Dream Boat (5 page)

With clouded vision and a drumming in her ears, Donata could not form a reply, but she recalled Thoth's ibis beak moving up and down as he informed her in a low undertone that the decision was, as always, secret and that if she told a living soul, just one, she would be discarded as unworthy for the god. Did Donata understand?

Donata understood. She had no intention of remaining among that lot of bitches any longer than she had to, and they'd find out soon enough that it was she, Donata, who had been the chosen one, and never mind their spiteful tongues about her squint. Ra saw beyond the physical and knew her spirit to be pure, and who would have the last laugh then, eh?

The following morning - yesterday - when she awoke, the goblet had gone and Donata feared it had been nothing but a dream. A raising of her hopes. A silly vision. But the directions

had been so specific that, after the early hymn to RA, she had slipped away and there, where Thoth had told her, she had found the twisted chestnut tree. And now, as she watched the hive of activity down in the valley below, the fetching in of vegetables from the fields, the harvesting of the beans and barley, she knew it had been no dream.

'You have told no one?'

Gasping with surprise, she turned, and saw that it was Horus who had descended silently from heaven to escort her to the bridal chamber. His falcon eyes glittered behind the mask, his long silver-threaded cloak splayed about him on the ground.

'Not a living soul, my Lord, and Thoth will bear witness, for he is the God of Wisdom from whom no secret can be hid.'

'Perfect.' The beak nodded solemnly. 'Perfect, my child. Now kneel you before this holy stone.'

Donata fell to her knees, grateful beyond words that she hadn't succumbed to the urge to sit on it!

'Close your eyes.'

Donata closed her eyes. She could hear a swish of clothing. Was it Ra? Osiris come to her? Or the blessed Pharaoh, Mantu? 'My lord, your servant waits,' she whispered. 'I am ready—'

The words ended in a gargle as something clamped round her throat and tightened.

'And so I am!' a harsh voice rasped. 'Oh, so am I, my beauty!'

Claudia was taking breakfast in the shade of the peristyle when Julia came screaming in, clutching the message. 'Will you look at this!' she cried, waving aloft the scruffy piece of parchment. 'The monsters!'

Claudia speared a chunk of spicy sausage on her knife. Delicious. It had been smoked for months over pine ash until it turned red, and then grilled in the kitchen over charcoals.

'I should have thought, sister-in-law, you'd have affected at least a polite interest in the ransom note!' Lazy little baggage, breaking her fast at this ungodly hour, and her own stepdaughter's life hanging in the balance! Julia's eyes raked over the perfect complexion, the lustrous tresses, the immaculate gown and pictured Claudia rising late after a leisurely eight hours sleep, whereas she'd been tossing and turning all night with this bloody sticky heat, not to mention the worry, how typical that Claudia slept through it all! 'Aren't you even curious to read their demands?' The little cow didn't give a toss about Flavia.

Claudia popped a shrimp in her mouth. 'Not nearly as curious as I am about what the messenger who delivered it says. Ah, there you are, Junius. Did you catch him?'

There was no need for the head of her bodyguard to answer. Two burly henchmen appeared behind him in the doorway, dragging a ragamuffin urchin between them. Even secure in a double armlock, skinny legs thrashed out in raging kicks. 'Lemme go, you bastards!'

Julia swept over to the struggling youth. 'So you're the vermin responsible for kidnapping my niece!' A stinging

slap landed on the boy's cheek, followed by a vicious backhander. 'Where is she, you little shit? Where are you holding Flavia?'

'Gerroff me, you cow.' One foot caught Julia firmly on the shin and, as she doubled up in agony, the other kicked the soft part of her stomach.

'I'll see you skinned for that,' Julia hissed. 'Hot irons on your face, the bastinado on your feet!'

'Up yer arse, you ugly bitch!'

'Ladies, ladies.' With a flutter of her hands, Claudia indicated the henchmen pull back a pace or two and for Junius to escort Julia to a marble bench, whether she wished to sit down or not. 'This is no time for pleasantries. The Games of Apollo kick off tomorrow and the day after it's the Festival of the Serving Women. If little Flavia is to take the lead, we must have her catch up on rehearsals. Right then.' She bit into a peach, found it woody and tossed it into the laurels. 'From the beginning.' The raspberries were better, but the blue Damascan plums were juicier yet. 'Junius?'

The young, blue-eyed Gaul clicked his heels to attention. 'I stationed men around the house as you instructed, madam—'

'My house?' Julia was scandalised. 'How dare you take liberties!'

Claudia flicked her plumstone into the shrubbery. 'What measures did you take, Julia, to trace the kidnappers?'

'Me? Well, I - we . . . Good heavens, Marcellus and I never
imagined
... I mean, we were sick to our stomachs with worry—'

'Quite. Now, having established you did sod all, will you kindly let my bodyguard finish?'

'One hour after dawn,' Junius reported, 'this boy arrived with what I presumed to be a message from the kidnappers.'

'Liar!' The street Arab had by no means accepted his situation calmly, although the henchmen in whose arms he was trapped appeared not to stretch a single muscle between them in restraining him. 'This is a fit-up, lemme go!'

Junius didn't so much as glance at the wiry urchin. 'I

watched him deliver the note to the porter. The porter shouted to him to wait, but the boy was off faster than an elver.' The Gaul allowed himself a rare smile. 'Fortunately for us, we'd set an ambush and were able to follow the rat back to his den. Unfortunately, there was no sign of the gang.'

'One's a good start,' Claudia said.

Julia glowered at her sister-in-law. Smart as well as glamorous, she hoped that bloody wine the bitch was knocking back was poisoned. 'So you caught the messenger?' she sneered. 'That's no big deal. In fact,' her eyes narrowed, 'I wouldn't be surprised if your actions haven't signed Flavia's death warrant. Once the gang realise one of their number has been arrested, they'll probably cut their losses along with Flavia's throat!'

Claudia sliced a thick wedge off the green-striped melon on the table. 'What does the ransom note say, Julia?'

A sour taste filled the older woman's mouth. (Marcellus, how
could
you humiliate me like this, why couldn't
you
have seized the initiative? Why did it have to be this little trollop?) Julia flipped open the greasy scrap. '"Bring two thousand gold pieces, it must be gold, to the Camensis and leave them behind the right-hand statue at midday." Bastards!' She turned a venomous glare on the squirming youth. 'I wonder how haughty you'll look, my lad, facing down a charging rhino in the arena, you and your fellow scum!'

'Up yer arse!'

Claudia sliced off a triangle of pecorino cheese and thought, this is better than the Circus Maximus when it comes to entertainment!

'Just remember.' Julia picked up the hem of her gown and marched down the peristyle, wagging a long, bony finger at her sister-in-law. 'Flavia's life depends upon you.' And thus absolving herself of any further responsibility for her niece's welfare, she clicked her fingers for her slaves to follow and clippety-clopped out of the house, making sure to bang the door behind her.

'Midday, eh?' Claudia tucked her legs under her and perused the ransom note as she munched her way through a bowl of

dark brown, sticky dates. The bastards make us wait all night, then force us to rush around like human whirlpools. Well, that still gives us three full hours. 'Junius, when I've sorted out the payment, I want you to take the chest and position it in the shrine, but be careful. They'll be on the lookout for suspicious behaviour, so no lurking behind trees, hoping you won't be noticed!'

The Camensis was a little wooded valley on the south side of the hill, consisting of a quiet shady grove, a spring and a shrine to the water nymphs who guarded it. But talk about a double-edged sword! Anyone hoping to stake out the area would be spotted instantly by the kidnappers, while the gang themselves would also stand out a mile!

Claudia drummed her fingers on the marble bench. 'This conundrum calls for subtlety and disguise,' she told Junius. The sudden appearance of a dozen heavies in a tiny woodland grove was hardly the answer! Three, maybe four men at the most to spring a trap. 'Hire a litter, wrap yourself inside a toga and—'

'Madam!' The young Gaul's eyes popped out of their sockets. 'I'm a slave! If I'm caught wearing the toga, I'll be—'

'Junius.' Patiently Claudia laid down the bowl of dates. 'Junius, try looking at this the other way round. Not what might happen to you if you're caught impersonating a Roman citizen. Rather what I'll do to you if you don't.'

She watched his Adam's apple gulp into obedience.

'Disguised as the spoiled son of a rich merchant,' her eyes defied him to so much as wince, 'you picnic beside the spring. You take a couple of girls, you sing, you play the lyre, you fool around a bit—'

'I can't do that.'

Why not? You're young. Twenty, twenty-one. But it was a funny thing about this Gaul. Claudia had never actually seen him look at a girl since she'd promoted him to head her escort. His eyes were always fixed firmly on his mistress, intense and rarely blinking. Which meant, she supposed, that

he was either an extremely conscientious employee - or was otherwise inclined!

'Junius, if we're to get Flavia back alive, we have to make this look authentic. Since it's more than likely the gang are familiar with Marcellus and his family, friends, colleagues and acquaintances, you, as head of my bodyguard, will almost certainly be recognised.' Unless you go disguised as a rich man's brat with time on his hands, when your conduct would pass undisputed. 'Hire yourself a couple of whores - rent boys if you prefer - only for gods' sake, act the part. You're rich, you're idle, vulgar, brash. Draw attention to your profligacy, play on it. The more ostentatious your behaviour, the less anyone will suspect you're undercover.'

'Very good, madam.' His departing shuffle sounded sulky, but she knew he'd follow her instructions to the letter.

Claudia turned to the bruisers holding the ragamuffin prisoner. 'Am I imagining this,' she asked, 'or can I smell rose petals and lilies in my garden?'

The henchmen sniffed. 'I can't smell no flowers,' one said.

'Me neither,' replied the other.

'Then we are faced with the conclusion that something is masking the scent.' Claudia jerked her thumb towards the urchin. 'Take him to the bath room and don't spare the pumice stone!'

'Oi!' The voice was shrill in protest. 'You can't keep me here, I'm innocent!'

'Did I say you weren't?' She smiled. Deliver a message and then run off like quicksilver? You might not share a rat-hole with the gang, but you're in it up to your grubby neck, sunshine! Owing to the tight time-scale, interrogation would have to be postponed - but that was no reason to bring the smell of the sewers indoors! 'I am merely extending hospitality to a welcome guest,' she said silkily.

'Fuck you!'

'Oh, and be sure to wash his mouth out while you're at it,' she trilled over her shoulder. Sixteen years old and if this was

his first introduction to a sponge, there'd be two days' hard scrubbing ahead!

'Hey!' Suddenly loud masculine voices filled the atrium. 'Hey, you! Come back here!'

From the corner of her eye, Claudia saw a flash of something brown and ragged hurtle past, saw him dive through the vestibule door. Dammit, I don't have time for this! She raced after the urchin, currently wrestling with the janitor. Behind, hobnailed boots echoed on the mosaic as they thundered to catch up. Claudia pitched in to help the troubled doorman. A hand lashed out like a cobra, and in the next instant both the oik and Claudia's bracelet were flying through the door.

Shit!

Bathed in summer sunshine, the streets were busier than ever. Boneworkers hawked counters, spindles and needles from trays round their necks, sackmakers praised their own seams and a water carrier sneakily filled his jugs from the sacred fountain on the corner while the warden turned his back. Claudia noted the progress of the tousled mop as it darted in and out of the shoppers. He was lithe, slim and supple, this youthful felon, but he had yet to understand that he was no match for a woman intent on retrieving a bangle set with pearls the size of ladybirds! Vaulting over a crate of clucking pullets and ducking beneath a bale of hemp, Claudia kept pace. Clouds of dust and feathers billowed in her wake, but she had no doubt she'd catch him -
and
her thick gold bangle!

Deftly he slipped down a sidestreet, and mentally Claudia punched the air. This was her cabbage patch this boy was on, and she knew every little sprout and floret! Swerving down the next alleyway, between the leatherworker's shop and the toy seller's, Claudia stuck out her foot.

'Oh, dear, you've tripped!'