Silvia let out a pointed sigh.
'Fine,' Nikias replied, not raising his eyes from his plate.
Although theoretically a member of Saunio's team, since he was on sub-contract to the maestro on this job, Claudia disqualified the Corinthian from the BYM category on technical grounds. At thirty-eight, he was too old to be young. With an intensity of expression bordering on the hostile, he was far from pretty. Also, she did not think he was homosexual, either.
'Still scheduled for completion next week?' Leo persisted.
'Yep.'
'And you don't foresee any problems with the deadline on the portrait of my bride and myself above the bed of the new marriage chamber?'
'Nope.'
Well, that settled that, then. As silence descended on the group, Claudia took to admiring the dining hall's splendid white marble columns garlanded with deep-blue delphiniums, white oleander and sulphur-yellow hibiscus. Aromatic resins crackled in wall-mounted braziers and fragrant oils burned in the dozens of lamps which hung on the walls and from tall silver stands. In this brilliant artificial light, the bronze dining couches gleamed like gold.
Shamshi took advantage of the lull in conversation. 'Bees,' he announced, in his soft sibilant voice.
'Bees?' everyone echoed in puzzled unison.
'I noticed a swarm,' he said, 'travelling east. Coupled with the flight of three pigeons across the sun at midday and the fall of the bones, there is only one conclusion to be drawn.' His dark eyes fixed on Claudia. 'Before a new light is born in the sky, bad news will come over the water.'
'Ah,' Leo said thoughtfully. 'Will it, indeed?'
This time a longer silence descended on the diners, and Claudia wondered how much notice Leo paid to the Persian's prophecies. From what she'd seen of him, he seemed a level-headed enough chap. But then he had been resident on Cressia for several years, and on an island where dark deeds figured heavily in its past, superstition found a perfect breeding ground in a race of people isolated by the sea. How much of this hocus pocus had Leo absorbed? And how much of an influence did Shamshi exert on his patron? Leo did not strike Claudia as the imaginative type, so was it the Persian who had planted the idea of training vines in rows like soldiers? To espalier them sideways, instead of dangling them from overhead trellises? Ditto the Villa Arcadia. Architecturally, the mould had been broken here, too.
Abandoning the traditional concept of four wings round a central courtyard, Leo had expanded the accommodation to cover three wings of the original building and demolished the fourth in favour of a fabulous marble portico lined with friezes and statuary. The trades which used to be contained within the original villa now lay outside in a cluster of sheds, mills, stores and workshops, and he'd built a brand new self-contained bath house, complete with domed roof and gymnasium.
Volcar's acerbic quote came to mind. 'All he needs now is a smattering of beggars and the odd painted whore, gel, and he's created a whole bloody town. Don't know why he just doesn't call the place "Leoville" and be done with it.'
An old man's bitterness at his nephew's success, while he was reduced to living on handouts? Or sharp insight into a side to Leo's character Claudia had yet to discover?
'Of course I'm going to bloody well kill it,' Leo said.
What? She had been so busy daydreaming, Claudia had missed the start of this new conversation. What was he going to kill? A rumour? Volcar had nodded off on the far side of the couch, his breathing in rhythm with his ancient hunting dog, Ajax, snoring at his feet.
She glanced at Silvia for clues, but the Immaculate One was torn between selecting a roast hazel hen and the squid in coriander. Claudia suspected this was about the toughest decision the woman had ever had to make. Unless, of course, it was deciding which frock went with which emeralds. On the couch opposite, Shamshi was busy picking his hooked Arab nose, no help there, and Saunio sat stroking the pretentious beard that encircled his chin, while Nikias's face was, if that were possible, even more of a blank. He seemed more intent on pushing a sardine round his plate with the point of his knife, as though teaching it how to swim in the thick mustard sauce.
'I'm right, aren't I, Claudia?' Leo asked.
'Absolutely — ' she began, then noticed that the sardine had stopped moving — 'not,' she finished firmly. The sardine continued smoothly on its course.
'You disappoint me, Claudia, really you do. I'd thought better of a fellow wine merchant and estate owner.' Leo snorted. 'It's only a bloody fish, for gods' sake.'
'A dolphin is not a fish,' Nikias pointed out, steering his sardine east to west now and avoiding an anchovy amidships. 'It's an animal, and a very intelligent creature at that. It's harmless, gentle, the children adore it-'
'That's the whole point.' Leo's fist thumped the arm of his couch. 'The entire town loves that — fish. Ooh let's swim with it, ooh let's play with it, ooh let's sit on its back,' he mimicked. 'Thanks to that fish, half the island's tramped over my land. The point's one of the few places round here with easy access to a beach and you ought to see it, Claudia. So much ground's been churned up, it looks like a bloody battlefield. They're scum, that's what they are. Thoughtless, ill-mannered scum, and the mess they've left is disgusting.'
'It's only scrubland that's been disturbed,' Nikias murmured. 'Try asking them to take their litter home.'
'I don't need to ask a bloody thing,' Leo snapped. 'This is my property and these people, goddammit, are trespassing.'
The Corinthian ran his tongue slowly under his upper lip. 'You've heard the stories of invalids being healed after swimming with dolphins? That crippled boy in the town? The cobbler's son?'
'Cobblers is right.' Leo waved his chicken bone in emphasis. 'It's all in the mind. If they think they'll be cured, then the superstitious sods will be. Good luck to them, I say. Just don't expect me to put up with their blasted mess a moment longer, and since it's my bloody land they're trampling-'
'Actually, it's my bloody land they're trampling,' slurred a voice from behind. 'And I've given them permission.'
The woman swaying in the great double doorway was in her early thirties, no great beauty, but striking. With clothes well cut and hair well styled, she exhibited all the grooming and bloom of her class. As all eyes turned on the newcomer, Claudia noticed Saunio slipping quietly out through a side door.
Volcar suddenly snorted awake. 'This'll liven up the evening,' he murmured, smacking his gums with relish.
'Who is she?'
'Don't y'know?' the old man sniggered. 'That's the wife!'
Volcar wasn't with it. He'd woken up too soon, was still dreaming, poor old duffer. 'Leo hasn't actually got married yet,' Claudia pointed out gently. That was the whole point of these costly renovations. 'He's fetching a bride over from Rome in a couple of weeks, a rose-grower's daughter or something.'
Volcar's chuckle was positively ribald. 'Didn't tell you, then, the crafty bugger? Not surprised, frankly. Should be ashamed of himself.' He leaned closer, but this time it wasn't to touch her up. 'All of a sudden, just like that, he upped and divorced her. Said Lydia wasn't giving him children, so he made a scything motion with his hand — 'end of marriage.'
No. Not Leo. Surely not?
'Tossed the poor cow out on her ear,' Volcar whispered. 'Built her a crummy little house on the point and — oh, sssh, sssh. I want to hear this.'
'Lydia, you're drunk,' Leo said. The word 'again' all but hung in the air. 'Go home. Please.'
'But this is my home, Leo. Or at least the improvements are mine.'
'You're talking gibberish, woman. Go back. Sleep it off.'
'Gibberish is better than bullshit, which is what you gave me, Leo. Bullshit — and no baby.' She suppressed a small burp. 'Now you're using my money to pay for a few pretty pictures, a new bath — and for what? To impress a man who grows roses, for gods' sake. Oh, those drapes are new.' She staggered over to finger the elaborate tapestries which graced the arches. 'At least you're putting my dowry to good taste.'