Wolf Whistle

‘I’ve not had time to clean up, yet. Nubu there,’ he indicated the donkey he’d been attending, ‘he’s been limping, so I thought I’d see to him first.’

He disappeared round the stable door, and after a count of ten, Arbil followed him. There was mud caked on the spokes, and splatters all over the buckboard.

‘Is this what you’re after, sir?’ Lugal was pulling his favourite orange robe from under the passenger seat.

Arbil cleared his throat. ‘Yes. You can…you can keep it, if you like, Lugal. It’s just an old thing.’ He’d never wear it again, that was sure. ‘Tell me, when we went into Rome this afternoon…’ He waited to be contradicted.

‘Yes?’

Shit. ‘When we went to Rome, what did I do there?’ Lugal shrugged and look blank. ‘I don’t rightly know, sir. I dropped you off at the usual place-’

‘The what?’

‘The Collina Gate, sir. Where I always drop you before I call you a litter and return to the post house to wait. Have…have I done something wrong?’

Arbil took a deep, deep breath. ‘No. No, Lugal, you’ve done nothing wrong. I’m…I’m just checking you get all your facts straight, lad. You need that, if you’re to stay long-term with me.’ There was another awkward silence, then he said. ‘How often do I go into Rome?’

No need to question Lugal further to see he had his facts at his fingertips. ‘Always on a market day,’ he said proudly, ‘and lately sometimes in between. Can I go now, sir? Nabu’s in a bit of pain.’

XVII

What a sight to behold in Claudia’s banqueting hall! The pickle merchant’s gold plate shining for all it was worth (and it was worth plenty). The ex-consul’s ivories. The senator’s bronze Venus. Tomorrow they’d have to go back, of course, but for tonight the room looked magnificent. A private flower meadow carpeted the floor, lush garlands hung on the walls and the porphry merchant’s lampstands lit the place like midsummer sunshine. But it was the sight of three hefty trunks sitting in the vestibule which made Claudia practically cartwheel into the room.

‘Claudia! We were just saying, weren’t we, Fannia, what a wonderful concert this afternoon. Such a pity you missed the finale.’

‘And the Bull Dance was breathtaking, such mastery of horseflesh.’

‘So generous of you, Cousin, to lay on not only a banquet for us later, but to treat us to apperitifs of rose wine now, before we get changed.’

The Dragon From Hell sidled up. ‘I must say, daughter-in-law, you have done us proud.’

That was the plan. ‘Thank you, Larentia.’

‘I speak for us all, when I say we’ve enjoyed every minute.’

Oh, me too. ‘I’m so pleased.’

‘You’ve spared no expense-’

Tell me about it!

‘-and I want you to know we appreciate the effort you’ve put in on our behalf, don’t we, ladies?’

Was there no end to deafening choruses?

‘Also.’ She tapped one claw against her jewelled goblet. ‘I fear I owe you an apology.’

Damn right. ‘Water under the Milvian Bridge, Larentia.’

‘No, no, credit where it’s due,’ the old woman said, and Claudia winced. That was the trouble. By noon tomorrow, credit would not be where it was due, and the moneylender seemed very preoccupied with kneecaps of late.

‘I refer, of course, to the urchin.’

‘Jovi?’ Claudia passed round a plate of raisin bread.

‘I was talking to him-’ Interrogating, more like. ‘-and I may have jumped to conclusions.’ Old Leatherchops began to pick plump yellow raisins from her chunk of bread. ‘What I mistook for a speech impediment appears to be the nasal twang of the slums.’

I know. Claudia nibbled at the sticky, warm dough. Mine took years to eradicate.

‘He told me what happened, and how you brought him back here-’

Oh, Jovi. Please don’t have mentioned the man in the frock.

‘-fed him honeyed apricots and pies, and I understand you’ve even posted a reward for his mother to come forward.’

None too successfully, either. Two women had turned up, neither of them the little chap’s ma. Claudia had doubled the reward to lure the money-grabbing bitch out of her hole. ‘Charity is my middle name.’

Since her bread now resembled a colander, Larentia began to plug the gaps with the raisins on her plate. ‘Moreover, you have managed my son’s business most admirably…from what you tell me, of course.’ At least the old fossil had the grace to blush. ‘I mean, it’s obvious the firm’s prospering.’ A crabbed hand swept through the air towards the bronze goddess in the corner and encompassed the lavish spread which the servants were still laying out.

It worked. The old harpy was finally won over. Claudia resisted the urge to shout ‘Yahoo’, and reached for the scented wine instead.

Larentia had replaced all the raisins in the bread, except for one, which appeared not to fit anywhere. Claudia raised her glass to her lips.

‘So.’ Larentia popped the spare raisin in her mouth. ‘As you’re doing so well for yourself, we’ve all decided to stay on.’

Wine sprayed all over Claudia’s gown.

*

‘Madam, please.’ Cypassis trotted behind her mistress as she marched up and down the bedroom floor. ‘That’s the third curl to break loose.’