'Into every life a little rain must fall, Orbilio. I'm sure someone will dream up a luscious attempt on the Emperor's life to redress the balance.'
Steaming in with the navy, charging up with the cavalry, legging it in with the legionaries, his career wouldn't remain in the shadows for long. Marcus Cornelius was far too ambitious for that — except, now that Claudia was returning home without a royal ring on her finger or a contract to supply Histria with her wine, she could only pray that the tentacles of his ambition didn't stretch in her direction. She would have to be even more inventive with her finances from now on.
'Yes, and talking of rain,' he said, 'that storm was a monster, but, praise be to Juno, it didn't last long.' He slanted her a quizzical glance. 'What chance, do you think, of the calm lasting?'
Claudia thought carefully before she answered.
'Fair,' she said. 'Maybe even good, if Mazares continues to flourish.'
The relief — oh, the relief — when Salome told her that the cold sweats were gone and the tingling had subsided completely.
'Why didn't you accept his proposal?' she'd asked, placing a parsley poultice on Claudia's swollen jaw.
'Because I'm not the right woman for him,' she'd replied bluntly.
The right woman doesn't question her man's integrity. The right woman's trust doesn't falter. The Syrian girl pushed her foxy mane behind her ears in a way that would scandalize the matrons of Rome, where society decreed that women must tie their hair up.
'Maybe,' Salome conceded. 'But then again, my dear, have you considered the possibility that it was because Mazares is not the right man for you?'
Not at all, she thought, pushing aside images of dark, wavy mops, and anyway dawn was starting to break. Admittedly, it was cold, grey and damp, but it was still dawn — which meant there was still time.
'Come with me,' she ordered Salome.
Mazares sat propped up in bed, his curls lank, his skin yellow and with purple caverns under his eyes, but to Claudia he'd never looked better, and, on the rug by the window, his two Molossan hounds snored contentedly.
'That woman's a witch,' he drawled, shaking his finger at Salome. 'She fed me the most abominable potions you can imagine. As if I wasn't in enough discomfort!'
'Console yourself that she won't need to resort to such drastic tactics when you're married,' Claudia replied crisply. 'Pavan, do you still have the papers?'
'Aye.'
One arm in a sling, he passed the scroll across with the other. Here was another one who should be in bed, she reflected, but it seems you can't keep these three-headed gorillas down.
'What are you talking about?' Salome and Mazares chorused at once.
'There's still time,' Claudia said, 'if you hurry, because in a few minutes it will be morning.'
The King and the widow exchanged puzzled glances.
'The morning of the day after marriages can be announced,' Claudia explained.
'Yes, but-'
'But nothing, Mazares. She loves you, you love her, now put your damned seal on the contract.'
She should have realized. That jolt of electricity when they bumped into each other. The way his jaw dropped as the blue nymph consigned her herbs to the Fire of Life. The pig he'd sent her, the spotted kind she'd always wanted. The way he'd watched the farm from his window, which was how he was able to raise the alarm so quickly. But, most of all, it was the fact that he suspected what was going on regarding her Freedom Trail and sought a friend's advice, rather than the tribune in Gora…
There would be ructions, of course. Salome's views on equality of the sexes alone would produce enough fire to heat the palace throughout the winter, but then, in those pants, marriage to Mazares was never going to be lacking in passion! And she would give him the kind of heirs that he wanted.
Children who'd stand up for what they believed in, freethinkers, free-wheelers, he'd said, unburdened by conventions and hidebound traditions. Yes, indeed. With Salome around, he'd never go short of those!
'Mazares, you have three minutes of today remaining.'
Dancing catkins swivelled towards his redheaded healer. 'Just what drugs did you feed this poor wretch?'
But, instead of laughing, Salome threw her hands into the air. 'What is it with you boneheaded Histri? Can't you ever see what's under your noses?'
He blenched. 'You mean it's true?'
'Great Marduk, I've loved you since the first day I met you, now will you please, please do as Claudia asks, and no, this has nothing to do with time running out. It's so the bride can bloody well kiss you.'
His reply sounded like, 'Why am I cursed with women breaking my balls?' but Claudia couldn't be certain, because, for one thing, Pavan was rustling the parchment in her ear, and for another, the King's mouth had been completely covered by a ravishing redhead. Well, well, well. Who said you can't be a dutiful monarch and still be happy?
'Claudia!' he called out. 'Wait. I haven't thanked you for, well, for everything, and look at you! You're black and blue…'
'Mazares, there are thirty seconds left to announce your marriage. We can make small talk later.'
Except she knew it wouldn't happen. That she must take the next boat off the island. Be gone before he found out. But, by all that was holy, she'd miss that velvety drawl, that lazy sparkle behind his eyes, even, dammit, those ridiculous pants, and, who knows, maybe Mazares would even miss her? Although, if Salome's fervour was anything to go by, he'd have little time to dwell on the past. Soon Histria would be invested with so many heirs, he probably wouldn't be able to move for the blasted things, and her heart swelled with happiness for him.
Kazan's suicide would come as a blow, but on top of so many shocks, it would be that much easier to absorb, she supposed. Later, of course, the pain of his loss would sink in, but then again, later, Mazares would be stronger, and with Salome at his side, he would be more able to cope with his grief.
Strangely, it was Kazan's death that finally made the man. When Claudia returned to sprinkle hyssop on Raspor's mound, you wouldn't know the boat builder's grave had been touched.
But now the island of Rovin was gone. The green archipelago with it. Even the coast of the peninsula had faded to nothing…
'There's one thing I don't understand,' she said, as Orbilio rested his foot on a coil of rope and leaned his face into the wind.
'Only one? You must be slipping.'
She ignored that.
'How is it that two people can be so much in love and not see it?' she asked.
His response was to laugh and toss her a mirror.
'Beats me,' he said.