'Totally intimidated by me,' Marcia breezed, squeezing between the two women. 'I'm sure you find it yourself, Claudia, but the more one achieves, the more men are put off. Strikes at the very heart of their male pride, but I say who needs them? I have my pick of virile young studs who keep me young- I say, is something the matter?'
'Sherbet,' Claudia spluttered. 'Went down the wrong way'
'Now, as much as I would like to spend more time with you girls, it's time for my enema. You know Koros, of course?'
An elderly man of indeterminate heritage was summoned out of the liveried ranks with a snap of imperious fingers. His beard fell long and white to his chest, his face was wizened and serious, and he wore a white robe that fell to his ankles. In fact, Koros was exactly what Claudia had imagined a Druid to look like. Right down to his meaningless, all-purpose smile.
'Delighted to make your acquaintance, my lady.'
'If you'd like one of Koros's excellent purges, let me know,' Marcia said. 'He can make up practically anything.'
'I don't doubt it,' Claudia replied smoothly. The old boy had the word 'fraud' all but tattooed on his liver spots, as did Padi, the little fat Indian soothsayer.
'Right, then, Koros, enema time! Oh, Stella,' Marcia turned abruptly, 'I couldn't help noticing that Lucina is wearing one of the tunics I'd had made for her sister.'
'Poppi's outgrown it,' Stella began.
'I've had my dressmakers run up new frocks for all three girls, matching designs naturally, and of course they're in this season's shades.'
'Luci's old enough to choose her own colours.'
'Tch, what does a child know about style? Little girls only want bright pinks and blues-'
'Little girls don't care about fashion,' Stella sighed. 'They want rainbows to play in-'
'Yes, play. Thank you, because that's another thing, Stella. I've brought in four new tutors from the university in Burdigala, so from now on all but the littlest one can attend studies from sunrise, instead of horsing around with hoops and spinning tops, and I have to overrule you about the housework, Stella. It's not fitting that either you or your offspring are engaged in domestic activities, and, since there is an auction in Santonum tomorrow, I'll be buying slaves to take over these tasks. Koros, this new rosemary purge you've created? Is it for mornings or night?'
As the entourage swept off into the house, Stella shrugged. 'You see how it is? My own children, and I have no say in their upbringing. She means well, my cousin, and it's not that I have any great objection to her changing our names to Latin equivalents or giving my babies a good education. I don't even mind not having a life of my own. One can hardly miss what one's never known.' She stood up and smiled sadly. 'It's having my little girls paraded as miniature fashion queens that sticks in my throat.
'Thank you for the sherbet and buns,' she said. 'I expect it's taught you a valuable lesson — that no good deed goes unpunished! But now, if you'll excuse me, I intend to take a scrubbing brush to my daughter's neck while teaching her the importance of religion in her little life.'
'Religion?' Claudia echoed.
'Luci can shin up as many trees as she likes, but she'd better start praying that mud comes out of her tunic, because, hand-me-downs or not, I'm not having any daughters of mine prancing around like a set of tiered mannequins and that's final.'
Watching her bustle away up the path, Claudia's smile was tinged with sadness. Stella possessed beauty, sparkle and life, but for how much longer, that was the question. And how long before the children learned the truth about their father from someone else? Especially now they were growing up fast.
Nine
Fresh from the bath house, her skin softened with elder-flowers and rose oil and her hair shining from a vinegar rinse, Claudia slipped into a gown of midnight blue secured at the shoulders with brooches of gold. Though a fool and his money are easily partying, she mused, fastening the owl pendant round her neck, that wasn't an accusation one could level at Marcia. For a start, humour didn't feature in the woman's constitution, reducing the odds of her throwing herself into any festivities with abandon to that of the Trojan Horse winning the derby. And, secondly, Marcia didn't do one damn thing without good reason, and pleasure for its own sake didn't count.
Claudia screwed in her ear studs and reached for her rings. As much as the woman claimed that a succession of virile young studs kept her young, even the most cursory glance in the mirror once her make-up was removed must prove otherwise. How old was she? Forty? Possibly not even that, yet she could pass for ten years older in a bad light, and heaven knows there was enough of that here in Gaul. So if tonight's bash wasn't for pleasure, what was her motive?
'You need to meet local businessmen,' she'd told Claudia. 'Not Gauls, I'm talking about Roman entrepreneurs — men with money, vision and style — because you'll need contacts, if you're to expand your commercial empire into Aquitaine.'
Altruism wasn't in her character, either! Clipping on a spiral bracelet set with amethysts, Claudia began to smell a rat running around Marcia's villa, and it wasn't the one her blueeyed, cross-eyed, dark Egyptian cat had just dragged in.
'Out!' she ordered. 'You get that thing out of my room right this minute!'
'Hrrrow,' Drusilla growled, biting the head off.
Ugh. Claudia dropped a shawl over the grisly remains.
'Next time I'll leave you in Rome,' she warned, but Drusilla knew better and jumped on to the couch, where she proceeded to wash her bloodied whiskers with languorous grace.
Claudia returned to her own ablutions. The trouble with telling so many lies is that one has to remember the bloody things! She applied kohl round her eyes, softening its effect with the tip of her finger. Since most vineyards in Gaul tended to restrict themselves to the southern coasts, she'd felt pretty confident at telling people that she was here to make a study of the soil types with a view to growing grapes for wine. Then Marcia goes and springs an evening like this!
'Wine merchants are popping up like horsetails in Santonum. You need to meet them, if you intend to venture into distribution yourself.' Marcia had tapped the side of her nose knowingly. 'One must always keep abreast of the opposition, it's what makes competition so good for trade.'
Hearing chariots and gigs clip-clopping into the courtyard, Claudia mused that yes, you really do need to be behind someone before you can stab them in the back.
I'll be expected to quote chapter and verse on vineyard practices,' she moaned to Drusilla.
'Brrrp.' The cat began to wash her ears.
'My sentiments exactly.' Stick to one angle of the business and baffle the buggers with science. 'December is the most crucial month for vines, because it lays the foundation for the forthcoming vintage.'
She rehearsed her lines aloud.
'The soil needs just the right amount of manure, the… the.. '
Dammit, what else? She fished in her trunk for the scrappy piece of parchment on which she'd scribbled her notes. Here we go. Pruning. Clearing out old irrigation ditches; digging new ones. Sharpening the stakes. Mending the fences. Weaving new- Dear Diana! Claudia turned the paper over. The list went on for ever!
'Hrrrr.'
'I know, poppet.'
She'd have to memorize it better than that, if she was to impress the wealthy merchants on whom she wanted to offload her future vintage. Because she might not be checking out the soil's friability or whatever the hell they called it, but she had no intention of letting a commercial opportunity like this evening go to waste!
'Right then.' She ticked them off on her fingers. 'Manuring, pruning, ditches, snaring, branding livestock, sowing-'
The assault from the past was so sudden, so strong, that the shock of it sent her reeling. Out of nowhere, time sucked her backwards and suddenly, as though it were last week, she was reaching up to kiss her father goodbye. She felt the rasp of his stubble against his cheeks, heard the rich chuckle in his throat as he laughed. Just as quickly, the image faded, and it was her mother standing in front of her. Claudia could see the wine from the jug dribbling down her chin and seeping in to her tunic…