Man Eater

Indeed, you couldn’t hold your own in this neglected backwater without some degree of commercial nous, much less flourish, and precious little was required in the way of mathematics to deduce that one diverted road plus fifteen years of mass migration ought by rights to equal a decrease in fortune. Yet, she tapped her knuckle on the arm of the couch-this is solid bronze-and as for the upholstery-surely this particular shade of violet is unique to certain aloes? A strain that will grow only on the Isle of Socotra? Which happens to lie smack bang in the Indian Ocean?

The sudden realization as to why Sergius had called in the army sent a thousand spiders abseiling down Claudia’s backbone.

She remembered the glance she had caught of her handsome host as she followed Tulola to change her bloodstained nightshift. Although fleeting, she had interpreted the expression as that of a man mining for lead and finding a thick, strong vein of gold in its place. Now she was not so sure.

For all his outward signs of hospitality, Sergius believes he’s harbouring a murderess! No wonder he was so solicitous. Be kind to the nice lady and she won’t stab you…

The hazelnut clattered on to the floor and came to rest on a maenad’s nose. Why Claudia’s hand was shaking, she had no idea. Good grief, I’ve nothing to fear, it’s not as though I stabbed the wretched man… The little filbert splintered under Claudia’s dainty tooled sandal as she recalled the law concerning murder. It was quite straightforward. No ifs and ands and buts and maybes. In fact, there’s a children’s rhyme that covers it nicely. Confession is death, denial is trial. By Jupiter, Claudia Seferius would most certainly be contesting the charge.

Pallas was too busy with his boiled bacon to notice her slip away, Alis too heavily entrenched with her fripperies. Minerva’s magic, what have I got myself into?

Her bodyguard, a bandage round his head and his left eye a splendid magenta, was waiting in the atrium and his shoes squeaked on the marble floor as he approached.

‘Are you all right, madam?’ His face was pinched with worry. ‘There’s talk in the slave quarters-’

Claudia cut him short with a flick of the wrist. ‘Never listen to gossip, Junius.’ I do, but you shouldn’t.

‘But a man was killed in front of you?’

‘Some trivial misunderstanding.’ Try as she might to address his good eye, there was something magnetic about the shiny, swollen, purple thing on the other side of his nose. ‘The authorities will iron things out.’

‘You mean-?’ His square jaw dropped. ‘By the gods, madam! They’re not accusing you of the murder?’

‘Temporarily. Now hop along and stick a steak on that shiner, there’s a good boy.’

A whirl of orange cotton, she swept down the colonnade towards the far end of the atrium where condensation from the roof tiles dripped into the pool and a shaggy-haired slave in check pantaloons carried a loaded salver towards the west wing. Claudia snatched it out of his hands and marched to her room, kicking the door open with her toe. Juno be praised, the blood had been mopped up, there was not so much as a single stain to show the dung-beetle had ever been there, let alone expired on the spot.

For several long minutes her young bodyguard remained motionless in the shadows, his stern blue eyes fixed on Claudia’s door, and when he did finally leave, it was not towards the slaves’ barracks that his footsteps were directed, but to the back exit leading to the thickly wooded Umbrian hills. Within seconds, he was swallowed up by the swirling mist.

No way!

No way is Claudia Seferius going to trial.

Claudia Seferius has enough on her plate as it is-and for heaven’s sake. What sort of a man is this Sergius Pictor, thinking she has nothing better to do than to go round sticking knives into people? You’ll pay for this, so help me, you will! I’ll take every copper quadran you own.

It was here, in the central courtyard redolent with hyssop, wormwood and borage, which reinforced the notion that Sergius was having no problems with his investment portfolio. And it was here, in the gardens, with the mist fast dissipating, that Claudia made her resolution.

Don’t get mad. Get one up.

I will sue you to Hades and back for what you’re putting me through. I will take your fountains which sing and dance and make rainbows in the sunshine. I will take your parrots which perform antics with such insouciant charm. I will even take their topiaried counterparts which spread box and laurel wings to shelter white marbled busts and mythic bronze beasts. Which, of course, will also be mine.