Wolf Whistle by Marilyn Todd Read Free Book Online Page B

venturing further into the room. ‘Perhaps a little lack of sleep, that is all.’
    Oh-oh! She’d forgotten she’d left him waiting in the peristyle. Time, methinks, to change the subject.
    ‘I presume you’ve reunited Jovi with the bosom of his family?’ Claudia toyed with a pancake, gave up and pushed back the plate.
    ‘N-n-not exactly.’ Leonides scrunched up one side of his face. ‘Junius carried out your instructions. He posted a Message…’
    She had to prompt him. ‘Yes?’
    ‘No word came back.’
    Claudia practically rolled off the dining couch. She’d expected at least a dozen mothers queueing at her door, frantic to claim their misplaced rug-rat. ‘What about the military? Has Junius enquired?’
    ‘He has, and they have not received a visit, either.’
    ‘I see.’ Claudia tapped the side of her mouth with her forefinger. ‘What about Jovi?’ Dammit, she’d given him her oath. ‘Have you questioned him?’
    ‘The little chap has latched on to Cypassis and although she has tried repeatedly to coax clues out of him, I regret we are no closer to identifying even so much as his district, madam, let alone the address.’ He relayed the gist of Cypassis’ probing.
    Which hill is closest to your home, Jovi? Dunno.
    Are you near the river? Dunno.
    What about a temple? Dunno.
    Are there tall buildings round where you live? Nod. (To him, all buildings would be tall, they could be tenements, storehouses, just about anything). So what’s the strongest thing you smell from your room? Wine.
    (Aha! Could it be that wine warehouse down by the Aventine?) Tell me, Jovi, do you see lots of men coming and going? Yeah. They visit me ma.
    Claudia groaned. Warehouses. Whorehouses. What’s an ‘h’ and an ‘o’ between friends? ‘Sooner or later,’ she said, ‘some silly bitch is going to twig on that she’s a child short at dinner.’ But until then, guess who’s lumbered? She ran her hands through her hair. ‘Just keep him out the way when that pack of hyenas arrives.’
    She had no intention of explaining to the aunts what she’d been doing, tattered and torn, on the Argiletum—in the dark—without her bodyguard. The old hags had already got wind of her flutter on the horses, any further misdemeanour would be more than sufficient for them to whisk her into court and have her discredited as unfit to manage Gaius’ business empire. However, provided she maintained a low profile for the next couple of days, that would not be a scenario she need worry about.
    ‘Tell me, Leonides, is my mother-in-law still coming? No heart attack, perchance, no nasty fall to immobilize the boot-faced old barnacle?’
    The Macedonian was too slow for his smile. ‘Mistress Larentia is as fit as ever, madam.’
    Shit. Jackals at a carcass, thought Claudia, the whole damned bunch. All winter long the jungle drums had been beating and now spring was here, the pack was on the move. Aunts, cousins, sisters, related by blood or marriage, what did it matter so long as they swelled the numbers. Led in the van by that septic old fossil, Larentia.
    ‘With regard to your correspondence—’
    Claudia felt a chill wind blow through the dining room. ‘Those…’ She cleared her throat. ‘Those letters sealed with the cobra.’ The ones she made him intercept. ‘Do they still average two a day?’
    In the bowels of the house, a pot crashed into smithereens unheard by either of them. The universe had shrunk to the walls of this room. The only sound was their breathing.
    The steward stared intently at Drusilla’s daisychain of mud. ‘The frequency has increased a little lately.’
    ‘How many of these filthy letters does he send me now?’
    ‘Oh.’ Leonides scratched his ear. ‘Perhaps three.’
    A knot tied itself round Claudia’s throat. ‘You’re holding out on me, I can tell.’ She was not sure the words came out as flippant as she’d hoped.
    The Macedonian would not meet her eyes. ‘It’s the tone that bothers