‘Shit!’
She was in a dead end. And the footsteps and the catcalls came closer and closer. The high sides of the storehouses magnified the sounds.
Claudia looked round, her eyes quickly growing accustomed to the darkness of the alley. She did not feel out of place. She’d spent a large chunk of her childhood in alleys such as this, whenever her drunken mother threw her out. Somewhere in the distance, two tomcats were squaring up.
‘The one on the left looks the softest,’ she hissed under her breath. He reeled more than the others, could barely keep upright. ‘When they come close, hit him with this.’
She held out a piece of broken timber.
Sabina’s hand hung limp at her side.
‘Take it, dammit!’
The alley was musty, stale. Smoke from a stoke pit drifted over, grey like a sea fret. Grey like a grave.
She could see them clearly. Frames solid from outdoor work. Frames which would not damage easily. Sailors, definitely. Wharfies didn’t have these excesses. Wharfies didn’t have the rolling gait. Sailors, their first night ashore after how long? Too long. What started off as a game had turned ugly, but they were drunk. And drunk meant slow…
Ratface was the leader. She knew the type. ‘Waiting for us?’ Snigger. ‘That’s nice, innit, boys?’
The yowl of the tomcats sent a shiver down her spine. ‘Go to hell.’
‘I likes a bit of red meat.’ More sniggers.
‘Then eat this!’ She bounced a piece of fallen masonry off Ratface’s forehead. He reeled, blood streaming down his face to blind him.
Laughing and whooping, the other three tumbled forward. Claudia screamed ‘Hit him!’ but the silly cow just stood there. She’d dropped the makeshift club and was stroking that bloody blue flagon, even when one of the sailors made a grab at her tunic. Ratface was mopping blood with his kerchief. Funny how the face bleeds so copiously! Claudia swore under her breath. Kicking one assailant’s legs from under him, she flung herself at the piece of timber and whacked Sabina’s attacker hard on the kneecap. He buckled, screaming. She used the reverse swing to hit the fourth man in the stomach. She was right he was the softest. He was spewing his guts up.
Before she could run, Ratface threw one arm round her waist and his hand clamped over her mouth.
‘Want to play dirty, do yer?’
Kicking and fighting and squirming and squealing, she caught Sabina’s eye.
Run! Run, you silly bitch, and get help!
Sabina stood stock-still in the middle of the alleyway. Claudia thought she could hear humming.
Shit!
Ratface’s companion was back in the fray and together they dragged her face-flat against the warehouse wall. She could feel her stola being pulled up round her waist, felt Ratface’s blood dribble down her neck.
‘Me first, darlin’.’
His breath smelled of stale wine and bad teeth. The hands pummelling her flesh were calloused and rough. His laugh came from Hades.
The bones in Claudia’s legs had turned traitor. All that was left in their place was jelly. Plaster and dust filled her nostrils.
‘Hold her, Squint, while I ditch me loin cloth.’
Ratface’s hand fell from her mouth and Claudia gulped in the stale night air. Screaming was pointless and Squint’s grip was like iron. Across the alley, two men were retching and groaning. Soon they would recover. She prayed Sabina had run for help. Only somehow she doubted it.
Claudia forced herself to go limp. She pretended to whimper and Squint, befuddled by drink, relaxed. She counted. One, two, three! Spinning round, she jabbed her fingers in his eyes. He fell into the blackness, roaring like a wounded bull. Ratface, caught half-in and half-out of his loin cloth, seemed undecided. Claudia made up his mind for him and rammed her head straight into his genitals. His breath came out in a long, low moan and he fell to his knees, writhing in agony.
‘Quick!’
Grabbing Sabina, she raced down the alley, heading for the first lighted street they came to. Outside a tavern, she paused to pin the woman’s torn tunic with her brooch then ran as fast as she could in the direction of civilization. Finally, she fell puffing and panting over a balustrade.
Below lay a bed of wild papyrus, their feathery heads nodding gently in the breeze.
Sabina smiled serenely. ‘Isn’t it lovely here?’
Claudia looked up sharply. ‘Don’t you have any conception of the danger we were in?’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she replied. ‘I made myself invisible.’
You did not, Claudia wanted to scream. You did not make yourself invisible, you stupid, selfish bitch. You stood there while I saved you from those animals and you’d have watched them rape me, you callous, egotistical cow.
She couldn’t trust herself to speak, and when Junius came running up, his face pinched and white and anxious, she had to stop herself from falling on his shoulder.
‘What happened?’
‘Just boys wanting for free what they can’t afford to pay for,’ she said flippantly, but he couldn’t make out the words because her teeth were chattering.
‘I’ll summon a litter to take you back,’ he said, but Claudia shook her head.
Not yet. She needed to calm down, recover her senses.
Minutes passed. Within the tall stems, a duck honked out two rapid notes then the deep pool fell silent once more. A couple of bats (or were there three?) flitted over the surface of the purple waters. Strange to think that here you are, only twenty paces from where the salt sea laps the rocks and you’re dipping your fingers in a spring of fresh water. Claudia splashed her face, washing away the dust and the blood and the memory of Ratface. She lifted her head. It was a fine night. The storm had moved on and was nothing more than a distant memory, as a million and one stars twinkled in the blackness above.
‘There’s fresh water out there.’ Wouldn’t you just know Sabina would spoil it?
‘It’s here.’ Claudia pointed with her toe, too tired, too weary to be angry any more. If skies are pools which drown you and rape makes you invisible, why should fresh water in the sea be a surprise? ‘Poets say the nymph Arethusa was pursued by a lecherous river god, and it was only when she was turned into a spring herself that she could dive underground and escape him.’ She spoke because she needed to get her vocal chords operating normally. ‘Pity Artemis didn’t turn us into water back in that damned alley, eh?’
She could have saved her breath.
‘No, there.’ Sabina waved a languid arm across the bay. ‘That’s fresh water. You can drink it, but it turns you white.’
It would be easy, of course, to forget all about Collatinus and the holiday. To leave flaky Sabina with her brother, take the next ship home (poor Junius!) and…and what? More schedules, more meetings, more talk about vines and vintages and heaven knows what. Not to mention earache from the moneylenders.
Claudia gazed up at the fattening moon, lighting the way for the watermen and showing clear the sacks and barrels stacked along the quayside. With a gentle sucking sound, a trireme shipped its oars and the bark of her bosun’s orders carried high over the babble of foreign tongues clamouring to make themselves understood on the wharf.
Easy, but not viable. She needed to travel under the Collatinus party’s name for a bit longer, which meant she needed to stay with Sabina for a bit longer.
At least until she’d eliminated the threat which hung over her future. After that, Sabina could go to hell, and good riddance.
It was only much later, in the comparative comfort of her own room, lying wide-eyed on her back counting the stars through the open window, that Claudia wondered whether the night had been quite what it seemed.
The carts blocking the road. The men who, actually, did no harm. And the escape, which-when you took a step back and thought about it-wasn’t really that difficult.