Marilyn Todd - I, Claudia

Elbowing her way towards a make-believe friend across the other side of the amphitheatre, Claudia wondered whether she’d been a trifle hasty in disposing of Orbilio so quickly. Maybe she could have wheedled some information out of him? No matter. He was up to something, and in her experience a pre-emptive strike always proved the most effective form of attack. She was still congratulating herself as she summoned the rugged young Gaul.

‘Junius, I want you to run an errand for me. You know Gratidius, the mercer? Good. Well, I want you to find his assistant…’

The slave listened attentively, repeating Claudia’s instructions back to her practically verbatim.

‘Oh, and Junius.’ She was feeling quite sublime about the way she was handling this dodgy business. ‘Drop my winnings off at Lucan’s counting tables on the way.’

The Gaul’s mouth twisted. ‘There are no winnings, madam. You bet them all on the Nubian.’

‘Bugger!’

Claudia slapped her forehead. This is all that bloody Orbilio’s fault, she thought. Odious little snooper.

‘Listen, if that investigator chappie comes slinking round asking questions,’ she said, ‘you just smile and nod and say yes to everything he asks. And I mean everything.’

He’ll think the boy’s daft or unable to understand the language properly, and either way it suits me right down to the ground.

‘There’ll be a sesterce in it for you,’ she added, because loyalty was a fine quality in a man but you couldn’t always take it for granted. Especially in a slave.

*

There was a comic turn in progress when Claudia finally resumed her seat. In the arena, two women of truly enormous proportions were pretending to be gladiators, clashing wooden swords and oohing and aahing all over the place. Like real fighters, they too were naked and when one fell in a mock wounding, she cast aside her shield in imitation of the plea for mercy except instead of raising her left hand, she shook her breasts in a most lascivious manner to the deafening roars of the delighted crowd and, thus pardoned, the fight recommenced. The Seferius party didn’t seem to have even noticed. Gaius was installed with his arm around Flavia, who-surprise, surprise-was grizzling loudly, while Julia sat on the end, tight-lipped as usual. Thank goodness Mulberrychops was nowhere to be seen.

‘Claudia!’ The relief on Gaius’s face was overwhelming. ‘Perhaps you could have a word with my daughter. Seems she’s a little concerned about the, er, honeymoon activities.’

‘Why, Gaius, I’d be delighted.’ She smiled radiantly at her sister-in-law. ‘You should have asked, Julia.’

Julia’s face darkened with indignation, but she remained silent as Flavia disentangled herself from her father and latched on to Claudia like a leech. Claudia pushed her away, forcing herself to leave what she hoped would be translated as a motherly hand on the girl’s shoulder but refusing to move any closer. Juno, that child could use a bath! If this was a ploy to escape her honeymoon activities, she was certainly going the right way about it.

‘Gaius!’

Talk of the devil.

‘Antonius! You know my sister of course, but I don’t believe you’ve met my wife. Claudia, allow me to introduce Flavia’s fiancé, Antonius Scaevola.’

The newcomer smiled. ‘You’re absolutely correct, Seferius. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.’

Liar. Several times, if memory serves me right. And at twenty sesterces a shot, no less.

Antonius settled himself beside Flavia and slipped a proprietorial arm around her shoulder his hand brushing against Claudia’s as though by accident. He wasn’t a bad looking fellow on the whole, she thought, and he had more energy than most men half his age. The best advice anyone could give Flavia, now she thought about it, was to get herself fit. After all, Scaevola was no once-a-night man, his bride would need stamina by the bucketload. She glanced at Gaius. He was surprisingly fit, in spite of his bulk. And fast with it. His chins wobbled as he laughed and suddenly Claudia was glad his energies weren’t invested in the marital bed.

‘What do you make of Crassus, then? Tied up and stark naked, too. Something of a new development.’

Antonius moved away from Flavia, ostensibly so he could see the arena better, but Claudia had caught the wrinkling of his nose.

Gaius turned to look at his friend. ‘I hope Callisunus nails the bastard soon, because you never know who’s going to be next.’

Julia let out a small whimper, but no one took any notice.

Scaevola’s mouth turned down at the edges. ‘There’s a lot of men hiring bodyguards-’

‘Ooh, Julia! Think of all those broad, muscular bodies round the house,’ Claudia whispered to her sister-in-law, wondering whether she was supposed to have been chastened by the withering look she received in return.

The fat women waddled off, to wild cheers and whistles, and the serious fighting began.

‘-and they say there’s another new development. A mysterious noblewoman, according to Callisunus.’

Claudia’s ears pricked up. ‘Sounds highly unlikely, a woman of our class skulking round backstreet slums,’ she said. Oh yes, the sooner she returned to that dump the better. ‘Do they seriously think the killer’s a woman?’

‘Could be,’ Antonius replied. ‘Callisunus hasn’t ruled out the possibility that the Woman in Green is his man, so to speak.’

‘Woman in Green, eh? Could be you, Julia. You favour green a lot.’

Another withering glance. She’d have to be careful baiting her sister-in-law in public, she decided. One of these days the old bag would turn. But in the meantime there was a great deal of fun to be extracted from the game.

‘Balbus won’t pay attention to rumours.’ Antonius paused to cheer on the net fighter. ‘His opinion is that the scum who rent those places would sell their children into prostitution for a copper quadran, and, heavens, he ought to know, he takes enough of their money.’

Claudia had heard quite enough about Ventidius Balbus for one day, thank you.

‘You promised a bet, remember?’ She nudged Gaius in the ribs. ‘What about us all wagering a little something on the next fight?’

Her enthusiasm was pounced on by the other four, and while Scaevola organized the stakes, she sincerely hoped it wasn’t her future son-in-law who was responsible for the murders. He was good fun to have around, by and large. It would be a bloody shame to kill him.

More than ever the tenement resembled an ant’s nest as Claudia wove her way across the large, open courtyard. Maybe it was the threat of thunder that hung heavy in the air, or maybe late morning was simply the busiest time of the day, but the bawling and wailing seemed louder than ever, the smell worse than she remembered. This time, resplendent in peacock blue, she arrived by litter, drawing the crowd she’d intended. By the second landing, however, a tongue-lashing had disposed of the curious and Claudia was once again alone.

Dark and comfortless as before, the room had not been touched. Crassus’s bloodstained toga sprawled over the mattress, his boots waiting patiently under the window for their owner to collect them. Dust lay thick on the rickety table, a shrivelled onion and a broken pot beneath it. In the far corner, flies hummed round the charcoal brazier. Claudia was on the point of leaving when her eye caught one object which definitely had not been there the last time.

‘Forgotten something, Claudia?’

Marcus Cornelius Orbilio slowly unfolded his arms and prised himself off the flaking plaster.

She couldn’t speak. For one awful, heart-stopping moment she pictured him propped up against the wall, silently watching her undress, holding his breath while she cracked the whip before witnessing her search for the senator’s money. Hysterical nonsense, of course. She’d been utterly alone and, besides, any witness could only have been the murderer. In which case, she’d be dead. She drew a deep breath and cleared her throat.