Gladiatrix (29 page)

‘If they're in conflict, why are the statues the same? Do Christians worship Isis as well?'

‘Er, no.' I briefly wondered how much information Alexander could take in about the future before his head exploded.

He caught my expression. ‘Just tell me.'

He was beginning to read me a little too well for comfort. ‘Well. The first time they competed it was for control of the Roman Empire. The race was pretty close, but Christianity wins in about three hundred years' time.'

‘Why do the Christians win?'

‘Difficult question, but it comes down to politics in the end.'

‘Politics?' Alexander gave a hard laugh. ‘Of course it would. But you still haven't explained why they have the same statue. Isn't Christianity centred around worshipping this Jesus you mentioned?'

‘Yes, but this all goes back to the intense competition between the two religions. When you're trying to convert followers away from another group you study the competition. Find out what works for them, and find a way to overcome the attraction.'

Alexander looked up at the queenly statue in the centre of the room, and then back at the portrayal of mother and child.

‘Jesus was male, right?'

‘Exactly. Christianity didn't have the same kind of appeal at all, and they knew it. So the part of Mary, the mother of Jesus, was moved centre stage. And they even borrowed the titles of Isis. Calling Mary the Star of the Sea and the Queen of Heaven. That kind of thing. And when the Roman Christians, the Catholics, take over, they even move into the old Iseums and use their decorations and imagery.'

I nodded at the statue of mother and child. ‘Like that one.'

‘And this will attract converts from the Isiacs. Give them a warm, compassionate woman who'll listen to their prayers.'

‘Just like Ankara said, a divine mother who loves her followers as her own children.'

‘That's a pretty cynical tactic.'

‘Yeah, well that's how big organisations compete.'

That was also why I wasn't so interested in the big empires. They sucked the life and truth out of everything, so they could make it all fit into one rigid system.

‘They adapt, borrow and embellish. Look, I respect the real Jesus and Mary. Their message was founded on love and compassion however it's been repackaged over the years. But that's often the way religions work. In fact, I'm betting something similar
happened with the Isiacs, too. What happened to Ra? He used to be the main Egyptian god. Now, he just rates a mention as the grandfather of Isis.'

‘But what happens to the Isiacs in this whole repackaging process? You said they managed to survive and compete with Christianity again in your time?'

‘That's right. And very successfully, too. When Christianity really starts clamping down on non-believers, the Isiacs camouflage their beliefs. The worshippers of Bright Isis rename her the Bright Lady, and disguise her as Mary. They build a whole network of secret communities within the Catholic nations. Catholicism retained so much Isis ritual and imagery that it was a viable solution for them. They even flourished. But the devotees of Dark Isis were persecuted as witches, and had to flee. Or go underground. Many of our most famous explorers were Isiacs, looking for new territory where they could re-establish themselves. And they did.'

‘Explorers? You're talking about the new lands … The one you come from.'

Alexander had asked me where my home was earlier.

‘Yes. That's right. In the next millennium, new continents will be explored and colonised by Europeans.'

Wondering how that would translate I qualified it. ‘People from Britain, the Celts, some Mediterranean nations …'

‘But not Rome.'

‘Not as it is now.'

‘So Rome passes away? The Empire falls?'

‘Yes,' I said with some concern. This was his world after all. How would he take it?

‘Good.'

I shouldn't have been surprised. After what he'd been through, I could understand why he felt that way.

I had a bad feeling, and it was getting stronger each moment. It was dusk and Alexander was far too late.

I checked both ways again, trying to force him to appear through sheer dint of will, but the alley behind the Iseum compound remained deserted. We'd split up to search the temple grounds, and arranged to meet here as soon as we finished. But if he didn't arrive soon I'd have to go after him. Either he'd found a juicy clue he just had to investigate, or he was in trouble again.

My gut was going for the trouble side of the equation.

I knew I shouldn't have let him out of my sight! Lurco could've had us follo—

Thunk.

My vision exploded into skyrockets and my head was being split open from above. I felt myself sliding down the wall, and everything switched off …

I blinked and was back into full consciousness. A blinding pain shot through my eyes.

Aw, not again! My poor head had take a beating over the past few days.

I moved a quarter of an inch and jerked against the sudden feeling of bindings.

No! I was bound and gagged on the cobbled floor of the alley, with the contents of my shoulder bag strewn around me. Had I been mugged? But if so, why was I tied up?

I looked around. There was no-one near me, but a pair of armed men stood at each end of the alley. Hmm. They were watching for someone, darting quick glances at me while they waited.

No, definitely not mugged.

Whoever they were, they'd gone to a lot of trouble to target me in this way. Someone had to scale a roof, and why would four armed men take such precautions? It meant they knew I was a fighter.

Nah, they picked me for a reason. They knew who I was.

Which was very, very bad.

Because that meant it was Lurco.

I had to get loose. Quickly.

Inching the fingers of my right hand across, I freed one of the stilettos hidden in my wristband. I started sawing through the rope around my wrists, but just as they were close to giving way, there was movement at one end of the alley. The guards respectfully moved aside, and allowed two men to pass through.

Oh crap! I sawed faster.

The taller one was armed, and from the way they were listening to him, chances were he was the leader.

The man with him was totally different. Short, fat, and wearing a lurid yellow tunic with an ugly green and red checked band across the bottom. Aside from the bad taste in clothes, he was a pasty white, like he spent most of his time inside and behind a desk.

The four talked for a moment, then one of the guards handed the leader a white object. The light was fading fast, so it was hard to identify, but whatever it was, it startled the short, fat man. As soon as he saw it he grabbed for it, and shot a sharp question at the guard. The guard answered, then they both looked over at me. The short man started towards me, with the leader right on his heels.

My hands were free now, and I had the mini stiletto gripped tightly in one fist. But my ankles were still tied. Playing unconscious seemed a good idea, so I held my wrists together, rope and all, and shut my eyes.

Rough hands patted me down, then tore open the front of my African tourist costume. He stuck his hands in to check under my arms, and around my back.

What was he searching for?

My teeth were gritted at being felt up like this, but my chance would come soon enough. The other one was busy going through my bag and the things next to it on the ground. I heard the gun clatter as he cast it aside. He was cursing as he went, and muttering about this being ‘a huge waste of my valuable time'.

The one searching me stood up to bark at the other, ‘She doesn't have the fucking thing, so why's she got a drawing of it?'

At that I squinted my eyes open. The tall man was holding my notepad. The white thing they'd been looking at was my spiral notepad, and it was open at the drawing of the Isis dagger.

So they were looking for the dagger?

Yee haaa! They must've been sent by the Hierophant, not Lurco!

That not only meant Alexander was still safe, but I now had six men to question, and a completely new lead to follow!

All I had to do was get my ankles free …

The little guy started a tirade. ‘I can't believe this, Argos! You knew the orders. You were supposed to wrap this up hours ago. Don't ever make me come and find you again! There are other men for hire in the town, and I'm busy enough making everything tally with the books to do your job too.'

He was an accountant?

‘Ah, don't you try and pin this on me, Caractacus, you little weasel. This is your fault. You didn't give us the right fucking information to find her. We've been looking for her all frigging afternoon. And believe me, it'll cost you.'

But why were they looking for me?

The Hierophant must think I have the dagger. But why?

Because I took Victoria's place?

‘And give me back that frigging drawing,' demanded Argos. ‘If you're going to try and rip me off, then I'm taking that to the boss. He can decide who's fucked up here.'

Caractacus snorted, turning the notepad around in his hands. He was trying to nut out how the spiral binding worked. ‘You're not getting this, so forget it.'

‘Fuck you!' Argos grabbed the notepad. ‘I'm keeping this until I see the money. You still haven't paid us for following that other bitch around yet.'

I stiffened. He had to be talking about Victoria!

Caractacus held out his hand. ‘If you want to make demands you can talk to the boss yourself. He's at The Bird now. And he won't be happy if you make him wait for her. He said if you fucked up again, he'd take it out of your hide.'

That threat seemed to mellow Argos' attitude. He shut right up.

Caractacus wiggled his fingers impatiently. Argos slapped the spiral notepad into the waiting palm, and then spat on the ground.

‘Now, get her straight over to The Bird,' Caractacus said, back in the driver's seat. ‘You know he doesn't like to be kept waiting.'

Yes! They were going to take me to the Hierophant. Gift-wrapped. Great. I held the wrist ropes more tightly together.

Bang!

Then another loud thump followed by a crash, came from the far end of the alley.

The two guards started shouting, then disappeared into the street. There was the sound of swords being drawn … more shouting … then the clang of metal hitting metal.

‘What's that!' whispered Caractacus, immediately stepping behind Argos.

Argos responded by whistling once and pointing. The two guards at the other end of the alley came past us at a run, and into the street beyond.

There were more swords clashing … Then silence.

Argos and Caractacus glared nervously down at the other end of the alley. It was dark now.

Caractacus' nerve broke first. ‘Pick her up and take her to The Bird!' Then he ran in the opposite direction.

‘Turd brain,' cursed Argos after him, but he still leant over me to obey.

I was ready, kicking straight up and into his diaphragm with both feet. The air wheezed completely out of his lungs, and he pitched hard into the wall behind him.

He slid down, sucking and sucking to get his breath back. I sliced through my ankle ropes. Good. I'd march Argos over to The Bird myself.

Before I could get to my feet the sound of sandals slapping cobblestones made us both swivel our heads. A dark figure was running full pelt towards Argos, with a raised sword in his hand.

It was Alex!

Argos staggered off in the opposite direction, holding his middle and sucking in his breath with a whooping sound. Alex came level as I stood. He took one furious look at my ripped clothing, and stepped forward to gently pull the gag from my mouth.

‘I'm all right. But we have to catch that man,' I said, pointing. ‘He works for the Hierophant.'

I piled everything back into my shoulder bag, and we sprinted for the corner, but the few seconds' lead had been enough for Argos to disappear. The first alley led onto other narrow little alleys that twisted and turned in every direction. After five minutes of searching in full darkness we stopped.

‘Damn! He's gone. Alex, have you heard of a place called The Bird?'

‘You mean The Bird in the Hand?'

‘The Bird in the what?'

It had to be a brothel. That figured.

 

The Bird in the Hand was in a very dodgy part of town, to the northeast of Victoria's apartment.

The two Forums had been jammed full of merchants bringing in tomorrow's stock, and then we'd been waylaid by a rowdy crowd of drunks staggering home from some fertility festival. After that, the further away we moved from the centre of the city, the fewer people we passed on the dark streets.

Finally we found the right block. It was full of dirty brick and wood dwellings and there was an overwhelming stench of raw sewage, but business had
to be good because the two-storey brothel was covered in an expensive-looking plaster façade and the place was lit up like a beacon.

A big wooden sign, with the name in gold letters, hung over the front door and a chunky but lovingly detailed, stone penis sat on the pavement, tilted to point to the entrance.

Even if you were illiterate you still got the message.

Listening to the music and carousing from across the street, Alex and I halted for some strategic planning.

Argos and Caractacus may have beaten us here, but there was no point in bursting in and making everyone scatter. Until I found one of them I couldn't identify the Hierophant, so finding them was number one priority and a job best done with stealth.

All in all a little reconnaissance was in order, so, as quickly and unobtrusively as possible, we circled the building looking for entry points.

There were only two.

At the back, there was an open kitchen door with smoke pouring out, but it was chock-full of slaves preparing food. They were too busy to notice us, but there were enough of them carrying heavy metal cleavers to reject any idea of a quiet entry through that door. There were no ground-floor windows and despite the heat, each of the second-floor ones were boarded shut, probably because the house was right next to an open sewer. Close up, the fumes made your eyes water.

In the side alley, under light from the house next door, I looked us both over. ‘If we're going in the front door, we're going to have to do some radical work on our clothes.' The night had hidden us so far, but The Bird was anything but dark.

Even a Roman brothel wouldn't let us in the way we looked at the moment. Alex had lost his head
covering, and the front of his vest was covered in a mottled print of dark stains. Then I realised they were actually bloodstains.

‘Alex, are you hurt?'

He saw my look of concern, then looked down at his clothes. ‘Nah, that's not mine. The first two guards were a little reluctant to let me pass.'

It was becoming clear that Alex was very good at understatement. Understatement and a number of other things.

He'd taken on four men with swords, unarmed, and barely raised his heart rate.

He rubbed at the stains, but that just made them worse. ‘They're not going to let me in The Bird looking like I just took part in a massacre.'

I peered around the corner. Two Nubian bouncers, the size of baby elephants, stood on either side of the front door. They didn't look very approachable.

We needed a wardrobe solution. Quickly.

Alex held the stained vest away from his tunic to see how far the gore had spread. Underneath didn't look too bad.

He nodded. ‘Yeah, the vest can go'. He stripped it off, but the sleeves of his tunic were pretty splattered as well. I used my stiletto and cut the seams that held the sleeves to the tunic. Together we pulled off the sleeves, then used a wide strip cut off the hem to form a belt. He looked a little ragged, but a lot less confronting sans the blood.

How picky were they going to be in a brothel anyway?

Things were a bit trickier for me. My costume had been ripped from top to bottom when Argos searched me. And while I'd been unconscious they'd pulled off my head covering and vest as well.

So all I had was the tunic, which I had to hold together. I thought for a moment then started ripping. First my sleeves came off, then two strips off the hem, the last one wider than the first. Now I had a short tunic, a belt to tie it all together, and a head cloth to wrap around my head and lower face.

Alex stared at me in silence for a moment.

‘What!'

He looked at my chest. Pointedly.

‘I know! I know! Give me your vest.' Alex's bloodstained vest looked all right when it was turned inside out. So I put it over the top and looked at Alex expectantly.

He was sceptical.

‘It's a whore house, for God's sake, Alex. Do they really have a strict dress code?'

‘I hope you managed to save some money, Kannon. Because that's the only thing that's going to get us in there. You in particular.'

We decided that if anything went seriously wrong Alex would hold off the bouncers, while I found Caractacus or Argos and used them to find their boss. But we both knew it'd be much better to get in without a fuss. If we could.

When we came up to the door the two bouncers looked at me with mildly bored suspicion. But a gold piece each, retrieved from a side pocket that Argos' men hadn't found, got us through. For that price they even gave us free advice about which girl to pick.

They both seemed to favour someone called Vulva. Now that had to be a joke.

The music smacked into us as we stepped through the door. It wasn't really music. More like synchronised screeching from some overstrung harps and a squeaky proto-violin. The fingernails-on-chalkboard riffs were
punctuated with raucous male guffaws, followed by feminine giggles.

Just inside was a small foyer covered in panels depicting nudes in a variety of professional poses. The paintings were not anatomically correct in any sense that I'd experienced, but then they did show what was going in where in explicit detail.