'Hello?' she called out. The air was sour and dry, and near her feet a lizard scuttled under a pile of loose stones. 'Anyone there?'
'Oh-oh-oh,' her voice echoed back. 'Anyone there-ere-ere?'
Choosing a stone block in the shade of the soaring temple, Claudia sat down and prepared to wait. The informant would want to give the workers ample time to get clear and, as she unhooked the heavy money belt, her pulse quickened at the thought of the information this purse was about to buy. Dear Diana, she hadn't slept a wink last night for the excitement, and as for Hannibal's concern, honestly! Did he really think she didn't know she was being ripped off? Hannibal had beat his informant down from thirty to twenty-two gold pieces, but she would have paid twice that — three times — four! — to find her father. Only how time had dragged since Hannibal first told her of the appointment. She had just returned from Santonum and was crossing the peristyle when he'd come loping over, little Luci piggyback on his shoulders.
'Down you go, young lady.'
'No, more,' Luci squealed, tugging on his purple striped tunic. 'More, Uncle Hanni! More, more!'
'Uncle?' Claudia laughed.
'Her mother's idea, I assure you,' Hannibal droned, as he swung the child round in an arc that billowed her little dress out like an angel's. 'My own flesh and blood can never be far enough away in distance physical, financial or emotional.' He set the laughing child down and mopped the sweat from his brow with a theatrical swipe. 'You have killed me, young lady. I lie mortally wounded, but am honoured to die in your presence.'
'You're not dead!' Luci rolled her enormous blue eyes and tutted as he dropped to his knees, clutching his chest. 'Mummy says you're as strong as the Bull God and everyone knows the Bull God's immortal!'
'Then I shall take comfort from that, as I writhe here in agony. Now run along and help your mother, there's a good girl, because Luci and I have an agreement, don't we, Luci?'
The little girl nodded. 'I help Mummy with the washing and in return Uncle Hanni shows me how to climb trees without tearing my frock.' She pulled at Claudia's ear and whispered into it. 'The trick is to tuck your dress into your knickers, you know.'
I'll remember that,' she said solemnly, and Luci skipped off, yodelling at the top of her off-key voice. To Hannibal, Claudia had said, 'Strong as the Bull God?'
'Not what you're thinking, madam, not what you're thinking. But it pains me to see good women beholden to bad and thus, when I am not lurking in taverns in search of information regarding certain missing persons, I see no reason why I cannot chop the lady's firewood or help haul the water.'
'Stella won't be needing your help for long,' Claudia said, musing that it was an interesting choice of words to describe Marcia. 'Her cousin bought half the slaves at the auction this morning, so Stella won't have to do those chores herself.'
'And sold them,' Hannibal murmured, darting a sharp glance towards the kitchens. 'Don't forget selling them, madam.' He swallowed what could have been a bitter taste in his mouth. 'Which reminds me. Our informant has made contact…'
The details of the appointment were then followed by a lengthy sermon on trust, folly and greed, but Jupiter alone knew how long that went on for, because Claudia backed away quietly and left Hannibal lecturing himself. All the same, you'd think any decent stool pigeon would arrive on time for his own bloody meeting! She pulled out her travel sundial, set it flat on a stone and flipped up the central pin. More time passed, in which the only sound was the hammering of metals far in the distance and the mewing of a buzzard high in the sky.
She thought about the temple. What it would look like once it was finished, a masterpiece of local limestone clad in Pyrenean marble, its portico lined with works of art, its precincts dotted with gaily painted statues and its carved entablature gilded and gleaming. This temple was earmarked to house a library, someone said, adding with a snigger that it wouldn't need much of a room, bloody ignorant Gauls couldn't read. Not yet, she'd thought, but give it a generation of free schooling and inequalities would soon level out — and she pictured the Druids, trapped in their secret language of runes, becoming more and more isolated from a people who no longer needed priests to do their thinking for them. Oh, Vincentrix. What tricks will you turn to then? Pushing the enigmatic Druid out of her mind, she imagined instead the Emperor strutting round the echoing halls of his temple, nodding his handsome head in approval at the magnificent works, while his heart mourned his best friend and Rome's finest general, the man who'd laid out the grid plan for Santonum and who'd been ferried across the River Styx long before his allotted span was up.
Hey, ho. Claudia felt an emptiness weigh down her heart as she snapped her pocket sundial shut. The informant wasn't going to show now and whatever paths might lead to her father, this one was blocked, and the only surprise was the pain that twisted inside. Ridiculous, really, to imagine that the first trail would lead her straight to him, but 'Lady Claudia?'
The voice didn't belong to the surly young guide. It was deeper, had greater resonance and clearly belonged to a much older man.
'Lady Claudia?' it called again. 'Are you there?'
'OVER HERE!' she yelled, grabbing the money belt as she jumped off her makeshift seat.
Bloody guide, she would skin him alive, she thought, racing into what would, in a year or so, be the sacred back room where Augustus's mighty statue would be housed. The sullen little bastard had led her to the back of the temple and god knows how much precious time she'd wasted while Hannibal's informant had stood pacing up and down at the front!
'Coming,' she called, 'I'm just — youch!'
Emerging from shadows into what would one day be a magnificent portico fronted by a flight of white marble steps, the sunlight was blinding and her shins cracked painfully against a plank. Pitching forward, from the corner of her eye she caught a flash of movement overhead. Heard a low, grating sound.
Instinctively, Claudia hurled herself against the temple wall.
Just as half a ton of masonry crashed to the ground.
It could have been an accident. A falcon she'd seen from the corner of her eye as she tripped. A dove alighting on the scaffolding. And who's to say it wasn't a frayed rope or snapped swallowtail clamp that caused the block to slip from the platform? This is a building site, for goodness' sake. Accidents happen. But even before the clouds of choking white dust had settled, Claudia knew this was more than sloppiness on the part of a temple stonemason.
Unable to stem the flood of tears that were pure liquid reaction, and with limbs that were shaking like aspens in a gale, she forced herself up the ladder, one rung at a time, where the evidence was plain for all to see. A lone plank, still rocking from where it had been used as a lever. A hastily abandoned crowbar lying beside it. Leaden legs descended the steps, but wait! There was still the possibility that it was mischief, not attempted murder, because with so many workmen's tools lying about this was a thieves' paradise. Maybe one of the gang panicked, using the levered block as a distraction to divert the attention of any security guards poking around. Because all building sites have to have guards, and the Temple of Augustus was no exception.
She cursed herself for not remembering them before, and almost tripped again as she raced through the precinct towards their hut. Bursting open the door, Claudia was confronted by three burly guards, sure. Except they lay slumped over the table and she could picture the next bit. Site foreman returning from lunch. Taking one glance at the empty goblets in front of them and sacking the men on the spot. But there was another smell that lingered in the warm, midday air. Barely discernible over the wine and stale sweat, it was hard to spot unless you were trying. Cloying and not particularly pleasant, Claudia recognized it at once. Oil of narcissus. From which the word narcotic derives…