I, Claudia (25 page)

Unbelievably Orbilio turns round and says, ‘Oh, I checked Otho’s story out. Pack of lies, old chap. Not one copper quadran owed, according to Lucan.’

Claudia wondered what she owed the miserable little ferret for covering up. It was patently obvious he’d believed Otho’s story, even at this time, and then he’d let the Thracian escape to what? Spare her blushes? Or maybe spare Gaius, because these two seemed to have grown close of late. Damn you to hell, Marcus Cornelius Orbilio. Now you’re off this case, I hope I never see you again. Do you know that for one minute yesterday you actually struck a chord? There I was at the household shrine and you were betting I’d missed you every single hour you’d been away. Well, I’ll admit that maybe, just for a little while, the house
had
seemed depressingly quiet, but after your magnificent performance last night I can put my hand on my heart and say the emptiness had nothing to do with you. Nothing whatsoever so you can get that idea out of your arrogant head for a start.

‘Funny business last night, wasn’t it?’

Claudia pretended not to hear—though funny wasn’t the word she’d have chosen.

‘About Flavia and your cousin, I mean.’

Dammit, Marcellus, I know what you mean.

The second teams came into the ring, the Rhodian by far the smallest of the lot. This time there were a dozen chariots in the race, three from each faction, and he almost disappeared under his helmet, his white tunic like a handkerchief compared to the massive tunics worn by the others. Her pulse was racing. No one else would have put money on him, it would have been a walkover! With a yelp, the rope went up and they were off.

Marcellus leaned across. ‘I suppose it’s because he was drunk.’

The pair of them were drunk, the very worst kind of drunk, too. They were maudlin.

By the time the sixth circuit had been completed, the wiry white rider was way out in front and Claudia was gnashing her teeth. When the seventh lap marker signalled the finish, he was streaking home to riotous cheers and whistles and Claudia hated every inch of his little Rhodian body. Mulberrychops finally got the message that she wanted to neither lend him money nor discuss Orbilio and Flavia, because, come the interval, he stood up and excused himself. He had to get back to the house, he said, and by ‘house’, she knew he was referring to her house. Julia and Flavia had got into a terrible argument last night which had boiled over into this morning and now Scaevola was round adding his two asses’ worth. Someone ought to be there to keep the peace, Marcellus was saying, because Gaius certainly wasn’t up to it.

She refrained from suggesting that if they’d done the decent thing and gone home last night instead of staying over and getting under everybody’s skin, life would have been a whole lot more pleasant for all concerned.

‘I mean, have you seen Gaius today? Pissed out of his skull, he is, crying like a baby. It’s pathetic. Well, love,’ he managed to plant a wet kiss on her cheek, his hand skimming the inside of her thigh, ‘I’ll see you later.’

Wiping her cheek with the back of her hand, Claudia watched him fight his way towards the exit. Obnoxious little toad, she’d get him for that, he could bet his balls she would. She signalled to the young Gaul.

‘Go home, Junius. The master’s not well, apparently, and from what I gather of events there, it might well bring on another seizure.’

‘I’m not sure I’d be much help, madam.’

‘Probably not, but at least you can run like the wind for a doctor.’

He seemed a little nonplussed at the oddity of the request, and hesitated, his mouth open slightly.

‘Well, go on, then. Shoo.’

Junius glanced over his shoulder. ‘I don’t like to leave you, madam. Not when…not when that thug Otho’s hovering.’

‘Otho? Here?’ Juno, Jupiter and Mars! ‘Where is he?’

‘Right behind you, Claudia.’

The thick accent startled them both.

‘Otho, I’m warning you, start anything here and I’ll kill you.’

She teased a dagger out of her tunic just sufficiently to show him she meant business. Junius stepped forward, his eyes betraying the anger his face was masking. The Thracian held up a hand and smiled. She was right. He had lost a couple of front teeth the other night. Perhaps Orbilio had some uses, after all.

‘Claudia, Claudia. Is no need for violence. I bring message from Master Lucan.’ His face was criss-crossed with livid lacerations.

‘I’ve already had two of his messages, thank you very much. Tell him to send a letter next time.’

‘Is good message, Claudia. I deliver it personally, though. And’—his sibilant voice hardened as he turned to Junius—‘in private.’

She shrugged and the Gaul backed out of earshot. What the hell? Otho was hardly going to beat her up here and—incredibly—she was becoming inured to his threats. Surprising what you get used to, really.

His eyes lingered on the fullness of her breasts. ‘Master Lucan say you very lucky, Claudia. Your debt, it has been settled, yes?’

What did he mean, it had been settled? Who by? She glanced over at Junius, whose teeth were bared. Whether in fear, anger or pleasure it was impossible to tell.

‘Of course it’s been settled, you big oaf. Ages ago.’ Dear Diana, nobody knew about the problem but her. Why should another person cough up two grand? Claudia’s chin went up a fraction higher. She’d die rather than ask this pig who was responsible.

‘Then is pity we can’t get together Claudia. Maybe some day, yes?’

Claudia smiled sweetly. ‘Go fuck your mother Otho.’ His eyes flashed and his lips went white, but all he said was, ‘Nice tits,’ before melting into the crowd. Junius came bounding over. Either his hearing was above average or maybe he could lipread, but he’d certainly caught the gist of Otho’s message. The relief on his rugged face was undisguised.

‘You’ll be all right on your own, now.’

‘Of course I will, Junius. Now sod off home, will you?’

XXII

A blast of silver trumpets signalled the end of the interval, but Claudia barely noticed the twelve chariots that came thundering out of the stables kicking up a cloud of yellow sand in their wake. Even when Blue lost a wheel on the third bend she didn’t turn a hair. Who knew about her and Lucan? Nobody, she thought. Nobody, nobody, nobody! Which is obviously baloney, a small voice answered. Somebody obviously does, so think.

Well, there was Junius. But Junius was a slave and slaves don’t have money. Hang on a mo, what about that grand Gaius gave him? Oh, come on, Claudia, why should the boy settle your account, it doesn’t add up. Who else knows? Larentia, of course. Her spies had reported back about the debt, almost to the last quadran, but of all people in this world, her mother-in-law was the last person with a desire to make life easy for Claudia Seferius!

The roars of the cheers around her were deafening. It had turned into a two-chariot race, between Red and Blue, both equally matched at handling a team of four. They were approaching the last and final turn, a test of nerves and skill which would decide the race. At a glance, Claudia knew it would be Red, from the way he leaned back against the reins. He was luring Blue into cutting the corner. They charged towards the posts, enveloped by clouds of dust and sand. Too close and the chariot would swing into the centre wall. Too wide and the game was lost. Distractedly she saw Blue dive into the spot Red had left, realizing too late the trap he’d fallen into. Unable to squeeze through, the inside horse pulled towards the middle and from a jumble of hooves and wheels Blue was somersaulting through sand. Red punched the air with his whip and surged on to victory. Absently Claudia thought of the laurels that would be his later. Rich wines, rare aromatics—and a choice of girls in his bed.

Gaius knew, because when Otho was captured in her room he wasn’t slow in broadcasting the purpose of his visit. However Gaius wasn’t a likely contender for paying off massive debts out of hand, he would certainly have taken his wife to task about gambling away two grand in as many months. Naturally, Claudia had a perfectly plausible answer sitting right on the tip of her tongue. Blackmail, she was going to tell him. Simple as that. An anonymous (what else?) blackmailer had demanded hefty payments to ensure her husband’s secret remained safe, what could she do but pay? Gaius would swallow that. He was pretty gullible on some things, but he was definitely not the type to pay off Lucan on the quiet. Besides, only last night he’d announced his intention to get to the root of the matter.

Which left Marcus Cornelius Orbilio. His was a fine patrician family whose ancestry could be traced right back to Apollo, by all accounts. Wealthy, too. (By necessity she’d had to do her homework on him, seeing that he was Adversary Number One in this sordid business.) Not necessarily super-rich, but this boy wasn’t stuck for an ass or three, that’s for sure. But why would Orbilio settle her debt?

‘Excuse me.’

The gentle tap on her shoulder made her jump. A small child, clean and reasonably well dressed, was standing behind her holding a scroll in her little fat hand.

‘Gentleman said to give you this.’

Claudia took the letter. ‘Which gentleman?’

The small face screwed itself up and the tiny shoulders shrugged. ‘Don’t know,’ she said quietly.

Claudia smiled and passed the girl a peach, which was instantly pounced upon. Freeborn she might be, but you had to have a lot of money in this city to afford a peach of that quality. She watched the child skip off to rejoin her family, gleefully waving her trophy. She pointed towards Claudia, who waved back, but when she tried to show them who had given her the letter in the first place, it was clear the child could neither remember nor spot him in the crowd. Too bad. Claudia ripped open the seal.

I love you.

She turned it over. Was that it? I love you? No endearments, no flattery, no compliments, no signature? Just a bald I-love-you?

More equestrian prowess, this time in the form of bare-back riding, swooping down to collect trophies from the sand. The riders could fall off and get trampled to death, for all she cared. Had the author of this feeble missive settled Lucan’s bill? Why should the two be connected, anyway? Hell, she’d had more love letters than glasses of Seferius wine, and the fact that she was married didn’t mean a damned thing, either. She’d lost count of the number of young bloods falling at her feet, swearing undying devotion and threatening suicide. She’d had poetry written for her, plays staged in her honour, more songs about unrequited love sung than you could tally.

Claudia stood up, straightening her back, smoothed her curls and ran her hands down the side of her body. Slowly. Very, very slowly. I know you’re watching me, you bastard, so take note. She let splayed fingers glide down her neck, pausing tantalizingly at the neck of her tunic. With her eyes on the racetrack, she twisted her head this way and that, tossed her curls, stretched and yawned. Let this be a lesson to you. Claudia Seferius is a sophisticated, sensual woman—she held the parchment high and tore it slowly and deliberately into a dozen pieces—for whom three poxy words on a page isn’t enough. Fragments fluttered away on the breeze. Got it?

Smiling to herself, she sat back in her seat. And next time, you can damned well put your name to it.

Whoever the author, one thing was certain. It wasn’t Cousin Markie! Dammit, for a while she’d had to watch herself, because whenever Orbilio was around the air seemed to crackle between them. It wasn’t anything he said—his words were professional enough—or in his facial expressions, which he masked more often than not. But his eyes. Dear Diana, his eyes! They twinkled and danced and laughed and blazed, telling more stories than a minstrel. Oh, yes. There was sin in those eyes.

The feelings he’d dredged up, feelings she thought she’d left long behind, were too dangerous to dwell on. It was nothing deeper than sexual chemistry, any fool could tell that, but she’d be damned glad when he disappeared back into the hole he crawled out of and left her in peace.

Weary in spite of the races, Claudia made her way towards the exit at the Appian end. What the hell’s wrong with you, anyway, wasting time on that two-faced, smooth-tongued, womanizing bastard? He’s got nothing other men haven’t got. You need your head testing if you think his attentions meant anything special. Did they hell! So long as he was on the case and had his famous hunch about apple-green cotton, he was as charming as they come, the minute Callisunus puts him to work on something else, we see the little weasel in his true colours, don’t we?

She slapped one of the race attendants out of her way.

So much time wasted! The catch in her breath every time she saw him. The way he walked. His famous halfsmile. Oh, she’d like to bet he practised that one in the mirror of a morning.

‘Bastard!’

The janitor’s eyes popped out of their sockets in surprise.

‘Not you, you imbecile. Now open this bloody door, will you?’

The heat outside was intolerable. Far too hot to walk. Well you’ve got no one to blame but yourself, Claudia Seferius. You made this choice. You were the one who said it was too hot for the litter-bearers to hang around all day and sent them home again. If you’d stuck inside the Circus as you’d planned, you wouldn’t have to walk home, would you? Not you, though. You decide you’ve had enough by midday. Well, you’ll have to bloody well pay the price, won’t you?

She’d taken the best part of a hundred paces before she realized she was stomping up the wrong hill. Swearing loudly, she turned round and stomped up the right one.