I, Claudia Read Online Free PDF Page B

have been feeling pleased at the strict limits she’d imposed on herself. Instead it rankled that she still was no closer to finding the murderer than before. Gaius, bless him, shuffled off to talk to one of the praetors and his wife, but Claudia remained seated. Who could possibly have discovered what she was up to? She had a nasty suspicion it was one of her clients, but who? In each case, discretion was everything. Only old Quintus approached her direct, and because his request to meet in the tenement was unusual, even by her standards, and she’d exacted such an exorbitant fee she hadn’t bothered to enquire further. Until he’d been murdered.
    She stood up and stretched. Junius was nowhere to be seen, so she set off in search of refreshment. Rumours were spreading fast of a maniac abroad, gouging out the eyes of the nobility to keep as grisly souvenirs, and locksmiths could charge double (and often were) for the protection the governing classes were seeking with such desperation. Callisunus had scores of men working day and night to catch the demented lunatic, but Claudia’s intuition told her that Orbilio was working silently and secretively to find a link.
    ‘There you are, my sweet.’ Gaius handed her a quince decorated with thorns to resemble a sea urchin. ‘A dainty treat, what?’
    Claudia wrinkled her nose and swapped it for a pomegranate. Speed was certainly crucial here, because should Gaius catch wind of her activities, he’d throw her into the street without so much as a backward glance. Hadn’t he insisted on both prudence and fidelity as part of the marriage contract? Under no circumstances would this man allow himself to be made a fool of. Oh yes, she’d really have to move fast.
    ‘Gaius, old man! You’re looking well!’
    ‘Ventidius Balbus! Well, I never. Claudia, you remember Ventidius?’
    Remember him? How could she forget him? The mention of his name had sent shivers down her spine when Orbilio had thrown it into the conversation—but for reasons he could never have imagined. The very last thing she wanted was to see the fellow today.
    ‘Of course. How are you, Ventidius?’ Dying of leprosy, I hope.
    Six, seven years ago in Genoa, when he was an ambitious young magistrate, Ventidius Balbus would hire nubile dance troupes to entertain at his banquets and she honestly couldn’t remember whether she’d slept with him or not. Good tippers she’d recall, but otherwise a punter was a punter, you never looked at his face. Especially one as bland as that pasted on Ventidius Balbus. She studied him now. Puny as ever, eyes like boiled gooseberries. When she’d taken on the persona of the other Claudia, the one whose family had been wiped out in the plague, there were precious few people in Rome who might recognize her but Balbus had been one. Luckily for her she’d been installed as Gaius’s wife for nearly a year before their paths crossed, and when they did meet at some function or other it was patently obvious he hadn’t made the connection. Nevertheless, prudence was one of Claudia’s saving graces and it didn’t hurt to avoid him wherever, and whenever, possible.
    ‘Can’t complain. But you, my dear you look more ravishing as time passes.’
    Claudia bared her teeth in the semblance of a smile and was about to turn away when she remembered why Orbilio had mentioned him. She heard Gaius saying: ‘You’ve been buying property in the south, I hear?’
    ‘Vultumum, do you know it? Dull town, despite its—’
    Claudia wasn’t interested in dreary chitchat. ‘You’re landlord of the apartment block where they found Crassus, aren’t you?’
    Both men looked startled. ‘Why, yes—’
    Gaius picked up her hand and patted it. ‘Claudia, my sweet, you don’t want to concern yourself with that terrible business.’
    ‘Rubbish. If there’s a madman on the loose what decent person dares sleep soundly in their bed?’
    ‘One understands the fellow only picks on men,’ Balbus