Orbilio poured wine into a glass. It was the only glass, and Claudia wondered why she felt a brief flicker of pleasure at sharing. He sat down on the couch, keeping a horribly respectable distance, although she noticed his pupils were fully dilated. Which, of course, they would be in the darkness, they needed all the light they could get.
‘The undead, eh?’ Orbilio’s mouth turned down. ‘I didn’t know they still believed in wandering spirits out here.’
Personally Claudia didn’t believe in the undead either and, until now, didn’t know any self-respecting Roman who did. Well, not one who admitted to it. But there was no doubt Aulus was deadly serious. He was stone cold sober.
‘Backward lot, these Sicilians,’ she said. ‘But my point is this. Is Aulus expunging his guilty conscience? After all, he wasn’t exactly broadcasting the ritual.’
Orbilio leaned back, head against the wall, and gave it some thought. ‘I suppose if his father was against it, he might resort to secrecy, but it doesn’t seem likely. Not from what I know of the man.’
There was an even longer silence as he stared at the painted peacocks on the wall opposite, then he said, ‘The real issue is whether a man would-could a man-rape and mutilate his own daughter. I don’t think so, somehow.’
‘Me neither.’
A light flickered in his eyes. ‘I beg your pardon? Did you actually agree with me for once?’
The look she gave him could have stripped summer leaves from a willow.
Suddenly he sat up. ‘Hang on,’ he said. ‘What day is it today?’
Claudia had lost count. ‘Let me think. Yesterday was Lustration Day, so that means we’re into the early hours of…’ she totted them up on her fingers, ‘the twentieth of October.’
‘Well, there you are!’ Orbilio snapped his fingers. ‘Today would have been Sabina’s thirty-seventh birthday.’ Another fine theory washed out to sea.
‘Besides, I’ve told you often enough, it’s Diomedes.’
‘What about Fabius? Maybe it was a little trick he picked up in Outer Pannonia or wherever it was he went legioning.’ Triumphantly, she told him about the sprig of bay he was sporting.
‘Sorry,’ Orbilio said cheerfully, topping up the glass. ‘You said it yourself, yesterday was Lustration Day. Soldiers all over the Empire wear bay to cleanse themselves of the blood they have spilled, whenever they spilled it. Even retired army veterans.’
Bugger, yes. She’d forgotten that.
‘Linus is capable.’ She told him about Corinna. He told her that was just wishful thinking. Which it was.
‘All right, then, how about Senbi?’ Claudia described the look on his face as he chopped the slave boy’s thumbs off, and how he enjoyed beating the slaves, needing only the smallest excuse to reach for the bullwhip. ‘Or Antefa.’ Like father, like son.
‘Claudia, stop. I’m not saying these men are paragons incapable of violence, but you have to weigh up facts.’
‘You don’t.’
Indignation flooded his face. ‘I beg your pardon-’
‘Right from the start, you’ve had it in for the Greek, just because he’s a smoothie. What about Piso?’
‘Anyone else?’ he asked patiently.
He wasn’t taking this seriously, dammit. ‘No.’ Why did that sound sulky?
Orbilio grinned. ‘Well, thank goodness you’ve let poor old Dexippus off the hook.’
‘Marcus Cornelius, must I do your job for you?’
His grin broadened. ‘Is that an application for the post of my assistant? In which case, please be advised that interviews will be held next Tuesday, although female applicants stand a better chance if they attend the sleeping couch preliminaries on the Monday.’
‘In your dreams, Marcus. In your dreams.’
‘I’m not proud,’ he said. ‘Wherever you like. My only condition is you tell me about Dexippus first.’
The flirtatious smile dropped from his lips when Claudia told him how Eugenius’s secretary was partial to a spot of puppy crucifixion and dismembering cats while they were still alive. Why else, she said, would she have uprooted Drusilla and her kittens for what was originally to be a day’s outing to the theatre? Leave them at Dex’s mercy? No bloody fear! Rumour also had it he’d blinded a newborn lamb once, although it was never proved or he’d have lost his job, but she knew for certain he was prone to snaring small animals for his ‘experiments’.
A greyish light had begun to infiltrate the darkness, and a cockerel crowed. It was a damned silly time to be drinking wine, it went straight to your knees.
‘There’s something else, too.’
‘Oh?’ He leaned forward, but only to top up the glass. ‘That birch grove. The day Acte was killed, Tanaquil was there, as we know, because she found the body. But Marius was also there. Apparently there’s an ash tree on the edge of the grove and he wanted to make himself a bow-’
‘A what?’
‘Fabius is teaching him how to shoot arrows, so for any quail in the area, now’s the time to strike camp. Marius wasn’t there, of course, when Acte was killed-in fact he didn’t even see her-but guess who he did see?’
‘I am preparing to be astonished.’
‘So you should. Fabius. Bet that took you by surprise?’
‘Marginally.’
‘That’s not all. Dex was there, and so was Piso.’
‘And?’
‘What do you mean, and? And nothing. Good life in Illyria, I’ve done half your work for you, all you’ve got to do is arrest the guilty party.’
‘Who is?’
She hit him with a cushion. ‘You’re the policemen, you fathom it out.’
Orbilio snatched the glass out of her hand and drained it. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said ruefully, combing his hair with his free hand. ‘Can someone please tell me why, when the grove is supposed to be deserted on account of it being haunted, the whole world and his wife just happen to be up there the very day Acte is killed?’
Claudia snatched the glass back and frowned when she saw it was empty. ‘That’s easy,’ she said. ‘The slaves avoid it, which is the circle Acte moved in, and don’t forget the only spare time she got was when the family were gathered round Eugenius. It wouldn’t have occurred to her that the family mightn’t believe in ghoulies and ghosties. They often congregated there. I know something else, too.’
Birds were singing, dogs were yapping, suns were rising, skies were clearing-and policemen were groaning. Groaning. I ask you! Claudia cheerfully recounted the old man’s proposal of marriage, but it seemed he’d heard the story, which was a shame, really, because she’d saved that titbit till last.
‘So the only person who wasn’t in the grove was Diomedes? How very convenient. Ouch!’ He ignored the kick to his shins and pressed on. ‘Is this because Dreamboat’s been showering you with love gifts?’
Thick, dark curls shook in confusion. ‘Not me, I’m afraid.’ She was sure she’d have noticed gold bangles or British pearls lying around.
‘Then what do you call that white dove?’ Was he talking about the pigeon? ‘Among Greeks, it’s a token of undying love.’
Claudia clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh-oh!’
‘What have you done with it?’
‘I…’ She burst into giggles. ‘I’ll tell you what I did with it. I ate the bloody thing.’
Orbilio began to splutter. ‘You what? You ate it?’ He threw his head back and roared.
Her eyes were watering, too. ‘Damn right. With mushroom and parsley sauce.’ She stood up and walked to the door, clutching her aching stomach. ‘And I’ll let you into another secret. It was absolutely delicious.’
His laughter, echoing through the still morning air, was as refreshing as the water in the atrium pool and it was singularly unfortunate that the first person she bumped into in the colonnade outside Orbilio’s room happened to be a Greek physician with blue eyes and obedient blond locks.
XXVIII
It doesn’t matter whether you live in the centre of Rome or the outer reaches of the Empire, every eighth day is market day and that’s that. Hides are traded, cheeses are sold, gossip is embroidered and fashions are admired by stallholders who set up stands long before the first rays of dawn clear the hilltops or shadows lift from the ravines.