Wolf Whistle

‘Would you prefer me,’ she asked, ‘to scream “thief” at the top of my voice? “Arrested for housebreaking” might add a certain cachet to your CV.’

‘As I recall, you tried to rob me.’ Orbilio poured himself a glass of wine from the jug on the table. It had not reached his lips before the goblet was snatched from his hand and was flouncing out into the cool night air.

‘All right, all right,’ he called, as her mouth formed a wide O. ‘If you must know,’ he stepped on to the balcony to join her, ‘I spent last night in Gaius’ bed.’

‘You?’

For a moment, he was non-plussed. ‘Mother of Tarquin.’ He ran his hand over his face. ‘You thought it was Magic, didn’t you? That’s why you nailed up the shutters.’

‘There was a draught,’ she said, tilting her chin at where the moon would be, had it not been hidden by so many clouds. ‘So I’ll thank you kindly to keep your size tens out of that room from now on.’

‘You want me to sleep here?’ he asked mildly, swivelling his eyes towards the bed.

‘I’d sooner take my chance with a sex-starved gorilla.’

‘I could wear a fur cloak.’ He grinned. ‘And pretend?’

She wished now she’d brained him harder.

Fog had risen from the Tiber just like last night and the three nights before that. Along the street, only the occasional hazy slab of light from another window brightened up the gloom, and below, in the street, a man with a Phrygian accent appeared to be suffering pangs of regret at not having bought a new pair of boots, these ones had effing holes in. A few blocks away, the snarl of a lion told of its anger at being caged up for three weeks then paraded through the city after dark, and from the smoke-house across the way came the distinctive smell of sausage, hams and cheeses drying over blackened chips of oak.

‘He’s a dangerous man, Claudia.’ Orbilio picked up the glass she’d perched on the balcony rail and threw half the contents down his throat. ‘Unhinged and unpredictable. All joking aside, you cannot afford to take chances.’

‘You think that creep bothers me?’ she countered with a nonchalent toss of her curls, and Cypassis would have been mortified at how many worked loose this time.

‘Then why do you have bodyguards patrolling the streets? Why nail up the shutters? Think that’ll deter him?’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Magic might not be educated, but he’s as cunning as a fox, and until he’s locked in the dungeons, I’m staying put whether you like it or not.’

‘Not.’

Downstairs she could hear applause for the juggler who had taken over from the rumbustious musicians. No doubt the neighbours would be mighty relieved at the change. Two streets away, the lion roared again.

‘Then I give you a choice. He leaned the small of his back against the rim of the balustrade. ‘Me or the military.’

‘Aren’t you supposed to be rounding up conspirators and hunting down killers?’

There was an unseemly twinkle in his eyes as he said, ‘So it’s the army, then?’

Shit.

Traffic was beginning to clog the crossroads, exacerbated by the perpetual mist and resultant bad tempers. The night air mixed animal ordure with the smells of ripe melons, charcoal and fleeces and pitch. Torch bearers touted for pedestrians to guide home, a cat, not Drusilla, yowled from the rooftops and a woman in tears pleaded with her man to come home. For Claudia, it might be happening a million miles away. She felt her senses dissolve as she braced herself to ask the question she’d been wanting to ask all along.

‘Why are you really here, Marcus?’

Time stopped. The rumpus faded into silence, banished by the pounding of her heart. She saw his eyes close, his jaw tense.

‘You know why,’ he said thickly.

‘Tell me.’

‘Because-’ She could hear the rasp of his breath, ragged in his throat. Saw a pulse beat in his neck. ‘Goddammit, because I-’

‘Yes?’ The slightest breeze would have carried such an insubstantial sound away.

She heard him mutter. It sounded like ‘oh, shit’ as he spun away, resting his arms on the balustrade, his head hung heavy. Several seconds and a couple of loaded wagons passed as he fought for words. Claudia held her breath and thought her lungs would burst.

Clearing his throat, Marcus Cornelius straightened up and did not turn to face her. ‘It’s my duty to ensure the safety of every Roman citizen.’ He seemed to be addressing the roof opposite. ‘Therefore, until the threat of your stalker has passed-what was that?’

‘My pot of white narcissus meeting a cartload of crockery.’ Silly cow, what did you expect him to say? ‘Wave to the nice waggoner, Marcus, he’s waving at you.’

‘He’s waving his fist.’

‘Nah, he’s just trying to calm his mules down, the splinters made them skittish.’ Claudia rubbed at her toe. It bloody hurt, kicking that pot, but worth every broken bone in her foot. Stupid bitch.

His gaze still fixed on a gutterspout, Orbilio upended the contents of the glass in one swallow. ‘So until this maniac’s in chains, I shall continue to camp in Gaius’ room, and you can be assured of my absolute discretion.’