If Cyrus had been surprised to see them turn up at the garrison, he masked it well, and with Pylades patting Claudia’s lovely hand as he glossed over the misunderstanding, the tribune even seemed to find it rather funny. In fact, he barely minded when, in a fit of clumsiness, the lovely widow accidentally overturned his desk. The shame of being here, she mumbled. Of having to explain oneself after such public humiliation Finally, with all sides parting company in good humour (he even went so far as to kiss her hand himself), how could Cyrus not mind bestowing one more favour?
It concerned a harebell gown, she said, fluttering her lashes as, in a hushed whisper, she confessed at being duped by Tarraco’s slick charm. The gown had actually been Lais’, she added. Imagine that! Well, now she’d like her revenge…
And an hour later, she was back.
This time without Pylades, just absinthe from his personal supply.
‘Hooo,’ Cyrus said, making a fanning motion with his podgy hand. ‘Powerful stuff.’ Carefully he replaced the stopper. ‘Now I apologize if what follows implies a lack of trust, but you must appreciate the prisoner is facing a capital offence, I cannot afford to take chances.’
‘You’re asking if you can search the sack and the answer is I should jolly well hope you would,’ Claudia began, but the tribune held up an embarrassed hand.
‘The bag, yes, but I, um, well, it’s like this.’ He didn’t need to elaborate. An amazon with a face like a boot appeared in the doorway, and for five minutes Claudia was subjected to a punishing search before Granitepuss finally called out to Cyrus that the visitor had no keys or weapons on her person, indeed nothing that could endanger the safe custody of the prisoner. By the way, she’d searched the sack as well, but, she shouted, there was only one silver bell inside (no clapper) plus one dead rabbit.
‘Hare,’ Claudia corrected. ‘The animal is a hare, and it is revenge for a dress.’
‘I don’t care what it is, it stinks,’ Bootface said, wiping her hands down the side of her tunic. ‘The jailhouse is over there.’
The legionary assigned to escort her seemed more concerned with the probability of rain by morning than an impending murder trial, and as he chuntered on, again Claudia was struck by how quiet the garrison was for such an up-and-coming town. Typical of barracks anywhere, the buildings consisted of four blocks built around a central rectangular yard, yet they seemed eerily empty. No soldiers drilling. No barked orders. No hobnail boots clattering over the cobbles. Merely a coil of black smoke from the smithy and the thwack of meat being chopped on a block.
‘What? Oh, Cyrus keeps us out on foot patrol, mostly. Making the roads safe to travel, and all that. After all-’ the soldier pulled a face ‘-there’s sod all else to do around here, pardon my Phrygian.’
Behind the stable yard, a small stone-built structure with iron bars at the small and solitary window sat forlornly on its own, allowing every angle to be covered, because whilst cells acted as storage space, rather than as places of punishment, it wasn’t to say the occupants were content to remain incarcerated and bandits tend to have friends. Still, it was a hell of a sight better than Rome’s dank, dingy holes that adjoined the Great Sewer.
‘I’ll have to lock you in,’ the legionary mumbled apologetically. ‘But if there’s any trouble, Miss, just holler-I’ll be right outside this door.’
‘Thank you, officer, I’ll bear that in mind,’ she said, as the heavy wooden door swung open on hinges so well oiled, it showed even the maintenance men were desperate for tasks.
Tarraco was leaning against the far wall, supporting his weight on his forearm and despite the burst of light which invaded the isolated, darkened cell, he continued to stare at the low stone ceiling, his jaw tilted upwards in either arrogance or defiance, or both.
‘You have a visitor, my son,’ the soldier boomed. ‘Make the most of it, ’cos you won’t be having many more.’
Long after the key clanked hollow in the lock, long after Claudia had acclimatized to the gloom, the rough wooden pallet, the hole in the floor which served as a latrine, Tarraco moved not a single muscle and it was left to Claudia to break the silence.
‘Nice duds,’ she said, indicating the coarse peasant tunic he’d been given. ‘But I see it didn’t match my scarlet ribbon. You’ve thrown that away.’
‘Confiscated,’ he growled. ‘In case I use it to tie round iron bar and strangle myself. Me! Tarraco! They think I take coward’s way out?’ There was a pause, before he gave a gruff laugh. ‘Did I not tell you everything would be decided between us?’
‘I shouldn’t boast about second sight, if I were you,’ Claudia replied, prodding the lumpy mattress. ‘Had I been in your shoes and seen into the future, I’d have been in Ancona by now, heading for Dalmatia.’
‘Second sight is not seeing the future, it is feeling. Understanding.’ He half turned towards her, but his eyes remained on the ceiling. ‘I did not expect this.’
I’m sure.
‘You know, is strange,’ he said quietly. ‘When you think me single and rich, when I save you from being killed by a bear, you do not wish to know. Instead, when I butcher two wives to get my hands on their fortunes-’
‘There’s nothing quite like a confession of brutality to lift the heart.’
‘You expect me to plead? On my knees, swear I did not murder Lais? Whatever I say, Claudia, I will die and what’s more, that fat slug of a tribune will devise some slow and painful execution, he hates my guts.’
‘Don’t you rather think you might have underestimated us Romans, Tarraco? Silly things, we will insist on fripperies. Like a trial, for instance.’
‘Where you find judges, lawyers, jurists here, eh? This afternoon the tribune and your tall friend, Marcus, they go out to my island-they say, to look for evidence.’ He hissed in his breath. ‘I say to plant it.’
‘So what’s your defence?’ Claudia asked, tipping out the dead hare and the bell. ‘Still sticking to the theory that someone rowed out purposely to strangle Lais, are we?’
‘That is not what I said.’ Tarraco slammed his fist into the stonework. ‘Why do you always belittle me?’
Blood oozed down his knuckles to drip-drip-drip on the tamped earth floor. Outside a flycatcher trilled.
Claudia wrapped her fingers around the iron bars of the slot which called itself a window and heard the blood hammer in her ears. With his back against the stable block and his arms folded over his chest, the soldier drew pictures in the dust with his toe. Smells from an unappetizing stew filtered across from the kitchens. The clouds from the west had moved over to cover the sky. They were low and grey, and trapped the stifling heat.
Which surely explained why she could not breathe?
‘Even you, you cannot resist coming to gloat.’ She heard him swear under his breath. ‘You bring me a smelly bunny and think, ha, ha, that is so funny.’
Claudia counted silently to ten. ‘I do not think murder is funny, Tarraco. In fact, I’m not amused at all.’
From the stables, a horse whinnied softly, and raucous laughter drifted down from the lookout tower as the shift changed over.
Tuder’s dead, Virginia’s dead, Lais is dead but most of all, my arrogant young stud, Cal, is dead. In the pit of her stomach, something primeval slithered.
Holy Venus, it’s not too late to stop. Pick up the hare and bell, walk away. Justice is for others to administer, not you. Call the guard. Walk away. Then she heard an echo of a young man’s laugh. Saw again his beech-leaf eyes, caught a whiff of mint and alecost. And Claudia knew then that she could not-would not-walk away.
‘So then.’ Taking one last, lingering glance at the bored legionary, she composed herself and turned to Tarraco. You really have no option-’ with her toe, she indicated the items that she’d brought ‘-other than to be a good boy for Mummy and play with your toys.’
XXVII