‘What?’ Claudia jerked up so hard, she bumped her head on the lid of the chest. ‘I don’t suppose she happens to be rather well turned out?’
Leonides’ stick tapped a tattoo as he advanced across the ink-stained peacocks. ‘Indeed she is, madam, and jolly attractive with it, if I might say so.’
‘You might not.’ Claudia rubbed at the lump which was forming. ‘Just show Miss Fancypants Camilla off the premises-better still, I’ll do it myself.’ And should I leave a footprint on her pretty little bustle, so much the better. She swept past the debris, then paused. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘Eh? Oh, nothing, madam. Nothing at all.’
Claudia peered up at her lanky steward. ‘You have two choices, Leonides. Either I take this paper knife and cut off your earlobe, or you come clean.’
He smiled thinly. ‘My ankle’s troubling me, that’s all.’ Claudia picked up the knife. ‘Another earlobe for my collection, then.’
He gulped, but persisted with the ankle story. Perhaps it’s personal, she thought. None of her business. Then she saw the parchment protruding from a fold in his tunic. ‘Madam, no-’
‘Too late.’
The scroll was wrapped round a ball of stranded wool. Strange. Why should this make him…? Not a ball. It had shape. A head, and arms and legs. Claudia felt her skin crimple. Once upon a time, this had been a little girl’s dolly, knitted perhaps by her mother, with eyes and nose and a mouth sewn on. It would have had a tunic and some ribbons in its dark woollen hair. She would have taken it to bed with her, kissed it goodnight, it would have been the first thing the child saw in the morning. She would have talked to the dolly, whispered her secrets, fed it from toy cups and plates. Then someone had taken the dolly. Hacked at it with a knife, shredding the body and stabbing the face until only a vague shape remained.
The parchment crackled between Claudia’s trembling fingers. ‘ your mine understand you are mine ’. She looked into Leonides’ tortured eyes, ‘the next time we meet it shall be for eternity’.
As though both were contaminated, she dropped the doll and letter. ‘Can you, um-’ She waved an unsteady hand around the room. ‘Can you see to the mess, Leonides? I-I’ll sort our visitor out.’
‘Madam, I’m so sorry! You weren’t supposed to-’
Claudia forced her mouth to turn up at the corners. ‘Don’t be silly, they’re merely the ramblings of a madman. We shouldn’t take him seriously. Just…’ Her voice lost its power. ‘Just see to this. Please?’
How she wasn’t sick, she’d never know. But it took several minutes before the nausea passed, and by the time her fear had translated into anger, she was in just the mood for sorting out Miss Sweet Syrian Linens. In the hall, however, Claudia stopped short. Straight-backed as the visitor stood, this wasn’t Camilla. Not unless she’d shrunk overnight, dyed her hair blonde and tied it back with a neat cerise ribbon. More significantly, where Camilla wore jewellery, this girl wore none. Indeed, the pleats of her snow-white robe had no embellishment other than a girdle of the same hue as her hairband.
Perhaps catching a reflection, the girl spun round. She had a bright, shiny face and wide eyes. They were blue. Brilliant blue. And the hair was the colour of wheat in the sunshine, her waist slender, her smile all-encompassing. Claudia’s dislike intensified by the second.
‘Oh,’ the girl piped. ‘I thought you were Marcus.’
‘He tends to be taller and shaves rather more often. What do you want?’
The blonde creature patted one of the columns supporting the upper storey. ‘These are good marbles,’ she remarked. ‘Very good. But personally I feel he should replace them with Parian. It’s the finest marble money can buy, and he ought to have the best, don’t you think? I’m Annia, by the way, and I’ll be moving in.’ She glanced from one gallery to the other. ‘I wonder which of those is my room?’
Claudia thought of the parade which would be underway in the Circus Maximus, of the rope dancers and jousters and bears. ‘None of them,’ she smiled, throwing her wrap round her shoulders. ‘You see, this is my house and I say who moves in and who doesn’t. You doesn’t.’
‘But Marcus? I followed him here.’
Claudia made the most of the ensuing silence by adding to it, using the time to evaluate the girl. Neat nails. Clean, shining hair. Not a snag or a smirch on her tunic. On balance, Claudia thought she preferred his dallying with Camilla, and idly wondered how many women he kept in his harem.
‘Perhaps I should explain,’ Annia said, hopping after Claudia as she set off down the hill.
‘No need, I’ll give you his address, you can catch up with him there.’
‘Marcus doesn’t live there? But he let himself in with a key…?’
Outside the potter’s, Claudia spun round and Annia almost cannoned into her. Behind them hummed the rhythmic spin of the wheel, and the acid-sweet smell of the clay filled their nostrils. Three men in short workmen’s tunics decorated the bowls with paints of orange, blue and green and an apprentice loaded the kiln. Claudia felt its heat on her back.
‘For your information, Marcus Cornelius Orbilio is using my address for his undercover work-’
‘Then you must let me stay with you.’
‘Must?’ This little madam was getting on her nerves.
‘Please, Claudia.’ The scrubbed face crumpled. ‘Please don’t let the Market Day Murderer get me. I’m so scared, really I am.’
Claudia set a brisk pace down the Caelian. Cheap little con-artist! ‘Whatever your hard luck story, Annia, the answer is no.’
At the foot of the hill, she turned sharp left towards the Circus Maximus. Damn. The sun’s come out again, I knew I should have left my wrap at home. She swerved round a donkey which had a black and white goat riding in its pannier.
‘Marcus will protect me,’ Annia said with no small degree of petulance. ‘Even if you won’t. And it won’t matter whose roof he’s under, he’ll take care of me, because we’re cousins.’
‘Are you really.’ Claudia resisted the impulse to push her into the fountain they were passing.
‘His great-aunt Daphne is my grandmother, that’s Daphne Lovernius, you know, she’s very well connected. Of course, all we Orbilios are superbly connected, we have a history going back to-oops! Nearly lost you.’
Claudia heard teeth gnashing together. Clearly that loop round the block didn’t work, because Annia was still wittering.
‘… Marcus was following a lead about the girl they found up there.’ She pointed up the escarpment of the Palatine whose contours they were following. ‘Her name was Zygia, you know. She was killed on her way to warn me, and that’s how Marcus found me after all these years, and it gets even more exciting, because he thinks I might hold a clue to the killer’s identity, so we’re going to work together and-’
‘Forgive my interrupting, Annia.’ Claudia stared up at the statue of the Divine Julius standing atop the tower by the Circus he’d re-built and wondered what he’d make of his city thirty years on. ‘But you see, I possess an entrance ticket and you, I regret, do not. Cheerio, it’s been so nice knowing you.’
Amazement washed over Annia’s features. ‘You don’t believe me.’
‘Not a word,’ Claudia admitted, picking up a honeyed pastry from a street vendor. Cinnamon, almonds and warm, plump raisins danced upon her taste buds when she bit into it. The rumour was true, then? There were elephants in the parade, she could hear them trumpeting.