Marilyn Todd - I, Claudia

The dining room had been as gracious as the rest of the house, the cushions the most comfortable she’d reclined on for many a year and the food exquisite. Scallops from Chios, fried chicken, baked bread with garlic, and sweet, unblemished fruit. She’d been waiting for him to lean over to try to kiss and fondle her, to suggest they retreat to his bedroom and spend the night there, yet he hadn’t so much as touched her. The hours drifted by, with him propped up on one elbow as they laughed and argued and ate and drank. Finally, when she stood up to leave, she asked him again whether he’d re-open the case, and he answered with a simple yes. He would call in the morning, before the burial. They could thrash out a list of suspects.

He was adamant Gaius hadn’t been killed by the man who murdered the others, although he was prepared to go along with it for the moment, since it would be sufficient to swing Callisunus against making his announcement, at least for a day or two. He made a great point of stressing his hope that there weren’t too many skeletons in the Seferius closet, because once he started his investigations, nothing-but nothing-would stop him from seeking out the truth. Did she still want him to probe? She nodded vehemently. By the time he’d dug down that deep, there’d be nothing to find-she promised herself that!

Claudia puffed out her cheeks. She’d got what she came for, Gaius’s name would be cleared, yet instead of a sense of satisfaction her brain was in turmoil. Orbilio had sown so many kinds of doubts in her head, that if only half of them germinated she felt she’d explode. In his book, he said, everyone was a suspect, she would do well to bear that in mind. She ought to think carefully, he said. Recap events before Tigellinus was killed back in January, because you couldn’t afford to overlook the slightest detail. Same as you couldn’t rule out without checking and double-checking. Why was she so certain it was a punter? It made no kind of sense, he said, there was no motive. She might be the link between, but without identifying a motive she was whistling in the dark. She should take his word for it, he said. Love was the motive for these crimes, he would bet his boots on that. Finding herself uncomfortable under the intensity of his stare, Claudia quickly pooh-poohed the idea, but Orbilio pressed on.

Had she, for instance, considered Junius as a candidate for Gaius’s murder? No, she replied, she had not, finding that for some reason she was unable to look the investigator in the eye for once. Then she should, he said, and as for the man knocking off her tricks, had she considered Ligarius? This time she could say honestly that no, she hadn’t reckoned on Liggy’s involvement in this. Since Antonia died he’d gone to pieces, certainly, and lately he’d become somewhat unstable, but that didn’t make him a violent man. Not in the cold-blooded way Marcus was talking about. Ah, but suppose Ligarius thinks he’s protecting you in some way, he’d said. After all, the first murder took place shortly after Antonia’s death, didn’t it? Claudia scoffed. Good life in Illyria, whatever was he thinking of? She knew Liggy of old. What he lacked in brains he might make up for in brawn, but a killer? Never. All the same, the spectre-once raised-seemed extremely reluctant to depart…

Cypassis was standing outside in the street as Claudia tipped the litter bearers and dismissed them.

‘The family’s inside,’ she whispered, wrinkling her nose. ‘Been cooling their heels since noon.’

Claudia resisted the urge to hug this big-boned peasant girl. She catches on quick, she thought. She’s only been here a week and she’s sussed out the situation already. It hadn’t taken them long, she thought, before they realized the will was inviolate. She’d expected them to come creeping back soon enough, but obviously they wanted to ingratiate themselves before the burial tomorrow. One big happy family, et cetera, et cetera. United in grief and, goodness me, no-the money doesn’t mean a thing. Claudia shook her skirts, adjusted her curls and prepared for action.

‘Claudia!’

‘Marcellus.’

She wondered how long he’d been waiting by the front door. Hours and hours, with any luck.

‘I’m sorry we were forced to stay away from the funeral. It was agony knowing there was no one but you to mourn Gaius at the pyre, but we’ll be with you tomorrow, love. Right behind you all the way.’

‘Splendid.’

There would be ample time afterwards to tell him that, however much Gaius might have put up with his incessant sponging, she was not prepared to tolerate it one moment longer.

‘Claudia, don’t walk away, there’s something I want to say to you.’

‘I’m still waiting, Marcellus. Four minutes have ticked past already, and you haven’t opened your mouth yet.’ When he grinned, you could see every gap in his teeth. ‘Do I sense a smidgen of frustration here, Claudia?’

‘Well if anyone can, you can, because I’m sure it’s something you have a lot of experience with. Now unless you want us both to die of old age, kindly spit it out.’

‘Phew! How can I say this?’

‘Try quickly.’

The pitted face moved closer to hers. ‘Very well, then, I’ll be blunt. I know Gaius had been depressed for some time and I know he wasn’t doing right by you, but I will, Claudia. I’ll do right by you.’

‘Marcellus, what on earth are you talking about?’

‘You know.’

‘Call me thick, but sorry, I’m not quite up there with you. Could you give me a tinksy-winksy clue, just to get me started?’

‘Claudia, I know what’s missing from your life and I can provide it.’

Give me strength!

‘Exactly what can you provide, Marcellus?’

‘Sex, of course.’

‘Sex? Sex? Am I hearing you right? My husband’s ashes are sitting in his room waiting to be buried, yet you’re offering to fuck me as a favour?’

‘Well, I wouldn’t put it quite so crudely, but-yes. I’m thirty-four, in my prime, I’ll have you know. Oh, I’ve felt the shivers that run down your body every time I stroke you, the way you twitched when my hand caressed your breast. Remus, Claudia, we can make sweet, sweet music, so… What do you say?’

‘Just this, Marcellus.’ Claudia stepped back, balled her fist and punched him squarely on the nose.

*

Oil lamps had been burning for an hour before Claudia returned to the atrium. When she saw Antonius coming out of the latrines, she made a silent beckoning signal then turned back up the stairs to her room. A good ten minutes passed before he slipped in. Drusilla, woken from her sleep on the bed, raised her hackles and began to growl.

‘Sssh, it’s only Antonius.’

The cat didn’t seem mollified, neither did Scaevola. Having heard what had happened to Otho, he backed against the wall.

‘I hate to do this, Drusilla, but it’s the only way. We need to talk and you? You’ll bring the whole house running. That, I’m afraid, will never do.’

Claudia scooped up the cat, stiff with rage and indignation, and tipped her gently through the open window amid howls of protest. There was a ledge below. She’d probably sit on that and sulk. Claudia closed the shutters behind her.

Antonius grinned. ‘Holding up all right?’

‘Not too bad. You?’

‘Suppose so. May I?’ He nodded towards the jug of wine that lived on her table.

‘Help yourself, Tony, you always have.’

‘Yes, but it’s different now. I mean, I’ve never been inside your bedroom before.’

Claudia smiled. ‘Well, the same can’t be said of you, my friend. I know every cube of mosaic like the back of my hand. Floor and ceiling!’

Antonius laughed with her. ‘Good times, Claudia. Bloody good times, in fact.’ He poured two glasses of wine. ‘To good times to come!’