by AM Kirkby
***
Whenever Elissa visited, Tanaquil somehow managed to find herself alone; not in a way anyone was ever going to notice, but all the other members of her household had small tasks that took them out of the house, or marooned them in the kitchen. It was the same with several of her other regular visitors; discreetly, she isolated herself, so that they could talk without danger of being overheard.
Today she was in her room, shuttered against the hot afternoon. A slight breeze blew through the dark, cool chamber, making the parchment on the table rattle drily as it flapped.
"Tanaquil?"
"I'm here."
Elissa looked round the side of the door, her eyes wide and seeming sightless as she struggled to see in the dimness. Tanaquil started to rise from her chair, but Elissa shook her head quickly, strode forward, bent to kiss Tanaquil.
"Ugh. It's dark in here."
"It keeps me cool."
"Oh, this isn't hot; you should try Carthage in mid summer. That's really unbearable."
"No doubt."
She reached up to kiss Elissa in return. The girl was tall, as tall as Tanaquil and then some more, her body so spare it seemed weightless, empty. Tanaquil felt the side of one breast swing against her; she wondered why she'd never slept with a woman. Never been one to tempt her, she supposed; and now... she pressed Elissa to her for a moment, then released her gently.
"Well, little eyes and ears, what do you have to tell me today?"
"They don't like your son Tarquinius."
"That's not news."
It never had been. Tarquinius had always been wild; he took sweets and toys from other children, later he took women from other men. He was proud. He was Etruscan in Rome; wore his hair in the long braids of a noble, not cropped close like a Roman. His eyes were dangerous. Even in the way he drove his chariot pair, even in the slight slant to his eyebrows and his heavy-lidded, languid eyes, you could see arrogance and disdain. It was easy to see why the Romans hated him.
"He has a daughter."
That was news.
"A Greek woman in one of the brothels. Not sure she's a whore though."
"What else could she be?"
"I think she's a madam. There doesn't seem to be any doubt the child is his."
Damn him. Why couldn't he fuck the whey-faced Tullia, get lawful children?
"Greek, you say. Think there's anything political in that?"
"No. I don't think so." Elissa's eyes flickered down for a moment. "I think he finds her position useful."
"What position is that? On her back with her legs in the air?"
Elissa's mouth twitched as if she wasn't quite sure whether she should laugh or not. "She runs the brothel, she matches each girl to the clients, and the girls tell her everything that happens. This man's violent, that man likes buggery, this one's incapable. And pillow talk, too. All kinds of rumours. Little confidences."
"Ah."
She should have seen that coming. Tarquinius was her son in everything; even setting up his own intelligence network. A network of one at the moment... Then she realised; she'd not heard of this before. He could have had twenty spies working for him already and she'd not have known about it; she couldn't rule out the possibility there were more.
"What were you doing in a brothel, anyway?"
"Oh, I can go anywhere. It's being black. They expect to see a black girl in a brothel."
"But your father's a prince of Carthage."
"All they see is a black. Not me, not Elissa, not the daughter of Himilco son of Adonibaal son of Baalhanno. Just a black, one with good teeth and small tits."
"You don't..."
Elissa grinned. "Only if I feel like it." Then her face suddenly tightened, her eyes hard. "I didn't think that would shock you. I don't often feel like it. Anyway; Tarquinius. I don't think the fact that she's Greek is important. But his selection of Etruscan friends might be."
"Still making trouble?"
"Brawls, rapes, lots of rumours, nothing proven. No, it's where they come from that should worry you."
"Etruscans, anyway. That's good. I don't want him talking to the Faustus lot. Or even Manius."
Elissa shook her head, making her earrings sound with the whisper of filigree. "They're all from a few towns. Clevsin, Veii, Surna. Capeva. And above all, Velx."
"None from Rome?"
"A few. But he seems to have left quite a few of his Roman friends behind."
"And not from Tarchna? Not even his cousins?"
"No. not one."
"All the cities around Rome. Not further north. Not in Rome itself."
"I thought you'd find it interesting."
As if Tarquinius was aiming to encircle Rome with his allies. Or was she reading too much into his choice of friends? Tarquinius liked a certain type – horse-tamers, athletes, epicures. She'd asked him once what he was going to do with his life, and he'd told her: drink and fuck all night, race horses and drink all day. Which seemed innocent enough, though perhaps not to a Roman; after all, Servius did much the same, and he'd made a career out of it. (Not the fucking, perhaps. He seemed quite abstemious in that regard, though there were stories about just how far the Vipienas' sponsorship of Servius had gone...)
No. She wasn't reading too much into it. Not if he'd let his Roman friends – well, Roman-Etruscan friends, of course – not if he'd let his Roman friends go.
"You still sleeping with Manius?"
Elissa was startled for a moment, then composed her face again.
"Oh, he drifted away... I don't think it was really me he wanted."