His voice trailed off and the look he gave her was of inconsolable bereavement. He had remembered. What he had spent the day trying to block out had come back to him. Tears scoured his thin, papery cheeks.
‘Acte,’ he wailed. ‘Acte!’
He was still rocking himself when Claudia closed the door behind her, wondering why she felt no pity for the old man, only contempt. In spite of the fact that he’d held the will upside down and pretended to read it.
XXVII
It was Junius who discovered the man, delirious and barely alive, on the road above the villa.
‘You’re kidding!’ Claudia said, when he told her. ‘The same chap?’
The young Gaul nodded.
‘Well, I’ll be damned. I presume you haven’t left him there?’
‘No, madam. I carried him down to the clipshed.’
The more I hear about you, Junius, the less I know you. The clipshed. Deserted this time of year. In other words: ‘So no one else is aware of his existence.’
The Gaul gave a sheepish grin. ‘He’s in a bad way, though.’
‘Hmmm.’ Claudia placed her palms together and pressed her fingers to her lips. ‘Look, you go and disinfect yourself, you’re probably crawling with lice, and I’ll send Diomedes to look him over. No, hang on. What was it you wanted to tell me about Dexippus?’
She listened, and it was clear to Junius that she didn’t like what he had to relate. It did, she confided, tie in with a rumour she’d heard earlier, explaining why she’d taken such pains to transport Drusilla and co. to Agrigentum which, at the time, was planned as only a day’s visit. She dismissed him, wondering what strange motivation drove the boy to be so utterly conscientious. He was, after all, only a slave and did not, as far as she was aware, have a lover. His job was his life, it seemed, and if that was the case, good luck to him. One day he’d find out there was more to life than work, but in the meantime, this was all to Claudia’s good.
The physician’s mouth turned down at the corners as he straightened up. ‘It’s difficult,’ he said. ‘I’ll know a lot more, of course, once I’ve got him cleaned up, but right now? A fifty-fifty chance. Do you know who he is?’
Claudia shook her head. ‘When Junius found him he was mumbling some girl’s name, Sulpica I believe, and whilst our friend may be dirty, I don’t think underneath those scabs and incrustations we’re likely to find a woman’s body, do you?’
Diomedes grinned. ‘Probably not. As I say, I’ll clean him up and see what he looks like, but basically those are superficial wounds he’s carrying. The main problem area is the chest. I’m afraid his lungs will need the cautery.’
Claudia winced. What drugs cannot cure, the knife can. What the knife cannot cure, the cautery can. And what the cautery cannot cure, cannot be cured…
Leaving him at it, she made her way round the walls of the villa. A window had been broken, it looked like the glass of the newly decorated banqueting hall. From inside, harsh words were being addressed to a very quiet individual. She listened.
‘Your impertinence, I assure you, will be reported to your father.’
‘It wasn’t me!’
Claudia heard the swish of the cane, grimaced as it connected with tender young flesh.
‘Children who tell lies have to be punished. What is this?’
‘A stone, sir.’
‘A very small stone, and see that trajectory? This is the work of a catapult.’
‘I don’t-’
Swish, thwack. ‘Less of your backchat, young man!’ Young man? Claudia’s eyebrows arched involuntarily and when she turned round, Popillia was standing beside her, mischievously swinging the device in question. Claudia threw back her head and laughed aloud.
‘You are one quick learner, young lady.’
‘Marius is a pig,’ Popillia said haughtily. ‘I’m just getting my own back. What were you doing in the clipshed with Diomedes?’
‘Not what you think, madam.’ Precocious brat.
‘He’s taught me my Greek.’ She swung into step alongside Claudia. ‘That apple had a maggot in it and Boys are sillies, because they’ve got willies’
I’ll go along with that, thought Claudia.
Popillia broke into a skip. ‘You like him, don’t you?’
‘Who?’
‘Diomedes.’
‘Of course. Doesn’t everyone?’
The child screwed up her nose. ‘I don’t.’ She jumped round 180° and began to skip back up the path. ‘He tells lies.’
*
Marius was out of breath by the time he reached his favourite perch. He liked climbing trees. Oaks and cedars were best, and the stone pines down by the beach. They had broad boughs close to the ground, you could swing like a monkey, balance like a rope walker, sit astride and pretend you were on a horse. He liked this tree best, though. It was a walnut with really thick branches and plenty of cover to hide. His favourite branch overhung Great-Grandpapa’s room and sometimes Marius could watch him put his horrid old hand down Acte’s tunic. Once he saw a nipple.
Normally he could clamber around for ages without puffing, but then normally he didn’t get punished for things he hadn’t done. Small hands reached up and grasped the rough bark. Who was firing from a catapult, that’s what he wanted to know? He’d find the boy and thrash him like Piso had thrashed him. Marius tenderly probed his sore stripes. He’d knock that boy’s teeth down his throat, he would too. He’d rub his face in a cowpat and then he’d hold his head under the sheepdip and then…
The flash of gold made him lose his grip and he’d slithered two handspans, grazing his elbow, before he could steady himself. He was right. It was gold! Marius licked his little pink lips. Treasure! He’d found treasure! He remembered Jason and his Argonauts on their quest for the Golden Fleece. They found it, after all those adventures, in the Garden of the Hesperides and now here, in his very own garden, was another golden treasure swinging gently back and forth, catching the dazzling rays of the setting sun.
Flash.
And flash.
And flash.
Mesmerized and excited, his eyes followed it. He came here so often, how come he’d not seen it before? Had it been here all along, hidden among the gold autumn leaves? He reached out. Nearly… Nearly… He stretched his arm to its limit, his cheeks puffed out like round, shiny apples in a monumental effort of concentration. Then he saw what it was. A small globe on a chain, spinning, spinning. Just as his fist made to close over it, his treasure shot up in the air.
‘Hallo, Marius.’
Claudia, lying along the length of the branch above, dangled his Spanish gold bulla from one fingertip.
His eyes were as wide as colanders. ‘You can climb trees?’ It was a whisper of awe.
‘Oh, yes, Marius. I can climb trees.’ The amulet continued to oscillate, small eyes riveted to its arc. ‘I presume you’d like your bulla back?’
He nodded silently. On finding Marius had lost this valuable and essential asset, Piso had caned him and then reported the matter to his father, who promptly caned him again. One thing Fabius had taught the boy, though. Never snitch. Claudia admired the lad for holding out.
She lowered the chain and Marius reached up. Again it was whisked away.
‘It’s yours,’ she said, ‘for a price.’
Marius thought long and hard, and eventually pulled his wooden sword from his belt. ‘This is my most favourite thing,’ he said, twisting his lip. ‘You can have it, if you like.’
Claudia forced herself not to laugh. ‘No, Marius, you keep that. I just want a little chat.’
‘What about?’ he asked warily.
She released the chain. Marius caught the bulla in midair. It was carefully examined before being slipped round his neck.
‘Just things,’ she said casually. ‘Like what you saw at the birch grove yesterday.’