Marilyn Todd - I, Claudia

There was a brief lull, then Claudia’s prayers were answered when a short, bald-headed man came puffing up.

‘Ventidius, what luck! I was just on my way to your office.’

Apparently some property that Balbus had been interested in purchasing had suddenly come up for sale, and so linking her arm through Gaius’s, as much for her own support as for his, Claudia made what she hoped were polite noises at Balbus’s departure. As she fell into step with her husband, she thought again he looked old. Really old. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks seemed to have collapsed and several times recently she’d stumbled upon him sobbing like a baby.

‘You look tired, Gaius. I think you overdid it yesterday.’

‘Oh, don’t fuss. It was only a mild seizure, the doctor said so. Besides, what would people think if I missed the Festival of Wine? What good would that be for business, eh?’

‘Seferius wine tells its own tale, Gaius.’

‘Yes, but to miss the augur pronounce the vintage? Claudia, how could I not attend?’

She snorted. ‘With Flavia’s wedding coming up, you should take it easy, conserve your strength…’ She paused as a thought struck her, and indicated to Cypassis by a gesture to hang back so she could speak more privately. ‘Gaius, exactly what are you doing out here this morning?’

‘The, er, library, my dove-’

She stiffened and snatched her hand back. ‘Liar! You’ve been to one of those foul little backstreet parlours, haven’t you?’

‘Don’t look at me like that, I’ve been discretion itself. We agreed-’

She made no effort to hide her contempt. ‘Don’t tell me what we agreed, Gaius, you conned me into marriage.’

‘Hardly conned, Claudia. I didn’t realize you wanted children, I thought after three you wouldn’t want any more.’

‘They died, Gaius.’ Dammit, now she couldn’t even remember how old this fictitious brood was! ‘Of course I wanted more.’

Tears filled the big man’s eyes. ‘My son-my babies, Claudia. There’s only little Flavia left. You can surely forgive a man his pleasures now and again?’

Claudia scrunched her list into a ball and pummelled it.

‘Your letter…Claudia, what about your letter?’

‘What about it?’ she snapped, hurling it into a grove of lotus trees. ‘Couldn’t stand the woman, anyway.’

If Orbilio was half as clever as he made out, she wouldn’t need the bloody list. She’d kill the bugger long before it got to the confession stage, even if it meant poison.

Gaius stood staring at her, his face haggard but his jaw set. ‘I’m sorry you feel I’ve let you down, but this is the way it is, Claudia.’

‘I accepted that long ago, but if I find it’s anyone I know’-the unspoken name hung in the air between them-‘a day won’t pass when you don’t live to regret it, Gaius, you have my solemn promise on that.’

Paternus the lawyer was dictating to his scribe when the stranger arrived.

‘I bring a message from your brother, sir. Says it’s a matter of exceptional delicacy and under the circumstances he would be obliged if you would treat it with the same confidentiality you bestow on all your cases and mention it to no one.’

The messenger then coughed politely. ‘Including your scribe, sir.’

Paternus leaned back and rubbed the furrows in the bridge of his nose. He didn’t recognize the messenger, but then again he rarely did. This one wore the long, dark hair of a Cretan. He didn’t like Cretans.

‘You purport to be from Caius Paternus, is that correct?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Are you employed by him?’

‘Oh, no, sir. Freelance. The name’s Milo, should you ever need my services. No message too complex, no distance too…’

The look in the lawyer’s eye quelled his sales pitch.

‘Well, Milo,’ Paternus’s reedy voice made the name sound unclean, ‘perhaps you would be so kind as to furnish me with the address from which you were dispatched?’

‘The large red house up on the Aventine, sir. The front part is let as a poulterer’s, there are two-’

‘Yes, yes, that’s quite sufficient.’

So it wasn’t an error. Paternus chewed the inside of his lower lip. Would wonders ever cease? he asked himself. He hadn’t heard from his brother in-what? — oh, it must be seven, eight months now, that’s right, December. And now, like one of Jupiter’s thunderbolts, he sends a message out of the blue. Well, Caius can go to hell, he thought. That business over the slander case had driven such a wedge between them that, personally, he’d be quite happy never to see or hear from his brother again.

He looked down his long nose at the Cretan, treating him to one of the interminable silences for which he was famous in court. At the same time he could sense, rather than see, his scribe’s interest picking up moment by moment. Should he decide to despatch the fellow, no doubt he’d have his wretched ear to the door, given half a chance. Servants are like that these days, no breeding, no dignity. In court, Paternus’s silences were tools to impress and unnerve. Today, however, he was thinking. In particular, he was thinking about Publius Caldus, the latest official to fall victim to this crazed killer. Outside he could hear the chants of children reciting their alphabet, the rattle of a chariot on the stones, the crush and chatter of the market. The sweet smell of fruit ripening in the hot sunshine filtered in through the open window. It wasn’t wise to be left alone these days, he thought. Not wise at all. On the other hand (and he was a lawyer, after all), it had to be argued that Caldus had been killed just days previously and the last murder was how many weeks ago?

Five? Six? Paternus pursed his lips. Why not take a chance? Good heavens, the man was hardly likely to pull out a dagger and kill him in his own office, was he? He smiled to himself. Ridiculous, he thought. Utterly ridiculous. Yet it was a sad reflection that a man grows wary of venturing out alone and has to think twice before being left with a stranger. It was all very well Callisunus giving assurances that it was only a matter of time. What consolation was that to the banker’s widow, or indeed the hundreds of law-abiding Romans holding down responsible posts who were unable to sleep at night for fear of a maniac? Overreaction was becoming the norm.

‘There are some papers to collect from old man Roscius,’ he said to his scribe, finding a certain pleasure in watching the fellow’s face fall. He glanced at the messenger. He can wait, he thought. Let him sweat. Paternus himself waited until his scribe had not only left the room but crossed the Forum and passed under the Arch of Augustus before turning to the Cretan.

‘Very well, then,’ he said wearily. ‘Let’s have the message.’

Milo was used to waiting, it was part of his routine. The fact that this snotty-nosed lawyer was trying it on didn’t bother him one bit. He was only one of the equestrian order, after all, and although Milo himself could never hope to aspire to the ranks, nor in all probability his son, his grandson-the third generation freeborn-might manage it. So this clever dick didn’t bother him one iota.

‘First, your brother said to give you this.’

Slowly-almost insolently-he reached into his pouch, drew out a seal and passed it across to Paternus. When the lawyer realized what he was holding he sat up straight and looked the messenger in the eye.

‘You know what this is?’

Milo nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

Paternus wiped his bony hand across his mouth. Remus, this was the sphinx. The seal of the Emperor himself! My, it must be a serious matter indeed for Caius to be involved at this exalted level. And just what was the extent of his brother’s involvement? As an aedile, he organized some of the games. Had Augustus approached him that way? Or could Caius, out of charity and brotherly love, have dropped his name into the Emperor’s ear? Paternus nodded slowly. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad time to bridge the divide. After all, they were kith and kin, weren’t they? And to be honest, when Caius accused him of pocketing half the damages on that wretched slander case, one couldn’t say he was totally wide of the mark.