Dark Horse (14 page)

'Oh, I hear you. Sir.'

Claudia watched the Ethiopian's thonged sandals stride across the hunting-scene mosaic heard his hand lift the latch.

'There's still one other matter, Qus. That. . .
thing
in your quarters. It's still there, I notice.'

The latch dropped back into place. 'I've explained about that, sir,' the Ethiopian said quietly, and this time the tone was one hundred per cent deference. 'I have to keep the crystal for nine more months according to the custom.'

'Custom be buggered, man, I've been patient enough. Now either that thing goes, or you do and this time I mean it. Think carefully before you make your decision, boy. Think what job you'd be doing if I sold you on, and it won't be a cushy bailiff's number, I can assure you.'

'Oh, sir, please. I must keep the crystal for a year, it's my duty. Three months have already passed, I'm only asking for another nine.'

'If it wasn't for the rose-grower's daughter, Qus, you could have ninety. But look at it from my point of view. This girl is going to give me the children my wife couldn't and I can't afford to have anything go wrong. No miscarriages because of ...
things
that she's seen.'

'It's in my own private quarters, your bride would never see it, I swear.'

'Nothing is private, Qus, that's the first point. I own every inch of this land, every inch of your skin for that matter, and the same rule applies to my bride. Nothing is forbidden to her, no place is off limits, and if she does stumble into your rooms . . . Look, there's little point in discussing the consequences, because I'm not prepared to take the risk in the first place. Either the crystal goes, Qus, or it and you leave together. Your call.'

A head appeared upside down under the desk where Claudia was curled. The head had a small cleft in its chin. 'You can come out now,' it said.

Apologies were pointless, dignity impossible, she simply commiserated with him on the
Medea.

'If I could prove it was Nik, I'd nail his hide to a pole,' Leo said, 'but he's not even man enough to own up to it. Janus, I despise cowards, I really do.'

'Maybe it wasn't Nikias?'

The rumble deep in the back of Leo's throat suggested he wasn't particularly enamoured with Claudia's theory. 'I won't be beaten, not by him or anyone, dammit. If it means commandeering a fleet of bloody fishing boats, I'll net that dolphin and so help me, I'll skewer it right under his nose.'

'No you won't,' a calm voice announced from the hallway.

Nikias, his face and tunic spattered with paint like a rainbow, walked into the room wiping his hands on a rag. Across the corridor, the door to Leo's new marital chamber stood wide and Claudia could see the scaffolding Nikias had been standing on to finish the portraits of the happy couple.

'I've warned you, Leo, let the animal be,' he said. 'It's not harming you, it lifts the islanders' spirits and it helps the children heal and recuperate.' He turned to Claudia and once again, she was struck by the inscrutability of the Corinthian's expression. 'A lone dolphin won't stay long,' he said. 'Another few days and it will take off on its own accord, no harm done.'

'None at all,' Leo growled, 'because tomorrow it's dolphin for dinner.'

Nikias looked at him long and hard before turning away. 'Don't bank on it, Leo.'

'Janus! I'd fire the surly bastard,' Leo rumbled, 'if he wasn't the best portrait painter in the whole damn Empire.' Leo kicked the leg of his maplewood desk, carved in the shape of an antelope's leg. 'Damn you, Nik!' he shouted. 'Damn you to hell!'

In response, the door across the corridor closed softly on its oiled hinges.

Claudia sat herself down on a high-backed upholstered chair as though she'd been invited. 'The rose-grower's daughter must be quite a catch.'

Leo filled two goblets with ruby red wine. 'She is,' he said. 'For three generations, the women have averaged five children apiece, with boys outnumbering girls three to one.'

'A gambler would call that good odds.'

Leo smiled, perched himself on the edge of the desk. 'You don't approve of my actions, do you?'

'Which actions in particular, Leo? I mean, are we talking about risking the lives of your crew in that ridiculous attempt at heroics? Butchering a harmless dolphin? Forcibly evicting women and children? Dumping your wife? Using her divorce settlement to revamp the house? Scuppering her chances of love with a sculptor?'

'Him!' Leo was quite unabashed at the tirade. 'Magnus wasn't worthy of my wife, Claudia. He's the son of a
barrel-maker,
for gods' sake.'

Claudia rolled the glass between her hands. 'Which puts the rose-grower's daughter where, exactly, in the social pecking order?'

Leo shot her an amused glance. 'I know how it looks,' he said, 'but things aren't all they seem, trust me. Lydia's angry with me right now and she has every right, but I'm not a fool, Claudia, and I'm not quite the bastard you think. Magnus was out of her class - and I mean that in more ways than one.'

'Isn't that for Lydia to decide?'

'My wife's hurting, which makes her vulnerable to the first man who makes sheep's eyes at her, but she's patrician stock and . . . and . . .' He stared into the bottom of his glass. 'I'll square things with Lydia, you can bet your sweet life on that,' he said, adding solemnly, 'and Magnus, take my word, isn't the man for my wife.'

Claudia wondered who was. She waited a few seconds, then said, 'That's a nasty gash on your cheek.'

'What?' His fingertips flew to the line where Clio's ring had slashed his face the night before. 'Oh, that. Yes, I - slipped in the dark.' He swallowed his wine as though it was beer quenching a thirst. 'Embarrassing really. Caught my cheek on the edge of a flagstone.'

'And I can turn myself into Pegasus and fly.'

Leo stared at her for what seemed like hours. 'My cousin Marcus said you were sharp,' he said slowly. Suddenly, grabbing both arms of her chair, he leaned right into Claudia's face. 'If I tell you my plan,' he whispered, and there was pain in his eyes, 'you must promise it will remain strictly confidential, no one else—'

'Might we have a word, Leo?' Exquisitely groomed, immaculately coifed, Silvia was elegance personified in a pale-pink gown and red slippers with a white feather fan in her hand. But her eyes were as hard as the pearls which hung round her neck.
'When
you've finished.'

'Silvia!' Like a scalded cat, Leo jerked away from the chair. 'It's - This is not what you think.'

So. The Ice Queen thought he was kissing her, did she? Use your eyes, girl. There was no sexual chemistry between Leo and Claudia.

'Don't mind me, I'm just leaving,' Claudia said airily. There just happened to be a nice big bay tree just outside the window that offered endless possibilities.

Retreating through the double doors, Claudia clip-clopped down the garden path, humming loudly as she went. Once round the corner, though, she kicked off her sandals and belted barefoot behind the aromatic laurel.

'Please, Leo, don't think we're not grateful for what you did yesterday,' Silvia was saying. 'In fact, we wanted to thank you in person, only no one seemed to know where you were last night.'

'Estate business.' He tried to sound offhand.

'At
that
hour?'

'You know how it is. Things crop up.'

'I suppose they do, but the thing is, Leo, while you have our undying gratitude for running Jason out of town, so to speak -' she paused '- it doesn't affect the principal issue.'

'You already have my answer on that. No.'

'Leo, it's your only option.'

Claudia sensed a gritting of lovely white teeth.

'Go to hell.'

'Thanks to you, brother-in-law, I'm already there.'

'Look, you'll get your damned money back. I told you. Once the grapes are pressed and the olives harvested—'

'Bullshit,' Silvia snapped. 'You tricked us into lending you every copper quadran we owned, then you skinned us out the same way you did Lydia and countless others—'

'For gods' sake, cut with the royal "we" crap, you sound ridiculous.'

'Don't shift the subject, Leo. On account of you, we -
I
am penniless, but
I
am not my sister.'

'You don't know the full story.'

'Who cares? It's been tough luck for Lydia, but in times such as this, it's every girl for herself.'

'Jupiter's thunderbolts, you're a cold bitch! Don't you care
anything
for your sister?'

'I was six years old when Lydia married you,' Silvia said flatly. 'That hardly made us close and, as you know, there's been no love lost between us since. Now, then. When we came to Cressia, we told you it was to start a new life. I'll be honest with you, Leo, this wasn't exactly what we had in mind and it's not our first choice frankly, but

by Croesus, it'll be enough to launch us back into society.'

'The answer's still no, Silvia, whether I'm first, second or last choice.'

'I repeat, Leo. You have no option
other
than to marry me.'

Claudia nearly fell into the bay tree. MARRY?

'Options be buggered! No one is going to overturn my wedding to the rose-grower's daughter,' Leo snapped. 'Least of all you, you blackmailing bitch.'

'Name-calling is as pointless as it is childish,' the Ice Queen said levelly. 'You owe me, Leo, and debts have to be settled one way or another. I've borne three sons already, I'm more than prepared to do the same again for you, where's the problem? You'll still have your precious heirs, I'll be reinstated in society—'

'Enough! Get out of this room, Silvia. Get out of this house. In fact, get the fuck out of my life.'

'How
dare
you!'

'I mean it.' Leo's dismissal was as cold as the Arctic. 'I'll pay back every sesterces I borrowed, you have my word. But set so much as one toenail on my land, you contemptible backstabbing harpy, and I'll have Qus throw you in jail as a trespasser.'

In the tense silence which followed, Claudia could almost see Silvia drawing herself up to her full height, her lips pursed white with the effort, as she tilted her strong patrician chin high in the air. She imagined the haughty flick of the white feather fan, the toss of the honey-coloured ringlets.

'So that's how the wind blows, is it? In that case, and I regret we've had to come down to this, but it appears we have no choice, other than to tell the rose-grower about you and Clio.'

'Wrong,' he snarled, 'I'm putting you on the first boat to Istria, where your tongue can cause no more damage.'

'You daren't throw us out,' Silvia hissed. 'Not with what we have on you.'

'Watch me.'

'Think it over, Leo, when your head is cooler.' Silvia's red

slippers tip-tapped across the hunting-scene mosaic in anythin but a defeated rhythm. 'Marry me - or by all that is holy, you 
will
regret it.'

On the beach down by the point, Lydia watched the children strip off their clothes and swim like eels to the deeper waters where a lone dolphin waited to play. The children were brown as conkers, uninhibited in their nakedness and their joy, and at the sound of their splashing and squeals, her heart contracted in pain.

Eighteen years. Eighteen years she had longed to hold a babe of her own to her breast. Feel its tiny fist clasp round her fingers, sing lullabies to it at night. Eighteen years of waiting, hoping, weeping, praying.

To Diana, to Flora, to Fortune, to Juno, all the goddesses who could influence her fertility, and especially to Luna, who governed her monthly cycles. She had hung votive offerings in the trees, drunk midsummer dew, buried garlands in the earth, strewn nuts in a circle and still Lydia hadn't given up. Last summer, she had even made a pilgrimage to the shrine of Carmenta at the foot of the Capitol, to hear the priestess sing the fate of her womb. But the priestess was sorry. She could only sing the fate of the new-born, she had said sadly.

Eighteen years Lydia had been waiting. Cursing the flow that ran so regularly each month. Cursing the womb that betrayed her. . .

'Iss it all right for uss to still come 'ere, miss?' a small, heavily accented voice piped up.

'Only some says Master Leo will have uss for trespassing.'

Lydia looked down at the brown, limpid eyes of the farrier's stocky twin daughters and smiled. 'This is my land,' she said, helping them out of their coarse linen tunics. 'And as long as I'm here, you are free to come and go whenever you please.'

'Whoopee!' Hand in hand, the two little girls scampered off to join the others splashing in the warm, translucent waters with the dolphin. She was still watching them when a shadow fell over the hot sand.

'But how long, Lydia,' a voice whispered in her ear, 'will you be here? That's the question you need to be asking.'

Blood had stirred the demon from its slumber, blood had given it fuel. But blood alone wasn't enough.

From Circe it had inherited the knowledge of centuries, and for a long time it believed the answer to its destiny lay in interpreting the messages jumbled inside its head. How wrong it had been! How much time wasted! Instead of trying to decipher the signals in terms of spells and incantations, the demon should have listened to its heart. To the real message pulsing through it.