I, Claudia (11 page)

The dirty face broke into a knowing grin. Orbilio grinned back, tossed him four quadrans, then, taking pity, tossed him another four. Venus is fickle today, he thought, scratching the back of his head. There but for a handful of street yobs, Claudia Seferius and Marcus Cornelius Orbilio would have met at the baths this morning. It felt as if he’d swallowed one of the lead weights from the exercise yard. He jumped to his feet. No longer did the prospect of a day to himself appeal. The thought of ball games and athletics palled, because suddenly it seemed urgent to nail the bastard who went round chiselling eyes out of their sockets.

‘Mister?’

‘What?’

‘Can I come along with you?’

‘No, you most certainly cannot.’ He wanted to say it was dirty and dangerous, but he quickly realized that that was probably all this poor kid had ever known. ‘Don’t you have a family?’

‘Nope.’

There were so many like Rufus, he thought sadly. Despicable as the practice was, he could see the case for abandoning unwanted babies up on the midden heaps. At least it would be relatively quick, whereas kids like Rufus—who was what? seven or eight?—were doomed to die in some fetid alley without ever knowing love or warmth or happiness—or even a full belly.

‘I think it’s high time you had a bath, my lad,’ he said, lifting Rufus up by the back of his tunic. ‘Come along.’ There was more than a hint of resignation in his voice. ‘Let’s get you fed first.’

XI

The journey to the villa was hot and dry and dusty. The wagon’s wheels sought out every bump on the road, the slaves sulked and the driver remained disgustingly cheerful. Drusilla, joggling along in a specially constructed cage, howled incessant protests. Dear Diana, who deserves this, Claudia thought, gouging her initials out of the woodwork with a bone hairpin. It was all right for Gaius, shooting off in his two-wheeled car. He didn’t have to contend with three obstreperous horses being wound up by a skittish fourth possessing a truly evil sense of humour.

‘I suppose it’s asking too much of you to get these nags to break into a gallop?’

Kano, the driver broke off from his whistling. ‘’Fraid so,’ he said happily. ‘’Cos horses is like wives, see? Give ’em free rein and a full belly and they’ll serve you well enough—so long as they sets the pace, anyroad.’

‘I’ve never heard such tripe in my life. Now for heaven’s sake use the whip, man, or they’ll die of old age before we reach the next changing station.’

She rolled her eyes as Kano gave a half-hearted crack of the whip. If anything, the wretched animals slowed down and Claudia vowed to have a word with the wagoner’s wife when she got back to Rome. She glanced at the milestone. Actually it wasn’t bad progress. A quick break for a change of animals and they’d make the tavern with an hour to spare before dusk. The cart tipped to one side as the wheels caught the camber and everyone groaned. It would have been better had Junius and Melissa been with her. They were slaves she felt comfortable with—unlike this miserable rabble. Junius, though, was in no fit state even to get out of bed and the girl Claudia had left behind deliberately, because that poxy banquet still needed to be organized, even if it had been postponed. Besides, who else could she trust to deliver the money to Lucan?

They passed a cart clanking with pottery and glassware. Claudia’s eyes narrowed. A shipment like that would be worth a small fortune, she calculated, it would only be a matter of finding a buyer… Impossible, Claudia! Out of the question! Never in a month of Bacchanalias could you of all people hijack a load that size. Robbery needs time and skilful planning, not to mention a healthy contingent of willing, strapping men. One could hardly use slaves—what would you say? Hey you, you and you, cover your faces and come with me, we’re going to hold up a wagon? Supposing in the unlikely event they got away with it, the roads were too well patrolled, she’d be lucky to get five miles. But, and this was a very big but, even if she didn’t get caught, how could she offload the stuff?

Come on, Claudia. There must be smarter ways of raising two or three grand.

‘Kano, exactly why are you stopping in this godforsaken place?’

‘Goldie’s shoe’s fell off,’ the driver replied. ‘Won’t be a tick.’

She watched him lumber up the road, collect the horse’s sandal, then tie it back on, taking advantage of the break to fish out a flask of heady Judean perfume. There was, after all, a limit to what a girl could put up with.

‘Mmmmmrow!’

‘Drusilla, you’ll have to jolly well lump it. Animal smells might be acceptable to you, but I tell you, I’ve had it up to here with the rear end of those bloody nags.’

‘Mmmmmrow.’

‘Oh, don’t sulk!’ She waggled her finger through the bars to scratch the cat’s ear. ‘Fancy this?’

Drusilla scowled at the piece of raw meat that plopped on to the floor of her cage and backed away from it, glowering.

‘I see.’ Claudia sniffed. ‘Well, I’ve no sympathy for you, we’re all in the same wretched boat.’ It hadn’t occurred to either of them that Drusilla might be left behind in Rome.

Kano resettled himself and the wagon began to lurch and rattle once more. She was in a tight spot and no mistake. Gaius did his reckonings once a month on the dot and, bereavement or no, he’d not put the job off. He couldn’t fail to notice a shortfall of three hundred sesterces… A heat haze shimmered over the horizon, casting make-believe pools of water on the road. Bugger decorum, she thought, pulling off her stola. She only wore the bloody thing since it was deemed decent and proper to do so. Julia, being childless, hadn’t been conferred one, why should she be the lucky one? You could poach to death in your own sweat in all this clothing. Her heart missed a beat as she remembered yesterday. Was it really only yesterday? Her clothes were wringing with sweat when she got home after that run-in with Otho, and one thing was sure, she’d never wear Minoan blue again. A flurry of lavender linen flew across the wagon.

And Otho wasn’t the only one she clashed with, either. This is your doing, Minerva, I can smell it! Her toe thudded into the woodwork. That Minerva’s always had it in for me, ever since the day I was born, and I’ll bet she was chuckling her bloomers off yesterday.

It had been a real pig of a day. First she’d been scared spitless by that Thracian psychopath. (When I’ve paid off Lucan, I’m going to get you for that, you bastard!) Then, having sponged herself down and tidied herself up, Claudia had decided the best way to regain her equilibrium was to lose herself in the street bustle. What better way to unwind than in the cries of the pedlars, the smells of the cookshops, the banter of the street barbers urging young dandies to have their hair curled like Nerva the charioteer or dyed like Totila the gladiator? She paused to watch a cobbler astride his sturdy bench, hammering at his last, as she savoured the rich, acidic smell of the leather when a shadow fell over her.

‘Ligarius! Good grief, have you been on the sand with the gladiators?’

‘Oh, this.’ A huge hand gingerly explored the cuts and bruises. ‘Fights come with the territory if you keep a tavern.’

Only the sort you keep.

‘Well, I do hope you get better soon. Nice meeting you again, Ligarius, cheerio.’ She gave him a smile and tried to move on.

‘This is a quiet place. I thought we could talk.’

She felt the afternoon temperature plummet. What did he mean, quiet? ‘Ligarius, have you been following me?’

The big man shrugged. ‘I only want to talk.’

‘And I thought I made it plain last Thursday: I don’t.’

‘But the old days…’ A hand fell on her arm. ‘We had some good times, Claudie.’

Any minute now and someone would see them together. She jerked her head and ducked down a sidestreet. Behind them the clanking of the huge grinding stone of the bakery drowned any conversation from would-be eavesdroppers.

‘How much?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Don’t play games with me, Ligarius.’ This was what he’d been building up to at the games, just before Marcellus interrupted. ‘How many sesterces will it take before you
don’t
want to talk about the good old days?’

The smell of freshly baked bread seemed horribly incongruous.

His bearded face puckered into a frown. ‘Don’t be daft, I’m not trying to blackmail you. This is the first proper chance I’ve had to talk to you face to face.’

The sound of her breath coming out nearly obliterated the creaking and thumping of the millstone. That was Ligarius all over. All heart and no brains. She wondered what or who Jupiter was thinking of when he dished out Ligarius’s organs, because something had certainly distracted him.

‘Hey.’ He nudged her. ‘We had some good times together, you and me.’

‘Nonsense. You used to drool over that little scrubber, what was her name?’

‘Antonia. I married her when you went away.’

‘More fool you. So what’s the problem? Left you, has she?’

‘She died.’

‘Oh!’ The big ugly lump looked close to tears. ‘Oh, Liggy, I’m sorry! Really I am.’

Dammit, they
were
good times. Times when she could laugh, times when she could cry, times when she could feel pain.

‘Me too. Mind,’ the sound he let out was half-hiccup, half-laugh, ‘she could be a right shrew when she wanted. Worse than you, sometimes.’

‘Watch your mouth, Ligarius. I have a serious reputation to uphold and I can’t afford word getting around I’m second best.’ She stuck out her tongue. ‘Still as sharp as ever, see?’

‘Hey, remember that striping you gave Lefty for pinching your bum when it weren’t him at all? Poor sod never drank in my tavern again after that.’

‘Talking of which, whatever happened to that old sea captain who used to fancy himself so much? Strutting around like a peacock—totally unaware we’d nicknamed him Bumface, poor bugger.’

‘And what about that Sicilian woman, eh? Remember her? Big as a barn door, used to drink the men under the table and fight ’em afterwards. We always called her Brutus!’

‘Not in her hearing, we didn’t!’

‘Too bleeding right, nobody dared.’

‘Except Shorty forgot that night, didn’t he?’ Claudia stepped back and made her legs go bandy and put on a high falsetto. ‘Poor old Shorty, he was walking and talking funny for a week!’

‘Aye, right in the nutmegs, she got him. Ooh, makes yer eyes water even after all this time.’

They were doubled up by the time the baker’s boy emerged from the shop with a tray of steaming loaves. Sobering instantly, Claudia spun round and covered her face with her pulla.

Damn you, Ligarius. You have no right to remind me of the old times, no right at all! She bit her lip. Those days were long past, she was perfectly content in the sanitized vacuum of her life today. Every day she woke in the morning knowing she could eat and drink till her belly was full, and sleep in a proper bed at night. She had clothes on her back, and damned fine ones at that. She could bathe every day, had slaves at her beck and call, wore jewels till she stooped from the weight if she wanted. And Claudia Seferius was quite prepared to take whatever steps were necessary to protect this precious existence.

The bearded giant had launched into another trip down Memory Lane, but she refused to listen. ‘Ligarius, you’re the only person in the whole of Rome who knows my past. I’m asking you—no, I’m begging you. Please don’t ruin it for me.’

His mouth dropped open. ‘I wouldn’t do that, Claudie. Never! Only,’ his mood also changed and a big, fat tear trickled slowly down his cheek, ‘you’re my only friend in the entire city.’

‘We’re hardly friends, Ligarius.’

‘Close enough.’ He sniffed loudly and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

Juno, Jupiter and Mars! ‘How long since whatsername, Antonia, died?’

‘December.’

‘Tell you what, Liggy. I can’t stop now, but why don’t I come and visit you in the tavern? Perhaps early one morning, before you open? We could have a quiet little chat?’

‘I’d like that, because well, you know how I’ve always felt about you.’

Sentimental claptrap, of course, and without Antonia to whip him into line, he’d gone soft again. Why is it people always look back and see only the good times? She turned on her heel and marched back to the house. With any luck, the packing would be finished by now, and wouldn’t Gaius be happy to have her at the villa five days ahead of schedule? Damn that slimeball Lucan for diddling her out of the fun of the games!

It was only when she was changing her stola that Claudia realized she’d forgotten to ask the whereabouts of Liggy’s tavern. No matter. When she blurted out her offer to call it was genuine, though in the cold light of day she realized it was folly to even think about it. Oh, he’d get over it. Hell, he might not even remember it, because she had a suspicion he’d been drinking his profits of late. The main thing was, his loyalty was firm, he wouldn’t give her away. Of course, it had come as a real shock, seeing him at the games—and his shadowing of her this afternoon didn’t bear thinking about. But no, she was satisfied Ligarius wouldn’t spoil it for her. Unless… Unless…

‘Your cousin to see you, madam.’

‘Melissa, how many times do I have to tell you, girl? They’re Gaius’s cousins—’

‘No, madam.
Your
cousin, he said. Marcus Cornelius Orbilio.’