Gordianus The Finder Omnibus (Books 1-4) (20 page)

‘Sir—’

‘The boy is a slave, mere property. You might as well charge me for taking along a pair of sandals. I was led to believe this was a comfortable establishment. Of course, I was also led to believe that I would find a certain girl here—’

My host turned the coins in his hand. Their jingling added to the clacking of the rings on his fingers. He raised an eyebrow, smacked his lips, and turned aside.

Electra’s room was nothing like the vestibule and hallways. I suspected she had decorated it herself; it had the unerring simplicity of Greek taste and the comfortable feeling of a room long lived in. She reclined on a long, wide divan. There were two chairs. I motioned to Tiro to sit on one. I sat on the other.

She smiled and laughed quietly, perhaps thinking we were shy, or pretending to be. ‘It’s more comfortable here,’ she said, smoothing her hand over the well-worn fabric of the divan. Her voice held only the trace of an accent.

‘I’m sure it is. But I want to talk first.’

She shrugged knowingly. ‘Of course. Would you like me to undress?’

I glanced at Tiro, who was already blushing. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Take off your gown while we talk. Do it slowly.’

Electra stood. She brushed her hair back and reached behind her neck to undo the clasp. Behind her, on a small table beside the divan, I spotted a tiny hourglass. Its upper chamber was full; the sand flowed freely. She must have turned it when we came into the room, so smoothly I hadn’t noticed. Electra was a true professional.

‘Tell me about Elena,’ I said.

She hesitated for only a heartbeat. ‘You are a friend of hers? A client?’

‘No.’

‘How do you know her?’

‘I don’t.’

She seemed amused. ‘Then why do you ask me about her?’ The gown slipped easily from her shoulders and gathered in folds about her waist, tapped by the sash. Her flesh was surprisingly smooth and firm. Against her pale nakedness I noticed the jewellery she wore, silver bangles about her wrists and a slender necklace that defined a sumptuous curve above her breasts. Though she might not own them, obviously she had chosen the ornaments herself. Again her taste eclipsed her master’s.

She seemed to make a point of ignoring Tiro, which left him free to stare at her. He watched with a kind of helpless intensity, his lips pursed and his eyebrows drawn together as if he might be in pain.

‘Perhaps you should simply answer the question. I’ve already paid for you, after all. Displease me and I shall complain to your master, demand my money back. Perhaps he’ll beat you.’

She laughed out loud. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘And neither do you.’ She picked up a comb and a small mirror from the table and sat on the bed, gazing at her reflection and combing her hair. She was really quite extraordinary. My host should have demanded twice his starting price.

‘You’re right. I only said that to titillate the boy.’

She looked away from her mirror only long enough to arch an eyebrow at me. ‘You have a wicked mind. I think we’re wasting time, talking like this.’

I shook my head. ‘Tell me about Elena. When did she leave?’

‘Some time in the autumn. Before winter.’

‘September, perhaps?’

‘Yes, I think so. Yes, it was just after the Roman Festival. I remember because the holidays always bring in so much business. That would be late September.’

‘How old is Elena?’

‘A child.’

‘As young as Talia?’

‘I said a child, not a baby.’

‘And what does she look like?’

‘Very pretty. One of the prettiest girls in the house, I always said. Quite blonde, with skin like pale honey. I think her parents may have been Scythians. She had quite a beautiful body, very sumptuous for her age, full-breasted with wide hips and a tiny waist. How vain she was about her tiny waist!’

‘Did she have a special client? A man who seemed to care for her in a special way?’

Electra looked at me uneasily. ‘Is that why you’re here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you a friend of that man? What is his name, Sextus?’

‘Yes, that was his name. No, I was not his friend.’

‘You speak as if he’s dead.’

‘He is.’

She put the comb and mirror in her lap. ‘And Elena? Was she with him when he died? Do you know where she is now?’

‘I know nothing at all about her, except what you can tell me.’

‘She was a lovely girl. So delicate.’ Electra looked suddenly very sad, and very beautiful. After a moment she took up the comb and the mirror again. ‘She was not here for that long a time. A year, I think. The master bought her at auction at the temple of Castor, along with a half-dozen other girls, all the same age and colour. But she was the special one, even though he never saw it.’

‘But Sextus saw it.’

‘The old man? Oh, yes. After the first time, he came at least once every five or six days. Towards the end he sometimes came every other day.’

‘The end?’

‘After she became pregnant. Before she left.’

‘Pregnant? Who was the father?’

Electra laughed. ‘This is a brothel, in case you had forgotten. Not every client is satisfied simply to watch a woman comb her hair.’ She shrugged. ‘In a place like this a girl never really knows which man it might have been, though some girls like to have fantasies. It was Elena’s first time. I told her how to get rid of it, but she wouldn’t. By rights I should have told the master.’

‘But you didn’t. Why not?’

‘I told you, Elena was so lovely, so delicate. She wanted the baby very much. I thought to myself, if she can hide it from the master long enough, he’ll have to let her have it, even if he won’t let her keep it.’

‘But Elena told someone besides you. Some girls have fantasies, you say. What was her fantasy?’

Her eyes flashed with anger. ‘You know already. I can tell by the way you ask.’

‘I know only what you tell me.’

‘All right. She told the old man, Sextus, that she was pregnant. She told him that the baby was his. And the fool believed her. Men that age sometimes want to make a child very badly. He had lost his son, you know; he talked to her about it constantly. Perhaps that’s why she knew he would believe her. Who knows, perhaps it really was his child.’

‘And how would this help Elena?’

‘How do you think? It’s what every girl in a house like this dreams of, at least until she learns better. A rich man falls in love with her, buys her from the master, takes her into his household. Or perhaps he even sets her free and settles her in her own apartment, where she can raise her baby as a citizen. In her wildest fantasies he might even recognize the bastard, make it an heir. One hears of such miracles. Elena was still young enough to dream like that.’

‘And how did her dream end?’

‘Sextus promised he would buy her and set her free. He even spoke of marrying her. So she told me. I don’t think she imagined it.’

‘And then?’

‘He simply stopped coming. Elena put on a face for a while, but she was beginning to show the child, and the days kept passing. I held her in my arms when she wept at night. The cruelty of men . . .’

‘Where is she now?’

‘The master sold her.’

‘To whom?’

‘I don’t know. I thought perhaps it was Sextus who bought her, after all. But you say he’s dead – and you know nothing of Elena.’

I shook my head.

‘They came for her, at the end of September. With no announcement, no preparation. Stabius came bursting in, saying she was to gather up her clothes. The master had sold her and she was to leave at once. She trembled like a kitten. She cried from happiness, and I cried with her. She didn’t bother to take any of her things, she said that Sextus would buy her finer things. I followed her down the hall. They were waiting for her in the vestibule. I knew when I saw them that something was wrong. I think she knew it too, but she tried to hide it. She gave me a kiss, and she smiled as she walked out of the door with them.’

‘Not Sextus,’ I said. ‘Sextus Roscius was dead by then.’

‘No, not the old man. Two men. I didn’t like the look of them. Neither the big blond one nor the one with the limp.’

I must have made some noise or sign without realizing it. Electra stopped brushing her hair and stared at me. ‘What’s wrong? You know him – the man with the limp?’

‘Not yet.’

She laid down her brush and stared at me with smouldering eyes. ‘What sort of puzzle is this? Do you know where Elena is or don’t you? Do you know who bought her?’

‘I told you before. All I know of Elena is what you tell me.’

‘That’s a lie,’ she said.

Tiro squirmed in his chair. I think he had never heard a slave talk in such a way to a citizen.

‘Yes.’ I nodded. ‘It is a lie. There is one thing I know about Elena; it’s why I’m here. I’ll tell you. On the night that Sextus Roscius was killed – not far from here, Electra, only a few steps up the street – on that night he was at a dinner party in the house of a great noblewoman. Caecilia Metella: have you ever heard the name? Did Elena ever mention it?’

‘No.’

‘It was after dark when a messenger came. He brought a written message for Sextus. It was from Elena, urging him to come at once to the House of Swans.’

‘Impossible.’

‘Why?’

‘Elena couldn’t write.’

‘But perhaps someone else in the house could.’

‘Stabius can, a little. And the clerks, but we never see them. It doesn’t matter. Sending a message to a wealthy man, fetching him like a dog from a great matron’s house – Elena was a dreamer, but she wasn’t mad. She would never have done such a thing, certainly not without asking my advice.’

‘You’re certain?’

‘Absolutely.’

I nodded. I looked at the hourglass. There was a considerable amount of sand remaining. ‘I think we’ve talked enough,’ I said.

It was Electra’s turn to check the hourglass. She closed her eyes for a moment. The agitation and anxiety slowly vanished from her face. She stood and unbelted the sash at her waist. ‘Only one other thing,’ she said softly. ‘If you should hear news of Elena and the baby, would you let me know? Even if the news is bad. You wouldn’t need to see me again if you didn’t want to. You could simply have a slave leave word with Stabius. He would see that I received the message.’

‘If I discover anything, I’ll make sure that you know.’

She nodded in gratitude, and let the gown fall from her hips.

I gazed at her for a long time. She stood motionless, her head bowed, with one foot slightly before the other and her hands at her sides, allowing me to study the lines of her body, to breathe in the alluring odour of her flesh.

‘You are a beautiful woman, Electra.’

‘Some men have thought so.’

‘But I didn’t come here because I needed a woman. I came looking for Elena.’

‘I understand.’

‘And though I paid your master, it wasn’t your body I wanted.’

‘I know.’ She looked up at me. ‘But there is plenty of time remaining.’

‘No. Not for me. Not today. But there is a gift you can give me. A favour.’

‘Yes.’

‘The boy.’ I gestured to Tiro, who stared back at me with a look of mingled lust and stupefaction. His face was quite red.

‘Of course,’ Electra said. ‘You want to watch us?’

‘No.’

‘You want to take us both together?’ She inclined her head and gave me a wry smile. ‘I suppose I could share you.’

‘You misunderstand. I’ll wait in the vestibule. This would be strictly for the boy’s pleasure, not for mine. And perhaps for your pleasure, as well.’

She raised a sceptical eyebrow. What sort of man, after all, would pay good money to have his slave entertained by a whore?

I turned to leave. Tiro started up from his chair. ‘But, sir—’

‘Quiet, Tiro. Stay. A gift. Accept it graciously.’

I left, closing the door behind me. I lingered in the hall for a long moment, half-expecting Tiro to follow me. He didn’t.

In the vestibule, business had begun to pick up. The proprietor greeted new guests; Stabius and another slave paraded the merchandise. All the seats were taken and some of the clients had to stand. I stood among them, out of the way and out of sight. It was not long before Tiro came walking rapidly down the hall, awkwardly adjusting his tunic about his shoulders. His face was damp with sweat, his hair tousled. He had not even bothered to straighten his clothes before fleeing the room.

‘Finished?’ I said.

I expected a grin, but he barely glanced at me before he plunged into the small crowd and headed relentlessly for the door. I followed after him, glancing over my shoulder at the latest selection of girls. Young Talia was among them. Her owner had pulled the robe back from her shoulder and was gently fondling her breasts. ‘See how she blushes?’ I heard him say. ‘What a colour it gives her cheeks. She blushes in other places as well, too delicate to mention. . . .’