It was certainly better than watching a grizzled Egyptian in a long nightgown performing ‘Where’s my snake?’
I stared with the same eagerness as the rest of them, despite myself hoping to be shocked by the writhing hot properties. I was still staring as I leaned on the bronze ram’s-head door handle and backed quickly through the door.
I closed it as I turned. It was solid and ornate, muffling the music instantly. Whatever I had entered was pitch-black. A short distance away I could hear a shuffling noise, joined at one point by a metallic clink. Could this be Igullius?
I slipped the door ajar again and reached out for one of the Dioscuri torches. The brief inflow of light from the entertainment room gave me a second’s warning. I sensed movement. Spinning back, I flung the torch to the right. Then from the left came a noisy snake of heavy chain, thrown by an expert who lassoed me and then dragged it tight. My torch had crashed onto a mosaic floor. By its quaking light Tibullinus the centurion flung another chain across the room so Arica could help hold me.
I had one chance. My arms were pinioned with bruising force. I threw myself backwards, jerking the second chain so that Arica fell off balance as he was catching it. Pain seared my arms and my spine jarred badly. Arica dropped towards me. I had both feet up ready, and kicked into him with all my might.
Not hard enough. He yelled, but staggered upright. The bastard must have ribs like iron. As for me, I was on my back now, trapped in a mesh of links that Tibullinus was threshing tauntingly. Arica relieved his hurt feelings by stamping on my face. I managed to roll aside, but his great boot creamed down my scalp alongside one ear, tearing off skin and hair. They pulled me around the floor, knocking into the torch, though it failed to ignite me. There were enough restraints on me to subdue a maddened elephant. As I fought to resist, I roared out a name or two when I could, hoping help would come. I should have known better. My own name is Didius Falco and help for me is the last gift the Olympian gods toss down.
In the end my dead weight must have tired them. I lost track of the kicks I had received. They lashed me up and attached part of the cold knotwork to a pillar. Tibullinus produced his centurion’s vinewood stick, and amused himself by describing in picturesque terms what he would do with it. I pretended to be a pervert and slavered eagerly. If he came near enough at least I could spit on him.
Again, no such luck. They knew there were others with me. They promised a feast of torture later, then left with an appearance of urgency. Not long afterwards the fallen torch spluttered and went out.
* * *
I was in despair, but worse followed. How long I lay in the dark with my arms going numb I cannot say. It must have been an hour or so. There had to be time for Helena Justina to rush to the Aventine and take action she thought appropriate. The person she sent here had to start searching for me, and Tibullinus had to find and overpower him. By the time the door opened, I had heard the musicians in the room outside drive themselves into a frenzy – matched no doubt by the girls and their customers. I had also wasted considerable effort calling out to the exhausted company after the noise died down. Whatever their perverted tastes, they had no interest in a shackled man.
Then the door cracked open. Tibullinus did not bother bringing light into the room. He flung his captive headlong, gave him a good kicking, chained him up, spoke his usual attractive oration, and marched out again.
‘Brisk,’ I said into the familiar darkness. ‘Though comforting in its warm predictability.’
My new companion groaned. Maybe he was suffering from being kicked. Maybe he was just happy to be sharing his captivity with me.
After a few moments he recovered himself sufficiently to break out into banter. ‘This is the last time.’ His voice was hoarse. He forced himself to have a rest. ‘This is the last time, Falco.’ I laid my head against the pillar behind me and sighed reflectively. ‘Next time you’re in deadly danger, I’ll stay at home and stroke the cat.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, inserting a quiet note of humility which I knew would drive him wild. ‘I’m touched at you coming to assist me – though it’s not much use if you get yourself trussed up as well. But thank you, Lucius Petronius, my loyal friend.’
LXI
Time passed.
Something dangerous was happening to my arms. I mentioned it to Petro. He was not so tightly shackled as me, probably because he had been chained up only after being knocked downstairs, hammered, and hit into the middle of next week with a large vase. He had not had my opportunities for increasing the torque by wild acrobatics. He expressed kind concern for my predicament, followed by the logical question of what did I expect him to do about it?
More time passed.
* * *
‘Petro, where are your men?’
‘What men? When Helena Justina had finished berating me, I ran straight here.’
‘Wonderful.’
‘Anyway, how could I call for reinforcements? I’m not here. I’ve been sent to the country.’
‘You didn’t go.’
‘You bet I didn’t. Not once I heard you’d cajoled that fool Martinus into some disastrous scheme.’
‘Well I’m glad you’re here,’ I told him warmly.
‘Go to Hades,’ he instructed, though in the tone of a friend.
After a while I said, ‘I heard about the attempt to get you.’
‘Stupidity.’
‘Balbinus is not stupid. He knows you’re the one he should worry about.’
‘You’re right. I should have expected trouble.’ Petronius agreed to discuss it. His personal danger had been preying on his mind, and there was no one else with whom he could share his thoughts. His wife Silvia would have run amok in distress, and presumably Rubella thought imposing temporary exile showed sufficient sympathy. ‘The false fire alarm was a set-up, of course. Someone knew I was working late that night.’
‘Any ideas?’ I enquired, with caution.
‘Someone in the team. Whoever set up Linus, presumably.’ The merest change in his voice acknowledged at last that I had been right about the cohort containing a traitor.
‘Know who it was?’
‘I’ve had suspicions for some time. I haven’t tackled the issue yet.’
There was a silence. He did not tell me the name of his suspect. Well that was fine. Nor did I tell him mine.
‘So,’ I exclaimed brightly. ‘Why were you working late? Reports?’
‘No. While you and Martinus were playing hide-and-seek in a chop shop, some of us had work to do. Well, Rubella’s idea of it. I’ve been caged up with the Temple of Saturn auditor – you know, the one who was working on the confiscation of the Balbinus estate.’
‘Anything useful emerge?’
‘Not unless you want to split your sides at the news that Plato’s Academy is a lease Balbinus had laundered. This henhouse had been given away as part of his daughter’s dowry. So its landlord is wimpy Florius.’ We laughed.
Probably Florius had never realised. He would not be the first clean-living, self-righteous equestrian whose portfolio, unbeknown to him, was bursting with legendary brothels and cover joints.
I shifted. It was agonising. I was yearning to escape. ‘When you got here, did you see Martinus, Sergius and the rest?’
‘Martinus was hustling out some half-dead pickpocket – an informant, I presume.’
‘Igullius?’
‘If you say so. I didn’t see the others.’ Petro’s voice was clipped. ‘And if they had any sense they’d make damn sure they weren’t near me to be seen.’
* * *
Tibullinus must have left the door on the catch. A draught had blown it ajar slightly. All noises had ceased in the entertainment room now, as though the night must be well over. The audience and performers had gone home. Well, they had slunk off somewhere more private anyway.
Nobody else had been brought to join us. Maybe that meant the others from the troop had found nothing of interest; maybe they had abandoned us. T
ypical of Martinus, Petro commented. I said nothing. In view of my presuming on his deputy’s disloyalty, I was treading with care.
Tread was the wrong word. I could hardly move. Any attempt was torture. My flesh had swollen and my arms felt as though they would never work again. I tried various ways of manipulating my body, but there was only one that permitted any kind of relief. So, if only to help my bruised feelings, I let out a mighty belch.
Then a small female voice outside the door whimpered, ‘Uncle Marcus, is that you?’
* * *
I heard a sharp intake of breath from Petro. Keeping down hysteria as much as possible, I managed to sound like an uncle who had a pocket full of honeyed dates. ‘Tertulla! Goodness, you’ll be my favourite niece for this. Tertulla, pick up one of those big torches. Make sure you don’t touch the flaming part, then bring it in to us…’
‘I don’t want to play this game.’
‘But come in and say hello to us,’ Petronius said. ‘Anyway, we haven’t told you yet what the game is.’
There was a pause that made me ache with irritation, then a squeak, then the door widened and in came a frightened little figure. She wore a dress that even her mother would disapprove of. She was dirty and exhausted, but she had the mournful air that told us she was terrified of being in trouble yet now wanted to go home. If we promised her a big enough bribe – for instance, protection against her distraught mother – Tertulla might be on our side.
LXII
Petronius Longus had always possessed a special smile, which he kept for certain situations when whatever he was planning did not require my presence. Now I learned that with this smile, subtly applied while talking quietly in that slow and friendly manner, Petronius could make a woman forget entirely that she did not want to co-operate. It was probably practice. He was, after all, the father of three little girls.
Somehow Petronius engaged Tertulla in the game of unwinding the chains that trussed him, then he and she together worked for a much longer time on the vicious cat’s cradle that had been pinioning me.
He jerked my arms up and down. ‘Does this hurt?’
‘Ow! Yes.’
‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘You’ve still got some nerves left.’
* * *
The entertainment room was deserted. Its floral decor had suffered a pounding. Behind the large obscene statue of the peculiar group intertwining, we spotted a window. It led onto a roof, which gave onto the street. I had to admit that my arms were unlikely to take weight yet; the pain was excruciating as the blood came back. So it was Petro who carefully lowered himself outside, who prayed that the tiles would hold him, and then dropped to the ground. Tertulla needed no encouragement to trust herself to the open if this wonderful man would catch her. Now his fervent devotee, she was soon out of there and jumping into his arms. I had had to grab her dress to hold her back until Petronius was standing in place.
We had agreed it was time to be sensible. I waited until I saw Petronius hoist my niece in his arms and lope away. He would carry the child to safety, then come back with reinforcements – this time convincing the sober Rubella that the Sixth Cohort had no sensibilities we needed to respect. Left alone, I too would be sensible. I would just wait quietly out of sight.
As soon as he had gone I tossed that thought aside, and crossed to the doorway which would take me to Lalage’s room.
* * *
It was all very quiet. I knocked gently, in case she was engaged in work of a sensitive nature, then I ventured in.
She was standing opposite, against a curtain. She appeared to be alone. Though she had not replied to my knocking, I was welcomed in with a deliciously courteous wave of one arm. The room was deeply scented with its usual perfumes. Lalage was wearing the bracelet I had mended. Her gown was of glowing golden silk, so fine it both covered and expressly described the magnificent womanhood beneath. Straight-backed and bejewelled, this fabulous creature had come a long way from the girl I had once known. I was angry and battered, but I warmed to her dangerous magic.
‘Marcus Didius! Why do I feel that I should have expected you? Welcome to my bower.’
I paused, staring around. There could be no one behind the curtain. It was attached to a rod that would allow it to be drawn modestly to hide a bed in an alcove I had never seen before. Maybe it was her own bed. Even prostitutes have to sleep. Maybe once she lay flat just to dream, a prostitute of her calibre earned the luxury of privacy.
The curtain was now gathered up in a tasselled cord against the wall. Nobody was concealed there, as I said. It was not clear why Lalage continued standing there. But she did, erect as a javelin, with one slim hand catching on to the embroidered folds. Her fingers were buried so deeply in the material I could not see whether she was wearing rings.
I folded my arms. The air in this place was alive with danger of all kinds tonight. My eyes wandered to all the furniture, continuing until I was satisfied. I could see floor space beneath the bed in the niche, and also under the couch where she normally sat. Tables, stools, display shelves, all looked innocent. No windows. The ceiling was solid plaster, no rafters to crouch in. I searched the walls for doors; none visible. The frilled rose-coloured fittings were too flimsy to hide a fugitive.
Lalage smiled. ‘Done like a professional.’
‘We all have skills. I know how to use mine.’
‘Are you working tonight, Falco?’
‘Afraid so.’ I knew that tonight we were on equal terms. I permitted myself a rueful grin, which she took up with a quiet incline of her head. ‘Where is he?’ I asked in a low voice.
‘Not here. He fled.’
‘Are you prepared to explain?’
‘Do I need to?’ Her voice was arch. ‘The big villain was so powerful he conquered and swept me aside. Balbinus took over the establishment, while I languished helplessly.’
I had to laugh. ‘I don’t believe that!’
‘Thank you.’ Her eyes were bright though her sigh seemed weary. ‘You have good manners, Falco. In addition to a desirable body, attractive intelligence, and gorgeous eyes.’
‘You’re playing with me.’
‘Oh we all have skills!’
‘Where is he?’ I asked again stubbornly.
‘Gone to a place where he holes up. He’s probably in disguise. His hideaway is on the Aventine. I don’t know where. I was trying to find out for you.’
‘Not for me.’
‘For myself then. The plan – oh yes, there was a plan, Falco – was that I pretended to be terrified of what he would do to me for speaking against him in court. I let him use the brothel, so that I knew where he was.’
‘If you’re claiming to be helping, why did you not call in the vigiles as soon as he arrived?’
‘Here? The contemptible Sixth?’
‘You could have contacted Petronius. He’s straight. He told you he would buy the information if required.’
‘It was not for sale.’ I believed that. If Lalage chose to betray anyone, it would be for her own reasons. Reasons she felt were strong enough to put the whole contract outside mere commerce. Selling was what she did with herself. She would do something else with her enemies.
‘So what has gone wrong, Lalage?’
‘You mostly.’ She said it with diffidence, as if sorry to be involving me. ‘Tibullinus told him tonight that you were outside watching Plato’s. Balbinus blamed me.’
‘It was nothing to do with you!’
‘Does it matter?’ She closed her eyes briefly. It was a shadow of her alluring glance, but almost too slight to count. I glimpsed a woman for some reason pushed beyond her normal strengths. She almost looked ill. ‘Anyway, Balbinus left at once. I ordered Tibullinus and Arica to get out as well – so that’s us finished here.’
‘Don’t worry about them. Tibullinus and Arica – and the entire Sixth Cohort if needs be – will be under a judicial review for corruption in the near future.’
‘I’ll believe it when I s
ee it, Falco. Better hop off quick. They’re still in service, and I reckon they will be coming back with their whole cohort.’
‘What about you?’
‘Don’t worry about me.’
I was worrying about something else. The curtain hanging above her began to pull away from its fixings. A small shower of plaster dust scattered on her hair. Instead of letting go of the material, she held on more tightly.
‘Oh Jupiter, girl –’
I leapt forward with my arms open and caught Lalage against my heart.
* * *
The curtain rod collapsed. She had dragged it from the wall with her weight as she tried to support herself. I managed to buff aside the pole with my shoulder. The cloth engulfed us for a moment, then fell to the floor.
Lalage crashed forwards onto me. My knees bent as I braced myself. She suppressed a cry, then I stood there aghast, clutching her under the armpits and trying not to yell. Deep in her back was a knife blade. Once I looked over her shoulder I was seeing blood everywhere – soaking her gown, pooling the floor, staining the curtain now draped around her feet.
She was still alive. The gods know how. ‘Ah, Falco … Sorry about this. Balbinus of course – in case you’re too shy to ask. How will you put me down?’
‘Well, not on your back for certain. You’re the expert in fancy positions. What do you suggest?’
‘Have to be on top…’
‘You’re enjoying the situation.’
‘Always a game girl…’
‘Well I realise some of your finer clients would pay a lot for this.’
I had sunk on one knee. Bringing her with me, I managed to lower her carefully. Then there was only one thing for it. I had to stretch out on the floor myself, balancing on one elbow and holding Lalage above me in my arms. That way, I could keep her weight off the knife. She laid her head against my collarbone with the small contented smile of a sleepy child. ‘Oh this is nice.’
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