Wolf Whistle

He splashed cold water over his face. Segment one, the Magic problem seemed to have sorted itself out-no more letters, packets or ripped dolls had been delivered and Orbilio’s theory was that, unable to frighten Claudia, he’d moved on to terrorize another, weaker victim. In a way, he was relieved. The pressure was off, Claudia was safe-but now what excuse did he have to hang around?

As for segment two, the plotting merchants, that was easy. Had a coup been imminent, he would know about it.

Which left the maniac who preyed on the Children of Arbil.

In a fresh linen tunic, with his hair combed and a glass of chilled wine under his belt, Orbilio decided that, having deposited all the facts in his investigative cauldron, it was time to let them stew for a while. In his experience, it was through exercise that his thought processes honed themselves, and that was precisely what he intended to do now. He smiled to himself as Annia’s high-pitched trilling instructed his steward on the merits of employing women rather than men to clean the silver, their hands are every bit as strong but far more flexible, and really, in an atrium of this class, more lampstands were in order, didn’t he think, plus extra gilding on the ceiling. Making no attempt to rescue the poor man, Orbilio made his exit through the back.

The athletics yard was packed, a battleground where young blades showed their muscle tone and old men overreached. Orbilio cut a straight line through the grunting and the wheezing, through the javelins and wrestling towards the gymnasium where, oiled and naked, he gathered together a team to play small ball. It was the only game he knew which exercised every single muscle of the body and while his body worked out, his mind could rest. Afterwards, while his flesh was pummelled by a masseur, his refreshed brain would begin a workout of its own.

XXXI

The traffic on the Via Lata was light as Claudia cut across from the Quirinal. What had she hoped to achieve from her visit to Kaeso? A confession? Hardly. On the other hand, do men who slice their victims into twenty-seven pieces dash home for a spot of vigorous sex? She did not think so.

The girls’ terror, their blood, an absolute domination, these were the triggers for a ritual murderer, that’s how these freaks get their kicks.

But then Kaeso was an esoteric individual…

Always, on the Field of Mars, you’d find schoolboys running races, jousters on horseback, wig sellers displaying their curly wares on the marble heads of statues (at least until the wardens found out). The baths were free, the lake invariably jammed with rowboats, so take a deep breath, forget about little Severina, just take time out and relax.

Claudia bought a cinnamon bun from a vendor and inhaled its warmth and spiciness.

Counting today, she reflected, ambling down the Portico of a Hundred Pillars, the Megalesian Games still had three days to run and praise be to Bacchus, whose humble wine dregs had sabotaged Larentia, she could enjoy these Games in peace. Tomorrow, in the Theatre of Pompey over there, already flooded and floating proper warships, they were staging a mock naval battle and on Monday the festivities culminate in The Procession of the Gods and more races at the Circus. Today, however, the Theatre of Marcellus was putting on a riproaring musical farce.

Around Pillar Nineteen, the heel of her sandal snagged in the hem of her gown and as she released it, Claudia thought she caught a movement. Shadows, of course. With its alley of plantains, its frescoes and bronze statues, what do you expect?

The farce should be quite a show. Apparently the playwright was a sparkling newcomer whose wit and musical score There it was again! At Pillar Thirty-one. The flicker from behind. She glanced along the colonnade. Portly merchants eyeing up the painted nudes. Lovers, arm in arm, eyes locked. A small boy sitting on the step, picking intently at a scab on his elbow. People. Not exactly crowds, but nevertheless she wasn’t alone here. So why this flutter of unease for what was probably nothing but the effect of fast-moving clouds?

Around Pillar Forty-three, Claudia simply had to know. Had Kaeso’s House of Silence made a sucker out of her?

Backtracking round a cypress grove, the path diverged. This way to the Pantheon, that way to the baths. But wait. Behind an overhanging branch, a narrow, weed-choked path would prove it once and for all. Claudia did not consider the danger as she draped her bright magenta wrap around her elbows and was swallowed by the shrubs. She was intent only on defying an overheated imagination.