‘Mmrrr.’ She crouched low on Claudia’s lap.
‘No gambling. D’you hear that, Drusilla? No gambling. Out here,’ Claudia giggled, ‘I’d have to bet with myself. Oh, to hell with it!’
The glass hurtled through the air and splintered against the cottage wall. A head poked round.
‘Hey, you! Fetch some wine. And another bloody glass.’
The head hesitated.
‘Move!’
Drusilla, unfazed by the rat’s vanishing trick at the sound of breaking glass, yawned, stretched and clambered off in search of another victim to harry. By the time the slave had returned with the wine, she’d found it, in the form of a fat, hairy spider.
‘I know you’re going to tell me there’s been a death in the family and I should make allowances and,’ she gave a soft belch, ‘excuse me, and you’re probably right. But this place is so dull, poppet, it’d bore the freckles off a frog. Not, you understand, that that’s the only reason I hate this poxy place.’
Drusilla looked round, reassured herself that it didn’t matter that Claudia hadn’t noticed her absence, and busied herself with her quarry.
‘It’s that mummified bag of bones I can’t stick. Larentia.’
Claudia gulped at her glass.
‘Do you know what she calls me, eh?’ She wagged her finger. ‘She calls me a gold-digger. Me? I’ve never heard you complain about this life of luxury, I said to her last time I was here. You never wore rings like those when you were a navvy’s wife. Insult me if you like, she says, I recognize your type. Not surprised, I said, you only have to look in the mirror you miserable old fossil. Yes, yes, call me what you will, she says, but you can’t fool me, you only married my son for his money. Ah, well, I had her there, Drusilla. Pinned like a winkle, she was. I leaned forward, till my nose was nearly touching hers. And your son only married me for my looks, I said. Which is more than you can say for your old man! Drusilla? Drusilla?’ Her eyes swept the courtyard. ‘Juno, even the bloody cat’s gone now.’
She staggered to her feet, steadied herself against the brick wall and set her sights on the door. Cursing the threshold gods for tripping her she kicked off her sandals and padded silently across the mosaic. What a frightful design. She’d lay money it was Larentia’s choice, because what that woman knew about taste could be engraved on one of the tesselae.
‘Claudia! How lovely.’ Bugger. It would be Marcellus she ran into. ‘Have you been avoiding us? I say, what happened? Looks like you’ve been on the sand with the gladiators.’
Claudia’s senses were never so addled that she couldn’t remember the things that were important. She sobered instantly. He couldn’t have overheard! This was coincidence, surely. Yet-yes, those were the self-same words she’d used to Ligarius on Friday…
‘No, Marcellus. I only wrestle elephants on my birthday. When did you arrive at the villa?’
‘Came out for a breather.’ He nodded towards the garden. ‘Heavy stuff going on out there.’
‘Hardly surprising, but-’
‘It’s always hard going after a funeral. Of course, Gaius’s taken the blow like a man and Valeria’s putting a brave face on widowhood, but as for Larentia, well-you can never tell with her, and Flavia’s really cut up about it.’
‘Don’t be naive, Marcellus. Flavia hated her brother, she was as jealous as sin. Tell me, when did you get here?’
‘Felt dutybound to come, of course, if only to give Julia a break from being cooped up with the presence of death all the time.’
Give me strength. ‘I asked when, not why.’
‘Dunno. Not long. Who cares? Coming to join us?’
Not bloody likely. ‘I’m tired.’
‘It’s early.’
‘It’s boring.’
Marcellus ran the flat of his hand over her shoulder blade. ‘We could change that, you and I.’ He glanced around. ‘No one would even notice we were missing.’
‘You know, Marcellus, you really are an offensive little wart.’
For some unaccountable reason, he seemed to find that funny-although not quite funny enough to leave his hand where it was. ‘So why the black eye, Claudia? Did some bloke try to-’
‘If he did, Marcellus, he’d be in the city mortuary by now.’
‘What, then?’
She jerked away from the hand that was tracing the wound on her forehead. ‘It’s hardly a shiner and you lay so much as one more finger on me, you miserable worm, I’ll snap it clean off.’ She gingerly rubbed the cut. ‘And if you’ve infected this wound, I swear by all things holy you’ll pay with your life.’
‘Bad journey up, then?’
‘Find me a good one. Look, why don’t you run along and join Lucius, there’s a good chap?’
‘Lucius is…oh, very droll. Claudia, you ought at least to give you condolences to poor Valeria.’
‘In the morning.’
Another day wouldn’t make any difference, and what can you say to a young widow eight months pregnant with a child whose father’s ashes are still smouldering?
‘Ah!’ There was a knowing look in his eye. ‘It’s Larentia, isn’t it? You know, she’s not so bad once you get to know her.’
‘I don’t want to know her better thank you very much.’ Venomous old bitch.
Claudia began to dab at the corner of her eye. ‘I can’t see anyone now, Marcellus. You must remember that this is…extremely painful for me. Why, it was only five years ago that I was in the very same position myself.’
The catch in her voice was masterful, she thought. Absolutely bloody masterful. As Mulberrychops retreated, his head bowed in shame and embarrassment, Claudia was left to ponder why her brother-in-law was suddenly making overtures lacking in both subtlety and discretion. No matter, she could sort out that smarmy reptile any old time, there were more pressing matters on hand.
Slamming the rec room door in the face of Galla, the one who had replaced Melissa and was supposed to help her undress (because the last thing she wanted at the moment was company, especially from a girl who lisped), Claudia flung her sandals into the corner. On the whole, she thought, splashing water over her face, you’ve managed rather well. That exquisite soak in hot water had eased the aches and pains, the cold plunge had sharpened her wits and by the time she’d met up with Gaius again in the privacy of their bedroom, her spirits and confidence had buoyed themselves up.
Naturally he’d been flabbergasted when she told him about the riot. ‘Surely you notified the authorities? Good grief, my dove, they nearly killed you!’
She’d thought about that one.
‘At the time I was too concerned for the slaves,’ she said. ‘Then, afterwards, I was glad I hadn’t summoned the police.’ She patted his arm. ‘You’ve had so much to contend with lately, Gaius, the last thing you needed was your good name dragged into a common street brawl.’
‘You’re a very considerate woman, Claudia, do you know that? No, don’t look so modest. Most wives would have panicked and pandemonium would have been let loose. Instead, you mop up trouble like a wine spill and no one’s the wiser.’
Certainly not once you’ve set Junius free, they won’t be.
‘One of our slaves-oh dear I can’t remember his name-anyway, the poor boy stepped straight in and practically saved my life. I’ve hinted, only hinted, mind, that you might see your way clear to setting him free as a reward for his heroism.’
‘Could I do less, my brave little dove? Now, Claudia,’ the furrows on his brow deepened, ‘what’s this nonsense about your cousin Marcus? You said he made a pass at you?’
Honestly! The best playwright in the whole of the Empire couldn’t have penned a better script, she thought afterwards. The timing was perfection itself and Gaius, poor soul, fell into every trap. Now, waiting for him to come up to bed, she calculated there was no better time to play the loaded dice she had up her sleeve…
The oil in the lamp was burning low before Claudia, fully sober, heard her husband’s hand on the latch. He dismissed the slave with a growl. Hmm. If Marcellus believed he was taking Lucius’s death well, Claudia knew better. Gaius Seferius took every knock on the chin without obvious sign of damage. It was his way.