Night of the Wolf (28 page)

Lucius’ Greek was weak at best, and being asked to follow an ode in old Greek placed an intolerable strain on his rather precarious abilities. He said as much to Philo the next day.

“Dionysus, you say that was his name?” Philo asked, then snorted. “If he’s the one I think he is, his name is Septimius and the kithara player is Priscus, his brother-in-law. Septimius was a pedagogue, but found tutoring didn’t pay enough, so he bought a few scrolls of Attic verse and set up shop as a poet. He’s about as Greek as you are. He was born in Pistum. Manilius and Felex are businessmen. They’re completely overawed by the literary pretensions of this mountebank.”

“The food was as good as Manilius promised.”

“Yes,” Philo said. “That would be Felex’s aunt Myrtus. She owns cookshops across from the Circus, the public baths, and near the Forum.”

“Ah, I did notice a very un-Greek amount of feminine company at dinner.”

There
had
been and, at first, he was rather bewildered by them. They were well dressed, impeccably coifed, and beautifully behaved. But all they could seem to talk about were clothes, jewels, who had been taken as a mistress by some wealthy man, makeup or how to paint the face and perfume the body for seduction, what senator had found his wife with a gladiator or what wife had found her senator with a gladiator. Clothes, jewels, money, what patrician caught his wife accommodating six of her litter bearers, what knight caught his wife accommodating all eight. What wife caught her husband taking on all comers in a brothel that didn’t employ women. Clothes, makeup, jewels, hair dressing: they all received free and, Lucius felt, sometimes cogent advice from both Manilius and Felex, complete with appointments for anything from demonstrations of the uses and abuses of white lead, kohl, and curling irons, to complete makeovers supervised by the expert on female dress—Felex himself—ably assisted by his valet and his hairstylist, handmaidens dressed beautifully as women, but who both had, not so obviously, begun to shave some time ago.

As in conventional Roman homes, the ladies departed early and the men sat up late over their wine.

“You really should give one or more of them a tumble,” Felex told him. “They are so amusing and, I tell you, most of them would fall right over on their backs for a boy as rich and handsome as you are. Unless they’re not to your taste,” Felex remarked archly.

Both men eyed him speculatively. There was a brief silence and Lucius felt he’d better explain himself.

“If you know Philo, you know he was my physician. I was injured rather badly . . .” He got no further. They both fell all over themselves to apologize to him.

“Oh, no! My dear, don’t say another word. Oh, for heaven’s sake, don’t pay a bit of attention to our nonsense. We’re the worst gossips in Rome, but we did invite the ladies here just to meet you.” Manilius smiled charmingly.

Felex had slapped Manilius on the wrist. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Stop beating around the bush. Every one of those little birds of paradise can be had for a pair of fairly nice garnet earrings.”

“I think describing them as birds of anything is a bit much,” Philo said now. “You fall into their clutches and they will do the plucking. They expect men to ruin themselves over them.”

Lucius laughed. “No, I don’t think I’m attracted enough to any of them to go that far. But I wouldn’t be averse to a fling if I weren’t afraid Fulvia might find out about it.”

“My lord,” Philo addressed him formally, “what in the name of the gods above and below does Fulvia have to do with your love life?”

They were walking along a narrow street leading into the Forum. Lucius glanced back. Castor and Pollux were following at a distance. “Think they can hear us?”

“Not if you keep your voice down, no.” Philo said.

“I think,” he said softly, “that Fulvia would rather be rid of me than not. And, as I said at one time, a nice minor child would suit her perfectly, and if one of those professional graces happened to get pregnant, I’m sure she would lose no time at all in selling my descendant to the highest bidder. Who would be, more than likely, my devoted sister, Fulvia Camilla Basilian. Then how long do you’d think I’d live?”

Philo looked disturbed. “Heaven and probably the denizens of a lot of other places know most Romans, and not a few Greeks for that matter, are indifferent to the fate of most non-Romans or even those classes in their own republic inferior to them in wealth and influence. But most people value their own kin to some degree and most feel at least a little love and loyalty to them. In heaven’s name, man, you’re talking about your own sister.”

“Philo, I never thought I’d have to say this to you, but don’t be naïve. Fulvia probably hates me and I know I don’t care for her at all. Remember, I warned you about her at our first meeting, just after she’d threatened to nail you to a cross.”

“Yes, but I’m not her brother”

“I don’t think that matters at all. What Fulvia wants is control of the family money. Complete control, and all that stands in the way of her getting it is me. In law, my authority in the household is greater than hers . . .”

Lucius swung around so quickly, Philo jumped; then he saw Castor and Pollux had drawn very close to them. They were bright eyed and listening intently.

“Do either of you have something to say to me?” Lucius spoke sharply.

“No . . . no,” they stammered in tandem.

“Then get back to where you were. Nothing I have to say here is intended for your ears. I don’t care much for eavesdroppers or spies, and if either of you makes the near acquaintance of a lead-tipped whip, you’ll quickly learn to be both deaf and dumb when I want you to be.”

By then they’d both scurried back out of earshot, but he made sure they heard the last few words.

Philo said nothing, He might be free, but he knew Lucius was very angry. In fact, he hadn’t seen him this angry before.

“I didn’t mean you,” he said to Philo.

“I know and I understand better what you mean about the . . . other thing.”

“Did you love your family?”

“Yes, I did. I do. I didn’t have to allow myself to be sold to protect my father and sister. Slavery is difficult enough for a man, but a complete nightmare for women or the elderly. And if I hadn’t been an improvident fool, I would have had enough money to pay the bribes the Roman provincial governor demanded and save my family, but as it was I didn’t.”

“Oh, but you’re free now and you could go back . . .”

“No, I couldn’t, not just yet. Sometime, maybe, but not just yet. Besides, I’m doing well here.”

“Yes. Don’t let Fulvia steal too high a percentage of your fees.”

“One third!”

Lucius stopped. “That’s extortion!”

“Shush.” Philo laid his finger on his lips and glanced back at Castor and Pollux. “She gets one third of all the ones she knows about. You know they don’t call us Greeks sneaky for nothing. We were learning sharp dealing from the merchants of Sidon and Tyre before Romulus ever figured out what a wolf’s tit was. I can take care of myself.”

The girl came back to join Maeniel for the night. He didn’t mind her sleeping with him. Nor did she stir his blood any more than a wolf cub would have.

A whole succession of signals had to be right before his body would be aroused. In that, Dryas had understood him perfectly.

In spite of the terrible scars that marred her face and body, the girl was young and she heated up like a stove. Wolf cubs did the same and, used as he was to sleeping with his own kind, he found it terrible to feel so isolated and alone.

It was going to snow tonight and be very cold. A myriad of factors informed his senses: the humidity, low clouds, the smell of the wind, its direction; and he felt in his ears the minute changes in air pressure. At dusk, the wind began to blow and he could feel the storm moving toward them the way a human hears approaching footsteps and knows from the graduations of sound that someone is coming closer and closer.

The girl ran into the shed. He picked her up and placed her body between his own and the wall on a pile of straw covered by an old blanket She would receive the most protection there. After a very short time, he slept. She woke him once when she slipped past his body to use the trench outside.

She didn’t return. A man might have thought she’d simply gone to the house to join Mir and Dryas, but he wasn’t a man. No matter what Dryas tried to do, he took nothing for granted.

He rose. The storm had been a mild one, leaving only a light snow cover over the meadow, Mir’s house, and the shed. The moon was out and, by its pale light, he could see where she’d visited the trench. But then something must have frightened her and he saw her footprints cross the thin covering of snow on the meadow and vanish into the woods.

He eased slowly through the door, moving quietly as only a wolf can move, being extra careful because the chain was noisy and he was clumsy with the staple on his ankle.

There was little wind. He turned cautiously, feeling the direction on his skin until it was blowing on his face, directly into his nostrils. The odor was man, man and soldier, the combination of iron, leather, and woodsmoke peculiar to the legionnaires in the Roman camp. Not only soldiers coming, but soldiers who stank of the acid perspiration sent out by men who are on edge, aggressive, or afraid. To his surprise, he found he’d developed a new skill. He could count them, five fingers and one. Six.

He took a deep breath and tried to control the instant fear that odor roused in his brain, then remembered that he was dealing with men, not wolves, and he didn’t have to worry about them scenting him.

At the same time, he froze in absolute stillness because he heard a sound. Footsteps, a whisper of motion, some animal or human walking in the snow behind him.

Seven invitations. Lucius was on his fifth. This one was a senator from Gaul. He was only slightly more Roman than any Roman Lucius had ever known.

Lucius thought it was rather like having dinner with Cato the Elder, except that Amborux was a far less stingy fellow. The ladies sat at meals instead of reclining. A loom was highly visible just off the atrium, thus showing the industry of the ladies of the household. The larium was on display next to a wall painting of the household gods, Lares and Penates.

But Amborux was a lot less likely than the elder Cato to stint anyone when it came to food or, for that matter, wine. So Lucius had a comfortable glow on when he left the Gaul’s house and began to walk home.

As usual, Castor and Pollux were with him, as was a powerful Gallic servant from Amborux’s house.

Castor and Pollux walked ahead with torches in their hands. Amborux’s servant followed. They’d left the narrow streets of the residential quarter behind and were cutting through the Forum.

It was deserted, after nightfall, and the torches lit only shuttered shops and locked public buildings. Usually in a residential area the presence of human beings comfortingly close was indicated by music, laughter, and the clatter of cutlery from balconies overlooking the street and behind garden walls. Romans loved visiting and feasting and, more often than not, in the early evening there were still parties returning from banquets and passing each other in the street before the late-night quiet set in and the roadways were abandoned to the carts transporting goods to and from the city.

But here in the public center of Rome, the streets were as empty and silent as the road full of tombs outside the city. Both Castor and Pollux looked nervous, though they were both armed.

The Gaul behind Lucius quickened his pace and drew alongside him. “How much my language you speak?” he asked.

“Some,” Lucius replied. “I understand it better than I speak it.”

“So, I speak yours. Good. We being followed, but don’t think it trouble.”

“Why not?”

“Too small. Only one footsteps.”

“Walk up and keep those two company,” Lucius said, gesturing toward Castor and Pollux, then, loosening his own sword in the sheath, he eased into an alleyway behind a group of market stalls.

Very good,
he thought Castor and Pollux were still walking along, passing the time of day with the muscular Gaul.
Fine guardians they are,
he thought sourly. They hadn’t even noticed he’d dropped back and disappeared. He’d discovered while in the legions how easy it was to move around unobserved in the dark.

He’d been gifted with good night vision and most of the time, even when the moon was low, he could travel by starlight.

His pursuer’s shadow appeared in the street beside the alleyway. Lucius had hoped that was what would happen—the follower would chase the torchlight ahead and not notice he was gone. Yes, the Gaul had been right. The shadow was a very small man or a woman.

He saw and heard no one else around. She was carrying something in her right hand—a weapon? No, light leaked out around the shade. A lamp.

He reached out and caught her by the arm, pulling her into the alley while simultaneously snatching the lantern out of her hand.

She didn’t scream as he thought she might, but only gasped until he raised the lantern and she saw who he was.

“Oh, oh, oh. You frightened me out of my wits. Don’t you recognize me?”

He did. The girl from the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I never knew your name, Vella’s lover.”

“Lucrese. Your sister named me that when she bought both of us. After a time, I found she meant it as a form of derision, giving me the name of a faithful woman. Faithful unto death.” Sudden tears shone in her eyes.

Lucius found himself reacting almost without thinking to a jibe of such cruelty. “Hush! Don’t cry and don’t be ashamed of your name. People who have no understanding of honor and no honor themselves are always the first to laugh at it. Lucrese was a person of great honor and honesty, and her actions brought her everlasting fame.”

Just at that moment, Castor and Pollux clattered into the alleyway, torches in hand.

Lucrese turned her face away, covering it with her mantle. Lucius glared at the two of them. “Smart boys,” he said sarcastically. “You finally noticed I was missing. However, you never know when you’re not wanted. Now get out and wait in the street. Not, I might add, within hearing distance.”