Eleven
Marcus Cornelius Orbilio did not need the soldier stationed in his porch to tell him who had taken a fancy to wrenching his front-door knocker from its gleaming silver hinge. Only one woman in the whole of Rome possessed passion on that scale! Any other time and his heart would have lifted, but today, he realised, the gods had answered his prayers. Every bloody one.
He had prayed for a reason to be taken off the Roll of Honour.
He had prayed for a juicy murder case.
He had prayed for the ensuing scandal to be attached to a high-profile family.
He had prayed that one day Claudia Seferius would come to him and not the other way round . . .
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Orbilio recalled the old Corinthian proverb: Be careful what you wish for, it may yet come true. Remus, his head ached so abominably, otherwise he'd remember the name of the nymph who had, in return for a favour, asked the gods for immortality and, because she beseeched them so pityingly, had had her wish granted. Only later, of course, did she come to realise that what she should have sought was perpetual youth, because as the years passed she grew ever older, ever more shrivelled, her body bent and wasting away, but with no chance of her misery ending. Orbilio knew how she felt.
'Present for you!'
A black squirming object was suddenly stuffed in to his arms, although Claudia seemed to be experiencing a certain
difficulty owing to the fact that there was a young woman manacled to one of her wrists. Orbilio felt the room - indeed his whole world - spin.
'His name is Doodlebug and he's a pedigree thingamijig, fully house-trained, of course. Now say thank you.'
'Er . . .'
'My pleasure, Marcus. What are friends for.'
'You . . . bought him? For me?' The day Claudia Seferius gave him presents was the day Hades put up a sign advertising day trips! Besides. There was something vaguely familiar about those big, amber eyes and the even bigger nose which pressed its icy wetness into the crook of his elbow then promptly fell asleep.
'A breeder on the Aventine,' she said breezily. 'Sound chap. Supplies guard dogs to the rich and famous. Now, while I'm here—'
Guard dogs! A shiver ran down his spine. No wonder the puppy looked familiar. That slavering monster three doors up had recently birthed a litter and as Orbilio tenderly stroked the solid rolls of fat, the bare pink podge of stomach, his ears remained pricked for the sound of Momma's claws skidding across the mosaic demanding her runaway babe's return. With his spare hand Orbilio protected his jugular vein.
'I need some advice,' Claudia was saying.
'You need a key.' He indicated the iron shackles linking the two women together.
'No, I don't. And for gods' sake, Orbilio, what's the matter with you? You keep twitching your neck. Do you have a sore throat?'
'Not yet.' For a small pup, Son of Disemboweller seemed extraordinarily heavy, but as Marcus lowered his arm, the look of censure from the two young women immobilised him faster than the Gorgon's glare. Marcus felt sure the gods were laughing.
'My problem,' Claudia began, 'is—'
'How long have you been into S and M?'
'Marcus Cornelius, will you please pay attention!'
'What does he mean, S and M?' It was the first time the chainlink had spoken. Until now, her eyes had been sweeping round Orbilio's atrium, and he had a feeling they had priced every item they landed on.
'Ignore him,' Claudia snapped. 'He's having a cheap dig at your cropped hair, the gangly gait and your obvious quarrel with that frock.'
'What?' Animal eyes burned into Marcus. 'Are you suggesting I'm some sort of pervert, mate?'
'Lesbians aren't perverts,' he corrected her, but the creature was taking no prisoners.
'Listen, I ain't here because I like it!' She jangled the chain at her wrist.
'I'm prepared to swap places,' Marcus offered generously, ignoring the twin fireballs which shot from Claudia's eyes.
'I'm here, coz she -' the
Marcus Cornelius Orbilio did not need the soldier stationed in his porch to tell him who had taken a fancy to wrenching his front-door knocker from its gleaming silver hinge. Only one woman in the whole of Rome possessed passion on that scale! Any other time and his heart would have lifted, but today, he realised, the gods had answered his prayers. Every bloody one.
He had prayed for a reason to be taken off the Roll of Honour.
He had prayed for a juicy murder case.
He had prayed for the ensuing scandal to be attached to a high-profile family.
He had prayed that one day Claudia Seferius would come to him and not the other way round . . .
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Orbilio recalled the old Corinthian proverb: Be careful what you wish for, it may yet come true. Remus, his head ached so abominably, otherwise he'd remember the name of the nymph who had, in return for a favour, asked the gods for immortality and, because she beseeched them so pityingly, had had her wish granted. Only later, of course, did she come to realise that what she should have sought was perpetual youth, because as the years passed she grew ever older, ever more shrivelled, her body bent and wasting away, but with no chance of her misery ending. Orbilio knew how she felt.
'Present for you!'
A black squirming object was suddenly stuffed in to his arms, although Claudia seemed to be experiencing a certain
difficulty owing to the fact that there was a young woman manacled to one of her wrists. Orbilio felt the room - indeed his whole world - spin.
'His name is Doodlebug and he's a pedigree thingamijig, fully house-trained, of course. Now say thank you.'
'Er . . .'
'My pleasure, Marcus. What are friends for.'
'You . . . bought him? For me?' The day Claudia Seferius gave him presents was the day Hades put up a sign advertising day trips! Besides. There was something vaguely familiar about those big, amber eyes and the even bigger nose which pressed its icy wetness into the crook of his elbow then promptly fell asleep.
'A breeder on the Aventine,' she said breezily. 'Sound chap. Supplies guard dogs to the rich and famous. Now, while I'm here—'
Guard dogs! A shiver ran down his spine. No wonder the puppy looked familiar. That slavering monster three doors up had recently birthed a litter and as Orbilio tenderly stroked the solid rolls of fat, the bare pink podge of stomach, his ears remained pricked for the sound of Momma's claws skidding across the mosaic demanding her runaway babe's return. With his spare hand Orbilio protected his jugular vein.
'I need some advice,' Claudia was saying.
'You need a key.' He indicated the iron shackles linking the two women together.
'No, I don't. And for gods' sake, Orbilio, what's the matter with you? You keep twitching your neck. Do you have a sore throat?'
'Not yet.' For a small pup, Son of Disemboweller seemed extraordinarily heavy, but as Marcus lowered his arm, the look of censure from the two young women immobilised him faster than the Gorgon's glare. Marcus felt sure the gods were laughing.
'My problem,' Claudia began, 'is—'
'How long have you been into S and M?'
'Marcus Cornelius, will you please pay attention!'
'What does he mean, S and M?' It was the first time the chainlink had spoken. Until now, her eyes had been sweeping round Orbilio's atrium, and he had a feeling they had priced every item they landed on.
'Ignore him,' Claudia snapped. 'He's having a cheap dig at your cropped hair, the gangly gait and your obvious quarrel with that frock.'
'What?' Animal eyes burned into Marcus. 'Are you suggesting I'm some sort of pervert, mate?'
'Lesbians aren't perverts,' he corrected her, but the creature was taking no prisoners.
'Listen, I ain't here because I like it!' She jangled the chain at her wrist.
'I'm prepared to swap places,' Marcus offered generously, ignoring the twin fireballs which shot from Claudia's eyes.
'I'm here, coz she -' the
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