Seth walked along the table, ruffling the feathers of the vulture, drumming on the solid scales of the crocodile. Because Berenice was special, he could not sit the jackal's head on her, the jackal was a scavenger. Perhaps the striking cobra? He looked at his chosen one, his favourite, the blood seeping from where her leather bonds dug in. This was proving a difficult decision, and Seth would have liked more time to make his final choice.
'Mmmmm!'
Of course! Berenice was right, he didn't need to decide now! He could think on the matter and when he came back after nightfall to embalm Donata, he'd be able to take Berenice again. That would be nice. And then he could tie his special knot and leave her to contemplate her future overnight. Perfect!
He anointed his holy body with the commune unguent which rendered the Master of Darkness invisible among his people and pulled on his neatly folded clothing. Tonight he would have something special to look forward to, but meanwhile, there was work to be done. Seth, in mortal guise, had a position to uphold. He must not neglect his duties, lest someone began to suspect.
Also, he remembered, there was a new arrival to greet this morning. A fifteen-year-old girl, contributing two thousand gold pieces to the Solar Fund.
Seth liked them young.
Chapter Fifteen
Installing an indoors bath room, complete with piped water and underfloor heating, had depleted Claudia's inheritance considerably but never once had she regretted it. At times like this (and lord knows, times like this came thick and fast of late!), a long, hot soak in lemon-scented waters, listening to the strumming of a harpist followed by a hired masseuse trouncing the last few knots of stress was all it needed to restore equilibrium. Except today! Claudia waved the musician away, her throat too constricted for words to squeeze past.
Today, time was running out for Junius, the slave boy. Cypassis, her broad feet encased in wooden sandals to prevent them burning on the hot mosaic, clopped around with towels, strigils, scented oils and tweezers, picking up discarded laundry, sweeping up curls which had been snipped by the hairdresser and left where they had fallen, her face puffed and blotchy from crying.
'They'll split us up, madam, I-'
'Cypassis, no one is going to split my household.' Over my dead body! 'How many times do I have to tell you, there's no question of the army carting you away to test your loyalty to the Emperor with hot irons!'
Like dye in water, the idea that they'd be viewed as accomplices to Junius passing himself off as a Roman had spread around the staff, until suddenly the entire contingent expected be dragged off to the arena on Saturday! Even level-headed individuals, such as this big-boned Thessallian maid, had worked themselves up to such a frenzy that the very least they expected was a flogging at the post before being despatched to some new and cruel owner in the darkest corner of the Empire!
'This is the work of the gods,' Cypassis muttered. 'We mortals are being punished-'
'Spare me the superstitious claptrap and fetch my tortoiseshell comb!'
Cypassis made the sign to avert the evil eye before scuttling away, noisily blowing her nose. Divine retribution, indeed! Claudia squeezed her eyes shut and sank below the water line. All because the kitchen hands and gardeners who'd stood watch in the Camensis swore on the lives of their mothers that the ransom chest had been spirited away! Claudia blew bubbles under the water. Did these men not have one brain cell between them? Up she came, spluttering. Even Leonides, her lanky steward, could find no explanation for its disappearance.
'The shrine in the Camensis is circular,' she'd reminded him sharply.
Returning home from the Esquiline, white with Orbilio's plaster dust and covered with nicks from flying chippings, what Claudia had needed most was sleep not a discourse on divine intervention! Her head ached, her eyes pricked, someone had filleted every bone from her body.
'The shrine is open to the elements, apart from a waist-high criss-cross fence, and is approached by six stone steps, which means the far side, where it drops away, stands so high.' She'd indicated her own neck. 'Of the three statues on the podium, we were instructed to leave the chest behind the right-hand figure, and I suppose it did not occur to you to check the far side of the podium?'
'Madam?'
'I'll wager there's a deep impression in the grass where a heavy chest has landed.'
It was a human being, real live flesh and bones, who had visited the wood nymphs' shrine yesterday, not some invisible deity, and who, concealed by the bronze statuary, had hoisted the box over the side. They would have returned under cover of darkness to collect it by sneaking up from the back.
'You were in the Camensis, Leonides. Tell me what you saw.'
'That's the whole point, madam. I saw nothing! No one went near the shrine, only an Egyptian noblewoman and I can personally vouch that hers was a sightseeing trip- Oh. Oh. Oh, I see. That was Flavia, wasn't it?' His face turned ashen and waxy as he saw the auction block beckon and, sensible chap that he was, scurried off to see to madam's bath!
But the soak hadn't helped. Claudia was dizzy now from exhaustion, weak from lack of sleep, but she must press on. Time was trickling away. Too precious to waste. Must keep going.
Cypassis returned with the comb, knocking over a small phial of oil, which shattered on the tessellated floor to release a concoction of seaweedy smells into the steamy atmosphere. Claudia didn't notice. Her mind was reliving the ransom drop in the Camensis. The bitch! The scheming, cold-blooded, cold-hearted little bitch. Claudia saw it clearly, as though she'd been there herself: Flavia, disguised as an Egyptian noblewoman; recognising Junius, of course, at once; so greedy to get her claws on two thousand gold pieces, she throws him to the wolves. Time passes. The commotion dies down. Secure in her disguise, Flavia saunters through the Camensis. Up the steps. One-two-three heave. Over the side and thud.
Fancy yourself as an Egyptian, do you? Claudia would be the first to pickle her in natron and inter her mummified remains in a sarcophagus!
She climbed out of the sunken tiled bath. The voluminous linen towel was soft and fragrant, smelling of clove pinks and lavender, but the scent caught in her throat. Already, it was approaching noon. The Games of Apollo were well into their stride and with the morning parade faded to memory, the sacrifice to Apollo would be in full swing. Soon, hundreds of post-processional parties would spring up, discussing how encouraging the auspices had been, how succulent the sacrificial roast and, oh my, did you see that black eye on the senator's wife? Don't tell me she got that shiner tripping over!
The gossip would range from I hear peach blight's pushed up the prices to did you know you can reach Cadiz in under a week these days? Any other time and Claudia would be taking her place at the feasts. With her eagle-eyed bodyguard stationed behind her.
Two days. Two days were all she had left.
Must press on. Can't stop…
'Are you ready for your massage?' Claudia's favourite beautician, a fresh-faced young Syrian, had been promised the earth by Cypassis to shut her shop for the day and attend to her mistress at home. 'I brought along a special moisturising balm which contains honey, almond milk and the sap of aloes, much favoured by Queen Cleopatra. You'll find this soothing.'
For all Claudia cared, the girl could rub nettles into her skin. I'm sorry, Junius. I am so very sorry.
She squeezed away the tears which welled up and pricked. This is not the time for self-pity. You've dug out the skeleton, rescued the evidence, save your self-loathing for Saturday. Claudia rolled over on to her stomach, folding her hands under her chin. You still have two days left, stop bitching and put them to good use! Her father's motto echoed in the vaults of her memory: never go to war angry, that merely strengthens the opposition.