by AM Kirkby
***
Ranazu took him to a fine house, laid out around a narrow courtyard behind smooth, white-painted walls. A brooding gorgon policed the single doorway; tiny gorgon's heads spied from the serrated edge of the tiled roof. Everything seemed new. The room Ranazu took him to was half empty, and cold. It was as if he'd only just moved in. (And now he thought of it, there were no masks of the ancestors in the atrium.)
The wine was good, though; and Ranazu's friends had won, which put them in a good mood, so they opened some more.
"We made it on the third race."
"Well, it helped to know Velnies was going to lose."
"Yeah, you could tell he wasn't interested."
"You didn't need to bother. Everyone knew how much Aristodemos had paid him."
"Not everyone, thank gods."
"Heh heh. You're right of course; if everyone had known we wouldn't have got our bet on."
"You make a fair bit racing?" Master asked.
"Oh yes. It keeps us in style," Ranazu said.
"Though it's been a bit tricky this last month or so. A few bad results."
"Good today, though."
"Maybe your luck's changed."
"It always does. It always does."
He wondered quite how changeable their luck was. Big house, no furniture. Fine wine, cheap thick-walled cups.
"You run any horses yourselves?"
"Not now. We used to."
They talked a bit about the current season; how everyone fancied the Tarchnies horses, but those in the know had heard of this farmer up near Felsina who had a team that was beginning to win in the smaller races, and win well. Only a farmer, not a noble, but up near Felsina farmers got rich; it was good land there, and those that had got there early enough had lots of it.
"It's not so easy in Curtun. The aristos keep themselves to themselves. And the money seems to stick to their fingers."
"Not like Rome."
"I keep hearing about Rome," Master said. "What is it about Rome that seems to fascinate people so much?"
"No aristos there. Everyone there started on the ground floor, the way we have."
"You get to Rome, you're a free man. It's the opportunity. I'd go, if we weren't starting to do well here."
"We bought the house, you see. Got a good chance and took it," said Ranazu.
"It wasn't in your family, then?"
"We made our money the same way you did."
"Anyway," put in one of the others, "Cacus says the Etruscans are finished, so perhaps we should throw our lot in the with Romans."
Suddenly the room went silent. Ranuzu was scowling at the man who'd spoken; the others seemed suddenly very interested in their winecups.
"Cacus? What do you know about him?"
"Only what he said," Ranuzu said quickly. "That he's prophesying the end of the Rasenna. Everyone knows that."
"There's more though, isn't there?"
Silence again. It was the kind of silence that meant yes, there was more; but whether he would get to find out what that more was, that was the question.
"You know where I come from. You know where I started. I'm rather interested in this Cacus."
"You mean your master's rather interested. We know who you work for."
"You know who I work for. You have no idea. No idea at all," he said, and even if he was making it up as he went along, the rancour and the bitterness were real. "I'm just a thing to him, like a horse, or a krater, or a house, just a thing he can make use of. I've worked my way up, every day a bloody grind, and he keeps his dainty fingers clean sending me to do what he needs doing." Even screwing his wife, he thought savagely. He looked up; they were convinced, that could be seen. So, to his surprise, was he.
"What do you want with Cacus?"
"The same thing you want with Rome. Opportunity." And that, too, was true, in its way. Not perhaps in the sense these men would think.
"You're going in the wrong direction," Razunu said, at the same time as one of the others said "Shall we trust him?" and the other started "Well," and then they all three looked at each other and a silent word seemed to pass between them.
"Cacus says the slaves will be freed."
"Not of interest to me. I'm no slave."
"And there will be no indentures, ever again."
"All men will be equal."
"Where is this?"
"Might be Velzna."
"Might be Rome."
"Might be pie in the sky, might be spelt pudding with pigs' guts."
"You should hear him. You should. For half an hour, I believed it all..."
"It wears off after a while. You believe it for a bit, then after he's gone, you start thinking, and it's like porridge gone cold. But it's good while you're listening."
"No, I believe it. I still believe it."
"He was here?"
"Two or three days ago."
"Where's he gone?"
"Up the valley."
"Following his spirit."
"Following what?"
"He has a spirit."
"A lasa."
"I wouldn't mind having my own lasa! Never have to sleep alone again! Do you think they'll do the cooking?"
"If you ever capture one, I'm sure she will."
"How the hell do you follow a spirit?" He was getting quite cross now. Were they giving him the runaround?
"I don't know. But he does."
"He's gone up the valley, we know that much."
"Towards Arretna. Stirring things up there, I reckon."
"I've got to go to Arretna anyway," he said. "Might see if I can catch up with him."
"He's not easy to talk to," Razunu said, his eyes anxious. "I mean... he doesn't take to being questioned. And he's not straightforward. Anything he says, you could take several different ways, and he won't help you."
"Nice to think of a place where the aristos don't have it all their own way, even so," Master said, and grinned sourly at them. "Even if it's Rome. A toast?"
And that, as always, was a popular request.