Marilyn Todd - I, Claudia

Moral austerity was the order of the day, with the Emperor introducing more and more laws to tighten any lapses. If the penalties for adultery were crippling, it was nothing compared to those for the type of activities Claudia’s clients were paying for. It was ironic, when you thought about it, such strict decrees from a man who once prostituted himself for three thousand gold pieces, and negotiated his inheritance to the Empire by agreeing to become Julius Caesar’s catamite.

Using charm and guile, she’d also managed to establish alibis for three of them, including Flamininus, the censor who was away in Lanuvium at the time. Claudia continued to flap the ostrich feathers. Pity, really. He’d have been easy to kill and his wife would probably have been exceptionally grateful. She sighed. Such is life, she thought. Never as straightforward as you’d like.

Oh well, she might find out more at the baths this morning, and if not, then there were plenty of compensations to be gained. The steam room, a hot bath, a spot of gossip, a good rub-down-not to mention the prospect of a wager or two on the men in the exercise yard. How many press-ups they could manage, how many balls they could juggle, even silly bets, like how many sausages they might eat. There was always another like mind, eager to swap coins.

‘What the…?’

The mood of the crowd had changed suddenly, turning ugly and riotous and her slaves could no longer maintain the litter at shoulder height. It was now joggling from side to side. Claudia edged the curtains apart a fraction. They were halfway between the Forum and the baths, taking a short-cut down one of the side streets, but the chants and jeers were too close for comfort.

‘Turn back, Junius!’

All too often the populace turned nasty about their handouts of grain-something to do with not getting them, she supposed. Nevertheless, it wasn’t her business.

‘Juno!’

Without warning the litter tipped over, tossing her on to the pavement like a sack of turnips. She managed to land safely, suffering only grazes in the process, and looking around decided she could count herself jolly lucky. Tempers were flaring. Fists were beginning to fly.

‘Down here!’ Claudia beckoned her slaves, but when she glanced over her shoulder she was alone. She paused on the corner. Sweet Jupiter where on earth were they? ‘Melissa? Junius?’

Now she looked carefully, all seven servants seemed to have been swallowed up in the fighting, including the women.

‘Damn!’

Sending up a quick prayer to Mars to keep an eye on them, Claudia decided she could waste no further time. She picked up her skirts and ran full pelt down a dark, deserted alleyway between two tenement blocks. As she raced past the coppersmith’s, an arm lashed out and pulled her into the workshop. She tried to scream, but a strong hand clamped itself over her mouth.

‘Hello, Claudia.’

The voice was soft, low-and very menacing.

Squirming and wriggling, she managed to bite into one of the fingers. ‘Let go of me, you bastard.’

‘I can no do that, Claudia.’ She’d bitten deep, but he’d not so much as winced. ‘Not until we have quiet little chat.’

She spat out his blood. ‘Let me go!’

Her feet were kicking his shins and her nails were clawing at the arm round her waist, but she was held fast. There was a clatter of metal as they crashed into buckets, bowls and sheets of copper.

‘Now, now, Claudia,’ He spoke with a thick Thracian accent. ‘We got few things to sort out, yes? Like, you know, the money you owe Master Lucan.’

She could place him now. It was Otho. The man who breaks legs for a living.

‘Sod off, bonehead.’ She reached for a hammer which he kicked away. Jupiter, he was a big bugger, too. Made of iron, most like. All Thracians were, weren’t they?

‘Tch, tch, tch. That no very ladylike. Why don’t you and me go to the back and talk this thing through? I’m sure we can come to an arrangement to suit everybody, yes? After all,’ his voice sounded quite conversational, ‘you don’t want house calls, no?’

‘Go fuck yourself!’

Suddenly she was slammed against the wall and a huge paw gripped her chin. His thumb and forefinger pinched deep into her cheeks.

‘Listen to Otho, you foul-mouthed bitch. You no in position to tell anybody what to do, understand?’

Her head was hurting badly from where it hit the wall, she’d bitten her tongue and she was also feeling sick. Whether the nausea was from the knock or from fright wasn’t really important.

‘What do you want?’

‘Good girl.’ The voice was back to its low, sibilant menace. ‘Now let’s go out back and talk, yes?’

He jerked his thumb towards the terrified coppersmith cowering in the shadows.

‘And you. Start hammering or you won’t have no hand to hammer with.’

Claudia found herself bundled into the back of the workshop, the ringing of the metal making her dizzy. To her surprise, there were tears in her eyes. Otho shoved her towards the back wall. Close up, she could see there was a deep red scar running the length of his cheek and she shivered. What befell the man who made it didn’t bear thinking about.

‘How much does he want?’ Dear Diana, was that squeak hers?

Otho placed his hands flat against the wall. She wasn’t pinned, but the result was the same. ‘How much you owe Master Lucan?’

‘T-t-two thousand sesterces.’

‘Two thousand four hundred.’ Otho bared his teeth. ‘You forgotten the interest.’

That much? Bugger. This visit was turning into a right bloody mess, she couldn’t let it continue.

‘All right. I’ll send him a hundred sesterces by…by the middle of next week.’ Miracles do happen occasionally, but this at least would buy her time.

Otho leaned forward, his face almost touching her own. ‘Three hundred,’ he whispered. ‘By the weekend.’

She felt whatever colour was left drain out of her face. ‘I can’t do that!’ Even if I throw myself on Gaius’s mercy and for some unbelievable reason he said yes, it was still impossible. ‘My husband’s away. There’s been a death in the family.’ Good heavens, was this pitiful babble really her? ‘I can’t raise three hundred in time.’

One finger gently traced a line down her cheek. ‘Three hundred, Claudia. Or you and I, we be matching book-ends. You have my promise on that.’

Her mind made rapid calculations. Would Gaius divorce her if she was disfigured? Not if she told him it was a vicious street gang. Except…except she’d look like a bloody chequerboard by the time Otho had finished and Lucan still wouldn’t be any closer to getting his account settled!

‘Look. Maybe you and I could do a deal.’ She tried to calm her breathing. ‘Instead of spending your money on tavern girls, suppose you and I…got together?’ The raddled old whores only charged eight asses, it would take three lifetimes!

‘Maybe.’ His accent was so thick now, it was almost unrecognizable. ‘But first let Otho see what he’ll be getting.’

His left hand slid slowly along her shoulder down her upper arm and across to her breast. She shuddered involuntarily and watched his face split into a grin. Claudia thought she’d never seen anything more closely resembling a death rictus. Her heart was thumping. This man enjoys hurting people. She forced herself to look him in the eye as his hand moved inside her stola and under her tunic.

‘Nice tits.’ He began to squeeze.

She could bring her knee up, now, and…

‘Well? Do we have a deal or don’t we?’

As his right hand moved between her legs two men burst through the door from the workshop, dragging a third man, bruised and bleeding.

‘Junius!’