Wolf Whistle

It would be hard, the next ten days, but provided no cracks appeared in her facade, Larentia shouldn’t catch so much as the faintest rattle of a closeted skeleton, no matter how keen her goddammed hearing. It was called keeping up appearances, and Claudia was an expert.

For Gaius, marriage had merely meant another gaudy trophy, a wife to be wheeled out at social occasions and as such their paths had rarely crossed. With Larentia stuck in Etruria, his daughter fostered on Julia (who in any case had few dealings with her brother), deception had been easy to orchestrate.

Until that desiccated old fossil took it upon herself to test Claudia to the limits.

She inhaled from braziers redolent with the scent of dried herbs-balm and borage, lavender and mint-and thought, you want hospitality? I’ll give you hospitality. So much so, you’ll be gagging on it, begging to go home to the country. And tonight’s off to a good start. I hadn’t envisaged this, you wizened old crow, but we’ve got acrobats and jugglers, fire eaters and dancers, flautists and tumblers. And just to show you how bloody rich I am, guess whose robe matches the exact colours of the banqueting hall? Claudia twirled round in her feast gown. Searching examination would quickly reveal an ancient nightshift coloured with cheap vegetable dyes, but the old bats were short-sighted and a range of glittery accessories, coupled with oodles of perfume and some second-hand flounces would What was that?

Claudia laid down her gold torque and listened. There it was again, a soft scuffle from the balcony. Then she saw it. A tongue of metal, so thin it could fit between closed shutters, which could only be the blade of a knife…

Bloody burglars! There’d been a real upsurge of these bastards since Agrippa died, taking advantage of people’s grief and confusion and growing fat on their thieving. She blew out the lantern. I’ll give you bloody burglary, mate.

The blade had found the latch and she could hear the tinny scratch of metal upon metal. Picking up a red upholstered footstool by its leg, she weighted it in her hands. Just the job. The latch was lifting as she skipped to the side of the window. Climb up my balcony, would you, chum? The first leaf of the shutter opened to admit a blast of damp air. Claudia could see an inky outline in the gloom.

Taking a deep breath, she counted out his footsteps in the dark.

One…

Two…

Clonk!

With a thud, the intruder fell flat on the floor, his long thin knife skidding out of his hand and across the polished wooden timbers to land at Claudia’s feet. As the burglar began to groan, she covered the blade with one foot and kicked him in the ribs with the other.

‘How much are you carrying?’

‘Uh?’

‘Money, jewellery, come on. What’s your trawl so far this evening?’

You might not rob me, sunshine, but by the gods, I’ll take every copper quadran you have on you. Trust me. I have no compunction about paying the fowler with your pretty baubles!

‘Aaargh.’

‘Spare us the histrionics, chum. Just hand ’em over.’

XIX

The intruder dragged himself on to all fours and shook his head like a dog. ‘For a foggy night,’ he said miserably, ‘I’m seeing one heck of a lot of bright stars.’

‘ Orbilio?’ Claudia stepped over his back and set light to a couple of wicks. ‘Good grief, man, don’t you know better than to go around breaking other people’s footstools?’ She jabbed the gaping upholstery. ‘The horsehair’s coming out in tufts.’

‘Listen, if anyone’s hair’s falling out it should be mine. From stress.’

‘There’s a leg loose, as well.’

‘Mine, probably.’

Claudia sat down on the battered footstool and studied her burglar at close quarters. ‘I thought you were a thief,’ she explained, resting her chin in her hands. ‘Or I wouldn’t have hit you so hard.’

‘But you’d still have hit me?’ Marcus Cornelius leaned back on his knees. ‘That’s reassuring.’

‘What do you expect, creeping around like a common burglar? Didn’t you think to try the front door?’

‘Would you have let me in?’

‘No.’

‘Well then.’ Gingerly he tested the bump on his head. ‘Anyway, the other way was barred.’ He smoothed his dishevelled mop, then squinted. ‘Is that frock real, or am I hallucinating?’

‘Oh no,’ she said smugly. ‘This is the genuine article, guaranteed to knock the old trouts’ eyeballs right out of their sockets.’

‘Should you find mine while you’re about it, send them home, will you?’ He hauled himself to his feet and massaged the back of his neck.

‘It’s not that bad,’ she chided, shaking out her sleeves. ‘Scarlet, blue, with a spot of green here and there. What do you mean, the other way was barred?’

‘You missed out the yellow, orange, pinks and purples.’

‘I asked you a question.’

‘I’d have knocked at the shutters, only I heard music downstairs and assumed you were there with the others.’

Claudia rose to her feet. ‘That wasn’t the question.’ He was right about the music. The best way to defend is by attack and a robust pace demanded robust entertainment, bring on the horns and the cymbals.