‘Where did you get hold of that?’ It’s not easy to talk when your teeth are gnashing together like quern-stones, but she managed.
This time it was a bookshop he’d shoved her into, and the owner was happy for the customers to browse.
‘You realize the man who writes these letters is clinically insane, don’t you? He’s obsessed to the point of delusion, talking about, what was it-’ Orbilio’s finger traced the lines ‘- our destiny together. And, look, this bit here, united for all eternity. These are death threats, Claudia.’
‘He thinks they’re love letters.’
‘Love letters?’ Orbilio almost choked. ‘Threats and pornography?’ The things this joker wanted to do were not only disgusting, degrading and debauched, they were downright illegal.
Claudia found she was shaking. She usually did when she read one of these letters. ‘He’s sick,’ she admitted, ‘but I don’t think he’s dangerous. Had he meant harm, he’d have tried it by now.’
Orbilio’s eyes narrowed. ‘How long has this sicko been writing to you?’
She tried to make light of it. ‘I’m young, I’m rich and I’m single. Cranks write all the time. Mostly I send a polite, but firm reply, it does the trick.’
‘So you’ve written to him?’
‘Possibly.’ She heard him swear under his breath. Across the room, the shopkeeper was growing curious. ‘He’ll take this,’ she said, picking up the nearest book and indicating Marcus.
Outside, Orbilio shook his head in disbelief. ‘ Weapons Drill Vol. IV?’
‘It was a snip, I thought, at three sesterces.’
‘You missed the nought at the end.’ He forced himself back to the matter in hand. ‘This tide of filth.’ He paused, looking at the charred edge where the bottom had burned away. ‘I presume it’s anonymous.’
After what had transpired in the alleyway, Claudia was too weary to lie. ‘Sort of,’ she said. ‘He signs them “Magic”.’
‘I’ll arrange for a legionary to stand shifts,’ Orbilio said swiftly-but not swiftly enough.
‘Oh no, you won’t.’
They were entering the Forum now, where advocates argued over law, customers argued over prices and philosophers argued over a load of abstract rubbish. Barbers set chairs upon the pavement in the hope the weather might improve, tavern keepers brought theirs indoors, because it wasn’t going to. Furriers were busy, goldsmiths were not, florists had packed up and gone home. Under an awning attached to the gem cutter’s, infant voices parrot-called the twenty-four letters that comprised the Latin alphabet, and further up the Via Sacra, a snake charmer played his flute to an audience of nil.
‘Claudia, your life is in danger! An armed guard outside the door will scare this maniac away.’
Or turn his attentions elsewhere. In front rose the Rostra, the public speaking platform which stood twice as high as herself and was overlooked by bronze knights on snow-white marble columns. ‘I don’t want protection.’ Her voice was as cold as the metal prows from the captured warships which studded the front of the Rostra.
‘Why not?’ Orbilio stepped forward to block her path. ‘For gods’ sake, woman. Tell me why not.’
Claudia considered him. He meant well, this patrician turning from red to purple as the bruises took their course. He was ambitious, and he took his job seriously. But… Pulling out her drawstring purse and keeping her eye fixed on a topknotted Sygambian in flowing scarlet robes, she fumbled around until her finger found the phial it was seeking. Then Claudia Seferius smiled a smile displaying her entire stock of ingenuity.
‘Very well, Marcus Cornelius. All shall be revealed, but first you buy me lunch.’
Caught offguard, naked suspicion danced across his face, but being first and foremost a gentleman, he led the way past the prison where Nerva’s thugs bemoaned their fate in chains and up the hill towards a tavern favoured by the gentry. Ordinarily it would be thronging to the rafters, but since the senate was in recess, it was quiet.
‘If you must know, it’s the aunts,’ she explained, when they had settled at the table and given their orders. ‘The old crabs plan to disinherit me.’
‘Your husband’s will was perfectly legal.’ Orbilio knew, because he’d once had to try and disprove it. ‘What’s the problem?’
Claudia pulled a face. ‘They believe they can prove me unfit, as a woman, to manage the inheritance. They want me to marry Porsenna.’
Orbilio buried a laugh in his handkerchief. They had more chance of building a snowman in summertime. ‘Who,’ he asked, keeping his kerchief close to hand, ‘is Porsenna?’ Outside, two small boys chased a piglet up the street.
‘Their puppet,’ she explained, sinking her teeth into a piping hot scallop dripping with garlic. ‘The mouse man.’
A squid ring fell off Orbilio’s knife. ‘The what?’
‘Porsenna breeds dormice for the banquets of the rich and famous.’ Young, dull, pliable-what more could Larentia ask? Rumour had it, he spent most of his waking hours writing recipes for cooking his precious fattened profitmakers. ‘So what I don’t need,’ she said, crunching on a stick of celery, ‘is a soldier clumping about in armour to draw attention to myself.’
Orbilio laid down his chicken bone. ‘Come on. Even your mother-in-law couldn’t blame you for wanting protection against a madman.’
Claudia sipped at her wine. It was good. Better than Seferius wine, in fact. ‘The problem with Magic is that somewhere along the line, he’s started to believe it’s reciprocal.’ She speared a mushroom and waved it at Marcus. ‘That’s right. This creep actually thinks we’re in a two-way relationship.’
‘Larentia wouldn’t believe that.’
Claudia leaned over and broke off a chunk of hot, steaming chestnut bread. ‘Of course she wouldn’t. But will that stop her convincing a judge I encouraged him?’ The slightest excuse, no matter how tenuous. Think of the money at stake. ‘So we’re agreed, then. No legionaries?’
He tilted his chair back against the wall and folded his hands behind his head. ‘No legionaries,’ he agreed. ‘Until after the old trouts have left.’
Claudia waited.
‘But until then,’ he continued eventually, ‘I shall have to take other precautions to safeguard your life.’
Claudia set her drawstring bag upon the table and patted it. ‘Such as?’
He even made out he was considering other options. ‘You leave me no choice,’ he said gravely. ‘I shall have to protect you myself.’
Now why is it I had a feeling you’d say that? ‘And just how do you plan to do that?’
‘By moving in, you can pass me off as a relative, a servant, even your agent. We’ll think of something.’
We certainly will. ‘Oops.’
Bending down to retrieve Claudia’s bracelet which had fallen on to the tiles. Orbilio thought he detected a flash of movement from the corner of his eye, but when he straightened up, she was helping them both to a rich gamey stew of venison and hare.
‘I have a plan,’ she said. There was no sign of the little blue bag on the table. ‘It’s one I’ve used before and I call it my Runaway Success.’
‘Foolproof?’ He was so suspicious, he almost checked under his plate.
‘Foolproof.’ But it takes half an hour. ‘I’ll explain, but in the meantime, tell me this. Do you think Jovi is in any danger?’
‘Because he saw the “sleeping” lady, and possibly the killer, who thinks he might identify him?’ Orbilio mopped his stew with his bread. ‘No,’ he said decisively. ‘My guess is that yes, Jovi saw the victim in the alley. It was dark, he was lost and frightened and alone, and he wanted help, but that’s when the killer got lucky. I think the victim had already been knocked out-the other two had bruises on their skulls, that’s how he ties them up and strips them without a struggle. So when Jovi came bumbling along, the killer simply melted into the shadows until the boy gave up.’
Around the tavern, smells of meat juices dripping from the spit mingled with guffaws of raucous male laughter from the corner. Logs from the fire crackled as the flames licked round their splintered edges.