‘There’s a perfectly simple explanation for all this,’ Claudia Seferius told her reflection. ‘You’re hungry, you’re tired, you drank too much last night. What do you expect, you silly cow?’
Expert fingers began to cover the bruises with chalk, drawing a thin (but steady!) line of antimony round her eyes and rubbing ochre into her cheeks and lips. By the time she’d stuck the last bone pin into her curls, Claudia Seferius was equipped to deal with any obstacle in her path, and had she come face to face with the Minotaur himself raging on the other side of her bedroom door, her stride would not have been broken. Unfortunately, as it happened, it was Marcellus she bumped into.
‘Remus, Claudia, you look like shit.’
‘Why, thank you, brother-in-law, you look terrific yourself.’
He was, she noticed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
‘Did you want me?’
Marcellus flashed a lecherous grin. ‘Any time, darling, any time. Although, at this particular moment, it’s your old man I’m after.’
She jerked her head towards the fields. ‘At dawn, would you believe? He went off to potter round his precious vines. Could be anywhere by now.’
She wondered what Marcellus wanted. In fact, she wondered why an architect embroiled in the restoration works was at the villa at all. He seemed edgy, that was certain. Claudia quickly forgot him and followed her nose in the direction of freshly baked bread.
‘So you’ve condescended to join us at last.’
Her mother-in-law, lips pursed, forehead puckered, didn’t even bother to look up.
‘Larentia, darling! Lovely to see you again.’
Claudia swept over to her and planted a loud kiss on her mother-in-law’s withered cheek.
‘And good morning to you too, ladies.’ Julia, Flavia and Valeria were also reclining in the dining room.
Larentia snorted. ‘You’d best throw another salt cake on the fire,’ she said to the slave hovering at her shoulder. ‘I’ve already put one on today, madam.’-
‘I know,’ Larentia replied dryly, darting a reptilian glance at Claudia. ‘But Vesta will need a damn sight more than that to appease her.’
The slave bowed and went off to toss another offering on the sacred flame. Claudia inspected a pear and, pretending she’d missed the jibe, turned to Valeria.
‘How are you doing, kid?’
‘Can’t complain.’ The girl patted her swollen belly. ‘This baby’s been thumping half the day and all of the night since Lucius died.’
‘You’ll call him after his father, I presume?’ Julia stared at the bulge under Valeria’s tunic.
‘Not if it’s a girl,’ she replied with a chuckle, ‘and besides, I never cared for the name. Antonius has a nice ring to it.’ Flavia’s expression darkened, so she added quickly, ‘As has Sylvanus.’ She turned to Claudia. ‘That was my father’s name.’
‘I like that, Sylvanus.’
Pulling off a chunk of bread, Claudia decided Valeria didn’t strike the traditional pose of a grief-stricken widow. It was common knowledge, of course, that Gaius had arranged the marriage purely to advance the Seferius cause, though Lucius and Valeria seemed to have knuckled down and made the most of it, as indeed most young couples did. Uppermost in both their minds was the provision of an heir, and this was their fourth try. The tally so far ran to two miscarriages, plus one stillborn.
‘I wouldn’t call my son after my father.’ Trust Flavia to muddy the waters. ‘Anyway, I’ve told Antonius, I don’t want babies.’
‘Flavia!’
Julia was scandalized. It wasn’t something you ever said aloud, even if you meant it. Times were hard enough, as Valeria could testify, and the Empire sorely needed more stout citizens. Wasn’t Augustus imposing financial penalties on couples having less than four children or on men who remained single?
‘I think your aunt is trying to tell you that a global shortage of babies is something to be deplored, rather than encouraged.’
Flavia turned to her stepmother. ‘Well, I don’t want them, so there. What’s more, I shan’t sleep with Antonius-’
The slap that rang out stopped everyone in their tracks, including the slaves. Flavia blinked at her aunt in momentary disbelief, then burst into her usual flood of tears and ran out. Surprised and mortified by her unaccustomed outburst, Julia apologetically gathered up her skirts and went after her. Larentia chewed her lower lip as she stared at Claudia.
‘Don’t look at me, Larentia. You can’t be putting the right cakes on the fire.’
‘They’re the right ones, just not enough of them when you’re in the house. Didn’t have no trouble till you arrived.’
Claudia rolled her eyes and turned to Valeria. ‘So you think the little one might come early?’
‘Yes, and it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if-’
‘My daughter was right, though. You will call him Lucius.’
Both women’s eyes turned to Larentia, who was presiding over the dining room like a judge over a trial. Valeria, Claudia noticed, had turned quite pink. No doubt without her husband to stick up for her, she’d been in for a rough ride of late.
‘She’ll call her baby what she damn well pleases.’
‘Got nothing to do with you, keep your stuck-up nose out of my family affairs.’
‘Valeria’s her own woman, let her make her own decisions.’
‘She’s carrying my great-grandchild and if it’s a boy she’ll call him Lucius, won’t you, Valeria?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake stop bullying the girl. Valeria, why don’t you lie down, love?’
Valeria flashed a brief smile of gratitude and tottered off. Claudia pitied her, poor little bitch, suffering six years under the same roof as this imperious old cow, and if Gaius was entertaining any thoughts about inviting his mother to live with him in Rome he could damned well think again!
‘Ach, there’s always trouble when you’re around.’
Claudia settled herself deeper into the couch, concentrating on the new frieze whereby each wall represented a different season. If that scraggy old bag of bones believed she could cower Claudia Seferius with her poisonous tongue she was in for a surprise.
‘Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, either.’
Claudia continued to ignore her and broke off a piece of crumbly yellow cheese.
‘You won’t get away with it.’ She spat the words out, syllable by syllable.
Slowly Claudia laid down her goblet and dabbled her fingers in the bowl of water. ‘Something on your mind, Larentia?’ she asked sweetly.
‘Bitch!’
Claudia smiled. ‘Don’t suppose you could be a little more specific?’
Of course! She hadn’t considered this old harpy when she was looking for the writer of a poison pen letter but who else? Weren’t anonymous letters always written by women? And who better equipped with venom?
‘Whore! You’re nothing but a vain, idle, good-for-nothing, gold-digging harlot!’
Unless Julia watched her ways, she’d end up the very image of her mother in thirty years’ time. Crabbed and bony, with claws for fingers and only spite to keep her going. With a jerk of her head, which sent two curls loose from their moorings, Claudia indicated to the slaves in no uncertain terms to get lost and stay lost.
‘What really interests me is, did you write it yourself?’