Virgin Territory Read Free Page A

draped in such a way as to leave the right arm and shoulder bare, making it a much more attractive garment for the climate, as well as considerably less restrictive than the conventional toga. However, one man who had not adopted this cool and casual form of dress stood out in the crowd. Not necessarily because of his height, which was above average, or because of his looks, which were compelling rather than handsome, but because at this very moment Claudia was being pointed out to him by one of the men off the ship. His bearing proclaimed a military background, which was confirmed when he marched straight up, stopped abruptly and all but saluted.
    ‘Mistress Seferius, my name is Fabius Collatinus. Follow me, please.’ He strode off down the wharf.
    So much for the army. It teaches a man how to build roads, bridges, aqueducts and fortresses. It teaches a man how to fight, build siege engines and guard frontiers. It does not, unfortunately, seem to teach a man manners. Claudia resumed supervision of her baggage.
    It was a rather less confident Fabius who returned. ‘Excuse me, you are Claudia Seferius?’
    ‘I am.’
    This time she didn’t even bother to look up. Amongst legionaries he might be a giant among men. Among the Claudias of this world he was a mere babe in arms. She turned to the porters, who appeared to be handling Drusilla’s cage with some trepidation.
    ‘That crate’s to travel with me.’
    ‘It’s my duty to escort you onwards to Sullium. There’s a passage booked on board the Isis, she sails within the hour.’
    ‘Then she’ll have to sail without us.’ She turned towards him and smiled prettily. ‘I can’t leave Syracuse until their eyes open.’
    He cocked his head to one side. ‘I beg your pardon?’ Claudia indicated the crate at her feet. ‘The kittens. I’ve promised Drusilla we won’t embark on the next leg of the journey until their eyes open.’
    ‘Drusilla?’
    ‘My cat,’ she explained cheerfully, beckoning over a food-seller and selecting a venison pie. ‘Now, Fabius, I don’t suppose you know of a decent tavern, do you?’
    He shook his head, and it was difficult to tell whether Fabius meant no, he didn’t know of a tavern or whether he shook it out of pure bewilderment.
    ‘Where do you recommend?’ she asked the pie-seller. ‘The island here or the mainland?’
    For a moment the poor man was speechless. Not once in his life had the nobility canvassed his opinion on any subject under the sun, let alone asked him to recommend accommodation. But he had a shrewd eye for business (how many pie-sellers bothered to meet incoming ships?) and therefore suggested an establishment he knew to be frequented by visiting dignitaries.
    ‘Oh, the island, m’lady. Without a doubt!’ The fact that the place belonged to his brother was, he felt, neither here nor there. ‘I’ll lead the way.’
    That was worth three asses, he reckoned. Add on a cut from his brother and with any luck he’d be pissed before twilight. To his dismay, the man in the toga sought directions then dismissed him with the princely sum of two copper quadrans, which just happened to be the price of the pie.
    ‘Which reminds me, Fabius.’
    The soldier spun on his heel. ‘Yes?’
    ‘Would you be so kind as to arrange a couple of sacrifices for me? Two white bulls—that’s one for Neptune, one for Jupiter—and something nice for the Tempestates while you’re at it.’
    ‘ White bulls? They cost a fortune!’
    ‘Then it’s as well you’re only shelling out for two, isn’t it?’
    He didn’t look particularly happy as he set off down the sidestreet indicated by the vendor.
    Munching on her pie and careless of where the gravy dribbled, Claudia gestured over a litter. If that marblehead thought she was accustomed to walking up and down wharfs, he was very much mistaken. Where she came from, ladies travelled in vehicles which reflected their station in life.
    Heaving Drusilla and her family into the litter