Free Dream Boat by Marilyn Todd

helmets of monkshoods nodded alongside angelica, hedge hyssop and the great golden globes of the trollius.
    Claudia glanced at the scribes, still unable to tell their deltas from their kappas, and thought at least we know where their pi has gone. Inside Flea's ragged frock! Finally, the two young men decided they couldn't give an iota for their  alphas and, with a demonstrative snap of hinged notebooks, took themselves off to the baths. Even the caulker, his face blotchy, his eyes red and puffy, appeared to be over the worst and was now staggering off down the path - Claudia suspected to make a vigil over his dead child. Little else reduced a man to such despair.
    She and Flea were alone in the shrine.
    Slipping behind the right-hand statue, Claudia was surprised to see the chest still in place. Perhaps, though, they'd emptied the contents? A tiny key appeared from the depths of her rags and in seconds the padlock sprung open.
    'Holy moly, look at that!' Flea's eyes jumped out of their sockets and bounced off the green-veined marble floor.
    Golden coins winked in the sunlight like fish in the ocean. Quickly Claudia snapped the lid shut. Damn. She locked the chest. What the hell was Junius playing at? Why wasn't he here, watching the drop? She pulled off the eyepatch - a piece of pigskin marked with streaks of red dye to resemble stitches - and rubbed at her eyelid where the resin had held it in place. There was no reason, at least none she could think of, why her bodyguard weren't here, all four of them, watching and waiting and keeping close tabs. Junius knew where to come, for gods' sake. He'd put the wretched ransom chest in place! What had happened? What possible occurrence could have lured four big, strong lads away from their surveillance?
    'How much is in there?' Flea's jaw was hitting her knees.
    'Come along.' The old crone pulled her veil over her forehead and, patting the central nymph for good luck, limped off down the steps. They'd lingered long enough, she thought. Any
    longer will only draw attention, the gang might be watching covertly, who knows.
    'It's gotta be a million.'
    Leaning heavily on her granddaughter and scratching at her itchy woollen rags, the old woman shambled over to the spring. Bright Aegean blue to reflect the summer sky, bubbles coiled their way to the surface, making ripples like raindrops on a dewpond. She positioned herself on a log in the shade, resting on her stick, but only two young children approached the wretched shrine, and then only to poke fun at the statue with a patch over one eye.
    'I've never seen so much flaming money,' Flea was saying. 'I can't hardly believe it. All that gold!'
    Claudia continued to ignore her.
    The afternoon wore on.
    Come on, Junius. What's keeping you? I should have arrived earlier, she told herself. I shouldn't have placed the onus on him. Dammit, Flea, this is your fault! If you hadn't escaped and run me halfway round Rome, I wouldn't have been behind schedule in the first place. Claudia's thoughts turned to the ransom demand. Two thousand gold pieces indeed! Where the hell did the kidnappers imagine Julia and Marcellus were going to lay their hands on a sum like that at short notice? For that matter, how was she? It had taken some doing, filling that ransom chest!
    Come on, come on, where the hell are you? Time flipped back a couple of hours to Junius, standing in her atrium resplendent in a toga, his fingers dripping rings and his hair oiled slick. The sight of him had made her feel as though the floor had been ripped from under her. Time had become suspended.
    'Borrow my husband's stuff,' she had said. 'Help yourself, it's still in the cellar,' and he had.
    So much so that, when she saw him, just for an instant, it could have been Gaius standing in the hallway . . . Something had pricked inside her, misting up her eyes. Overweight and overbearing, Gaius had taken Claudia as the ultimate status
    symbol, a