Stone Cold

She nodded in understanding. 'No more roving.'

'My travels, like my purple-striped tunic and this good-luck charm, have reached the end of their lifespan.'

She owed him an apology. When he had sloped off from the Forum, leaving Junius alone while Claudia went to meet with his so-called informant (and how could Hannibal possibly have known it was Vincentrix?), the reason she couldn't find him at the villa was because he'd been in bed with Stella. Waiting behind the shrubbery, she'd despised him for the sorrow she'd believed he was sowing, fully expecting him to move on, when Stella clearly deserved so much better.

'What about your aversion to orange blossom? You said it made your nose run something wicked?'

'Ah, but there's the rub, madam, there's the rub. My bright little star has a husband she can neither divorce nor declare dead, but even were she free such are the scars he bequeathed that she is in no hurry to replace him.' He straightened up and ran a leathery hand over his face. 'No fetters, dear lady, are often stronger than those that bind.'

Pollen in the air, Claudia presumed. What else would make her eyes water? And suddenly Stella's absence became less of a mystery, too. 'You know who the Scarecrow is, don't you?'

'It seemed a strange coincidence that birds mostly fluttered from the trees when Stella or the children were in the vicinity, so I put my theory to the test, using a meadow in a bend by the river as bait. When I was certain, I confronted her with the knowledge, and, frankly, until I took that walk in the canyon I had not considered myself a coward. I would rather walk barefoot over hot spikes while being beaten with clubs than repeat that experience. However,' Hannibal patted the soil over the grave, 'my little star is adamant that she does not want the scoundrel back and, call me biased, I believe she is right.'

So did Claudia. It just took her all bloody night to convince the Scarecrow that the best thing he could do for his family was keep right on walking…

'I'm assuming you whisked her away to talk things through on neutral territory?'

Something approaching pain tightened his jaw. 'I whisked her away, certainly. To an inn you are yourself familiar with, close to the river in Santonum, though before you ask, you saucebox, it was nothing like that. You see, it wasn't until I saw the relief that swept over her when she recognized me that I began to comprehend the terror that women in these parts experienced. And, since Stella is at her peak of physical perfection, I felt it my duty not only to protect her, but hunt down the killer.'

'The children were worried sick.'

'An exaggeration, madam, an exaggeration. The children were curious, as all children are. Their routine had been disrupted. But they were safe with their aunt.' He slanted her a wry glance. 'Miserable, I grant you. But safe.'

'You couldn't possibly have known it was Paris!'

'Yesterday morning before dawn, I took a walk round Marcia's tomb and saw that a new caryatid had been carved. One so young and so perfect and with such an air of authenticity that her perfection made me weep with fear. I hadn't heard of another girl reported missing, but this statue was so real that I set out to make enquiries.' He cracked his knuckles. 'You know, between us, madam, we are not a bad team.'

No, Hannibal, we are not, and Stella was wise to seize her chance to escape, though the sad part was Marcia was so busy haranguing deserting rats that she hadn't actually noticed the trunks stacking up outside her own cousin's quarters.

'Where will you go?' Claudia asked. 'How will you manage?'

'Any place where eight free spirits can breathe freely and, as I told you before, hard work doesn't scare me. Though if the day dawns when it does, I plan to sell the children off one at a time. There are so many, their mother won't notice.'

Yes, and he'd cut off his own leg before he'd harm them.

'May you find equal happiness,' he said, embracing her. 'But what's this?'

'Back pay.'

He scratched a puzzled head. 'There must be something to those Druids' herbs. I thought I was in your employ for a fortnight, not a couple of centuries, and, besides. I am not your father.'

'Of course you're not! For a start, you're too old-'

'Thank you.' The sarcasm in his voice was heavy. 'But that, madam, is not what I meant. Do you imagine I don't know why you engaged my services at one measly sestertius a day? You hoped such dismal pay would drive me away-'

'Bollocks! I employed you specifically to find my damned father. Now take it,' she said, thrusting the purse back. 'If not for yourself, take the money for Stella. With that many free spirits, you'll need something to start off with.'

'You hoped such dismal pay would drive me away, proving the inconstancy of men everywhere,' Hannibal persisted. 'Your father abandoned you and since it is your belief that we're all cast from the same mould, you set out to prove it. But some day, young lady, you will have to place your trust in a man.' He glanced at the cripple limping down the path on crutches. 'I'm sure there are a few half-decent ones left.'

As he ambled back to the house, she watched as he stopped to shake hands with Orbilio and then, to her surprise, salute him, and something bucked inside her ribcage. What if she hadn't stuffed that wicker box into her robe yesterday? What if Hannibal hadn't appeared on the scene? What if she hadn't been able to save him?

'Aren't you supposed to be in bed?' she remarked, as he approached.

'Doctor threw me out,' Marcus replied. 'Told me I was scaring the werewolves.'

She studied the patchwork of bruises and swellings. 'More likely you set off on a speedy recovery then took a turn for the nurse.'

But there were hollows round his eyes whose origins did not arise from any physical ordeal at the hands of the Druids…

'I'm sorry about Zina.'

'It seems so unfair,' he said quietly. 'She was willing to forfeit her family, her culture, everything, to bring her stepfather to justice, yet at the very moment she's branded a national heroine, some sick bastard comes along and — ' he clicked his fingers — 'she's gone. Just like that.'

There was nothing Claudia could say.

'I'm going to miss her ridiculous misinterpretations, you know that?' A sad smile twisted the scabs in his cheeks. 'Those big black eyes and bossy ways. Heaven help the Empire if all Gaulish women are like her!'

'From the few that I've met' — Marcia, Stella, Zina, the landlady — 'they're not the sort who turn their faces to the wall. What will happen to Vincentrix?'

A muscle twitched in his jaw. 'We have two options,' he said evenly. 'One, let the full retribution of Rome descend upon the Druids.'

By that he meant drag them through Gaul in chains, that everyone might see what happens to those who practise human sacrifice, before executing them in the arena.

'The danger there is that we unleash a backlash as the Gauls side with their spiritual guides. After all,' he shrugged, 'to make martyrs of the Druids is to raise them up to become judges, philosophers and gods rolled into one again.'

'I'm guessing you favour option two?'

'As much as I'd like to see Vincentrix toppled from his pedestal, the sword of Vengeance is still capable of striking a fatal blow.'

Far better, he argued, that Rome clamp down quietly on the Druids' practices to ensure that no more wicker men were sacrificed, then let human nature take its course.

'Their power is already reduced to little more than the settlement of boundary disputes and the odd inheritance issue,' he explained. 'Let's keep it that way.'

'And have the beast die slowly?'

He smiled. 'Delicious, isn't it?'

Above the smell of mouldy bread poultices and vinegar antiseptic wash, she caught a whiff of sandalwood unguent, overlaid with a hint of the rosemary in which his long patrician tunic had been rinsed. She watched as he swiped his fringe out of his eyes. Followed the line of crisp, dark hairs on the back of his hand as they disappeared up his forearm.