Now that’s more like it! A bed. And beside the bed, in a small flat terracotta dish, a handful of coins. Payment for services rendered. And on the bed, a woman, lying naked. But the gash across her throat was obliterated by gorging flies making it impossible for the bluebottle to settle down and lay her eggs in it. She’d be nudged aside in no time.
Buzzing round the tiny room for inspiration, she realized with a start that the thing was so damned big, she’d missed it first time round. Wow. She circled round and round-so much choice! So much flesh for baby maggots to grow strong in!
Round and round she flew again, taking in the forward sprawl of the man’s body, the face twisted in pain, until finally she settled on an area just south of the great bushy beard and, only when she was satisfied her precious eggs would not be disturbed, did the bluebottle move round to feast on the rivulets of dried blood.
Of course she could not get near the wound itself for companions who’d staked an earlier claim, but that didn’t really matter. There was more than enough to go round on this giant of a man, and when she’d finished, she perched and cleaned herself quite happily on the metal flesh hook which protruded from his back.
*
‘I’ve taken your advice,’ Pylades said, ‘and added in a foot race, plus there’s a pageant organized for Thursday afternoon. After all-’ his hand slipped under Claudia’s elbow ‘-we don’t want our guests to be bored.’
Bored? Surrounded by a rash of mysterious deaths, with the military on my back, a Spaniard after my money and bankruptcy a distinct possibility?
‘I trust that’s good news?’ Pylades indicated the scroll in Claudia’s hand and, as he steered her along the path towards the museum, insisting he show her personally his collection of marble busts, either Claudia was getting fatter or the Greek was moving closer.
‘Merely a stuffy progress report from my bailiff,’ she breezed, covering the distinctive heron seal with her thumb and wondering how the Head of Rome’s Security Police might react to the news of his new appointment.
Across the glistening clear waters of the lake, grebe and dabchick dived for snails, and on the stone wall which ran along the path, a snake flicked out its tongue as it tasted the air.
‘Whatever brought you to these sweet Etruscan hills, Pylades,’ she said, keeping her gaze firmly on the bubbling cloudbank, ‘you were very lucky to find a spring on this promontory.’
The hand under her elbow became rigid. ‘Luck had nothing to do with it,’ he replied.
‘I’m sure it didn’t.’
There was a moment’s hesitation, a stumble in his step, then‘Mosul tells me you haven’t yet taken the waters,’ he said smoothly. ‘You should. Most beneficial.’
Why should you and that mole-eyed priest be discussing me? ‘I have it scheduled for this afternoon,’ she lied. ‘I meant to tell Leon.’
‘Leon?’ The Greek seemed sad. ‘Leon, I regret, is leaving us today. He has, I’m told, proved entirely unsatisfactory. Clumsy, forgetful. Mosul doesn’t feel the boy has the makings of a true vocation with our gentle Carya.’
‘As others before him have discovered.’ Claudia emphasized the last word. ‘Doesn’t that strike you as unusual?’
A flicker passed over the Laconian’s face. ‘It is not my place to comment on the priesthood,’ he said coldly, withdrawing his arm and muttering ‘I mustn’t keep you from your business’ as he disappeared at great speed through the first available entrance.
On the shore, gangs of workers were busy constructing the grandstand for the foot race and since the sawdust tickled her nose, Claudia sauntered out along the jetty. The planks were warm as she sat down and swinging her legs over the side, she unrolled Orbilio’s letter. Around her the lake glistened like broken shards of glass and garganey drakes threw back their heads in vigorous displays of courtship.
‘My dear Marcus — ’
That was odd, the Head of the Security Police addressing his staff with such familiarity. She doublechecked the seal but, no, this was no forgery and with a twitch of her brows, she started again.
‘My dear Marcus, You seem to be labouring under a misunderstanding-clearly you did not get my little joke if you thought I meant to sack you. Next time you’re in Rome, I’ll explain that little pun, but in the meantime, sterling work, old man, sterling work. Take your time about coming back-the Emperor is in good hands, protected by the Praetorian Guard, and as for the case, I have just this day briefed Augustus on our efforts — ’
Our? Claudia would bet her house, her jewels, her vineyards that that weasel’s input was nil. She read on.
‘Now, if you could find time to see your way clear to sending me the checklist you mentioned, the “dos” and “don’ts” for Jupiter’s priest, my brother might be interested. I believe he mentioned a while back that he had some intention of applying for the post.’
There was an equally queasy closing line, which Claudia skipped, mainly because she couldn’t read it through the tears of laughter which were coursing down her cheeks. Who’d believe it? The Head of the Security Police grovelling to his better-born staff, because he wanted his boneheaded brother in the most important pastoral role in the Empire, the post of Jupiter’s Priest?
Clearly Orbilio had acquired a full list of the taboos and regulations governing this role and was using it as a lever to force a leave of absence from his boss, who would, in turn, use this inside knowledge to ensure his brother was at least shortlisted for the post. Frankly, Claudia doubted the brother had so much as considered the application, but that would not prevent an ambitious man from propelling his trusting sibling forward. Orbilio’s boss was a creep and a social climber, but credit where it’s due, he had suckers like an octopus, that man. Never once had he taken so much as one half-step backwards in the course of his career; his progress was always, always upwards, even though it was invariably at the expense of others.
Still. Claudia let the parchment spring back into a roll and tucked it inside the folds of her gown. There was nothing in that note which incriminated her, and with a bit of jiggery-pokery and Fortune smiling down, she could tamper with the heron seal and make it look like new again. It was a trick she’d picked up in Naples, from a one-armed ‘I don’t suppose you are waiting for me?’
Calmly, she studied the reflection which appeared in the water. A man’s reflection, dark and swarthy, with a glint of gold in the cloth. ‘You suppose right.’
Tarraco crouched down, one knee touching the woodwork, in what she now knew was a familiar pose. ‘You must believe,’ he whispered, drawing a circle in the dust with his finger, ‘the way I feel.’ There was a pause long enough for him to draw three more concentric rings. ‘The gown was a mistake, I see that, but Lais walked out before you arrived in Atlantis. Why do you not accept the apology?’
Far out on the water, terns dived like arrows for fish and a wagtail trilled and bobbed, sending out alternate flashes of yellow and white. Claudia fixed her gaze on the distant hills and kept her lips tight together, and she heard him sigh, a small, almost insubstantial sound.
‘You think that by saying nothing, Tarraco will go away?’ The aroma of pinecones mixed with woodshavings floated under her nostrils. ‘What is between us, Claudia, that will not go away.’
Her sole response was a single arched eyebrow.
‘Very well,’ he said, rising slowly to his feet. ‘You attend races, yes?’
Try and keep me away. ‘Maybe.’
‘Then this afternoon, everything will be decided,’ he said, ‘one way or another.’ He stared out across the water. ‘My mother had the second sight and you’ll see, Claudia,’ he said, turning on his heel, ‘my words, also, are prophetic.’