them songbirds in gilded cages sang hauntingly as if grieving over their imprisonment. 'Is there anything Theodore did not lie about, anything constant in his life, family or friends?' Claudia made the young woman sit down on a bench fitted against the trunk of a tree, and squatted before her. 'Please, Antonia, was there anything constant?'
'Theodore believed everybody loved him, including me. He was a ladies' man. He boasted about what plays he knew, which stage manager would help him, how one day all Rome would know his name, but yes, there was one constant. He had great devotion to the Lady of Gleefulness, of Joy, I forget her name.'
'Hathor of the White Walls.'
'Yes, that's it, Hathor of the White Walls. He was always talking about his devotion to her. How she'd favoured him in his career, how pleased he was that he had found a temple dedicated to her in Rome. He repeated that time and again.' She smiled ruefully. 'On reflection, perhaps that was the only truthful thing he said.'
'Thank you.' Claudia got to her feet, brushing twigs and grass from her tunic. 'One more question, Antonia.' 'Mistress, I am very tired.'
'You are sure that you were imprisoned in the catacombs?'
'It must have been.' Antonia shook her head. 'When I was freed, I only walked a short distance. Perhaps no more than from here,' she pointed across at the palace buildings, 'to there, then I was out in the sun.'
'Anything else?' Claudia enquired. 'Smell, taste, touch, voices?'
'Just one voice,' Antonia replied. 'I'll never forget it, threatening, telling me what to do.'
Claudia left the palace and made her way back into the city. Daylight was fading, traders were closing up shop, the taverns and eating houses were busy. Just as she entered the Flavian quarter, Claudia noticed a man dressed in goatskins, with unkempt beard, hair and moustache, standing on a stone plinth, in one hand a staff, in the other a crude wooden cross. She paused and stared at him. The man was addressing passers-by, few of whom paid him attention, but Claudia caught his words.
'Man is conceived with tainted blood,' this fanatic claimed, 'through the ardour of lechery.' On and on he ranted. Such preachers were becoming common in Rome, religious fanatics inveighing against anything and everything.
Claudia moved on, pushing dispiritedly through the noisy throng. At the corner of the street leading down to the She Asses tavern, Torquatus the Tonsor was busy putting his implements into a leather sack: razors, knives, hair-pluckers, whetstone, leather straps, oils, unguents, powders and creams. He stored these all carefully away. Claudia watched him neatly tie the string around the neck of the sack before clearing away the folding stool and table. 'Torquatus?'
He glanced up and peered at her.
'Why, it's Claudia, what do you want?'
'I'd like to buy you a drink.' Claudia indicated with her head towards the tavern standing on the corner of an alleyway, the House of a Thousand Dreams.
Torquatus grinned and, putting his fingers to his mouth, gave a sharp whistle. Two boys came hurrying over. He handed them his sack, table and stool and instructed them to remain under the sycamore tree until he returned, then he and Claudia entered the tavern, a dingy hole with narrow windows above the counter at the far end. It smelled like a stable. In the centre stretched a deep pit where two blood-spattered cocks, cheered on by their respective owners, fought like gladiators with beak and spurred claw; their screeching cut the ear as they turned in a whirl of feathers and puffs of dust. Torquatus led Claudia out through the rear door into a quiet garden with a range of drinking arbours tastefully fashioned out of pine logs and festooned with crawling ivy and wild flowers. A lawn stretched the full length of the garden. In the centre, a gracefully carved fountain displayed three marble dolphins, mouths open to the sky, through which water spurted.
'The best of both worlds.' Torquatus grinned at Claudia's surprise. He ordered jugs of wine and water and cups of crushed apple juice. The raucous sounds from the tavern echoed faintly. Claudia relaxed in the last golden burst of sunlight, relishing the evening breeze as it brushed the flowerbeds, and wafted fragrance towards her. 'What do you want, Claudia?'
'I know what you want.' Claudia sipped at the apple juice. Torquatus, moon-faced under his matted, straw- coloured hair, gazed back all innocent, lower lip jutting out, one finger scratching at the dimple on his clean-shaven cheek. 'You want the She Asses Tavern. You've lent Uncle Polybius money, he can't pay you, and now you wish to foreclose-'
'I did lend Polybius money,' Torquatus interrupted. 'He heard of my recent business venture.' 'What was it?'
'To import spices from Punt-' 'Ye gods!'
'The venture was not successful; our ship sank. Polybius owed me his share, I advanced that for him.'
'And now you think you have my uncle cornered?' Claudia demanded. She stared at this most skilful teller of tales. She'd always liked Torquatus, a character of the quarter, ever friendly and cheerful with his never-ending list of tales and a catalogue of medical cures which even an imperial physician would envy. She immediately regretted her words when she saw the look of hurt in Torquatus' eyes.
'Claudia, Claudia.' Torquatus took a deep drink of his wine before adding some water. 'You're tired. I know you have other business.'
He gazed at her meaningfully, and Claudia wondered if he was also employed by the Empress.
'Your uncle doesn't owe me any money. He's paid it back, thanks to the Great Miracle at the She Asses.'
Claudia sighed with relief. 'I am sorry!' She put her hand across the table. 'Torquatus, you know Polybius; he's attracted to mischief as a cat to cream.'
Torquatus clasped her hand gently. 'Of course, I would love to own the She Asses. It's in a prime location, it has a good eating room with a well-furnished kitchen and a garden that's even better than this. However, Polybius has repaid every single denarius. He owes me nothing, thanks to the Great Miracle.'
Claudia sat back in her seat and stared at the shadows lengthening across the grass.
'But of course Polybius,' Torquatus continued, 'literally jumps from pot to fire and back into the pot again. You've heard about Ophelion?'
Claudia suppressed a shiver of fear and sat up straight. Of course she knew Ophelion! He was one of Helena's most trusted spies, a snooper, a collector of trifles, a born eavesdropper, sharp of eye and keen of wit.
'What about him?' she asked tersely.
'Well, he's been snooping around.' Torquatus leaned closer. 'He has been making very careful enquiries about the corpse found at your uncle's tavern.'
'But you know the result,' Claudia declared. 'The Empress herself has paid Polybius; she recognised the body as that belonging to a virgin martyr, a manifest miracle by God.'
Torquatus grinned at the sarcasm in Claudia's voice. i hope so,' he declared, and leaned across the table. 'I'm a friend, Claudia, I mean you well. I like Polybius, he's a rogue born and bred. As you say, he has a natural penchant for mischief. May the Lord of Light help him,' Torquatus' voice turned hard, 'if he has fooled the Empress. Can you imagine, Claudia,' he paused and grimaced, 'whatever your relationship with the Empress, if your uncle has fooled her, or lied to her, the punishment would be great.'
'What has Ophelion been asking?' Claudia asked.
'The usual questions,' Torquatus replied. 'He is digging in the past, any young girl around here who disappeared, you know how it is…'
Claudia bit her lip and watched the butterflies hovering near the fountain. 'But that is ridiculous,' she murmured. 'Young women disappear from the slums every month and no one cares.'
'I am not concerned about those,' Torquatus replied quickly. 'All Ophelion needs is to find one. You must remember, Claudia, the authorities now have their corpse, and they will examine it carefully.'
Claudia finished the fresh apple juice, — she was going to take a sip of wine but changed her mind. 'Can you help me, Torquatus?'
'Any way I can.'
'You seem to know a great deal about medicine.' Claudia edged closer. 'Is there any logical explanation for what Venutus discovered?'
'I've thought of that myself.' Torquatus ran his finger round the rim of his cup. i cannot think of any, but the imperial libraries hold many manuscripts. Perhaps you should look there?'
