‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ he said suddenly. ‘Green and lush, throbbing with vitality. It’s as though Venus herself came down and scattered scallop shells under the waterfall.’
Claudia felt her muscles tense. Dammit, he had no right to do this! ‘Don’t tell me, the water is as liquid larkspur, the air as pure as-’
‘There’s no poetry in your soul, you know that? Well, if you want to talk business, that’s fine by me. Let’s discuss your previous run-in with Quintilian, shall we?’
She picked a violet and began to pluck its petals off. ‘I haven’t a clue what you’re waffling on about.’
‘Let me refresh your memory. Firstly there was the tenement deal, then you diddled him out of his land in Campania-’
‘Rubbish! It was up for sale and my bid was the best.’ How the hell did he find out about that? ‘I rather fancy a villa in the suburbs-’
‘It wasn’t on the open market, though, was it? The Senator already had a gentleman’s agreement with the agent.’
Of course. Cleverclogs has a whole network of spies, and like the threads of a fungus, they are deceptively widespread. ‘Can I help it if the seller got greedy? Besides, there are times when a purchaser has a moral responsibility towards certain lands. I personally feel that in this particular case he was right to sell to the person most sympathetic to the existing landscape and the established way of life. What’s so funny?’
‘Nothing. It’s just that, for a second there, I thought you were referring to yourself. Ow!’
Since a backflip from her towel did nothing to eliminate the maddening sparkle in his eyes, Claudia concentrated on footholds as she made a direct ascent up the rockface. Free from Salvian, free from Supersnoop, free from the ragbag Pictor family, she could throw herself into the holiday spirit and get blissfully lost in the throng. Phrygian melodies hung in the air-harp and pipes and tambourine. There was probably dancing going on, as well.
The climb was stiffer than it looked, but these were man-made crevices and, dammit, she would not be beaten. Not with Supersleuth watching her progress. Nearly there. Nearly… Her hand slipped and, flailing out, she grabbed the nearest solid object, an upright leather pole, and levered herself over the ledge. It was only when she’d rolled both knees safely on to turf that Claudia began to wonder what a leather-covered pole was doing up there in the first place.
‘I’ve b-been looking everywhere f-for you!’
Pole? Claudia had both hands round a leather-clad military ankle. She released Salvian’s boot and glued a very broad smile into place. ‘Now there’s a coincidence,’ she said brightly. ‘Because I’ve been searching all over for you, too.’
And it could have been the rush of the waters, but she thought she caught a rich baritone laugh float up from below.
X
Between them, Metaneira’s health-giving mud and Thoas’ restorative sulphur were having a powerful effect on the appetites of the nobility. Portable ovens churned out anything from rissoles to hazel hens and such was the atmosphere among the aching backs and muscle pains that interchange of food was commonplace, oysters swapped for ostrich tongues, porcupine for pike, with Pallas’ gourmet experience ensuring the Pictors’ popularity remained stable. Claudia preferred informality.
‘This way.’
She led a bewildered Salvian to the top of the waterfall, passing Euphemia at the bend in the steps. For one person, at least, the sulphur pools were giving their money’s worth because, incredibly, she shot them not only a smile but one that was almost pleasant-suggestive, in fact, of Drusilla among a flock of slow-witted sparrows.
It was not that the division between classes meant that poorer people were unwelcome in the shallows. They simply didn’t feel comfortable around conversations revolving round which Senate initiatives had been taken into protocol and filed, or whose sons were shining lights in the Emperor’s Youth Movement. Not when their own sons were street porters or butchers’ boys, and babies had to be left on the middens because another mouth was too much to feed.
Besides, outings like these were far too precious to waste. Protracted holidays might be the norm for the rich, but public holidays were few and far between. Among their own, the fires were open and flames crackled and spat as fat and meat juices dripped from the spits. The bronze cauldrons might have been patched and patched again, but their thick broths of bacon and beans, salt fish and broccoli were as wholesome as they come.
Here men and women, freeborn and slave, subdivided yet further, this time by race, to gossip, to reminisce, to sing songs in the mother tongue. Big, brawny Germans, hook-nosed Parthians, they chewed on chestnut bread and pickled trotters as they trod the foaming waters, cheered themselves on absinthe and honeyed wine.
Claudia selected scallops and veal, skewered and basted with garlic and basil, the young Tribune gnawed on a shoulder of mutton, taking quite for granted the fact that his food came free. She did not think he understood why.
‘How old are you, Salvian?’
‘S-s-s-’
‘Sweet sixteen and never been kissed?’ The down on his cheeks gave off a soft sheen in the sunshine.
‘Seventeen,’ he said firmly. ‘And I’m m-married.’
‘Are you, indeed!’
A trickle of grease ran unnoticed from the corner of his mouth. ‘We wed last June, my wife’s expecting and Regina’s expecting our first child any day.’
You didn’t waste much time! ‘So this freebie peep show isn’t much interest to you?’
‘P-p-peep show?’
Claudia licked the garlic from her fingers. Bless him, he hadn’t even noticed. ‘The girls, Salvian. Transparent shifts clinging to round, ripe bosoms. Wet, linen-clad thighs. Nubile young hips.’
He buried his flaming cheeks behind a cloth and pretended to wipe his face. ‘Oh. I see. I mean, no! No, I hadn’t seen-’
Claudia pushed a bowl of warm elderberries in honey and ginger under his nose. ‘Lighten up,’ she said gently. ‘Take your uniform off and do what the others are doing.’
‘Huh?’
‘Have fun!’
‘Well, I-’
She tried another tack. ‘Salvian, let me ask you a question. Do you think I killed Fronto?’
‘My uncle says-’
‘I know what your uncle thinks. I’m asking you. Put it another way, do you think I am a dangerous criminal who’s likely to go berserk with a knife amongst these happy people?’
He gave a sheepish laugh. ‘No. Of course not.’
‘And you agree I could have stolen a horse and run away at any point this morning after I gave you the slip?’
‘I suppose so. But my orders-’
‘Oh, sod your orders.’ She stuffed a beaker of wine into his hand. ‘Let your hair down.’ She was helping him unbuckle his breastplate when familiar voices floated up. ‘Sssh!’
‘What is it?’ The bronze piece fell on to the rock with a crash.
‘Ssssh!’
Much of the exchange was drowned by the crashing torrent, but by swimming across the channel and snaking down the rocks between the wild cane plants, Claudia caught the final snatch.
‘-I don’t have to take that from you, you fat faggot.’ Timoleon’s strident tones were unmistakable.
‘Choose your words with care, dear boy.’ As were Pallas’. ‘Else I’ll think you’re soliciting.’
The gladiator turned purple. ‘How… How-’ he spluttered.
‘Much?’ Pallas asked mildly. ‘Well, I’m not willing but there’s a tender young boy in the stables who charges ten asses. Or would you prefer just the asses?’
There was an explosion as Timoleon lunged, and suddenly the Pictor party was there to restrain him. It took three of them-Barea, Corbulo and Sergius-to hold him, although Pallas, interestingly, hadn’t so much as flinched.
‘Gentlemen, gentlemen,’ Sergius chided softly. ‘Let’s be civilized, shall we?’
‘I’ll get you, you fat bastard.’ Timoleon huffed himself free and jabbed an accusing finger at Pallas. ‘Never turn your back on me-’