Wolf Whistle

‘I am but a worthless wretch.’ He was a scrawny individual, whose appearance was not enhanced by jug ears and heavy pock marks, although it was his twisted backbone which explained his solitary tactics for gratification. ‘Do not punish me harshly, oh goddess.’

Goddess? Claudia blinked and blinked again. In fact, had there been a competition for blinking, she’d have won the laurel crown. He couldn’t-? Nobody in their right mind-? Not seriously-? But he did. Incredibly, the hunchback believed Venus had dropped down from Olympus to punish him!

‘I’ll n-never take your name in vain again. I swear!’

The footsteps on the stairs were drawing closer. She had just one chance…Claudia stepped forward purposefully. ‘Remember Actaeon?’

Already pale, the poor chap blenched. Actaeon the warrior had stumbled across the goddess Diana as she was bathing. His punishment was to be turned into a stag, whereupon he was promptly torn apart by his very own pack of hunting dogs.

‘Oh, divine one!’ They could probably hear his gulp back in the Forum. ‘I s-swear on the life of my mother-’ The rap on the door cut short his grovelling and Venus watched him turn green.

‘Mortal, here is thy test. Breathe one word of my divine presence, and thou shalt suffer as Actaeon suffered. Answer the door.’

The hunchback’s gibbering denials more than convinced the gruff questioner, and Claudia’s breath came out in a hiss. Juno be praised, that was close. When she looked up, pleading eyes were upon her.

‘You think Venus does not keep her word? Leave the room, mortal, and do not return for two hours.’ A little harsh, but he wasn’t the one scheduled to satisfy some hungry tripehound’s appetite.

As he pulled on his tunic and scuttled down the stairs, Claudia pressed her hands to her forehead. So far so good, but I’ve still got to get out of here. She’d long since realized she was in the notorious district between the Esquiline and the Viminal, but where towering blocks had frustrated navigation, being five storeys up meant she could now see a way out of this maze. Lost she might be, but thanks to the march of the aqueducts and the statues high on temple roofs, trapped she most certainly was not.

Once outside, with the sound of disappointed dogs fading into the distance. Claudia dusted her hands, took a deep breath, and set off up the darkened street. An unseen tomcat howled, but nothing else stirred, and neither did she expect it. Too poor to light candles just for the hell of it, darkness signalled bedtime for the denizens of the slum. Any man abroad after sunset would certainly be up to no good.

Especially a group of burly individuals holding a blazing torch apiece.

Claudia melted into the shadows, surreptitiously slipping her rings and her ear studs into the pleats of her cotton stola. The men waved their brands back and forth as though searching and she realized, with horror, that these were the Midden Hunters. Men who scoured the cess pits and rubbish dumps for babies to raise into slavery.

She shivered in the darkened doorway. Who hadn’t heard of these ghouls? Until now she’d imagined them legends, bogeymen born out of rumour. Empty-handed, the four moved level with Claudia’s niche and a thousand crawling insects prickled her skin. She dared not breathe as the flickering torchlight distorted their features in a way that, elsewhere, would have been comical-except for the bearded man. The scar on his cheek, vermilion and shaped like a horseshoe, made her flatten her backbone tight to the stonework.

‘Well, Captain, you owe me another denarius.’ The voice was cultivated, quiet, jocular, even. ‘That’s three out of three I’ve been right.’

The man addressed as Captain, the man with the scar, snorted. ‘Your luck can’t hold, lad. Double or quits.’

‘Hear that?’ A lushly embroidered sleeve gestured to the two men bringing up the rear. ‘You boys are my witnesses, when this miserly sod tries to dodge out of it.’