In the atrium, with the morning sunshine streaming in from the open roof and the water sparkling on the surface of the central pool, the bestiality of the attack seemed far removed and if, in life, the Collatinuses had been proud to have a Vestal in the family, in death they were more so. You couldn’t move for cypress. With a torch at each corner, Sabina lay on her bier in full bridal dress, correct right down to her circlet of marjoram and verbena. Even her girdle was tied in that special double loop known as the Knot of Hercules (in itself no mean feat), but not for Sabina ribald jokes about this being the one labour Hercules couldn’t manage and wishing the bridegroom better luck. But ceremony she’d had, poor cow.
Claudia adjusted the woollen ribbons running through Sabina’s elaborate, conical hairdo which someone had taken great pains to get right.
Since Eugenius was physically incapable of performing the ritual, Aulus had been deputed to clash the two bronze kettles together and spit the black beans from his mouth to speed his daughter’s spirit. Afterwards, Eugenius resumed his role as head of the family and led prayers at the family shrine, except he sounded bitter rather than distraught.
You’d have thought that with Sabina’s body still cooling in the atrium, some respect would have been shown last night, wouldn’t you? Far from it. Aulus and Fabius all but came to blows, Portius drank too much and threw up, Linus openly groped the slave girls. Matidia and Corinna turned their customary blind eye on the pretext of discussing textiles while Eugenius absented himself, as usual. In fact, from what Claudia could gather, this was a run-of-the-mill evening for the Collatinus clan… Perhaps they were used to dead bodies littering the establishment?
She was smoothing the bright orange veil round Sabina’s face when she heard voices.
‘I’ve composed a lament, Father. I’ll read it in full at the funeral, but this is how it starts:
‘’Twas here that once the tainted air brought forth
A plague that raged with all an autumn’s heat.
It slew the herds and every kind of beast,
Infected pools and poisoned pastures sweet.’
Dear me, if they handed out laurels for pretentiousness, you’d mistake Portius for a bay tree.
‘Well done, son!’ Aulus clapped so loudly the sound echoed round the marbled hall. ‘Claudia, my boy here is destined to become one of the great Sicilian poets.’ He beamed proudly. ‘Wasn’t that marvellous?’
‘Wasn’t that Virgil?’ she replied artlessly, without stopping to watch the exchange of expressions.
Passing the dining room she could hear Fabius’s strident tones launched into his favourite moan about how the Praetorian Guard are paid three times the salary yet put in only three-quarters of the service. Pity the poor policeman from Sullium, probably fat as a bullfrog and red as a cockerel’s wattle, trying to make headway in this house. Serves him right, she thought, about time he earned his keep in that dreary, one-horse town where the only crime was an occasional spot of pilfering.
‘Quite so, but if we could just return to the moment you first saw your sister’s body…’
Claudia stopped in her tracks as though she’d been poleaxed. It couldn’t be! Jupiter, Juno and Mars, it bloody couldn’t be! She waited until her colour had subsided and her breathing was less ragged before sweeping into the room.
‘Well kick me for a cardamom, look what the cat’s dragged in!’
IX
‘Cat?’
Both men jumped to their feet, anxiously raking the ground with their eyes. Dear, sweet Drusilla. Always made an impression, no matter where she went.
Fabius recovered first. ‘Ah, Claudia, let me introduce-’
‘Save your breath. I’m fully acquainted with this little tick, thank you very much.’
Fabius looked confused, but the visitor, tall and dark with a mop of curly hair, grinned covertly. ‘I think it’s her way of saying she’s missed me.’
‘Yes. Well.’ Fabius shot a hopeful glance at the door and the words ‘Permission to be dismissed’ all but slipped out. He managed to excuse himself on a more sociable note, but the speed with which he reached the doorway spoke volumes.
‘Reminiscing about the old days, were we?’ She had almost forgotten Orbilio’s military background.
‘Not exactly.’ He motioned Claudia to sit.
Claudia stood. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I was going to ask you the same thing.’
‘I asked first.’
‘Very well.’ Marcus Cornelius Orbilio settled himself on one of the red upholstered dining couches, throwing one leg casually over the other. ‘Naturally, as a member of the Security Police, I’m extremely disturbed-’
‘That’s what happens when cousins marry.’
A muscle twitched in his cheek. ‘I meant in the worried sense,’ he said. ‘Since the Vestal Virgins fall under my protection-’
‘Sabina will find great consolation in that.’
‘She wasn’t a Vestal. Claudia, why are you giving me such a hard time?’ He swivelled round and caught hold of her wrist. ‘You know what’s between us.’
‘My knee in your groin if you don’t let go.’
He gave a cockeyed smile as he released her. ‘Sooner or later you’ll have to admit it. I get under your skin.’
‘You get up my nose.’
In three quick strides she was across the room. In the atrium, one slave polished the family shrine, a second, on his knees and singing, mopped at a spillage, while a third topped up the oil lamps. The smell of cypress and incense was cloying.
He blocked her way between pillars. ‘Wait. I want to question you.’
Typical. Want, want, want!
‘Orbilio, watch my hips.’
The last thing she needed was him sniffing round, rooting up all manner of things that didn’t concern him. She ducked under his outstretched arms. He blocked her way between the next pillars.
‘Then let me remind you why I’m here.’ Yes? ‘This is a murder investigation-’
‘You knew she was going to be murdered?’
‘Claudia, I’m tired. I’ve had a long journey and I’ve been up all night.’ Firmly taking her arm, he swung her round 180° and marched her back into the dining room, pressing his weight against the door. He’d forgotten how her eyes flashed like the sun on water when she was angry. ‘I want this pervert caught and you could do me a big, big favour by filling in some background information.’
She sliced off a chunk of sheep’s cheese. ‘You could do yourself a bigger favour by getting a bath.’ She wrinkled her nose and flapped her hand. ‘Downwind…well, I mean to say.’
Alarm flushed his face as he snatched at a handful of tunic and sniffed. It smelled of nothing more offensive than cloves and sandalwood and bay, and he was annoyed with himself for falling for it.
‘I’m in no mood to play games.’ Orbilio walked across to the table, laid his hands flat and leaned over to face her. ‘A woman lies dead and mutilated right outside that door. Tell me about the family.’
She hadn’t heard from this man in heaven-knows-how-long and he expected her to do his work for him? Unfortunately, telling a policeman to go knot himself wasn’t a particularly clever move. There were laws against that sort of thing. Which was rather a shame, really.
‘Eugenius: dirty old man, face like a walnut.’ Claudia ticked them off on her fingers. ‘Matidia: over fifty, overdressed, over made-up. Aulus: drunk as a skunk with a nose like a trunk. Fabius:-’
Orbilio wanted to pull her into his arms. He wanted to tell her she looked ravishing in pale blue. He wanted to confess his overwhelming relief that the mutilated corpse wasn’t hers. He wanted to bury his face in her thick, wayward curls. He wanted to ask, ‘Do you mean an elephant’s trunk or a traveller’s trunk?’ Instead he heard a pompous voice saying: