two spots of colour had appeared on her cheeks. ‘The Emperor won’t consider clothes unless made by his own wife’s hand, just like my Marcellus would never dream of wearing anything other than homespun, would you, Marcellus?’

All eyes turned to Mulberrychops, who reminded Claudia of a beetle wriggling on the end of a pin.

‘Flavia won’t let you down, Antonius,’ Julia said primly, ‘I assure you of that. Oh yes, you’ll have a wife to be proud of, because she sews a very fine seam, does Flavia.’

All eyes turned to Flavia.

‘I do,’ she said smugly. ‘I sew a very fine seam.’ Claudia was aware that if she restrained her laughter much longer she’d wet herself, and when she glanced at Gaius it was obvious that the image of his wife happily playing with distaffs and spindles was too preposterous to take in. His whole body was shaking.

‘I do not find this amusing, brother. Simple pleasures are always the best.’

Claudia couldn’t help herself. ‘Did you say “thimble” pleasures, Julia?’

Marcellus laughed so heartily that food fell out of his mouth and down his tunic and Gaius’s eyes were watering when Leonides, the lanky Macedonian steward, entered the room.

‘I apologize for interrupting dinner sir only Rollo, the bailiff, is downstairs. Shall I ask him to wait or do I show him straight up?’

Gaius wiped the tears from his eyes. ‘Oh, bring him up, Leonides. He’s ridden for two days, poor devil, he won’t want to hang around here for too long. Not when there are taverns and whores waiting.’

Seferius had immense respect for his bailiff. Originally a slave set to work on the farm, Rollo had shown such flair for viniculture that Gaius had quickly given him his freedom and promoted him to supervise the vineyards. Within less than five years, Rollo had risen to become bailiff of the entire estate.

He looked as though he’d ridden for two weeks, rather than two days. His face was drawn, he could pass for forty instead of thirty.

‘Master Seferius, it’s bad news, I’m afraid. It’s your son…’

‘Lucius?’

‘Aye. There’s been an accident.’ He shuffled his feet and stared at his large, square hands. ‘I’m most terribly sorry, sir-he’s dead.’

Claudia was engrossed in thought as her entourage wove its way through the maze of temples, arches, halls and rostra that comprised the Forum. Progress through the throng of orators and philosophers, barbers and beggars was slow, and donkeys carrying stone for the restorations were becoming bad-tempered in the stifling heat. To her left rose the twin peaks of the Palatine where the imperial residence and a sumptuous temple to Apollo dominated the skyline, while on her right work was in progress on the Capitol in the form of a temple to Jupiter in praise of Augustus’s escape from lightning during his recent Spanish campaign. At times the builders’ hammers threatened to drown the clamour in the Forum. Claudia snapped shut the distinctive orange curtains of her litter.

Poor Gaius. The death of his favourite had come as a body blow. He’d crumpled instantly and remained inconsolable. She chewed her lip. Terrible business. From the moment of his birth, Lucius had been groomed to take over the business, to ensure Seferius wine continued to reach the same exacting standard expected of it, and over the years the boy had proved himself a capable organizer, a hard worker in the mould of his father.

Rollo explained he’d died from eating bad fish, and round the table heads nodded solemnly in commiseration. There was hardly a Roman in the empire who didn’t know of a friend or relative who’d perished along the same unfortunate route. Yet, glancing round the dining room the instant the news was broken, Claudia noticed that, with the exception of Gaius, none of the family looked particularly distressed. Including herself, it had to be said. Surprised, yes, but no signs of grief-even from the boy’s sister. And for Flavia not to snivel was, in itself, rather interesting.

‘Alms! Alms!’

A leprous hand, bound with filthy bandages, thrust itself under the curtains of the litter. Claudia hit it as hard as she could with the sole of her sandal and watched its hasty retreat. The oath that accompanied it lacked a certain charity, she thought.

Driven by grief and a desperate need to oversee this season’s transformation of fruit to wine, Gaius had left at first light the following day, accompanied by the poor bailiff who had been forced to repeat the arduous journey without so much as a decent night’s sleep. Claudia had kept her head down in the fervent hope her husband might have forgotten her until he was well underway-by retiring early and cocking a deaf ear to the clatter of hooves and the shouts of the grooms right under her window-but, luck wasn’t with her. She was hastily summoned to his room on the point of departure and issued with a long list of instructions, culminating in the inevitable: she must join him and the family at the villa when she’d finished, it was her duty.

‘Bugger.’

As the litter lurched, she picked up a fan of ostrich feathers and frantically began flapping. Bugger, bugger, bugger.

‘We can’t stay long,’ Gaius had said miserably. ‘I need to be back in time for the Wine Festival.’

For a wine merchant, this was the second most important event in the calendar, although little consolation that was. Not when there’s a whole blessed month in between with nothing to do except stagnate at that wretched farm. Claudia ground her teeth. I’ll miss all the fun of the festivals, and I do so enjoy the Lucaria. People would congregate in the groves, singing and dancing and picnicking for two luscious days, followed by ten whole days of the Caesarian Games. Then there’d be all the processions, the parties, the thanksgivings-oh, dammit, Gaius, I’ll miss the whole bloody lot! Mind you, I told him straight. This is the Nones, I said, there’s no way one poor helpless female could possibly work through that onerous list before the Ides. No way at all. Sceptical even in grief, Gaius compromised on a week and even as she waved him off Claudia congratulated herself on screwing seven days out of him. Two were more than adequate. Oodles of time to lap up what’s left of Apollo’s Games!

Not that she’d forgotten her quest, because Claudia was well aware that for some poor sod time was running out. It didn’t take a mathematical genius to work out that the murders were being committed with greater frequency and that, by definition, the killer’s confidence would be growing with each one. There had been times, of course, when she’d wondered whether the fact that the four dead men happened to be punters was pure coincidence. Those thoughts, however were confined to moments when the moon was high and her spirits were low. Of the five clients she’d cornered this week, every last one expressed profound shock at the suggestion they might have revealed the relationship. To them the arrangement was as sacrosanct as it was pleasurable, they said-although she freely acknowledged their sentiments may well have been swayed by the knowledge that, if their family and friends found out, they’d be both ostracized and ridiculed.