Man Eater

by Marilyn Todd

  Here, at the top, the channel was narrow and surprisingly deep. Two portly gentlemen discussed oil prices as the blue-green waters gushed over their chests, and upstream Tulola’s Negroes laughed and joked and chased each other like elvers.

  ‘I’ve changed my mind about your henchman.’

  ‘Tulola! For gods’ sake, you nearly gave me heart failure.’

  One carefully painted eyebrow rose provocatively. ‘Then I’d follow through with mouth-to-mouth.’

  Dear Diana, was there no stopping this woman?

  ‘I’ve decided I want your delicious young Gaul after all.’

  Even standard-issue shifts could not escape the Tulola treatment. She’d chosen a size too small to ensure her breasts and her hipbones stood out, leaving no one in any doubt that it wasn’t only her fingernails that had been hennaed. Her nipples looked like poppies through the thin, white cotton.

  ‘Despite his deficiencies?’

  ‘Because of them, sweetie.’ She brushed away a troublesome fly. ‘I rather like the idea of making him watch while I perform with a real man.’ A furrow appeared in her lovely brow. ‘Where is he, by the way?’

  ‘Around,’ Claudia replied airily, and counted to six before adding, ‘You recognized Fronto as the peeper, didn’t you?’

  Tulola unleashed her throaty laugh. ‘My, my, you catch on quick, so I’ll let you into a secret.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I did recognize the face at my window but it wasn’t Fronto.’

  ‘Then who—’

  ‘Claudia! Claudia, for gods’ sake, is it true?’ Sergius came racing up the steps, wet hair plastered over his forehead. Salvian followed hot on his heels. Alis brought up the rear.

  ‘Is what true?’

  Naked apart from a loincloth, Pictor’s physique was that of an athlete. Who could blame Alis for staying close? Far too many feminine eyelashes fluttered as he passed—and one or two masculine ones besides. Was that it? Was marriage to Alis a cover for his true orientation, good old Greek love?

  ‘This idiot says you’re under house arrest, he’s to watch you day and night.’

  ‘I have no idea what his instructions are, but I rather think following me into the changing rooms goes beyond the call of duty.’

  The boy’s eyes bulged in alarm. ‘I didn’t kn-kn-know it was for w-women,’ he protested, his face once again matching his tunic. ‘Honestly Claudia.’

  But when they looked round, she had vanished.

  Launching herself into the cascade was one of the most exhilarating experiences of her life. The force of the torrent coupled with the utter helplessness was one of the most powerful feelings on earth. All too quickly it deposited her in a deep, warm pool that tasted faintly of mint and whose currents pummelled and massaged every inch of your skin. Breathless, she surged upwards out of the foaming waters and felt the spray dance on her face.

  ‘Good of you to drop in.’

  On a rock at the edge of the waterfall, his legs swinging nonchalantly, sat the most infuriating policeman she had ever had the misfortune to meet. Dogged was not the word. In future she would need to trail aniseed.

  ‘You have the adhesive qualities of a leech, Orbilio, and only two-thirds of the charm.’

  As fast as an otter she dived back down, but there was nowhere to go. As he well knew, because when she surfaced for air he hadn’t moved so much as one well-developed muscle.

  ‘Do you like children?’ he asked, his eyes fixed on a small boy, naked as nature intended, holding his sister’s head in an armlock as he tried to kick her legs from under her.

  ‘Too chewy,’ Claudia snapped.

  ‘How many should we have, do you think? Three? Four?’

  Godsdammit, he was doing it again. Using sex appeal as a decoy. Except last night, what she’d mistaken for lust had been nothing more than a tweak of guilt at leaving her under a shadow. How could she have been so stupid?

  ‘Orbilio, do me a favour. Hold your head underwater till nightfall, will you?’

  ‘Come on, admit it. Admit that you love me. Admit you didn’t mean what you said last night! I didn’t.’

  ‘About me being accused of murder?’

  ‘No. About you keeping hold of your precious underwear.’

  After splashing around like a demented tadpole for ten minutes, she realized there was no alternative but to accept the offer of that irritating outstretched hand. Slooop! She was out of the water like a cork from an oil jar.

  ‘You know, it could have been Junius,’ he said, passing her a towel.

  I like a thrill, Orbilio, but I don’t employ homicidal maniacs simply to avoid the odd spot of boredom. Claudia rubbed her wet curls vigorously. ‘Yes, I heard it was a hobby of his, carving up strangers with a kitchen knife.’

  ‘He could have killed Fronto to protect you.’

  Claudia lifted the cloth and peered underneath. ‘His job, my clever investigative friend, is to protect me. If he felt I was being threatened, I rather think he’d have mentioned it.’

  Orbilio’s toes splashed in the water. ‘Not if the motivations weren’t entirely straightforward.’

  Slowly Claudia lowered the towel. ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Let’s suppose, for the sake of argument, there was a green-eyed monster prowling around at the same time.’

  ‘Junius? Grow a brain, Orbilio. The boy’s a slave.’

  ‘He’s not a boy, and as for slavery, I recall he was offered his freedom and refused. Unusual behaviour, wouldn’t you say?’

  Downright peculiar, now you come to mention it. ‘That was ages ago. He helped me out of a jam and in return my husband offered him a straight choice between money and freedom. Under Seferius rules, you only get one bite at the pomegranate.’

  Orbilio’s gaze continued to rest on the children. Three more bare-bottomed toddlers had come to join them, and they were chasing each other round the saucer rims, squealing and squeaking, last one standing the winner. Their mothers might fuss and fret and turn grey with worry, but when you’re eight years old, there is no such thing as danger and the slippery, slidy basins were just one more piece on the board.

  ‘It never occurred to you why he might have taken the money?’

  ‘Why does anyone take the money?’ Claudia didn’t bother to hide the exasperation in her voice. ‘Look, we’re doing the same thing as those kids down there, going round and round in circles. Junius serves as my personal bodyguard because he’s trustworthy and he’s loyal. I haven’t forgiven him for running off to you, but I’m damned sure he didn’t do it because his conscience was at risk.’

  ‘Why not? He sees Fronto, a complete stranger, knocking at your door and suddenly he thinks, why him? Why not me? So—’

  ‘That’s a damned good question, Orbilio. Why would I invite Fronto into my bedroom an hour before dawn?’

  ‘—racked with jealousy, Junius runs off to the kitchens—which, incidentally, are in close proximity to your bedroom—grabs a knife and wallop. How’s he supposed to know you would fall under suspicion?’

  ‘I repeat, why should Fronto come to my room? Do I look desperate?’

  ‘Claudia Seferius, you know full well what Fronto was doing there.’

  She slapped her hand against her forehead. ‘Does nobody listen to me? I have never—never, ever, ever—seen the dung-beetle before in my life!’

  His eyes homed in on hers. Is that the truth, they signalled.

  Shame on you for asking, hers flashed back.

  Then I can safely assume it’s all a pack of lies, his replied, dancing with laughter.

  Claudia snapped her gaze away. Down on the riverbank, a group of musicians was setting up to entertain the hordes and overhead a kestrel was being run out of town by a flock of starlings. The urge to run with it was overwhelming, but he would only follow. Boy tribunes were easy to shake off—create a diversion and go—but Orbilio was no Salvian.

  ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ he said suddenly. ‘Green and lush, throbbing with vitality. It’s as though Ve
nus herself came down and scattered scallop shells under the waterfall.’

  Claudia felt her muscles tense. Dammit, he had no right to do this! ‘Don’t tell me, the water is as liquid larkspur, the air as pure as—’

  ‘There’s no poetry in your soul, you know that? Well, if you want to talk business, that’s fine by me. Let’s discuss your previous run-in with Quintilian, shall we?’

  She picked a violet and began to pluck its petals off. ‘I haven’t a clue what you’re waffling on about.’

  ‘Let me refresh your memory. Firstly there was the tenement deal, then you diddled him out of his land in Campania—’

  ‘Rubbish! It was up for sale and my bid was the best.’ How the hell did he find out about that? ‘I rather fancy a villa in the suburbs—’

  ‘It wasn’t on the open market, though, was it? The Senator already had a gentleman’s agreement with the agent.’

  Of course. Cleverclogs has a whole network of spies, and like the threads of a fungus, they are deceptively widespread. ‘Can I help it if the seller got greedy? Besides, there are times when a purchaser has a moral responsibility towards certain lands. I personally feel that in this particular case he was right to sell to the person most sympathetic to the existing landscape and the established way of life. What’s so funny?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s just that, for a second there, I thought you were referring to yourself. Ow!’

  Since a backflip from her towel did nothing to eliminate the maddening sparkle in his eyes, Claudia concentrated on footholds as she made a direct ascent up the rockface. Free from Salvian, free from Supersnoop, free from the ragbag Pictor family, she could throw herself into the holiday spirit and get blissfully lost in the throng. Phrygian melodies hung in the air—harp and pipes and tambourine. There was probably dancing going on, as well.

  The climb was stiffer than it looked, but these were man-made crevices and, dammit, she would not be beaten. Not with Supersleuth watching her progress. Nearly there. Nearly… Her hand slipped and, flailing out, she grabbed the nearest solid object, an upright leather pole, and levered herself over the ledge. It was only when she’d rolled both knees safely on to turf that Claudia began to wonder what a leather-covered pole was doing up there in the first place.

  ‘I’ve b-been looking everywhere f-for you!’

  Pole? Claudia had both hands round a leather-clad military ankle. She released Salvian’s boot and glued a very broad smile into place. ‘Now there’s a coincidence,’ she said brightly. ‘Because I’ve been searching all over for you, too.’

  And it could have been the rush of the waters, but she thought she caught a rich baritone laugh float up from below.

  X

  Between them, Metaneira’s health-giving mud and Thoas’ restorative sulphur were having a powerful effect on the appetites of the nobility. Portable ovens churned out anything from rissoles to hazel hens and such was the atmosphere among the aching backs and muscle pains that interchange of food was commonplace, oysters swapped for ostrich tongues, porcupine for pike, with Pallas’ gourmet experience ensuring the Pictors’ popularity remained stable. Claudia preferred informality.

  ‘This way.’

  She led a bewildered Salvian to the top of the waterfall, passing Euphemia at the bend in the steps. For one person, at least, the sulphur pools were giving their money’s worth because, incredibly, she shot them not only a smile but one that was almost pleasant—suggestive, in fact, of Drusilla among a flock of slow-witted sparrows.

  It was not that the division between classes meant that poorer people were unwelcome in the shallows. They simply didn’t feel comfortable around conversations revolving round which Senate initiatives had been taken into protocol and filed, or whose sons were shining lights in the Emperor’s Youth Movement. Not when their own sons were street porters or butchers’ boys, and babies had to be left on the middens because another mouth was too much to feed.

  Besides, outings like these were far too precious to waste. Protracted holidays might be the norm for the rich, but public holidays were few and far between. Among their own, the fires were open and flames crackled and spat as fat and meat juices dripped from the spits. The bronze cauldrons might have been patched and patched again, but their thick broths of bacon and beans, salt fish and broccoli were as wholesome as they come.

  Here men and women, freeborn and slave, subdivided yet further, this time by race, to gossip, to reminisce, to sing songs in the mother tongue. Big, brawny Germans, hook-nosed Parthians, they chewed on chestnut bread and pickled trotters as they trod the foaming waters, cheered themselves on absinthe and honeyed wine.

  Claudia selected scallops and veal, skewered and basted with garlic and basil, the young Tribune gnawed on a shoulder of mutton, taking quite for granted the fact that his food came free. She did not think he understood why.

  ‘How old are you, Salvian?’

  ‘S-s-s—’

  ‘Sweet sixteen and never been kissed?’ The down on his cheeks gave off a soft sheen in the sunshine.

  ‘Seventeen,’ he said firmly. ‘And I’m m-married.’

  ‘Are you, indeed!’

  A trickle of grease ran unnoticed from the corner of his mouth. ‘We wed last June, my wife’s expecting and Regina’s expecting our first child any day.’

  You didn’t waste much time! ‘So this freebie peep show isn’t much interest to you?’

  ‘P-p-peep show?’

  Claudia licked the garlic from her fingers. Bless him, he hadn’t even noticed. ‘The girls, Salvian. Transparent shifts clinging to round, ripe bosoms. Wet, linen-clad thighs. Nubile young hips.’

  He buried his flaming cheeks behind a cloth and pretended to wipe his face. ‘Oh. I see. I mean, no! No, I hadn’t seen—’

  Claudia pushed a bowl of warm elderberries in honey and ginger under his nose. ‘Lighten up,’ she said gently. ‘Take your uniform off and do what the others are doing.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Have fun!’

  ‘Well, I—’

  She tried another tack. ‘Salvian, let me ask you a question. Do you think I killed Fronto?’

  ‘My uncle says—’

  ‘I know what your uncle thinks. I’m asking you. Put it another way, do you think I am a dangerous criminal who’s likely to go berserk with a knife amongst these happy people?’

  He gave a sheepish laugh. ‘No. Of course not.’

  ‘And you agree I could have stolen a horse and run away at any point this morning after I gave you the slip?’

  ‘I suppose so. But my orders—’

  ‘Oh, sod your orders.’ She stuffed a beaker of wine into his hand. ‘Let your hair down.’ She was helping him unbuckle his breastplate when familiar voices floated up. ‘Sssh!’

  ‘What is it?’ The bronze piece fell on to the rock with a crash.

  ‘Ssssh!’

  Much of the exchange was drowned by the crashing torrent, but by swimming across the channel and snaking down the rocks between the wild cane plants, Claudia caught the final snatch.

  ‘—I don’t have to take that from you, you fat faggot.’ Timoleon’s strident tones were unmistakable.

  ‘Choose your words with care, dear boy.’ As were Pallas’. ‘Else I’ll think you’re soliciting.’

  The gladiator turned purple. ‘How… How—’ he spluttered.

  ‘Much?’ Pallas asked mildly. ‘Well, I’m not willing but there’s a tender young boy in the stables who charges ten asses. Or would you prefer just the asses?’

  There was an explosion as Timoleon lunged, and suddenly the Pictor party was there to restrain him. It took three of them—Barea, Corbulo and Sergius—to hold him, although Pallas, interestingly, hadn’t so much as flinched.

  ‘Gentlemen, gentlemen,’ Sergius chided softly. ‘Let’s be civilized, shall we?’

  ‘I’ll get you, you fat bastard.’ Timoleon huffed himself free and jabbed an accusing finger at Pallas. ‘Never turn your back on me—’

  Pallas hel
d up both hands. ‘Perish the thought!’

  The colour flooded back into Timoleon’s face and he swung a punch that would undoubtedly have broken Pallas’ nose had Corbulo’s arm not deflected it into thin air.

  ‘What was all that about?’ whispered Salvian.

  ‘Search me.’ With the swirling torrent between them and the others, there was no need for secrecy, but Claudia sensed he was enjoying this cloak-and-dagger lark. ‘Tulola’s name cropped up a few times,’ she whispered back, ‘but as for the rest—I caught the word Macedonia, and something about marriage.’

  ‘I’ve got it! Timoleon has a wife in Macedonia and Pallas is threatening to unmask him as an adulterer!’

  Poor Salvian. Innocent as the sky at night. ‘Could be,’ she said, just to keep him happy. ‘Now let’s move, I’m getting cramp.’

  ‘Wow! I didn’t realize the water was so warm,’ he said, pedalling noisily across the current, ‘or so deep.’ Reluctantly he pulled himself out, then chewed his lip for a while as though wrestling with a momentous problem. ‘If I stay up here,’ his eyes were goggling between Tulola’s painted nipples and what her hand was doing inside Taranis’ pantaloons, ‘I’m still carrying out my orders, aren’t I?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  People were starting to notice. They began frowning, nudging, covering their children’s eyes at Tulola’s blatant antics and although the set of her face suggested she was unaware of their reaction, the gleam in her eyes told a different tale. Instinctively Claudia knew this was the first time she had dared be so bold in such a public place, that today she was testing her boundaries—and the sad fact was she had misjudged them. Disgust had never figured in her shocking scenario. She could not recognize it, poor cow, because even when someone hissed ‘Slag!’ she laughed at what she thought was a joke. Small wonder she’d picked on Taranis, a foreigner with no preconceived notions on Roman morals, as her start point.

  ‘Providing you don’t leave without telling me, Macer shouldn’t mind, should he?’ asked Salvian.

  ‘He’d be the first to approve,’ Claudia assured him, crossing her fingers behind her back.