Her face was puffed up like a pig’s bladder. Somewhere in there was an eye, she supposed. Corinna made a grab for her clothes, but not before Claudia had seen the vast expanse of purple bruising on her body.
‘Has Diomedes seen this?’
Corinna shook her head.
‘Well, he’s in the house now, I’ll call him over-’
A strangled cry cut her short. ‘No!’
‘Corinna, for pity’s sake, you need medical help!’
‘I’m fine. Really. I’m fine.’ She tried so hard to smile. ‘I–I went for a walk in the rain the other night. I tripped, I lost my footing and I fell down the hillside.’
Of course she had. ‘How often do you…trip down the hillside?’
Corinna’s shoulders sagged. ‘Please, if you want to help me, keep this our secret.’
Claudia had been happy to dismiss her as a mouse-well, more a mole, really, since she rarely surfaced-and had she been the one with a claim to invisibility, rather than Sabina, Claudia could have understood it. Now it made sense, the stooped shoulders, the self-effacing colours, the downcast gaze.
‘Give me one good reason.’
Tears welled in Corinna’s eyes. Eye! ‘Just promise me, Claudia. Please.’
She suppressed a shudder. What Linus would do, if he found out she’d been talking, she didn’t dare think about. The beatings were bad enough, but what he expected her to do afterwards was revolting. And it was getting worse. With increased frequency, he was finding new and more humiliating sexual practices to inflict upon her.
‘I’ll do no such thing. Your husband uses you as a punchbag and you expect-’
Corinna gripped her arm with both hands. ‘You don’t understand,’ she wailed. ‘It’s my fault.’
‘Balls.’
‘It is, it’s my fault, I’m a lousy wife, I know I am-’
‘Corinna, stop blaming yourself for this.’ Claudia picked up a sponge and began to bathe the bruises as gently as she could. ‘You need vinegar compresses on those swellings and balsam where the skin’s split.’
‘I don’t keep balsam.’ Corinna didn’t seem to have noticed that no promise was given.
‘I’ll get you some. Then, when you’re better, you pack your things and leave.’
‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I’ve got four children-’
‘Take them with you.’
‘Eugenius will never let me. He’s got plans for them, plans in the business.’
Claudia steered Corinna into the warm water. A long soak would ease matters considerably, especially if she could put some chalk or something in it. She’d have to check with Diomedes-she could do it at the same time she picked up the balsam.
‘When Eugenius dies, Aulus takes over. Aulus is still under sixty, so by the time he pops off, Fabius will be in his mid-, maybe even late fifties, probably with sons of his own to take over.’
‘But-’
‘But nothing, Corinna. Go back to your family, divorce Linus-ssh! I know it’s difficult, but it’s not unheard of and I’ll stand witness for you.’ Hell, she’d stand up in court and give such a graphic account of Linus’s brutality, half the Collatinus fortune would end up settled on Corinna. ‘It’s the only solution.’
She wondered how grateful Corinna would be. In terms of gold pieces, that is. After all, she was still on the right side of thirty and if she put some weight on the old bones and smiled a bit, she could bag herself a catch in next to no time. She left her thinking it over.
Since only Pacquia and Cypassis were allowed in her room-that was Drusilla’s decision, not Claudia’s-she decided to pick up some titbits for the cat and was just heaping a plate with chicken, duck and sardines when a buzz of excitement went up.
The huntsman is coming, the huntsman is coming.
Claudia practically threw Drusilla’s dinner at her. She didn’t stop to consider what dangerous compulsion motivated her going into the hills with a man so big he could strangle her with one hand, a man whose hut was so remote her body could be picked clean by vultures, devoured by ants. All she knew was that there was something exciting, scary, intoxicating about a man who controlled you with his eyes and with his actions.
A huge boar covered much of the floor space. There was a pile of birds-quail, pheasant, partridge, songbird-and a few hares. No venison, which was a pity, although the last lot was as tough as old boots. In fact, it could well have been a pair of Fabius’s. Smoothing her hair and straightening her tunic, Claudia picked her way to the outside door, where the kitchen slaves had congregated, plying him with wine and honey cakes. Her cheeks were flushed, her heartbeat rapid as she approached the huntsman.
Who was short and squat and approximately ten years older than Aristaeus.
Dammit, she should have realized there’d be swarms of the little beggars.
*
The pines offered shade and a delicious, heady scent. They also offered company. Magpies hopped and chattered in the branches, a squirrel noisily nibbled the seeds of the large, round, stalkless cones, fishing terns splashed into the waters. Claudia scooped up a handful of white sand and let it drift through her fingers. Against her will, the image of a tall, handsome, willowy woman formed itself in her mind, an image which it took considerable effort to dissolve until, finally, all that remained were a few fragments of blue glass.
Claudia shivered. At the Villa Collatinus, it was as though Sabina hadn’t existed. Tears had not been shed, her name was never mentioned, her unsettling mannerisms never broached.
There is a formula for clearing your mind of difficult encumbrances. You tell yourself jokes, you sing dirty songs, you count to a hundred and fifty then you repeat one word twenty times. Claudia was on the second round of joke telling when she became aware of a small shadow beside her. Popillia, red in the face and desperately trying to suppress tears of anger, radiated so much heat you could have lit a bonfire with her.
‘I hate you!’
Claudia pulled up her knees and hugged them. ‘You resent having your bluff called,’ she corrected.
‘Do so hate you. Piso spanked me on my bare bottom and in front of my brothers, too. I hate you more than Piso!’
Claudia waited for the fire to burn itself out.
‘It’s not fair. I told Piso it was you who broke the pot then-’
‘Then Piso spanked you for that, as well.’
‘How did you know?’ The blazing fury had been replaced by sullenness.
Claudia smiled. ‘That’s grown-ups for you. Still, you’ve learned one valuable lesson.’
‘Yes I have! Never tell the truth.’
Claudia’s grin broadened. Well, that too, but what she meant was: ‘If you want something in future, try asking nicely. Blackmail never works.’
‘It works for you, I heard you with Orbilio.’
Wow. This child has potential.
‘I hate my brothers, too.’ Popillia began to scuff the toe of her little leather shoe against the rough bark of the tree. ‘They talk Greek and climb trees and Fabius has given them wooden swords to fight with. I only get dolls, it’s not fair.’
It was the second time she’d said that in less than a minute.
‘I regret to tell you this, young lady, but fairness is a myth. It’s up to you-and you alone-not only to even unfair odds, but turn them round and make them work in your favour.’
‘How?’ It wasn’t quite as sulky as previously.
‘First things first. Greek’s taught to boys, I know, but if you want, you can pick it up by asking Diomedes to teach you, can’t you?’
Tentative nod.
‘Same with trees. You can learn to climb those yourself. Start with a yew or something, they fork close to the ground. That’ll get you admitted to the Boys’ Club, won’t it?’
Nod, nod, nod.
‘Except that’s not enough, is it?’
Popillia, who clearly thought it was, shook her head very, very slowly.
‘Ideally you’ll need an extra qualification, some advantage to make them so envious of you they’ll beg you to join.’