The girl moved and the lamplight showed Volso’s whore in cruel clarity. Shit! His lover was not female at all. It was a youth. Dressed in women’s clothes.
XXVII
‘Claudia, wake up, wake up!’ A thousand pans clattered against each other in Claudia’s ear, each one greased with oil of oregano. ‘The procession kicks off in less than an hour!’
Shutters were flung wide, filling the room with a burst of unwelcome light and under the counterpane, Claudia groaned. ‘Iliona?’
‘That’s me. Now hurry up or you’ll miss it.’
‘Miss what?’
Iliona plumped down on the end of Claudia’s couch. ‘The parade to be held in our honour. Didn’t Junius tell you? We gave him the message over two hours ago.’
Claudia sat up and ran a comb through her hair, wincing at the tangles. ‘No Junius, no message,’ she said lightly, while inside a solid ball of concrete formed.
‘You mean you haven’t even been shopping?’ Iliona was appalled. ‘What will you wear?’ Her hands delved into Claudia’s pack, but before they’d closed round the first wrap, Claudia pulled them away.
‘I picked up a few gowns yesterday,’ she said, pointing towards the clothes’ chest and hoping her voice wasn’t as cold as she suspected it might be.
‘Clever you.’ Iliona darted across and lifted the lid, pulling out all colours of the rainbow, and either she was a consummate actress, or she was genuinely interested in Claudia’s wardrobe. ‘Oh, my! What a wonderful colour. Aquamarine. Do wear that,’ she cried. ‘It will complement your curls and dark hair right down to the ground. Now I must fly. See you in the Forum, don’t be late!’
With a silvery jingle, Iliona danced out of the room, her anklets gleaming in the morning light, her divided skirt billowing out in a cloud of deep lavender, the beads on her pale lilac bodice clicking as she ran, proving once again that she was a one-woman show in herself.
Buckling down the straps on the pack that those long Cretan fingers had explored, Claudia reminded herself, not for the first time, that whoever had sabotaged the delegation, arranged the landslide, killed Libo and Nestor, as well as Gemma’s parents and the lyre-maker, not to mention cutting through a certain saddle strap had only been able to do so because they had remained at all times above suspicion. Iliona?
The landing was deserted by the time Claudia had hauled on her gown, the lodging house eerily silent. She was still adjusting the girdle round her waist when a door opened and Maria burst through, resplendent in a robe of scarlet and gold. Surely, though, she hadn’t been drinking at this early hour? Yet what else explained the two bright spots of colour high on her cheekbones, her unnaturally bright eyes?
‘Have you seen Junius this morning?’ Claudia asked.
‘All the dignitaries will be there,’ Maria gushed, and Claudia realized it wasn’t wine which had intoxicated her, but an overdose of snobbery. The governor of the province, his prefects, his aediles, his magistrates. The army is form ing a guard of honour, there’ll be an equestrian parade and the prefect who’d organized the inauguration ceremony has been on standby for our arrival, so there’ll be jugglers, magicians, acrobats, the lot. Oh!’ She clasped her hands across her chest until the knuckles turned white. ‘This is the moment Dexter’s been waiting for!’
‘Dexter has?’
‘The Sequani king can’t make it, apparently. A toothache or something. Anyway it’s keeping him tied to his bed,’ she said dismissively, ‘but anyone who’s anyone will be there, and I tell you, Claudia, this will be a day to remember. Dexter will be able to secure contracts for his bookbinding business. I’ve told him straight he must make sure they know he intends to open a branch here in Vesontio. They’ll not want to ship their delicate documents to Rome, he must let them know we can handle the most sensitive issues-’
‘Junius,’ Claudia reminded her. ‘Have you seen him, Maria?’
‘Huh? Oh. Your slave. No, dear, I can’t say I have, but then,’ she let out a girlish laugh, ‘I’ve had other things on my mind.’
Bugger.
Claudia leaned over the balcony rail. ‘Junius?’ she called. ‘Get the hell back in here!’ But he was nowhere to be seen. Bugger, bugger, bugger. She ran down the stairs, calling his name as she went, checking the gardens, the kitchens and finally the slave quarters.
‘No, ma’am. Haven’t seen him. Sorry, ma’am.’
‘Junius!’
Goddammit, this is no time to play hide and seek. She sped across to the cubbyhole where’d he’d slept and felt the concrete inside her flip over. Junius’s belongings were gone.
‘Are you really surprised?’ a deep voice asked in her ear.
He was sitting on a maplewood chest, swinging his long patrician legs as he examined an object in his hands.
‘Orbilio?’ She pretended her heel had snagged in her skirt, and by the time she’d made the necessary adjustment, Claudia’s colour and vocal chords were under control.
‘You knew he was a spy, didn’t you? Sending information back to his people.’
Ice chilled her veins. ‘Don’t talk tripe.’
‘Oh, come on.’ He tossed the object in the air, and she could see it was a carved figurine. ‘He’s a Gaul, head of your bodyguard, why do you think Junius stayed with you?’
Claudia pictured the unsmiling blue eyes which followed her every move. ‘He’s a slave,’ she said flatly. ‘Where can he go?’
‘Slave.’ Orbilio rolled the word round on his tongue. ‘Mmm. Don’t I recall an incident where he was offered his freedom? And another when he was rewarded-by his mistress, no less-with a very respectable sum? More than enough, as I recall, to purchase his freedom thrice over.’
‘There are types of glass, Orbilio, which are manufactured in such a way that, when you hold them at a certain angle, the object you wish to view becomes magnified many, many times.’ Tipping her head on one side, she smiled sweetly at him. ‘Unfortunately, if I stacked a hun dred such glasses on top of one other, still I would not be able to find a speck of interest in your pitiful ramblings.’
‘Is that a fact?’
Dammit, did he really believe that by covering his mouth with the back of his hand she wouldn’t know he was smiling?
‘Listen to me, you slick bastard,’ she hissed. ‘Junius is not a spy for the Gauls, and I-I remember now. Last night I asked him to run an errand for me. In the rush to get ready this morning, I’d completely forgotten.’
‘You’ve forgotten to pin up your hair. But’-with his little finger he reached out and pinged one of her curls-‘Junius had no errand to run. Not for you.’ His eyes flashed across to the pallet on which the young Gaul had slept. ‘He’s gone, Claudia. Taken his pack and skedaddled.’
‘Yes. Well. That was part of the plan.’ Her eyes flashed defiance.
‘Hmm.’ With great leisure, Marcus replaced the carved figurine on its shelf. ‘This errand wouldn’t be connected with Ecba, would it?’
Holy Jupiter! How the hell did he know about that?
‘Who?’
‘You don’t know Ecba?’ He heaved himself off the chest and dusted himself down. ‘My, my, my, you do surprise me. Perhaps that’s another thing that slipped your mind in the morning rush, so kindly let me refresh your memory. He has an office down by the waterfront-ring any bells? No? Suppose I tell you he’s a slave dealer? Not a profession which is overly admired, of course. Which possibly explains why someone felt inclined to slit his throat from ear to ear last night.’
‘What?’
‘For someone who doesn’t know the fellow, you seem pretty upset by his death,’ he said mildly.
Claudia turned away so he could not see her face. ‘Not by the slave dealer’s demise,’ she said tartly. ‘More by the insinuation that one of my staff was in some way complicit. I suppose you have ruled out suicide?’
‘Not necessarily, although any help finding where he threw the knife while lying flat on the floor with his windpipe wide open would be greatly appreciated.’
‘Very amusing, Marcus. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a procession to catch.’
‘I’ll walk with you.’