Second Act (36 page)

‘Me? No idea.’

Secrets, secrets, so many secrets—and small wonder Julia wanted bolts fitted to her door. But it was Caspar she felt sorry for. He truly believed he was doing the old boot a favour by sneaking into her room in the dead of the night to perform the task he thought Marcellus was neglecting. He, for whom no woman could be too plump, too joyful, too wobbly, must have felt truly a hero as he slipped under the blankets of Julia’s bed, and oh what a pity mother and daughter weren’t the type to swap stories! What a treat for the fly on the wall, hearing them both confess to beating up men in their bedrooms.

‘Just as you’ve no idea how Doris pulled a muscle?’ Marcus asked dryly.

‘None at all.’

Claudia smiled. Doris, Doris, who never told a lie…

Oh, and then there was Ion. Big, bearded, macho Ion, who had been gripped by the most terrible depressions of late, and why? Because Jupiter had fallen in love! It happened all the time in tight-knit groups, of course. Allegiances form, friendships develop, love blooms and when four people share a room, you learn so much about one another. What a shock for Ion, finding how closely life imitates legend. Jupiter fell in love with Ganymede, and Ion, he who epitomized manly love, had fallen for a sinuous youth whose eyes bore traces of kohl and whose bracelets jangled ever so softly.

Claudia almost laughed aloud. What a shock when he discovers Doris’s secret. Those fine chiselled cheekbones, those effeminate hands, those eyelashes like a giraffe…

‘What’s your real name?’ Claudia had asked.

And what was the reply? Tongue in cheek and designed to mislead, the reply had still come straight from the heart. Daphne. Doris was not a man, but a girl. She disguised it with over-the-top feminine gestures and who would guess from strong muscles built up from hauling on scenery? But unless she wanted to contain herself to musical farce, it was the only way a woman could appear on the stage. And Doris (Daphne!) was a natural actor. She played the Miser to comic perfection. No doubt, she would play tragedy to wring out the tears—

Yet even as she was picturing the moment Ion found out about the bandages binding her breasts, there seemed to be something wrong with Claudia’s legs. They just weren’t getting the message to walk and were setting off in directions all of their own. She put her hand up to the lump where that thug had knocked her out on the dray cart, and as she did so she brushed another, much larger bump on her temple.

‘What happ—?’

Her knees buckled. As Orbilio staggered towards her, his face white with concern, she found herself clutching at bedclothes.

‘That’s why Skyles had to carry you home,’ Marcus said, and she hoped it was the blood thundering in her ears, but dammit, it sounded for all the world like he was laughing.

‘As he whooped for joy at Erinna’s survival, he—um—accidentally set the hook in motion again.’

It was always going to be like this with Orbilio, she realized, as she reeled sideways on to the floor. Ups and downs, storms and torrents, it would never be a smooth ride with this man. He wouldn’t get the credit for saving the Empire, either, because there was no credit to take. When Cotta died, the evidence died with him and the Senate would sincerely mourn their Arch-Hawk, whose life was tragically snuffed out by an accident in his warehouse, where a carelessly tied hoist had swung loose. Marcus would always be fighting for his seat in the Senate, just as she would always be fighting to maintain her position as a woman in trade.

Aristocrat in a pleb’s world.

Woman in a man’s world.

They were more alike than she’d realized.

She tried to laugh with him at the absurdity of the second bump, at the ridiculous mass of walking wounded downstairs, at the sheer farce played out within a farce, but the pull of the blackness was stronger. She had to tell him, though. She had to tell him, before she passed out again. Make him understand—

‘You’re right,’ she whispered, as oblivion rushed up to meet her. ‘You
are
the best friend I’ve ever had.’

Orbilio shouted to someone to call the herbalist back quickly. Claudia Seferius was clearly delirious.

About the Author

Marilyn Todd was born in Harrow, England, but now lives with her husband on a French hilltop, surrounded by châteaux, woodlands and vines. As well as sixteen historical thrillers, Marilyn also writes short stories, which are mostly crime-based, and when she isn't killing people, she enjoys cooking. Which is pretty much the same thing.

www.marilyntodd.com

I, Claudia

How far would you go to protect your secret? Would you lie? Would you steal?
Would you kill..?

Having connived her way into marriage with a wealthy wine merchant, Claudia quickly grows bored, so when her secret gambling debts spiral, she hits on a resourceful way to pay off the moneylenders. Offering “personal services” to high-ranking Romans. That is, until her clients start turning up dead.

When the charismatic investigator, Marcus Cornelius Orbilio, starts digging too deep for comfort, Claudia is forced to track down the killer herself. Before the authorities or her husband find out what she’s up to.

Virgin Territory

This can’t be right. When you marry a man for his money, you expect him to leave you a pile of shiny gold pieces when he dies. Not some hillside in the middle of nowhere, covered with vines. How’s a young widow supposed to pay off her gambling debts now? So when Eugenius asks Claudia to chaperone his granddaughter home to Sicily she jumps at the chance to make money. It should be easy. Sabina, she is told, has recently completed thirty years’ service as a Vestal Virgin. Or has she?

Claudia quickly suspects she’s escorting an impostor. Then a woman’s brutalized body is discovered. And the lies just get thicker and thicker...

Man Eater

It’s not every day a man’s blood drains out over you, and you watch the light die in his eyes. Memories like that stay with you for ever. Just like being framed for his murder.

On the eve of the Roman festivities, the last thing Claudia wanted was to be heading out of the city. But even hedonistic young widows must put business before pleasure when their vineyards are threatened with arson. Taking a shortcut through the Umbrian countryside, her cart is forced off the road, and her beloved cat goes missing in the skirmish. Refusing to leave without her, Claudia accepts the hospitality of Sergius Pictor and the menagerie of wild animals he is training for the Games.

That night, a stranger knocks at her bedroom door, with a knife sticking out of his belly. And before the first ray of dawn, Claudia is the prime suspect for murder.

Wolf Whistle

A killer is stalking the backstreets of Rome.
Newborn babies are being snatched at night. A small boy is abandoned.

With insurrection bubbling, the authorities don't have the resources (or the inclination) to follow up. But it was Claudia who found Jovi crying in the streets, close to one of the ripper’s victims. Claudia, who feels responsible for this little boy. Claudia, who followed the tattoo that linked the victims, marking them as the “children of Arbil.”

And it is Claudia who discovers that Arbil the Babylonian is not a loving father. Not at all.

Jail Bait

A deadly contagion has sent most of Rome’s wealthy citizens fleeing to the country, but for Claudia, the plague is the least of her worries.

To pay off her loans, she borrowed 3,000 sesterces from Sabbio Tullus. Borrowed as in broke into his depository to get it, but surely that was no reason to set the authorities on her. To avoid arrest, she seeks refuge in the beautiful lakeside resort of Atlantis, where she meets the charismatic Cal. A little flirting in tranquil surroundings seems an ideal way to pass the time—except, within hours, Cal is dead. And he’s not the only one.

Suddenly, Atlantis proves ten times more dangerous than the disease-ridden streets Claudia left behind.

Black Salamander

‘If we’re going to make a new order for Rome, sacrifices have to be made. We have set the assassination date for the Ides of July.’

What better opportunity for an ambitious young widow than an invitation to join a prestigious delegation to Gaul? First the fanfare as the procession leaves Rome, then a breathtaking journey through lush Alpine meadows. And let’s not forget the promise of riches for delivering a certain pouch, sealed with the sign of the black salamander.

When a rockfall strands the group on the Helvetian border, leaving five people dead, Claudia soon realizes this was no accident. With no intention of waiting to be picked off one by one until the rescue party arrives, she sets out to escape.

But there are those who will go to any lengths to stop her. Plunging her into a deadly game of high treason, in a land where warriors still hunt human heads and wicker-man sacrifices are far from rare.
Too late she discovers that the worst part about betrayal is that it doesn't come from your enemies…

Dream Boat

‘Kidnapped? What do you mean the silly cow’s been kidnapped?’

Claudia didn’t believe for one second that her stepdaughter had been abducted, and she was right. But when Flavia’s stupid prank costs a young man his life, this was anything but funny. Frustrated and furious, Claudia turns to the one man who can help—only to find Marcus is under house arrest after a body is found walled up in his house. 

She eventually tracks Flavia to an Egyptian cult in the hills, whose leader bends the members’ minds to his own sinister will. But worshipping the Barque of Ra is one thing. When one of the cult members starts believing he is the incarnation of Seth, brother of Osiris, God of Chaos, the Dark Destroyer himself, the game turns very dangerous indeed.

Dark Horse

The demon stirred. Its sleep had been long, but in its sleep it grew restless. It had smelled the blood of its past in its dreams. Now it wanted to taste it.

When Claudia is caught doping racehorses, an island in the Adriatic seems the perfect refuge. Shaded by figs and pomegranates, Leo’s villa is surrounded by plunging cliffs, sandy coves and hillsides scented by carpets of wild herbs. Then a pirate ship anchors in the bay, and almost immediately a fire breaks out, an apprentice is murdered, and sinister messages are delivered on the point of a spear.

Too late, Claudia discovers that three hundred miles isn’t far enough from Rome to escape the law.

Or a bloodlust that goes way beyond evil.

For the upcoming
Widow’s Pique

Five generations under the eagle. Butchers under the skin.

When the King of Histria invites Claudia to visit, she assumes the contract he wants her to sign is for wine. How wrong can she be? Virtually a prisoner in a land where brutality is ingrained, she is deeply suspicious of the recent run of bad luck that has befallen the King’s family. And where is he? If the King was so desperate to meet, why will no one take her to the Palace?

And why, when she witnesses a murder, does no one believe her?