Pandora Gets Greedy (15 page)

“No,” Pandy said.

“Crazies.”

“Quiet, Alce,” Pandy said. “You can hear singing?”

“As clearly as I hear you,” Iole replied. “Better, in fact. And if you all cannot hear it, I would say my roll has greatly enhanced my eardrums.”

“Here,” Pandy said, handing Iole the burning stick. “You lead.”

Iole led the way through the twisting, turning maze of the sewers. Pandy and Alcie, forced to actually stay behind Iole and not race on ahead, were wearying of
plodding along in the blackness when suddenly their ears caught notes of music and an occasional shout. The next thing they were all able to discern was a dull light coming from way down one particular tunnel. As they approached the light, now spilling into the darkness from a doorway, all at once someone was thrown out and landed right in the middle of the flowing sewer.

“Now,” a young woman said, poking her head out of the doorway with a grin and staring at the youth covered in muck, “you really can't come back in!”

There was a chorus of laughter behind her.

The young man was beginning to stand when he saw the flaming end of the piece of wood and then Iole's face.

“Crispus?” she said.

“Oh … oh, w-wow,” he stammered. “Oh. Hi.”

“What are you doing here? Why are you out of the house?” Iole asked, a slight panic in her voice.

“Why did those nice folks throw you into the poo?” Alcie asked.

“I could ask the very same thing about you all,” Crispus replied, trying to keep his voice even. “Except of course for the poo.”

“What's going on here?” Pandy said, stepping forward.

“Come,” Crispus replied. “Let me show you.”

He stood and wrung the water out of his clothes, then led them all to the doorway in the tunnel wall. He stuck his head in but before he could speak, a cabbage sailed out and nearly hit him in the head.

“I bring guests!” he cried.

Suddenly, the room inside became very quiet.

“Highborn or low?” someone called.

“Low,” Crispus answered. “And a Vestal.”

“Ooooohhhhh!” sang out a few voices.

“Let them enter,” said another; the phrase was then repeated around the room.

Crispus stepped inside followed by the others. Pandy set down her flaming stick on the side of the tunnel, then actually had to shield her eyes from the brightness created by all the candles, lamps, and wall torches. She found herself in an enormous round room with a domed ceiling cut right into the bedrock underneath the city. Its circumference could have circled her entire house back home in Greece, including the courtyard and her father's small but prized olive grove. This room was jammed full of men and women, young and old, each wearing the simple garments that indicated slave status. There were a few tables and fewer chairs; most of the people were standing. In a small space in the middle of the crowd, several couples had suddenly stopped dancing; beyond them,
Pandy saw a group of musicians holding their instruments in the air, mid-note. Most of the revelers held cups of wine or other drinks; many had plates heaped with food. And all of them were now staring and whispering.

“Fellows,” said Crispus, “I give you Pandy, Alcie, and Iole, the Vestal, so don't touch. These three belong, as do I, to the house of Senator Lucius Valerius.”

“Then
that
must be the maiden you were just talking about!” called out one youth from back of the room, staring at Iole.

“AND
THIS
FELLOW I DON'T KNOW, SO…,” shouted Crispus over the youth to drown him out. “So why don't you tell us who you are?” Crispus added, glancing at Homer.

“I'll tell you,” said a young girl close by. “He's the gladiator who lost but won in the ring yesterday morning. You're now held by Caesar, right?”

“Uh, right. Hi. I'm Homer.”

“HOMER!” the crowd shouted.

“Welcome all,” said a large man standing with an even larger woman in the middle of the dance floor. “There's food and drink; help yourselves. The evening is young and we have many hours before the cock crows. Musicians, play!”

With that, everyone returned to whatever they had
been doing—with the exception of a few looks to Iole, then Crispus, which didn't go unnoticed.

“Crispus?” Pandy said, turning to face him. “Start talking.”

“What? Oh! This?” he said.

“Yeah,
this
, smelly,” said Alcie. “What is all
this
?”

“Well,” he started, “by day, this is a planning room for the supervisors reconstructing the sewers. But at night, it has become a gathering place for slaves from around the city. Here, we can at least have a little fun for ourselves before returning to scrubbing and milking and guarding cows.”

“You don't guard any cows,” said Iole.

“He means Rufina,” said Pandy.

“Appl…,” coughed Alcie. “I mean,
hah!
Good one.”

“But what about the girl?” Pandy began. “The slave girl from the senator's house who was caught outside and punished? Aren't any of you worried about that?”

“That girl had had a little too much wine,” Crispus said. “We tried to stop her—even tried to take the cup out of her hand. And several people offered to walk her to the senator's house. But she wouldn't accept our help. She started back alone. Someone tried to follow her but she sensed it and eluded him. Then the next morning, the centurion guards found her sleeping in a doorway. That's how she caused herself so much trouble.”

“So the masters and nobles don't know about this?” Pandy asked.

“Oh, they know all right. And they only permit it because they know it makes us happier and more productive as we toil away for them during the day if we can have a little fun on our own time. Every once in awhile, one of our masters will even join us. But the single condition is that we must all be in our masters' homes by sunrise. And we take turns just in case there is an emergency. Tonight, Tacitus and I are here while Septimus and Priscus keep watch in case the senator needs something. Tomorrow night, we will stay in the house and those two can eat, drink, and dance until dawn.”

“And you never told us,” Alcie said, “
because
…?”

“I never talk to you,” he said, glancing at Iole. “To any of you, that is. And you all have been serving the senator as long as I have. I thought you knew about this place and just decided you didn't want to be here.”

“Oh,” Pandy said. “You're absolutely right about that. We didn't. Well, we
did
know about it. We just thought it had … moved. Okay, then. We have to be off now.”

“But you just got here,” Crispus said as he stepped in front of Iole, guiding her a little farther away from several rough-looking slaves who were staring at her. “This way, Vestal.”

“That's the one you like, eh, Crispus?” said one out of the corner of his mouth. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

“Please be quiet,” Crispus begged softly to them. “Now, why do you all have to be going? You've only just arrived.”

Pandy, Alcie, Iole, and Homer all looked at each other. For the first time in a long time no one could come up with anything clever or diverting.

“Uh…,” said Alcie.

“Yes … uh,” Iole said, looking at Homer.

“Is there something wrong?” Crispus asked. “Something wrong at the senator's?”

Even though her enchantment still had her incredibly energized, Pandy forced herself to calm down as she scrutinized Crispus and tried to think logically; there were two possible outcomes if she were to take this youth into her confidence. He would either join them or run straight to Lucius Valerius.

“Crispus,” she said, moving toward the doorway. “Will you join us out here?”

“What are you doing?” whispered Alcie.

“Maybe buying us some time,” Pandy said.

Out in the large tunnel, everyone gathered around Crispus.

“How well, would you say, do you know your way around these sewers?” Pandy asked.

“Very well,” Crispus replied. “When I was very young, before I was given any responsibility at the senator's, I was allowed to run in the streets with other slave children during a portion of the day. We played down here quite a lot. I know the outline of the tunnels like the back of my own hand. Why?”

“What about all the new construction?” Homer asked.

“There are some parts that are unknown, certainly,” Crispus said. “But the work goes slowly. Why?”

Pandy looked at the others and took a deep breath.

“I'm gonna keep it short,” she began. “It all started when I found a box underneath my parents' sleeping cot and I decided to take it to the academy for a big project …”

After she'd finished, retelling only the parts that were truly necessary, Crispus stared at the ground for a long time, his lips pursed together. Then he turned to Iole.

“If you don't like me, all you had to do was tell me.”

“Whaaaa?” Iole started.

“I understand that I'm not much, as it were. I know I'm only a slave and you're a Vestal. Fine. But if I'd known you really despised me, I would have tried very hard not to look, not to smile, not to even think …”

“Crispus,” Iole said.

“But to have your friend try to convince me that you're all insane is slightly beyond …”

“Hey, smelly!” Alcie snapped. “We're not insane! It's all true. And, just so we're all clear here, Iole
does
like you. I can tell!”

“Oh Gods,” mumbled Iole as Alcie tore on.

“All we want is to get through this maze and find an artist we think has been taken down here so we can keep him from creating a whole new coin. Simple. Now if you need a little proof about everything that Pandy has told you, fine! Pay attention. Pandy, do something.”

Pandy picked up the stick leaning against the tunnel wall, one end now charred black, and focused her mind. Instantly, the blackened end began to glow a faint orangey red.

“Jupiter!” Crispus cried.

“He's not here,” Alcie said, feeling another energy surge and bouncing on her heels. “You lookin'?”

“Yes,” Crispus said, amazed as the stick caught fire once again.

“So,” Pandy said, holding the brand up to her face so that Crispus could see her eyes. “I'm not lying. None of us are. Now you know why we're here in Rome. It's a lot to … to …”

“Comprehend,” said Iole.

“Thank you,” said Pandy. “Comprehend, but believe me, you'll have plenty of time to think about it all later. Right now, we need your help. Can you guide us?”

Crispus looked at each of them in turn, but it was only when he looked at Iole—her beautiful little face, now devoid of any cheek blush or lip color, just her big brown eyes staring at him—pleading, that he melted.

Crispus took the torch from Pandy. “Follow me.”

Crispus wound his way through the labyrinth of the tunnels for an hour, stopping only occasionally to caution Pandy and Alcie.

“Do you two know where you're going?”

“Nope,” Alcie said.

“Then would you mind not sprinting ahead like rabbits?” Crispus said. “It only slows us down when we have to wait for you to join us again.”

“Got it,” Pandy said, running in place.

“So,” Iole said, somehow always finding herself closer to Crispus than she might have thought appropriate—Vestal or not, “I'm ascertaining we're close to the Cloaca Maxima, correct?”

“Not really,” Crispus said. “Why would you think that?”

“Because of the loud noise,” Iole said, surprised.
“There's the sound of a huge rush of water and I thought it was the main drain into the Tiber.”

“I hear nothing,” said Crispus. “Everyone be still, please.”

Pandy and Alcie stopped fake-slapping at each other and Homer didn't move a muscle.

“Nothing,” Pandy said.

“Well, whatever it is,” Iole asserted, “it's getting louder.”

“Bellowing Bacchus!” Crispus yelled. “They're draining the baths!”

“This is bad?” Alcie said.

“Come on!” he cried, taking off like a deer.

“Sweet,” said Alcie. “We get to run!”

“Iole!” Homer commanded and without a word, Iole jumped into Homer's arms as he dashed down the tunnel.

All of a sudden, there was a rush of wind at their backs along with the slight scents of sulfur, olive oil, eucalyptus, and burnt sage, and everyone heard the horrible sound. Then the wind in the tunnel began to carry tiny droplets of moisture.

“Move!” Crispus cried, although he was the one beginning to drag behind. Without breaking his stride, Homer picked up Crispus in one swift motion.

“Up … ahead,” Crispus choked out, his rib cage
bouncing off Homer's forearm. “There's an opening—an alcove—on the left!”

Pandy and Alcie ducked inside quickly, but Homer couldn't fit through the opening without first setting Iole and Crispus down. They hurried through, but Homer made the mistake of looking back up the tunnel. The flood of bathwater slammed into him so fast, he was there one moment and gone the next.

“Homie!” Alcie screamed.

The torrent of warm, oily water was at least a meter high and rising; water was splashing against the opening and spilling into the shallow cutout in the tunnel wall, barely big enough for two people let alone five. Then, Iole clutched Pandy's arm.

“Look!” she cried.

There, clinging to the corner of the opening, were two sets of fingers, growing whiter as their grip loosened against the onslaught of water.

“Get him!” shouted Alcie. “Pull him in!”

Crispus leaned out and grabbed Homer's wrists, but his strength was no match for the current.