Wolf Whistle

Claudia groaned. Warehouses. Whorehouses. What’s an ‘h’ and an ‘o’ between friends? ‘Sooner or later,’ she said, ‘some silly bitch is going to twig on that she’s a child short at dinner.’ But until then, guess who’s lumbered? She ran her hands through her hair. ‘Just keep him out the way when that pack of hyenas arrives.’

She had no intention of explaining to the aunts what she’d been doing, tattered and torn, on the Argiletum-in the dark-without her bodyguard. The old hags had already got wind of her flutter on the horses, any further misdemeanour would be more than sufficient for them to whisk her into court and have her discredited as unfit to manage Gaius’ business empire. However, provided she maintained a low profile for the next couple of days, that would not be a scenario she need worry about.

‘Tell me, Leonides, is my mother-in-law still coming? No heart attack, perchance, no nasty fall to immobilize the boot-faced old barnacle?’

The Macedonian was too slow for his smile. ‘Mistress Larentia is as fit as ever, madam.’

Shit. Jackals at a carcass, thought Claudia, the whole damned bunch. All winter long the jungle drums had been beating and now spring was here, the pack was on the move. Aunts, cousins, sisters, related by blood or marriage, what did it matter so long as they swelled the numbers. Led in the van by that septic old fossil, Larentia.

‘With regard to your correspondence-’

Claudia felt a chill wind blow through the dining room. ‘Those…’ She cleared her throat. ‘Those letters sealed with the cobra.’ The ones she made him intercept. ‘Do they still average two a day?’

In the bowels of the house, a pot crashed into smithereens unheard by either of them. The universe had shrunk to the walls of this room. The only sound was their breathing.

The steward stared intently at Drusilla’s daisychain of mud. ‘The frequency has increased a little lately.’

‘How many of these filthy letters does he send me now?’

‘Oh.’ Leonides scratched his ear. ‘Perhaps three.’

A knot tied itself round Claudia’s throat. ‘You’re holding out on me, I can tell.’ She was not sure the words came out as flippant as she’d hoped.

The Macedonian would not meet her eyes. ‘It’s the tone that bothers me. Each of these revolting notes gets more…’ He searched for the right word then replaced it with, ‘Aggressive.’

There was a loud drumming, which Claudia identified as her own blood pounding past her eardrums. These were dirty, dangerous letters at the best of times. And now the creep who wrote them was turning even nastier. ‘You burn them, though?’ It was the only way to eliminate the feeling of contamination they left behind.

‘Every one.’ The intensity receded. The icy breeze slithered away, the universe grew and familiar sounds intruded into the room. Whistling. A deliveryman’s banter. Amphorae being rolled over stone floors. Plus a clanking, which was not quite so familiar. ‘As to the rest of the correspondence-’

He stopped, because a man wearing a quantity of bruises and a long patrician tunic burst into the room. He was flanked by a soldier in uniform, hence the jangling. Claudia buried her head in her hands. One million people live in this city. Five hundred thousand, therefore, are male.

Why this one?

Why me?

She closed her eyes, counted to five then beckoned her steward. ‘Throw them out,’ she said. ‘Lock the door, bar it if necessary, but never, ever, on pain of your life, let this man,’ she pointed to Marcus, ‘into this house again.’

‘Sorry.’ Orbilio grinned like a cat with a quail. ‘Official business.’

‘Is it?’ Claudia addressed the legionary, who smiled wanly and thereby managed to avoid committing himself.

Leonides peered at the taller of the two visitors. ‘Are you all right, sir? Those cuts? Can I bring you-’

‘Leonides, you couldn’t even bring him to his senses, he’s so thick. You could, however, fetch Junius, if you will, plus a couple of other big, strong, muscular types. Our guests have stayed long enough.’

The soldier did his utmost to look invisible, which is not easy when you’ve bright red feathers in your helmet, so he settled for shuffling his feet and fixing his gaze at a set point on the mosaic. Claudia thought that, personally, the front end of that stag would be a more attractive bet. But then she wasn’t a soldier.

Orbilio advanced towards Claudia. ‘I shall need more time to consider your proposal of marriage-’

‘My what! ’ She did not actually recall springing to her feet, but miraculously she was upright.

‘Last night,’ he continued cheerfully, ‘you said-in fact, you were adamant-you didn’t want me flitting in and out, so naturally I assumed-’ He broke off to pat Claudia on the back and help her through the coughing fit.

‘You’re insane,’ she said hoarsely, gulping down a whole glass of wine in one go. The legionary, she noticed, had perked up considerably.

‘Because I didn’t accept straight away? Quite possibly, but in the meantime, I have something of a problem on my hands. It’s just a little thing-’