As for segment two, the plotting merchants, that was easy. Had a coup been imminent, he would know about it.
Which left the maniac who preyed on the Children of Arbil.
In a fresh linen tunic, with his hair combed and a glass of chilled wine under his belt, Orbilio decided that, having deposited all the facts in his investigative cauldron, it was time to let them stew for a while. In his experience, it was through exercise that his thought processes honed themselves, and that was precisely what he intended to do now. He smiled to himself as Annia’s high-pitched trilling instructed his steward on the merits of employing women rather than men to clean the silver, their hands are every bit as strong but far more flexible, and really, in an atrium of this class, more lampstands were in order, didn’t he think, plus extra gilding on the ceiling. Making no attempt to rescue the poor man, Orbilio made his exit through the back.
The athletics yard was packed, a battleground where young blades showed their muscle tone and old men overreached. Orbilio cut a straight line through the grunting and the wheezing, through the javelins and wrestling towards the gymnasium where, oiled and naked, he gathered together a team to play small ball. It was the only game he knew which exercised every single muscle of the body and while his body worked out, his mind could rest. Afterwards, while his flesh was pummelled by a masseur, his refreshed brain would begin a workout of its own.
XXXI
The traffic on the Via Lata was light as Claudia cut across from the Quirinal. What had she hoped to achieve from her visit to Kaeso? A confession? Hardly. On the other hand, do men who slice their victims into twenty-seven pieces dash home for a spot of vigorous sex? She did not think so.
The girls’ terror, their blood, an absolute domination, these were the triggers for a ritual murderer, that’s how these freaks get their kicks.
But then Kaeso was an esoteric individual…
Always, on the Field of Mars, you’d find schoolboys running races, jousters on horseback, wig sellers displaying their curly wares on the marble heads of statues (at least until the wardens found out). The baths were free, the lake invariably jammed with rowboats, so take a deep breath, forget about little Severina, just take time out and relax.
Claudia bought a cinnamon bun from a vendor and inhaled its warmth and spiciness.
Counting today, she reflected, ambling down the Portico of a Hundred Pillars, the Megalesian Games still had three days to run and praise be to Bacchus, whose humble wine dregs had sabotaged Larentia, she could enjoy these Games in peace. Tomorrow, in the Theatre of Pompey over there, already flooded and floating proper warships, they were staging a mock naval battle and on Monday the festivities culminate in The Procession of the Gods and more races at the Circus. Today, however, the Theatre of Marcellus was putting on a riproaring musical farce.
Around Pillar Nineteen, the heel of her sandal snagged in the hem of her gown and as she released it, Claudia thought she caught a movement. Shadows, of course. With its alley of plantains, its frescoes and bronze statues, what do you expect?
The farce should be quite a show. Apparently the playwright was a sparkling newcomer whose wit and musical score There it was again! At Pillar Thirty-one. The flicker from behind. She glanced along the colonnade. Portly merchants eyeing up the painted nudes. Lovers, arm in arm, eyes locked. A small boy sitting on the step, picking intently at a scab on his elbow. People. Not exactly crowds, but nevertheless she wasn’t alone here. So why this flutter of unease for what was probably nothing but the effect of fast-moving clouds?
Around Pillar Forty-three, Claudia simply had to know. Had Kaeso’s House of Silence made a sucker out of her?
Backtracking round a cypress grove, the path diverged. This way to the Pantheon, that way to the baths. But wait. Behind an overhanging branch, a narrow, weed-choked path would prove it once and for all. Claudia did not consider the danger as she draped her bright magenta wrap around her elbows and was swallowed by the shrubs. She was intent only on defying an overheated imagination.
Dappled shade turned to deeper shadows. Dense undergrowth muffled sound, the greenery snagged in her hair. Ought she turn back? Narrowing to the point of obscurity, the path terminated at a building where ivy scrambled over walls for sparrows to make nests in. There was a coldness and a damp about the place. The long, wet grass was a stranger to the scythe and when the leaf litter rustled, Claudia squealed aloud. A blackbird hopped out, dangling a caterpillar from his beak, and she rolled her eyes in disgust. What’s to be scared of? This old voting hall, abandoned because who the hell wanted to traipse this far out of town to hear speeches? There were rumours about it being turned into a bazaar-’
‘BITCH!’
Claudia spun round. ‘Magic!’
He hadn’t changed his clothes, they were filthier than ever and stiff from the dried blood of two days back. ‘You faithless, whoring bitch!’
The hair was matted, just as she remembered, and the same uneven teeth and gagging stench. The only difference seemed to be that this time he wielded a knife in both his hands. Claudia screamed, even before she remembered the doll that he’d sent her, slashed to ribbons.
‘I followed you.’
Spinning on her heel, she raced across the courtyard. Inside the voting hall, I’ll be safe!
‘And saw you with those men!’
Up the steps she ran…
The voice changed, became wheedling. ‘Thought you’d kill old Magic? Well, you can’t.’
…across the portico…
‘Magic is immortal.’
…through the porchway…
‘Magic cannot die!’
…to the doors…
‘But you’ll die, you bitch! You deceived me!’
…which were locked and would not budge.
He stopped running when he knew he had her trapped. ‘All those men,’ he rasped. ‘Why? Why so many men, Claudia?’
Her fingernails chipped in a desperate attempt to claw open the lock. ‘Men?’ she croaked. He was deranged. But maybe she could reason with him and find a way out of this nightmare.
‘First the blond one, then the dark one.’ His eyes glittered harshly. ‘No thought of your promise to me!’ In the dank and slimy darkness, the glint from the twin blades shone menacingly. ‘What about the vows we took, do they mean nothing?’
It was no use, the doors were never going to open. Her heart was pounding, her breathing ragged. Think, girl, think. ‘That we still share, Magic.’ She forced her voice to be soft and reassuring. ‘Those men-’
‘Yes?’ His face twisted.
‘-they were cousins, that was all.’ She swallowed the bile in her throat, and forced herself to look at him and not the knives. ‘I told you…in my letters…about my duties.’ In an effort to quell the rising terror, had she overdone the soothing? Had it come out patronizing?
‘Then-’ He seemed to be trying to grasp something. ‘Then you’ll still come to me every night?’
‘Always.’
He nodded slowly, as though still taking it in. ‘And when the white light hurts my head, you’ll sing to me like Mamma did?’
‘Of course.’
His voice became petulant. ‘She doesn’t come to magic the pain away any more. She-’ The eyes blurred with tears. Was this her moment? Could she dash past him, unnoticed? ‘Mamma’s dead, isn’t she?’ he sobbed. ‘Mamma’s dead?’
Intuitively, Claudia knew that it was true. The mother who’d looked after him, protected him against himself and the world, probably drugged him when the mental pain became too bad. She could almost hear the woman whispering ‘magic’ as she wiped his sweating brow and trickled the draught through his lips.