Arbil took a deep, deep breath. ‘No. No, Lugal, you’ve done nothing wrong. I’m…I’m just checking you get all your facts straight, lad. You need that, if you’re to stay long-term with me.’ There was another awkward silence, then he said. ‘How often do I go into Rome?’
No need to question Lugal further to see he had his facts at his fingertips. ‘Always on a market day,’ he said proudly, ‘and lately sometimes in between. Can I go now, sir? Nabu’s in a bit of pain.’
XVII
What a sight to behold in Claudia’s banqueting hall! The pickle merchant’s gold plate shining for all it was worth (and it was worth plenty). The ex-consul’s ivories. The senator’s bronze Venus. Tomorrow they’d have to go back, of course, but for tonight the room looked magnificent. A private flower meadow carpeted the floor, lush garlands hung on the walls and the porphry merchant’s lampstands lit the place like midsummer sunshine. But it was the sight of three hefty trunks sitting in the vestibule which made Claudia practically cartwheel into the room.
‘Claudia! We were just saying, weren’t we, Fannia, what a wonderful concert this afternoon. Such a pity you missed the finale.’
‘And the Bull Dance was breathtaking, such mastery of horseflesh.’
‘So generous of you, Cousin, to lay on not only a banquet for us later, but to treat us to apperitifs of rose wine now, before we get changed.’
The Dragon From Hell sidled up. ‘I must say, daughter-in-law, you have done us proud.’
That was the plan. ‘Thank you, Larentia.’
‘I speak for us all, when I say we’ve enjoyed every minute.’
Oh, me too. ‘I’m so pleased.’
‘You’ve spared no expense-’
Tell me about it!
‘-and I want you to know we appreciate the effort you’ve put in on our behalf, don’t we, ladies?’
Was there no end to deafening choruses?
‘Also.’ She tapped one claw against her jewelled goblet. ‘I fear I owe you an apology.’
Damn right. ‘Water under the Milvian Bridge, Larentia.’
‘No, no, credit where it’s due,’ the old woman said, and Claudia winced. That was the trouble. By noon tomorrow, credit would not be where it was due, and the moneylender seemed very preoccupied with kneecaps of late.
‘I refer, of course, to the urchin.’
‘Jovi?’ Claudia passed round a plate of raisin bread.
‘I was talking to him-’ Interrogating, more like. ‘-and I may have jumped to conclusions.’ Old Leatherchops began to pick plump yellow raisins from her chunk of bread. ‘What I mistook for a speech impediment appears to be the nasal twang of the slums.’
I know. Claudia nibbled at the sticky, warm dough. Mine took years to eradicate.
‘He told me what happened, and how you brought him back here-’
Oh, Jovi. Please don’t have mentioned the man in the frock.
‘-fed him honeyed apricots and pies, and I understand you’ve even posted a reward for his mother to come forward.’
None too successfully, either. Two women had turned up, neither of them the little chap’s ma. Claudia had doubled the reward to lure the money-grabbing bitch out of her hole. ‘Charity is my middle name.’
Since her bread now resembled a colander, Larentia began to plug the gaps with the raisins on her plate. ‘Moreover, you have managed my son’s business most admirably…from what you tell me, of course.’ At least the old fossil had the grace to blush. ‘I mean, it’s obvious the firm’s prospering.’ A crabbed hand swept through the air towards the bronze goddess in the corner and encompassed the lavish spread which the servants were still laying out.
It worked. The old harpy was finally won over. Claudia resisted the urge to shout ‘Yahoo’, and reached for the scented wine instead.
Larentia had replaced all the raisins in the bread, except for one, which appeared not to fit anywhere. Claudia raised her glass to her lips.
‘So.’ Larentia popped the spare raisin in her mouth. ‘As you’re doing so well for yourself, we’ve all decided to stay on.’
Wine sprayed all over Claudia’s gown.
*
‘Madam, please.’ Cypassis trotted behind her mistress as she marched up and down the bedroom floor. ‘That’s the third curl to break loose.’
Claudia threw her arms in the air. ‘You are out, do you hear me, o-u-t, out.’
‘But-’ The big-boned peasant girl lunged with the curling tongs and missed.
‘Thanks to your stupidity, my house has been turned into a trout farm and all you can say is stand-still-madam-there’s-three-ringlets-on-the-prowl-’
‘Four, actually.’
‘-when you should be prostrate on your knees, begging me not to sell you at auction. Why didn’t you tell me those trunks were coming in, not going out?’ She grabbed the handmirror. ‘What do you mean, four?’
‘Five, now,’ Cypassis puffed. ‘If you’d only keep still a second-’
‘How am I supposed to feed them?’ Moneylenders are not the only people who get the hump when you forget to settle up. The fowler was turning pretty nasty, too. ‘Not that you care. Or whether I end up with a bathsponge for a brain from endless bloody small talk.’ Small talk! Any smaller and it’ll be downright invisible. ‘Now, are you going to fix my hair or run up and down this room all night long? I can’t see a thing for curls in my eyes.’
Claudia plumped down in the chair. Why? Why, when right across the city you’ll hear nursemaids crooning lullabies and schoolboys stammering over homework, can I hear nothing but teeth grinding like pine nuts in a pestle? The mirror crashed against the wall and left a gouge in the plaster. What am I supposed to do about that bloody gold and silver plate?
‘Tomorrow you stay by the back door, and if anyone calls who looks like a debt collector, you’re to say,’ she put on a squeaky voice, ‘are you the doctor, come about the typhus? Practise.’
‘Are-you-the-doctor-come-about-the-typhus.’
‘Good. Now what about the wine stain, do you think it’ll come out? I’m very fond of that apricot tunic and-ye gods, what’s that?’
Screaming had broken out from the kitchens. Pans and plates clattered off the tiles, there were shouts, shrieks and curses, then a table overturned. Claudia rushed out of her room and leaned over the gallery.
‘Correct me if I’m wrong, Cypassis, but that-’ she pointed to a small creature with a long tail and a round black face, ‘-looks like a monkey shinning up the atrium drapes.’
‘Ah.’ The broad-cheeked Thessalian scratched at her ear. ‘Jovi’s pet must have slipped its leash.’
‘Which auction block would you prefer to be sold at, Cypassis? The one in the Forum by the Arch of Augustus, or would you prefer to watch dead goats float down the Tiber as you stand by the Sublician Bridge?’
‘I thought it was one of your jokes, madam, honest I did. It came in a little brown sack with a note saying “With love from the man in the frock”.’
Wait till I get my hands on his windpipe!
‘Perhaps that’s what kept Miss Fortunata awake, the monkey?’
‘Fortunata is a silly, neurotic cow, that’s what kept her awake, Cypassis. Now show that simian the door.’
‘But Jovi loves it!’
‘NOW!’
Drusilla arrived to check out the kerfuffle, but Claudia scooped her up and shut the bedroom door, amid howling protests. ‘You’ve done enough damage, thank you, chasing Herky-Perky round the cellar.’ Her fingernails raked the cat’s upturned chin. ‘I say, it wasn’t you chasing mice in the night, giving the old ducks the idea that we’re haunted?’
‘Prrrrr.’
‘Ghoulies and ghosties, indeed.’ She set down the cat. ‘Wait a sec.’
‘Mrrr?’
‘Doesn’t Fannia sleep on the right of Gaius’ bedroom?’
‘Mrrow.’ Drusilla reared up to be cuddled.
‘And Fortunata on the left?’
‘Brrip, brrip.’
‘Sorry, poppet.’ She unhooked the cat’s claws from her lilac linen robe, and noticed six small snags remained as souvenirs. ‘It’s probably nothing more complicated than a hiccup in our chemistry experiments-some of the knockout drops stronger than others.’