The Blood of the Martyrs (3 page)

Then the two boys began dancing their mime, all dressed up with the new masks and stiff short tunics. The pretty little round bottom of Phaon as a rather frivolous Ulysses flipped up now and then, and once Tigellinus reached over and pinched it. Tigellinus, also, watched with interest the mimed gouging out of the Cyclops's eye; it seemed to be the kind of thing he knew about. The Stoics, naturally, found it boring, but Aelius Candidus liked it. At the end, the boys pulled their masks off and bowed. Tigellinus clapped and beckoned Phaon to come over. Phaon didn't want to, but Beric caught his eye and glared at him to do what he was told. Tigellinus wasn't going to eat him, after all, spoiled little brat!

The garlands were brought round by some of the girls; Tigellinus had a little fun with his, at any rate he went to a party to enjoy himself, which was more than the Stoics did! Lucan insisted on a garland of plain leaves, though he didn't go quite so far as to ask for poetic bays. Aelius Balbus was appointed toast-master and everybody shifted a bit and settled down to the drinking, beginning with the Emperor of course. Unfortunately this started Tigellinus and Erasixenos off on several new stories about the doings of the Divine Nero, and, as one of them was about a girl who happened to be the niece of Gallio's sister-in-law, it was all rather a pity. In any case Gallio was in a bad temper; however, he would probably get better when the wine had warmed him up a little. Poor old Crispus really disliked hearing that kind of story about the Emperor; he tried hard to disbelieve them. Aelius Candidus obviously thought them grand, but was a little shy, with his father there, of telling any himself.

After that there were drinks and compliments all round the table, not to Beric, of course, except from his neighbour Lucan, who was really drinking to Freedom, even if she had fled to the barbarians. Beric wasn't sure if he liked being called a barbarian. He always rather hated it when he was explained away to guests, as that tin soldier Aelius Candidus was doing now at the far side of the table to Tigellinus, who got it a bit wrong and said loudly that it must be awkward having one of these Germans about the place, especially if there was a pretty daughter.

At that Beric shut himself away, closing himself against everything but his own dream. As the toasts went round he drank more deeply than usual. The slaves refilled his cup, but he did not notice their hands on the heavy jugs. It was as though he were back in the room Fla with Flavia. Circles of colour swelled and burst across his mind, golden and rose, golden and hot black. Out of childhood a great blue pond swam up, almost level to the marshes, the high reeds, the very green, slimy marsh plants. Fish rose turning, bursting bubbles, enormous dragonflies planed, touched the surface of the pond to shivers, almost, almost submerging in one long ripple the willing marshes. The Horse-Goddess lifting circles of colour for the delight of warriors, golden and
rose, golden and hot black, stepped with one hot hard hoof sizzling into the great pond of childhood, that he knew now as the great reed-blocked Thames, few forded, flooding suddenly, king-river of Britain. He was the king's son, master of rushes and water and the golden Goddess.

But now Crispus was proposing the health of Aelius Candidus in a long and involved speech, since he had by now got outside a good deal of his own excellent wine, as indeed they all had. ‘Here's a young fellow,' he said, beaming round the table, ‘excellent young fellow. Going to have a most distinguished career. Going to start it by marrying my daughter!'

Everyone clapped. And the dream, found out, shrivelled into contemptible childishness. Would never visit Beric again. That had been said. That. Crispus went on, ‘So now I ask you all to drink to the health and prosperity of my future son-in-law, Marcus Aelius Candidus!' It was only then that Beric noticed the red splash on his tunic where the wine had spilled when he jerked his cup. He didn't care, but Argas came round and wiped it up; Argas laid a hand on his shoulder for a moment, but Beric didn't seem to feel it.

Now Candidus was drinking Flavia's health and there was plenty of applause, and Balbus asked if the little lady herself might not be induced to honour them with her company for a short time. Crispus, pleased, hesitated, and asked Beric what sort of show the dancer was going to give them. Beric answered low, that it was classical dancing—this seemed to disappoint Tigellinus—and that he was sure there was nothing Flavia could mind, at which Candidus shouted over at him to ask the little beauty to give them the pleasure of her society. Beric turned furiously to Crispus—he wasn't even going to say yes or no to Candidus! But Crispus sent one of the slaves.

Lucan took his leave now; women bored him, and ladies bored him even more than women. Two of the slaves held back the curtains for Flavia to make an entrance. Beric, alone at his end of the couch, would not even look at her, but the others did, and a pretty picture she made, eyes downcast, cheeks flushed, lightly veiled over girlish curls, a white flower in place, silver sandals; at once the atmosphere of the
dining-room responded. ‘If I was perfectly certain I could stand on my feet,' said Candidus, ‘I'd take my garland and lay it at yours!' Daintily she stepped round and sat on the edge of the middle couch between her father and future father-in-law; offered wine, she duly refused it; in any case she didn't like it much. Tigellinus gave her a good stare and whispered to Erasixenos.

Now it was time for the dancer. ‘Ah—what is the young person's name, again?' asked Crispus. Beric answered that it was Lalage, and someone inevitably quoted Horace. Lalage appeared with her accompanist, a little old woman who crouched down in a corner with her harp and double flutes. The dancer was a striking young woman, black-haired, rather angular, fairly tall, expressionless. She was wearing a long heavy cloak which she threw off, abruptly, holding it for a moment at the end of one muscular arm. Under it she was wearing the traditional Maenad dress, the wide, finely pleated skirt, flaring out from the hips, the vine leaves low on the waist and the fawn skin over one shoulder, leaving the other breast professionally bared. Her accompanist played a single chord on the harp and Lalage took up her position. She looked at the supper party, then over her shoulder to the harpist: ‘If they talk, stop playing!'

The dancing was definitely good. After a few formal movements, the Maenad awoke, turning a succession of rapid cart-wheels all in the same square-yard of floor. She spun this way and that, and the skirt swirled into queer shapes. For a moment she sank into a slower rhythm; they could hear her panting. Aelius Candidus looked with interest at the nipple on the bared breast. ‘Do you like 'em sticking up that way?' he asked Erasixenos in nothing like a whisper. ‘Just have a good look at this girl's.'

Lalage frowned and stamped, and Gallio from the other couch growled at him: ‘You keep your eyes for your own girl, my lad!'

‘Yes,' beamed Candidus, ‘I was just wondering about hers.'

Flavia ducked her head and giggled, and Beric said across the table and none too pleasantly: ‘If you do any more wondering out loud, the dance will stop.'

‘What did you say?' observed Candidus loftily.

And Beric: ‘I said shut up!'

The dance came to an end, applauded, and Candidus threw a couple of gold coins. Lalage kicked them with one bare heel over to the harpist, who picked them up, and Flavia observed that she was glad she was going to have such a generous husband. Candidus glared at her, then at the dancer. But it wasn't either of them; it was that Briton. Speaking like one of themselves! So you'd got to do something about it; got to put him in his place once and for all. Wouldn't do to let these fellows behave as if they were citizens. His future father-in-law had been soft: obviously. So it was up to him.

Even Tigellinus was feeling all the more amiable for his wine. But a wave of cruel and efficient sobriety had come over Candidus. He walked over to the Briton; the slaves dodged quickly out of his way; Flavia caught her breath. ‘Do you know what you are?' he said heavily, leaning at Beric. ‘An impudent foreigner taking advantages of the privileges Rome gives you. But that isn't allowed, Mister Briton.' For a moment Beric could think of nothing to say. ‘No. Not allowed,' said Candidus, and smacked Beric's face.

Flavia, peeping round her father, laughed out loud. So did Tigellinus. Beric jumped to his feet, but Crispus reached over and caught his hand: ‘No, Beric!'

‘If I weren't under
this
roof—' said Beric, low and heavily.

And Flavia, peeping round again, rubbed it in: ‘No, you'd never abuse father's hospitality, would you, Beric?'

Candidus walked back to his own place almost steadily, and Beric dropped his head in his hands; nobody paid any attention to him. He heard Balbus scolding Candidus, saying he must always avoid getting involved in quarrels with persons not of his own race and class. He heard Tigellinus tickling Lalage and getting his ears boxed and laughing enormously. He heard Crispus telling Flavia that it was time for her to say good night; on the way out she pinched him, but still he didn't look up. Then he began to hear a discussion about foreigners in Rome. Balbus and Crispus were talking rather low about the way each of these sets
of foreign immigrants now had streets of their own: Syrians here, Phrygians there, Egyptians over by the Tibur, the Jews in their own quarter protected by the Empress Poppaea: Greeks everywhere. Every kind of poisonous foreigner, prostitutes and abortionists and murderers, men and women who would hire themselves out to anyone for anything! And probably the worst of the lot were a sect of Jews called Christians who hadn't even any respectable people among them, but worshipped all kind of obscene animals, fishes and donkeys and whatnot.

Beric took a breath and sat up straight. On the couch in front of him Tigellinus and Erasixenos were having lots of fun with Lalage, but she was a sufficiently muscular and sharp-tongued woman to be able to deal with them. Her old accompanist watched from a corner as she must have watched the same thing evening after evening at other houses. Candidus was by now in a rather disconnected stage of drink. He seemed to be asleep for a few minutes; then he woke up and bit Lalage's toe. Gallio clapped his hands and Phaon came running with the damp cloths and little pot. Crispus and Balbus were still talking about foreigners. Then—was it after all possible that Crispus thought of him, Beric, as a foreigner, as—an impudent foreigner taking advantage of what wasn't his? And Fla she: Flavia had laughed at him; there was no getting over that.

A black slave with a horribly long knife at his belt came in, rattled the knife hilt to make Tigellinus attend, and handed him a set of tablets. He looked at them and swore, then heaved himself rapidly up, shedding Lalage like a blanket; she was on her feet at once, shook herself, and did a fade-out. Tigellinus explained to his host that he must go; it was an Imperial summons. ‘I'm sorry, Crispus,' he said, ‘very sorry. This was just developing into a most agreeable evening.' He added that it might mean a turn-out of the Praetorians, and prodded Candidus, who got up, remarking that when duty called beauty must wait. Beric got up too: it was
his
duty to see the guests off, to light their torches and hunt out their slaves. Tigellinus tipped him—inadvertently perhaps, not as a deliberate insult. Candidus merely hiccuped when Beric, holding himself in, wished them good night.

A minute or two later Erasixenos left too, though very politely; he was one of the foreigners. But if one had plenty of money it wouldn't matter. Anyhow, the Greeks were different. Beric walked back through the main courtyard of the house, under the midsummer stars. He didn't want to go into the dining-room again. The slaves would look at him—he knew they had seen, and he'd take it out of them next morning if they said a word!—look at him as if—as if—But perhaps they knew. For a few minutes he stood with his back to a pillar looking up at that soft, thick star-glow. The Stoics found comfort in contemplation of the movement of the stars. He didn't. He went through into the small courtyard with the little fountain and the flower-pots. There was Flavia. He wanted to hit her, but he couldn't. He couldn't even say anything angry and splendid. He only said, ‘You might have told me.'

‘Yes,' she said. ‘I might, but I didn't. You're not very good at concealing your feelings, are you?'

‘I didn't have to—this afternoon, Flavia—you knew about this, then!'

‘Of course I did. It was no business of yours. It's no business of yours now! You've got a lot to learn, Beric.'

‘I see. And
you
've been learning on me, just because I happened to be there.'

‘Well, if you hadn't happened to be there, it wouldn't have been you I learnt on!'

She giggled, and suddenly, instead of being hurt and ashamed, he was wildly angry. He said, ‘I think I am going to tell your father—everything.'

Flavia answered lightly, but with anger answering his: ‘But, you see, he wouldn't believe you, because naturally I wouldn't dream of admitting it, and he'd have the skin taken off your back for saying such a thing!'

Could she really have said that? Flavia? He tried to struggle back. ‘I am the son of a king, Flavia!'

‘Very possibly,' she said, and tucked in a curl that was beginning to slip, ‘but no one remembers that any longer except you. Actually you wouldn't be here at all if the Divine Claudius hadn't happened to be rather sloppy. All the Emperors get like that. Gaius wanted to make his horse a
Consul.' He gasped at that and she went on, still lightly. ‘And the thing about horses is that there's always a groom to keep them in their places—with a whip. Natives have to be kept in order in much the same way. You heard what Gallio said.
And
felt it!'

‘Flavia!' he said. ‘Flavia! You don't mean it!'

‘Oh yes, I do,' she said. ‘I waited here to tell you, because I've made up my mind to have nothing more to do with creatures like you. No, don't try to touch me. I mean what I say.'