Marilyn Todd - I, Claudia

‘Hurt you? Claudia, how could you think such a thing? I love you.’

Her mind was reeling. What was going on? What did he mean? Why this sudden change of attitude? One minute he was making Otho look like a playful cub, the next the knife had vanished and he’s stroking her forehead, pouring out words of endearment. How he’d loved her since Genoa, when she danced those sinuous dances, how he’d divorced his wife just so he could be with her… For the first time since Balbus arrived in this stinking cellar, Claudia found a faint glimmer of encouragement. She resisted the urge to struggle free of her bonds. He wasn’t the headcase she thought, because it was clear from his ramblings-the glowing tributes and gushing compliments-that he didn’t make a practice of bringing women down here. He was genuinely (if somewhat misguidedly) in love with her.

Damn funny way of showing it. The old Claudia began to claw her way to the surface. Sadistic bullies she could handle (more or less), but the revelation that Balbus wasn’t the twisted psychopath she’d imagined brought both strength and reason. Not to mention a whole bucketload of relief. Tension drained away. Calm was restored. Thank heaven, she’d be able to reason with him after all. The reaction that set in threatened to become almost as physical as the terror. Projecting her senses above pain and blood and terror, Claudia forced herself to listen to him droning on about how she would learn to love him in time, of the things he had planned for them and the sublime joys the future would hold. Yes, and I expect you’ll want to repeat this performance every bloody night and all! Fat chance, Balbus. You really are the most unpleasant specimen of mankind I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet, so-

What’s that? Her ears pricked up. What did he say? A pity she’d never be able to attend the games and races, but he’d report back as faithfully as he could?

‘Just what do you mean, Ventidius?’ She tried to quell the resurgence of panic in her voice. ‘I…won’t be able to visit my friends or the theatre again?’

‘Well, you do see how it is, don’t you, my dear?’ Glints from the candlelight bounced off the metal which was back in his hand. ‘Claudia Seferius is already dead, we can’t allow any stirring of the waters.’

Claudia’s skin began to crawl. From the elbows and knees, upwards and outwards, until her whole body prickled with fear of his reply. She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to hear. She didn’t want to know.

‘Why do you think I took your clothes? Do you think me some barbarous beast who cannot control his sexual impulses?’

Numbly she shook her head.

‘I needed them for the whore. Same height, same build, same colour hair.’ A high-pitched giggle slipped out. ‘Any time now her body should be discovered wearing your clothes, your jewellery, your pins in her hair and Claudia Seferius will be found dead, her face beaten to a pulp in a frenzied attack by an unknown assailant.’

She tasted bile in her mouth and fought the uprush of hysteria. Her heart was beating faster and faster, her breath quick and shallow. She was wrong. Unbelievably wrong. Balbus wasn’t a clown turned sadist. He was as twisted as a gnarled vine. Twisted-and therefore utterly unpredictable. One tiny flame of consolation sprang up and Claudia began to fan it. You’re wrong, Balbus. There’s one man who’ll know the body doesn’t belong to Claudia Seferius. A man with the tenacity of a terrier who will come looking for me.

‘I have to leave now.’ He might have been excusing himself from a banquet. ‘When I return you will sign the marriage contract?’

Twice the word lodged in her throat. ‘Yes.’

He stared hard at her for several moments then suddenly his face took on a malevolent appearance, accentuated by the flaring of his nostrils.

‘Tell me again you won’t take lovers when we’re married.’

‘I…won’t.’ It was little more than a whisper. ‘I promise.’ At that moment she’d have promised him the world.

His lip curled. ‘I can understand you taking them when you were stuck with that rich old faggot Seferius, but you must understand I can’t go round mopping up after you for ever. I demand fidelity.’

Claudia’s body began to convulse. Oh no. Please. Oh, please. Anything but this. Mighty Juno, tell me I’m dead, tell me I’m dreaming. Tell me anything-but this! In the far distance she heard a tremulous voice ask:

‘ You killed those men?’ Faces thrust themselves in front of her. Tigellinus, Fabianus, Horatius and the others, vying for position at the forefront of her memory. Tears stung her eyes. ‘For gods’ sakes, why?’

The boiled gooseberries were staring past her, trancelike. ‘They’d seen you. Seen your nakedness. Couldn’t allow that. Had to teach them a lesson. But then Paternus-oh, that Paternus. One dare not repeat his vile insinuations about you, suffice to say he paid a very special price.’

Claudia felt the blood freeze in her arteries. You gouged his eyes out while he was still alive, she wanted to scream, simply because he called me a whore? Is that what you’re saying, Balbus? But the words wouldn’t come. And amid the horror and the terror and the revulsion, suddenly all she could think was that her nose was running and she was ashamed…

The faraway look was replaced by a maniacal glint. ‘There’s still one more.’ It was like the hiss of a snake.

He began to wade towards the candles, snuffing them one by one and sending wavering shadows of smoke round the shrine. Despite the heat, Claudia shivered.

‘Once I’ve disposed of the man you left so recently, we can start our lives afresh.’

Somewhere in a distant recess of her mind, Claudia was conscious of the absurdity of the situation. Scaevola, poor bugger, would be found poisoned, stabbed, the whole bloody lot.

‘They’ll find the body.’ Was that croak hers? ‘The authorities will twig that Gaius wasn’t responsible for the murders.’ Idiot! What made you blurt that out? Scaevola is dead by now, you might have had a chance to escape when Balbus goes off.

‘So?’ His tone was contemptuous. ‘Callisunus is a fool, he’ll never work it out, and, since the killings will have stopped, this will remain one of the great unsolved mysteries of our time.’

‘You’re wrong, Balbus. One man will work it out, even if it kills him. He’s as stubborn as a mule.’

‘Oh, really? And just who might this superior character be?’

‘Marcus Cornelius Orbilio. He’ll-’

Contempt became impatience. ‘He’s the very least of my worries.’ Claudia heard the door grind open. ‘That’s my mission now, to dispose of that idle braggart.’

How long she lay there, numb with horror, was anybody’s guess. A minute? An hour? At one stage, what might have been a cockroach scuttled over her thigh, yet she remained motionless-too shocked to react. The feeling in her hands and feet had long gone, and now her whole body was rigid. The heat, the humidity, the overwhelming stench of rose petals all served to embody Balbus’s insanity. Oh, she would stop him. Sooner or later he would have to untie her, sooner or later she would kill him. But not before Marcus Cornelius Orbilio had been tortured to death.

She stared at the peeling plaster on the ceiling as the one remaining candle smoked and gutted. How long before he begged for mercy? He would be brave. He would be tough. At first. How long, though, before he prayed for death? Balbus’s stability was spiralling further and further out of control. Paternus had put up a fight, an error which would quickly be corrected. This time the victim would, like her, be strapped tight, the screams (and however hard you try, Marcus, there will be screams) exciting Balbus to who-knows-what sadistic heights?