Free I, Claudia by Marilyn Todd Page A

knowledge that, if their family and friends found out, they’d be both ostracized and ridiculed.
    Moral austerity was the order of the day, with the Emperor introducing more and more laws to tighten any lapses. If the penalties for adultery were crippling, it was nothing compared to those for the type of activities Claudia’s clients were paying for. It was ironic, when you thought about it, such strict decrees from a man who once prostituted himself for three thousand gold pieces, and negotiated his inheritance to the Empire by agreeing to become Julius Caesar’s catamite.
    Using charm and guile, she’d also managed to establish alibis for three of them, including Flamininus, the censor who was away in Lanuvium at the time. Claudia continued to flap the ostrich feathers. Pity, really. He’d have been easy to kill and his wife would probably have been exceptionally grateful. She sighed. Such is life, she thought. Never as straightforward as you’d like.
    Oh well, she might find out more at the baths this morning, and if not, then there were plenty of compensations to be gained. The steam room, a hot bath, a spot of gossip, a good rub-down—not to mention the prospect of a wager or two on the men in the exercise yard. How many press-ups they could manage, how many balls they could juggle, even silly bets, like how many sausages they might eat. There was always another like mind, eager to swap coins.
    ‘What the…?’
    The mood of the crowd had changed suddenly, turning ugly and riotous and her slaves could no longer maintain the litter at shoulder height. It was now joggling from side to side. Claudia edged the curtains apart a fraction. They were halfway between the Forum and the baths, taking a short-cut down one of the side streets, but the chants and jeers were too close for comfort.
    ‘Turn back, Junius!’
    All too often the populace turned nasty about their handouts of grain—something to do with not getting them, she supposed. Nevertheless, it wasn’t her business.
    ‘Juno!’
    Without warning the litter tipped over, tossing her on to the pavement like a sack of turnips. She managed to land safely, suffering only grazes in the process, and looking around decided she could count herself jolly lucky. Tempers were flaring. Fists were beginning to fly.
    ‘Down here!’ Claudia beckoned her slaves, but when she glanced over her shoulder she was alone. She paused on the corner. Sweet Jupiter where on earth were they? ‘Melissa? Junius?’
    Now she looked carefully, all seven servants seemed to have been swallowed up in the fighting, including the women.
    ‘Damn!’
    Sending up a quick prayer to Mars to keep an eye on them, Claudia decided she could waste no further time. She picked up her skirts and ran full pelt down a dark, deserted alleyway between two tenement blocks. As she raced past the coppersmith’s, an arm lashed out and pulled her into the workshop. She tried to scream, but a strong hand clamped itself over her mouth.
    ‘Hello, Claudia.’
    The voice was soft, low—and very menacing.
    Squirming and wriggling, she managed to bite into one of the fingers. ‘Let go of me, you bastard.’
    ‘I can no do that, Claudia.’ She’d bitten deep, but he’d not so much as winced. ‘Not until we have quiet little chat.’
    She spat out his blood. ‘Let me go!’
    Her feet were kicking his shins and her nails were clawing at the arm round her waist, but she was held fast. There was a clatter of metal as they crashed into buckets, bowls and sheets of copper.
    ‘Now, now, Claudia,’ He spoke with a thick Thracian accent. ‘We got few things to sort out, yes? Like, you know, the money you owe Master Lucan.’
    She could place him now. It was Otho. The man who breaks legs for a living.
    ‘Sod off, bonehead.’ She reached for a hammer which he kicked away. Jupiter, he was a big bugger, too. Made of iron, most like. All Thracians were, weren’t they?
    ‘Tch, tch, tch. That no very ladylike. Why don’t