A contented sigh rang round the room. In just two days, it would be market day again. Farmers setting out their stalls, spreading out their cheeses and their cabbages, their fleeces and their eggs.
‘So many people think they’re clever, when they’re not.’ One hand made a clutching motion, the other slashed the knife through imaginary golden tresses. ‘But I know where she lives. And, Nemesis, my faithful friend, I know just how to lure that fair-haired bitch away.’
XXIV
On the morning of the sixth day of April, and exactly one week since she was chased round the slums by the moneylender’s dogs, Claudia prepared to board her litter in the pre-dawn chill with a completely clear conscience about leaving Annia behind.
‘Madam?’
Claudia looked up to see Cypassis, her nightshift flapping as she ran, her enormous bosoms bouncing like ripe pumpkins in a sack.
‘Madam, please! You can’t go alone!’
‘Junius,’ she said, pushing aside the fine linen drapes, ‘is meeting me at the post house beyond the Collina Gate. Go indoors, it’s cold.’
‘Who’ll pin your hair?’ The single plait bounced in agitation. ‘Who’ll fix your ribbons and fastenings? Who’ll brush your clothes?’
‘Who’ll cuddle Jovi, mop his tears and clear up after his pet if you’re tagging along?’ Bloody monkey. It spits, raids the kitchens, poops on the beds, yet will it surrender? The Sahara would flood first.
‘I suppose so,’ Cypassis said doubtfully, but inside she knew her mistress was right. Jovi was clingier than ever, rarely letting her out of his sight. She sighed as she helped Claudia into the litter. ‘I think I must look like his mother.’
Claudia settled herself among the soft linen cushions. ‘There could be any number of reasons, Cypassis, why he sticks to you. Your scent, your voice, your mannerisms, maybe they do remind him of his mum.’ She drew the curtains of the litter together and smiled. ‘Then again,’ she said, ‘it could just be because the wee lad loves you.’
A backward glance between the litter’s drapes revealed a dark-haired, broad-hipped girl dabbing at her eyes, and Claudia knew it would be every bit a wrench for Cypassis as it would be for Jovi when it came to parting company. She hoped and prayed that hard-hearted bitch of a mother would call before another sunset fell.
Because if Claudia got hold of the woman, she’d thrash her to a pulp and make a necklace of her teeth With a surge of delivery carts clogging up the roads, progress was painful. ‘Are we in a slug race?’ she asked the head bearer. ‘I know sloths that move faster than this.’
‘Sorry, marm,’ he yelled back in his lilting Cappadocian accent. ‘There’s always a jam near the gates. Too many roads converging, y’see.’
She popped her head out. Wagons were gridlocked, drivers were cursing and ragamuffins scampered in and out of the spokes for a game. ‘Set me down.’
‘Bless my sidewhiskers, marm, I can’t just dump you here,’ the bearer protested, disengaging himself from the pole and leaving the others to redistribute the weight. ‘Junius said the post station, and that’s the far side of the Collina-’
‘I know where it is, you oaf. I just don’t have a week to get there. Now will you set me down, or do I have to jump?’
The bearer wrung his hands. ‘It’s still dark, marm-’
‘Suppose I say “please”?’
‘The traffic won’t take long to clear- Aw! ’
Claudia tightened her grip on his nose and pulled him closer. ‘Suppose I say “pretty please”?’
This was not an area of Rome she knew well, but you didn’t need a lifetime of navigational experience to realize that all the wagons were facing the same way. Buying a light from a torch bearer, Claudia pushed her way through the braying and the cussing, squeezing through gaps and edging past mules and asses and oxen made skittish by her flame. Three streets from the Gate, her way was finally blocked by a wagon whose wheel had come off. Shit.
Backtracking down the narrow, serpentine alleys to circumnavigate the accident, niggling doubts began to creep in. Traffic had not only thinned, it had downright disappeared, then the reason became clear. She had wandered into the grainstore district, no wonder it looked like a ghost town. Their winter stocks depleted, the towering warehouses stood empty, echoing and lonely, for at this time of year Rome relied solely on daily deliveries. Soon, of course, favourable winds would send the massive grainships whipping back and forth to Africa on an almost weekly basis. These granaries would quickly fill up. But for now there was no need for armed guards to patrol, there was nothing to steal. The whole area was derelict. No bakers’ carts, no creaky pulleys, no split sacks causing chaos. No rats, no cats and even the mills were silent. Maybe, she thought, it had not been such a good idea to dismiss the litter. Maybe she should have arranged for Junius to accompany her, rather than meet up at dawn…?
Get a grip. It’s that damned riot, made you jumpy. And Supersnoop, saying Rome isn’t safe. Hell, it’s the countryside’s that not safe. All those bears in the forests, the wild boar, the wolves. Not to mention the cowpats.
‘There you are.’ A stumpy individual with wonky gnashers ran to catch up. ‘Thought I’d lost you.’
She could smell the stale sweat from five paces. ‘Wrong lady, I’m afraid.’
‘A couple of streets back, when the military pushed past-’
‘Is this the right way to the Collina Gate?’ Dear Diana, did this man need a bath! No wonder the street was deserted. Hell, he’d probably clear Rome when he pulled off his boots.
‘-that’s when I lost sight of you.’
‘Look.’ It could happen to anyone, but she wished he’d take his hand off her arm. Heaven knows what sort of a stain it would leave. ‘For the last time-’
‘Now we can live out our dreams.’
‘- I don’t know who it is you’re chasing, but,’ Claudia held the torch up to light her face, ‘I am Claudia Seferius.’
There was a manic grin on his face, and his eyes glittered. ‘Yes. And now we’re free to live out our dreams.’ He was drunk, of course, but it made little difference.
‘Let go of me, you clod.’ She tried to shake his hand free, but the grip was a vice.
‘Where would you like?’ Fingers bit into her flesh and she yelped. ‘Here looks nice.’
Goddammit, he was dragging her towards one of the warehouse entrances. Merciful Mars, please let it be locked.
‘Help!’
The door gave under a push of the man’s filthy shoulder.
‘ HELP!’
The only voice that came back was her echo.
Claudia thrust the burning bitumen towards her attacker, but as though it was a cake she was offering, he twisted the torch from her grasp and tossed it into the gutter, where the flames fizzled out in the rivulets of the drain. There was no point yelling. Save your strength for the fight. In the murky dawn light, Claudia could make out skid marks left by her heels. She saw sweat stains on his tunic, and clots of stale food.
‘Let go of me, you bastard!’ Her nails dug into the wood of the door jamb.
His breath reeked, and his lice-ridden hair stank of fish. Almost as though he was oblivious to her frantic struggle, her attacker continued to talk. ‘They tried,’ he said, his arm locking fast round her waist from behind. ‘But I knew they couldn’t succeed.’
A filthy black hand began to prise her fingers away, one by one. Squirming, kicking, writhing, Claudia was dragged along the pitch-painted wall. Whatever he was on-magic mushrooms, hemp seed, Sumerian poppy dope-she prayed the effects would quickly wear off. This man not only believed himself Adonis, he had the strength of a god, too.
‘Such soft skin,’ he said, sliding a calloused hand inside her tunic. ‘Such firm tits. Just like you told me.’
He pinched her nipple and when she screamed, she could feel his sharp intake of breath. ‘Look! Flour sacks,’ he breathed, wrestling his frenzied victim across the cleanly swept flags. ‘Over there, Claudia. Do you see? Soft, white sacks for our bedding.’