Gordianus The Finder Omnibus (Books 1-4) (80 page)

‘Actually,’ I said hurriedly, ‘we’ve come on behalf of a friend.’

‘Oh?’

‘A regular client of your establishment in recent days, I believe. A young visitor to Rome, named Asuvius.’

From the corner of my eye I saw a sudden movement among the girls. One of them, a honey blonde, tripped and thrust out her hands for balance. She turned a pair of startled blue eyes in my direction.

‘Oh yes, that handsome lad from Larinum,’ gushed our host. ‘We haven’t seen him for at least a day and a half – I was beginning to wonder what had become of him!’

‘We’re here on his behalf,’ I said, thinking it might not be a lie, when all was said and done. ‘He sent us to fetch his favourite girl – but I can’t seem to remember her name. Can you remember it, Lucius?’

Lucius gave a start and blinked his eyes, which were trained on the girls and threatened to pop from their sockets. ‘Me? Oh no, I can’t remember a thing.’

A look of pure avarice crossed our host’s face. ‘His favourite? Ah, let me think . . . yes, that would be Merula, most definitely Merula!’ Another clap of his hands fetched a slave who put an ear to his master’s whispering lips, then ran from the room. A moment later Merula appeared, a stunning Ethiopian so tall that she had to bow her head to pass through the doorway. Her skin was the colour of midnight and her eyes flashed like shooting stars.

Lucius was visibly impressed and reached for his purse, but I stayed his hand. It occurred to me that our host was offering us his most expensive property, not the one which had necessarily been the favourite of young Asuvius.

‘No, no,’ I said, ‘I’m sure I would have remembered a name like Merula.’

‘Ah, and she sings like a blackbird, as well,’ interjected our host.

‘Nevertheless, I think we were meant to fetch that one.’ I nodded at the honey blonde, who gazed back at me with apprehensive blue eyes.

The tavern across the street was pleasantly cool and dark, and almost deserted. Columba sat within the cloak Lucius had thrown over her transparent gown, looking pensive.

‘The day before yesterday?’ she frowned.

‘Yes, the day after the Ides of Maius,’ offered Lucius, certain at last that he had his chronology straight, and eager to help.

‘And you say that you saw Asuvius in his room, deathly ill?’ She continued to frown.

‘So it appeared, when this man Oppianicus called me up to the room.’ Lucius leaned on one elbow, gazing at her raptly and ignoring his cup of wine. He was not used to being so near such a beautiful girl, I could tell.

‘And this was in the morning?’ Columba asked.

‘Yes, quite early in the morning.’

‘But Asuvius was with me!’

‘Can you be sure of that?’

‘Certainly, because he had slept the whole night with me, at my room at the Palace, and we didn’t wake until quite late that morning. Even then, we didn’t leave the room . . .’

‘Ah, youth!’ I sighed.

She blushed faintly. ‘And we stayed in my room to eat our midday meal. So you see, you must have the days mixed up, or else – ’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, it’s the oddest thing. Some of Asuvius’ freedmen were by the Palace only yesterday, asking for him. They seemed not to know where he was. They seemed rather worried.’ She looked at me, suddenly suspicious. ‘What is your interest in Asuvius?’

‘I’m not really sure,’ I said truthfully. ‘Does it matter?’ I took a coin from Lucius’ purse and slid it across the table to her. She looked at it coolly, then slipped her tiny white hand over it.

‘I should hate it if anything has really happened to Asuvius,’ she said quietly. ‘He really is a sweet boy. Do you know, he told me it was his very first time, when he came to the Palace a month ago? I could believe it, too, with all the fumbling, and all the – ’ She broke off with a wistful sigh, laughed sadly, then sighed again. ‘I shall hate it if it’s true that’s he taken sick and died so suddenly.’

‘Oh, but he hasn’t,’ said Lucius. ‘That’s why we’re here; that’s what we don’t understand. I saw him alive and well with my own eyes, this very morning!’

‘But then, how can you say he was deathly ill two days ago, and that the landlord saw his body taken away in a cart?’ Columba frowned. ‘I tell you, he was with me the whole morning. Asuvius was never sick at all; you must be confused.’

‘Then you last saw him on the day before yesterday, the same day that Lucius Claudius was called up to witness the lad’s will,’ I said. ‘Tell me, Columba, and this might be very important: was he wearing his seal ring?’

‘He was wearing very little at all,’ she said frankly.

‘Columba, that is not an answer.’

‘Well, of course, he wears his ring always. Doesn’t every citizen? I’m sure he was wearing it that morning.’

‘You seem awfully certain. Surely he wasn’t signing documents here in your room?’

She looked at me coolly, then spoke very slowly. ‘Sometimes, when a man and woman are being intimate, there is cause to notice that one of them happens to be wearing a ring. Perhaps one feels a certain discomfort . . . or a bit of a snag. Yes, I’m sure he was wearing his ring.’

I nodded, satisfied. ‘When did he leave you?’

‘After we ate our midday meal. Of course, after we ate, we . . . shall we say it was two hours after noon? His friends from Larinum came to collect him.’

‘Not his freedmen?’

‘No. Asuvius doesn’t have much use for servants, he says they only get in his way. He’s always sending them off on silly errands to keep them away from him. He says they’ll only carry gossip back to his sisters in Larinum.’

‘And to his parents, as well, I suppose?’

‘Alas, Asuvius has no parents. His mother and father died in a fire only a year ago. It was a hard year that followed, having to take on his father’s duties in such a hurry, and after such a terrible tragedy. All the big farms he owns, and all the slaves! All the paperwork, counting up figures so he’ll know what he’s worth. To hear him talk, you’d think a rich man has more work to do than a poor one!’

‘So it may seem, to a young lad who’d rather be footloose and carefree,’ I noted.

‘This trip to Rome was to be his holiday, after such a hard year of grieving and labour. It was his friends who suggested the trip.’

‘Ah, the same friends who came for him the day before yesterday.’

‘Yes, crusty old Oppianicus and his young friend, Vulpinus.’

‘Vulpinus? A peculiar name. Has he a snout and a tail?’

‘Oh, his real name is Marcus Avillius, but all the girls at the Palace call him Vulpinus on account of his foxy disposition. Always nosing into things, never seems to be completely honest, even when there’s no point in lying. Quite a charmer, though, and not bad looking.’

‘I know the sort,’ I said.

‘He plays a sort of older brother to Asuvius, since Asuvius has no brothers – brought him to the city, arranged for a place for him to stay, showed him how to have a good time.’

‘I see. And two days ago, as they were leaving Priapus’ Palace, did Oppianicus and the Fox give any hint as to where they were taking young Asuvius?’

‘More than a hint. They said they were off to the gardens.’

‘What gardens?’

‘Why, the ones outside the Esquiline Gate. Oppianicus and Vulpinus had been telling Asuvius how splendid they are, with splashing fountains and flowers in full bloom – Maius is a perfect month to visit them. Asuvius was very eager to go. There are so many sights here in the city that he hasn’t yet seen, having spent so much of his time, well, enjoying indoor pleasures.’ Columba smiled a bit crookedly. ‘He’s hardly stepped outside the Subura. I don’t think he’s even been down to see the Forum!’

‘Ah, yes, and of course a young visitor from Larinum would hardly want to miss seeing the famous gardens outside the Esquiline Gate.’

‘I suppose not, from the way Oppianicus and Vulpinus described them – leafy green tunnels and beautiful pools, meadows of blossoms and lovely statues. I wish I could see them myself, but the master hardly ever lets me out of the house except for business. Would you believe that I’ve been in Rome for almost two years and I’d never even heard of the gardens?’

‘I can believe that,’ I said gravely.

‘But Asuvius said if the place turned out to be as special as his friends claimed, he might take me there himself in a few days, as a treat.’ She brightened a bit. I sighed.

We escorted her back to Priapus’s Palace. Her owner was surprised to see her back so soon, but he made no complaint about the fee.

Outside, the street darkened for a moment as a cloud obscured the sun. ‘No matter whose account is accurate, young Asuvius most assuredly did not die in his bed the day before yesterday,’ I said. ‘Either he was with Columba, very much alive and well, or, if indeed you saw him lying feverish in his apartment, he recovered and you saw him on the street this morning. Still, I begin to fear for the lad. I fear for him most desperately.’

‘Why?’ asked Lucius.

‘You know as well as I, Lucius Claudius, that there are no gardens outside the Esquiline Gate!’

One passes from the city of the living through the Esquiline Gate into the city of the dead.

On the left side of the road is the public necropolis of Rome, where the mass graves of slaves and the modest tombs of the Roman poor are crowded close. Long ago, when Rome was young, the lime pits were discovered nearby. Just as the city of the living sprang up around the river and the Forum and the markets, so the city of the dead sprang up around the lime pits and the crematoria and the temples where corpses are purified.

On the right side of the road are the public refuse pits, where the residents of the Subura and surrounding neighbourhoods dump their rubbish. All manner of waste lies heaped in the sand pits – broken bits of crockery and furniture, rotting scraps of food, discarded garments soiled and torn beyond even a beggar’s use. Here and there the custodians light small fires to consume the debris, then rake fresh sand over the smouldering embers.

No matter in which direction one looks, there are certainly no gardens outside the Esquiline Gate, unless one counts the isolated flowers that spring up among the mouldering debris of the rubbish heaps, or the scraggly vines which wind their way about the old, neglected tombs of the forgotten dead. I began to suspect that Oppianicus and the Fox had a cruel sense of humour indeed.

A glance at Lucius told me that he was having second thoughts about accompanying me on this part of my investigation. The Subura and its vices might seem colourful and quaint, but even Lucius could find no charm in the necropolis and the rubbish tips. He wrinkled his nose and batted a swarm of flies from his face, but he did not turn back.

We passed back and forth between the right side of the road and the left, questioning the few people we met about three strangers they might have seen two days before – an older man, a foxy young rogue, and a mere lad. The tenders of the dead waved us aside, having no patience to deal with the living; the custodians of the rubbish heaps shrugged and shook their heads.

We stood at the edge of the sand pits, surveying a prospect that might have looked like Hades, if there were a sun to shine through the hazy smoke of Hades onto its smouldering wastes. Suddenly, there was a low hissing noise behind us. Lucius started. My hand jumped to my dagger.

The maker of the noise was a shuffling, stooped derelict who had been watching us from behind a heap of smouldering rubbish.

‘What do you want?’ I asked, keeping my hand close to the dagger.

The lump of filthy hair and rags swayed a bit, and two milky eyes stared up at me. ‘I hear you’re looking for someone,’ the man finally said.

‘Perhaps.’

‘Then perhaps I can help you.’

‘Speak plainly.’

‘I know where you’ll find the young man!’

‘What young man are you talking about?’

The figure stooped and looked up at me sidelong. ‘I heard you asking one of the workers a moment ago. You didn’t see me, but I saw you, and I listened. I heard you asking about the three men who were by here two days ago, the older man and the boy and the one between. I know where the boy is!’

‘Show us.’

The creature held out a hand so stained and weathered it looked like a stump of wood. Lucius drew back, appalled, but reached for his purse. I stayed his hand.

‘After you show us,’ I said.

The thing hissed at me. It stamped its foot and growled. Finally it turned and waved for us to follow.

I grabbed Lucius’ arm and whispered in his ear. ‘You mustn’t come. Such a creature is likely to lure us into a trap. Look at the jewels you wear, the purse you carry. Go to the crematoria, where you’ll be safe. I’ll follow the man alone.’

Lucius looked at me, his lips pursed, his eyes open wide. ‘Gordianus, you must be joking. No power of man or god will stop me from seeing whatever this man has to show us!’

The creature shambled and lurched over the rubbish heaps and drifts of dirty sand. We strode deeper and deeper into the wastes. The heaps of ash and rubble rose higher around us, hiding us from the road. The creature led us around the flank of a low sandy hill. An orange haze engulfed us. An acrid cloud of smoke swirled around us. I choked. Lucius reached for his throat and began to cough. The hot breath of an open flame blew against my face.