Man Eater

‘S-s-sorry, s-sir, I can’t f-find her anywhere.’ The junior tribune clanked across the room to make his report.

‘She hasn’t disappeared into thin air, boy. Look harder!’

Red-faced, Salvian clattered back out and Macer did what he should have done long ago, so they could catch up on their backlog of chores-he began to eliminate the slaves. Forty sloped off straight away, the slavemaster swearing on his mother’s grave they’d been asleep in their barracks and no one could possibly have passed without his notice. Nonsense, thought Claudia. At least half of them sneak past every other night, either to steal from the kitchens or visit the women. But that’s Macer for you. Educated, aristocratic, and without an inkling about human behaviour.

Pallas was explaining to Barea that the best way to stuff a porcupine was with dormice and oysters seasoned heavily with rue when the door was flung wide.

‘I do hope you haven’t started without me.’ Emerald green shimmered across the floor, her Egyptian hairstyle all the more pronounced by a dozen gold leaves woven into it.

The colour drained from the Prefect’s face. ‘Mother of Hades. What’s that?’

His weren’t the only eyes on stalks. Claudia’s could have brushed cobwebs off the ceiling, because attached to Tulola’s wrist by a heavy leash padded a long, liquid feline. Its head seemed strangely small for so powerful a body, its ears deceptively flattened, its eyes surely too high-set? Two black teardrops ran from the corner of each eye, and its pelt was ferociously spotted black.

The cheetah treated the assemblage to a show of awesome fangs as it yawned, then looked into the middle distance in disdain. Tulola patted its head and, in that second, Claudia realized it was no mere sentiment which attracted Tulola to the cheetah. It was the same predatory instinct in both.

‘Don’t mind her,’ Tulola drawled. ‘She’s quite harmless.’

The cheetah’s expression changed to suggest that, actually, a nice joint of Prefect was just what she fancied. Look how the black tip of my lovely long tail twitches in anticipation!

Macer, struggling to regain his composure, barked, ‘There’s no one else, I presume? We’re not waiting for a husband or something?’

Tulola smiled coyly. ‘Married? Me?’

‘Don’t be so modest, cousin.’ Pallas leaned back in his basketweave chair and crossed his arms. ‘Tell the Prefect about your dear old spouse.’

If looks could kill, Pallas would have been impaled by a thousand spears. ‘That marriage,’ Tulola spoke through clenched teeth, ‘was over years ago.’

‘We’re wasting time,’ Sergius said dismissively. ‘Oughtn’t we to move on to the peeping Tom?’

‘Peeping Tom, sir?’

If Macer was confused, it was nothing compared to what Claudia was feeling. What was he talking about? Had she missed something?

‘The dead man, of course.’ Sergius’ impatience was ill-concealed. ‘I want to find out who he is and let his family know what sort of scum he was.’

Macer pulled a loose thread of embroidery from his tunic. ‘May I ask what leads you to this conclusion, sir?’

It was Tulola who answered. ‘Me. Several times lately I’ve seen a face at my window.’

‘And you recognized this person as the deceased?’

‘By the time I reached the window, he’d vanished,’ Tulola replied.

‘That’s why I sent for you,’ Sergius explained. ‘I’d been increasingly concerned for my sister’s safety-you know how these perverts operate. Starts off with spying and escalates from there.’ He turned to Claudia and spread his hands apologetically. ‘In retrospect I should have brought the army in sooner, I didn’t realize how far things had gone. I really appreciate your staying on to give evidence.’

The room swam. Staying on? To give evidence? Gods-dammit, Sergius Pictor, you are one selfish, devious son-of-a-bitch. You stood by and let me think… ‘The pleasure is all mine, Sergius,’ she assured him through a mouth full of honey.

She realized, now, what he was up to. Those big beefy guards weren’t here to protect property. Their job was to ensure the performing animals remained a secret. Once someone had breached that security, and clearly the dung-beetle had, what better way to ensure Master Pictor wasn’t pipped to the post by poor imitations than broadcasting your copyright via the might of the Roman legions? No wonder you can afford marble on this scale.

Macer was holding up a restraining hand. ‘One moment. You’ve lost me, sir.’ He beckoned forward the little blonde girl. ‘Coronis, you’re on record as saying you saw-you actually witnessed-Mistress Seferius stab the deceased.’

‘Well…yeah. That’s what it looked like.’ Coronis stared vigorously at her feet. ‘At the time.’

The Prefect put an exploratory finger in his ear and examined the result. ‘Are you now retracting your statement?’

‘Re-?’

‘Disclaiming. Disowning. Withdrawing.’ Macer tutted impatiently. ‘You did not see the actual knife thrust?’

Corbulo leaned closer to whisper in Claudia’s ear, but she was too intent on Coronis’ testimony to hear what was said.