Marilyn Todd - Virgin Territory

Plus it was Senbi’s night off, Diomedes was moonlighting, Dexippus was stuck with totting wool stocks, which left only Antefa, Senbi’s son, who’d been allocated to act as Orbilio’s manservant and Orbilio had sent him off on an errand. Oh, and Piso, who liked to frequent the local brothel on a Thursday evening.

He had the place to himself.

The time for playing games was over. Stepping purposefully out of the shadows, Orbilio threw his cloak over his shoulder with a flourish and strode across the tiles.

The shutters were closed, as would be reasonable on a night like this, and there were no yellow lines round the door to suggest a lamp burning inside. Nevertheless, his dagger was in his hand as he threw wide the door.

Empty.

Closing the door quietly behind him, Orbilio fumbled for a light. The room was bigger and more opulent than he expected, the friezes quite remarkable. He had set down his lamp in preparation for the search when he heard footsteps. Light footsteps, those of a woman. Dancing footsteps, those of…

‘Well, well! If it isn’t our friendly neighbourhood snoop hard at work as usual.’

His heart began to pound, though he couldn’t tell whether it was from pleasure at seeing her or from jealousy at why she was here.

That was not an outfit one wore for darning one’s slippers.

She was wearing a stola of the very finest cotton. Midnight blue with midnight intent. It was girdled below the breasts to fall in delicious folds, clinging to her thighs and draping delicately over her feet. That alone could drive a man wild, never mind that the upper edge of her garment, the bit that fell from neck to elbow, had not been sewn but was pinched together at small, enticing intervals by a series of gold brooches. So many, a man could be sent insane unclipping them slowly, one by one, and kissing the place they’d been keeping. And that would be after he’d removed every bracelet, every anklet, every armlet, every pendant she had deliberately and desirously draped over every inch of bare, soft skin.

When he tried to speak, his voice failed him and he resorted to a sickly smile, only to be skewered by the sort of glance that kills the shine on polished bronze.

‘Enjoying yourself, are you, poking around in other people’s secrets?’

He shrugged. It was his job and she bloody well knew it.

‘Your trouble, Orbilio, is that you’ve got no one except yourself to enjoy. In fact, I hear they call you Bedspread these days, you’ve been turned down so often.’

He could feel his lips twitch and turned away before they let him down completely and showed teeth. She was angry, he could tell by the flush on her cheeks and the flash in her eyes, but Jupiter be praised, he was confident now of getting her on board that grainship tomorrow. He didn’t mind admitting, either, he was going to get a real kick out of bursting her bubble.

He’d have to tread carefully-not only because she was softer than she made herself out to be, but burst it too quickly and she’d never forgive him, he’d be back where he started. The knack was to make her understand for herself. And if there was someone there, close at hand, a shoulder to cry on, during that long, long voyage back to Rome, was it Orbilio’s fault he just happened to be that person…?

He noticed her finger was trailing the edge of the cupboard beside her.

‘Good quality furniture,’ he said quietly, wondering where to begin his search. The room was packed with shelves and cupboards for all his paraphernalia, the instruments, the apparatus, the drugs, the palettes, the balances.

‘Why not? Physicians are worth their weight in gold pieces.’

Especially Greek ones. They were reputed to be the best in their field, although Orbilio had scant regard for these so-called skills. It was all too easy to bury your mistakes.

‘You obviously think so, to be troubling him this time of night. Couldn’t you sleep?’

He realized his mistake the instant the words slipped out, and unable to help himself his eyes jumped from her tantalizing outfit to the broad couch in the corner. How many times had she been here, he wondered, as red hot irons began to wrench his guts apart. Diomedes, blast his balls, must have set to work straight away and what a smooth operator he turned out to be. She’d been here only a week.

Claudia shot him a brittle smile. ‘I’ve always found that early to bed, early to rise, my dear Orbilio, was the most wonderful piece of advice I was ever given the chance to ignore. Too many good times would have been utterly ruined otherwise.’

He pretended not to hear. Dammit, when he sailed halfway round the Mediterranean, he’d expected her to be in danger. He didn’t expect her to be in some stranger’s bed.

‘What are your greasy little fingers looking for, anyway?’

Orbilio forced his mind back to his search. No doubt there was method in this wild disorder, but for the life of him he didn’t know what, and he had to be careful not to show anything had been disturbed.

‘A scalpel.’ If he didn’t find it tonight, he’d try again in the morning. ‘ The scalpel, actually. The one that killed Sabina.’

Her mouth turned down in disgust. ‘How revolting! How do you know it was a scalpel?’

He was back on level ground now. ‘I examined the wound carefully. The blade that made it was sharp, thin, and the cut so precise it verged on the professional.’

She tipped her head on one side. ‘Oh dear, have you been sniffing the hemp seeds again? I mean, you can’t seriously suspect Diomedes?’

He closed one cupboard carefully, opened another. He lifted the lid of a tin and inhaled warily. It reeked of stale animal fats.

‘Who else?’

He tried not to sound too cheerful. Means, motive and opportunity. Find that weapon and he had him bang to rights.

‘Well for a start, he was with me when Sabina was killed. Or do you have me down as an accomplice?’

‘I wouldn’t put anything past you.’ Orbilio shook a copper vessel, heard the liquid inside swish and untied the bung. Vinegar. ‘But not on this occasion. However, by his own admission, Sabina had been dead between two and three hours. Ample time for him to nip into town and establish an alibi. Especially if she’d been dead, say, an hour longer. Just remember who showed you that shortcut in the first place.’

Claudia began to play with some little white pills Diomedes had been rolling and Orbilio realized she was thinking it through. Wonderful! Because when she did speak, it wouldn’t be some trite remark about doctors being supposed to save lives rather than take them, it would be a remark worth waiting for. Several minutes ticked past as he continued rifling. Boxwood containers with papyrus labels. Limewood boxes preserving scented flowers. Bowls, scrolls, scoops and spatulae. Finally Claudia put down the marble palette and he shot her a quizzical look.

She picked up a pair of forceps with long, slender handles, hollowed jaws and interlocking teeth and waved them menacingly in his direction.

‘If you’re so clever,’ she said, ‘answer me this.’

‘Mmm?’

‘What are these for?’

Old Conky had been right about the weather. All traces of rain had vanished when Claudia opened her shutters on Friday morning, and it was back to bright sunshine and vibrant blue skies. The sea, calm and clear, brushed the sands below, while a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the pines and the oaks and the spurge bushes. The most perfect of days for the hundreds of water-blessing ceremonies that took place, not only on Sicily but throughout the Empire in veneration of the goddess Flora. The most perfect of days to sneak off to see to that cockroach Aristaeus without anyone the wiser.