Virgin Territory by Marilyn Todd Read Free Book Online

lucky not to be sucked into it. Almost everywhere beggars huddled in doorways, waiting for daybreak when they would clamour for position at the city gates, with their fake sores and sham bandages, to cry for alms.
    It was late when he arrived at those all-too-familiar double doors, rapping so hard, tiny slivers of cedarwood lodged in his knuckles.
    ‘Fetch Leonides!’
    He pushed his way past the porter who, knowing authority when he saw it, obeyed instantly.
    The beanpole of a Macedonian appeared almost by magic, still hastily belting his tunic. When he recognized the officer responsible for investigating that series of gruesome murders six weeks ago, the colour drained from his face.
    ‘Master Orbilio! Has something happened?’
    ‘I was rather hoping you’d tell me. Mistress Seferius has gone to Sicily, I understand.’
    ‘She’s escorting the retiring Vestal Virgin home, yes.’
    As the steward filled in the details concerning Sabina, Orbilio began to feel foolish. Here he was, dragging Leonides out of bed in the middle of the night, simply because he’d overreacted. He suddenly felt very conscious of his beard growth, of the smell of horse which still clung to him. Come on, Marcus, she’s a woman who drives a man to overreact, he thought, in an attempt to justify his actions, but found the explanation wanting in every department. He scratched irritably at his stubble.
    Inexplicably he found himself asking, ‘Whereabouts in Sicily?’ and wasn’t entirely surprised to hear the steward reply that he was very sorry, he wasn’t privy to the address. It was that sort of a day. When lemons piled up by the bucketload.
    Orbilio was on the point of saying, ‘No matter,’ when he remembered something. Part of Tingi’s report. Croesus, what was it? At the time, when every bone in his body was still jarring from the ride and his eyes had joggled up and down so often he still couldn’t focus, his brain discarded everything that wasn’t a priority.
    He tapped his finger against his lips in the age-old gesture of recollection, his mind racing over the list his manservant had called out to him and, click! He remembered. The recent retirement ceremony of the senior Vestal. As a member of the Security Police, the Vestal Virgins came under his jurisdiction, he was briefed on their movements as a matter of course.
    ‘…after which,’ Tingi had read, ‘Fulvia Papinianus returns to her family in Graviscae, where marriage to Senator Lucius Livius Cocidius will take place.’
    Fulvia Papinianus. He remembered her now. Came from a good patrician family, had tight round cheeks and one of the most winsome smiles this side of the Alps. The last time he saw her was the day he left for Ostia. It was up on the Capitol, he had just made a sacrifice to Jupiter, she was leading her little troupe of sisters and a po-faced priest up the steps of the Temple of Plenty.
    Fulvia Papinianus. Not Sabina Collatinus. And Graviscae was north of Rome, on the coast.
    Orbilio looked round the house. Her house. Burning braziers lit the walls, the friezes and frescoes dancing to life under the flickering flames. He was by no means surprised Claudia had gone off without doing her homework properly. An impressive network of spies kept him abreast of her gambling activities, which might explain her desire to let Rome cool down somewhat before tackling her mounting debts. And Orbilio’s own experiences told him how prone she was to jumping in feet first without thought of testing the waters beforehand.
    ‘Leonides, my friend,’ he said slowly, crooking his finger to beckon the steward across. ‘I think you and I ought to have a little chat.’
    There could be a whole host of reasons why a wealthy young widow might be lured away to distant Sicily, but at the moment Orbilio could think of only one.
    One which put the life of Claudia Seferius in considerable danger.

VI
    Perched on the bluff, high above the bay, Claudia conceded this had to be one of the