I, Claudia Read Free Page A

my mind, too.’
    The cat’s eyes had become mere slits. ‘Rrrrow.’
    ‘I know, Drusilla. Irrespective of who he is, we’re going to have to kill him, aren’t we?’

I II
    ‘There’s a very handsome gentleman to see you, madam. Gives his name as Marcus Cornelius Orbilio.’
    Claudia glanced at Melissa in the mirror. ‘To see me? Not my husband?’
    ‘You, madam.’
    She was in a good mood. They had just returned from the Field of Mars, where, victorious from his campaign against the Alpine tribes in Gaul, Augustus unveiled his testament to success, the magnificent Altar of Peace. Watching the Tiber roll gently past as the Emperor expounded on a glorious age of sunshine and gold, where civil war was a thing of the past and expansion of the empire the only way forward, there wasn’t a Roman left standing who wasn’t bursting his tunic with patriotic pride. Mighty restorations had already begun—roads, bridges, temples, the lot. Why, in Rome alone eighty-two major renovation works were in progress. Day and night hammers reverberated round the city, turning brick into marble, clay into stone.
    ‘Then don’t just stand there, girl. Show him into the garden.’
    She dabbed scent delicately behind her earlobes, prodded a wayward curl back into place and slid another gold ring on her long, slim finger. As an afterthought, she clipped a black onyx brooch to her tunic.
    He was sitting on a white marble bench in the shade of a sour apple tree. High patrician nose. Firm square jaw. And a mop of dark, curly hair which showed no signs of thinning. Claudia doubted whether there was an ounce of fat on his body and conceded he’d make a formidable adversary, although at the moment he seemed to have met his match.
    Back arched and hackles raised, Drusilla advanced sideways, growling menacingly in the back of her throat.
    ‘Pretty kitty.’
    Claudia thought his voice lacked a certain conviction.
    ‘Mrrrrow.’
    ‘There you are, poppet.’ She scooped the glowering cat into her arms and turned to her visitor. ‘I see you’ve met Drusilla.’
    Marcus Cornelius Orbilio stood up. ‘Claudia Seferius?’
    ‘Do I look like one of the slaves? What do you want?’
    Orbilio glanced at Drusilla, who was scowling at his face as though she’d like to shred it to pieces, and squared his shoulders.
    ‘I’m empowered by the Security Police to investigate the murders of four high-ranking officials—’ He paused, and Claudia’s quick wits sent her bending to park an indignant Drusilla on the ground, knowing it would pass off the flood of colour to her face.
    ‘And?’
    ‘And I wondered whether you could spare me a little of your valuable time.’
    Valuable time! Claudia clapped her hands and called for wine and figs and some pecorino cheese, which was her favourite. Then she forced herself to stare him out. Drusilla jumped up on to the sundial and copied her mistress.
    ‘Yes, well… Perhaps I can begin with asking you how well you knew Crassus.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Quintus Aurelius Crassus, the senator whose body was found in, shall we say, unusual circumstances last Saturday.’
    ‘Oh, him. Hardly at all. Why?’
    ‘Didn’t he dine here a week or two back?’
    That was a shot in the dark, she thought. If he knew for certain, he’d name the date. ‘Everybody dines here at some stage,’ she said. ‘Was he the one who’d just come back from some dire little outpost?’
    She turned to the dark-skinned slave girl hovering with the tray who was obviously hanging on every word. ‘Clear off, you. I’ll see to this.’
    A smile twitched at the side of Orbilio’s mouth. ‘Something like that, yes. Did you know where his body was found?’
    ‘I heard a rumour.’ She thrust a glass of wine in his hand. ‘I heard it was in some ghastly slum.’
    ‘Then you heard right. It was one of the buildings owned by Ventidius Balbus. You know him, I presume?’
    ‘Everyone knows him,’ Claudia said, making a great show of helping