Rome had moved very quickly to regulate the cult of Cybele, and had passed laws that forbade any Roman citizen from becoming a eunuch in her service. Well, Rome does feel rather strongly about the phallus. Come to think of it, I’m fond of my own.
Adam and Trennus both, therefore, gave Kanmi a dark look for that one. “Now that,” Trennus said, “is not a bargain I can imagine making.”
Adam looked up as Livorus said, his voice dry, “Well, not that it affects any of us here in this room, but at least these days, the procedure is medically-overseen, and doesn’t involve any of them slipping on their own blood on the temple floors. It really should have fallen under the same heading as ‘human sacrifice,’ but Diocletian II didn’t wish to go against the Sibylline Oracles, for fear of what might befall the Empire.” He shrugged. “And it gives an outlet and a recognized place in society for those who might not have felt male to begin with.”
Adam grimaced, and Trennus again shook his head. “I don’t ever want to be in a position where I think that kind of sacrifice is the only way to win,” the Pict noted. “But again, we’re . . . wandering, I think?” He raised his hands, “I’ll ask my forest spirit to do it. She’ll enjoy seeing the jungles, anyway.”
Livorus nodded, and looked around at all of them. “I realize, it’s not even a needle in a haystack. All of the human sacrifice rumors have been coming from the central reaches of Nahautl, not from the southern regions. At the moment, our actual overt mission is to open a dialogue with the rebels, and see if we can get them to reconcile with the government of this kingdom. While we’re there, we might well be able to find information towards our real goal. It’s not perfect, but these things rarely are.” He sighed. “At least I need not worry about the five of you nearly as much as the men I commanded during the Mongol-Qin Provocation.”
Adam’s head came up. That had been in 1949, and he hadn’t known Livorus had been involved in it. He shot Sigrun a look, and she shook her head, slightly, before murmuring, just loudly enough for him to hear, “Just before I joined his detail. I’ll tell you later.”
Livorus stood, brushing off his hands. “Get everything you need together, and finish any final business you have here in Tenochtitlan. Speaking of which, I’ll need four of you with me tonight. No, not you, Sigrun, my dear.” He waved her from the room.
Adam looked at the others, at a loss, as Sigrun, a slightly puzzled expression on her face, left the room. This wasn’t status quo behavior from the propraetor. “Sir? We’re not bringing Caetia with us where we’re going?”
“Gods, no. I cannot think of anything more likely to bring about disaster, in fact.” Livorus shook his head, putting his hands behind him, loosely clasped at the small of his back. “As is, I’ll be visiting one of the local licensed brothels this evening,” Livorus told them all, not changing expression. After a moment, he added, “It’s not that I think my senior lictor would necessarily disapprove, you understand. It’s the fact that the other patrons of this fine establishment might make the very serious mistake of thinking her for hire.” He paused, one eyebrow arching. “Imagine it, if you will.”
Adam had to close his eyes for a moment. Kanmi guffawed, Trennus flushed, and Ehecatl turned his face away, chuckling slightly. Adam could, all too clearly, picture some drunk trying to paw Sigrun or trying to draw her into a room . . . which would surely end in bloodshed. Possibly a defenestration. Certainly, paperwork and attention being paid.
“There’s no man in the universe brave enough,” Kanmi muttered, shaking his head as Adam opened his eyes again, and they all headed for the door, getting the propraetor to his car, and Adam obtaining directions, grim-faced, from the doorman at the hotel to a place called the Jade Fan. Ehecatl whistled under his breath at the name. Beyond that, the other lictors didn’t react, and neither did Adam. It wasn’t as if the ambassador he’d guarded in India hadn’t visited the nagarvadhu, or bride of the city, on a few occasions, and for more than the pleasure of her conversation and musical talents.
He was fortunate, that in driving, he could concentrate on the roads. Traffic. Making sure that they weren’t being followed. The other three, while keeping an eye on the vehicles and pedestrians around them, were, however, free to respond to Livorus.
Trennus, for example, rather hesitantly asked, “Why this particular establishment, sir?”
Livorus looked up from his newspaper in the backseat, and glanced at Trennus. “Is this car clean of listening devices?”
“I checked at noon,” Adam replied. “It’s been out of our hands for about seven hours at this point, however.”
Kanmi reached out, put his hand on the metal crossbar of the window beside him, and Adam felt a tingle of raw electricity through his own hands, and had to fight the urge to let go of the wheel. “Warn me next time,” he told Kanmi.
“Next time, you’ll know,” Kanmi assured him, calmly. “Car should be clear of bugs now.”
Livorus pushed his glasses back up his nose, and looked at Trennus. “In answer to your question? Centehua Izel is one of the top attractions at the Jade Fan. A courtesan of renown hears a certain amount of information from her clients, and she is on the payroll of the Praetorian Intelligence Office.” He raised his eyebrows at them all. “However, when dealing with someone in her position—”
Adam could have sworn he heard Kanmi mutter, “ . . . or positions . . .” very quietly, but when he glanced at the older man in the rearview mirror, the Carthaginian hadn’t changed expression.
“. . . one must go to her, rather than compromise her.” Livorus looked at Kanmi. “Was there something?”
“Not at all, dominus,” Kanmi said. Adam had learned, rapidly, that Kanmi only used honorifics and titles when attempting to deflect attention.
Livorus’ eyebrows went up, but Kanmi met his eagle-like stare steadily. “Glad to hear it, Eshmunazar. Else I would have to deny your expense reports when or if you claim entertainment costs this evening.”
Kanmi’s lips twitched. In the dark of the car, it wasn’t possible to see if Trennus flushed, but his voice was a little strangled as he asked, “Ah . . . what, m’lord?”
“It’s often covered under meals and incidentals,” Livorus replied, calmly. “But you’ll have to itemize. The government only covers up to about a half solidus; anything past that, or if the establishment doesn’t charge standard rates for services, you’ll have to cover on your own.”
“A half-solidus?” Kanmi replied, sounding startled. “Surprisingly generous of the personnel department.” Two solidi a month might cover the rent for a one-room apartment in a large city. “Of course, depending on how upscale the place is, that might only cover a blowjob.”
“You might be able to bargain the lady in question down, if you make it worth her while.” Livorus’ tone was detached. Austere, even. “I can’t say that I’ve ever had a problem with getting a discount.” His paper rustled as he folded it up to stow it. “On the left, ben Maor.”
“I see it, dominus.” Adam spotted the dark green fluorescent sign he’d been looking for, and guided their vehicle in to where the valet attendant awaited them. He was the first out of the car, and moved around to the rear, opening the rear passenger door, allowing him to cover Trennus’ exit with his own body, and then Livorus’.
As the door opened, and Trennus emerged, the summoner asked, in a baffled tone of voice, “But . . . forgive me, sir . . . aren’t you married?”
Livorus, emerging next, actually paused and stared up at his towering Britannian lictor. And sighed. “My dear young man, what has my being married to do with anything?”
Trennus looked back down at the propraetor. “Ah . . . everything, I would have thought . . . sir.”
“Ah. We have a romantic amongst us.” Livorus began to walk down the cobbled sidewalk, his lictors now all flanking him. “You do realize that the entire lineage of the Imperators of Rome is based on Caesarion the God-Born being the legitimized bastard of Gaius Julius Caesar, yes?” Livorus pau
sed. “Aside from which, it is my considered opinion that in everything in life, there is a balance, and one should strive for moderation. That means, in effect, exercising well, but not overly. Eating well, but not overmuch. Drinking wine, but not to a stupor. And having carnal relations, when the lack thereof might prove a distraction, but not falling into uxoriousness, either.” He waited for Trennus to close the vehicle door behind him, and headed for the front door of the establishment, Adam in the lead, and Kanmi bringing up the rear. Still, he could hear every quietly-spoken word. “You, for example, Matrugena, are a prime example of a man whose lack in the area of carnal satisfaction might become a distraction to him. You’re easily swayed by a pretty face. A young woman could ask you to do anything, and you’d be apt to agree, merely because it means you might get a smile, the touch of a hand, perhaps a kiss out of it. A moment or two’s respite from loneliness. This lack is readily remedied at such an establishment as this, and would clear your mind.”
Adam gave Matrugena full credit for not snapping back at this assessment. Rather, the Pictish man said, slowly, “And your lady wife does not disagree with this opinion?”
"Why should my wife object to my visiting a brothel while I'm abroad?” Livorus asked, stepping through the door that Adam held open for him. “They are licensed, clean, salubrious places. Better that I should go there, than to the bed of one of her friends, or, the gods forefend, dally with some random woman with a squalling brat in the other room, and lice and vermin upon her person. If I spread my lust with one of her friends, or, worse yet, became attached to one of them, then I would cause my wife pain. If I brought disease or vermin into our bedchamber, I would cause her shame. Best for everyone if I make use of the services of a healthy, willing woman, whose name I don't know, and wouldn't remember tomorrow even if I did know it." Livorus turned, and discreetly passed Adam a small silk bag that clinked as the Judean took it. “You will be needing this once we’re inside.”
Adam slipped the bag into his sleeve, for the moment. He wasn’t sure how much of Livorus’ attitude was a put-on for any listeners, and how much was his real opinion on the matter. They were definitely here for information, but he didn’t doubt that Livorus would be getting his money’s worth in other ways.
Outside, there were quite a few people roaming around at night in this area of town. Mostly locals, but a few tourists, it seemed. All well-dressed, they tried to crowd past the lictors, and found them an impenetrable wall of flesh. Inside, the state-licensed bordello was a fairly typical example of a high-end establishment of its kind. It had plushly upholstered furniture, lush jungle greenery in stoneware planters, rounded pillars that stretched up to the high, vaulted ceiling of the lobby . . . and a large sign, written in Nahautl and Latin, with stick figures illustrating most of the options available. With prices beside them. For anyone who happened to be curious about the particulars of any given service, there were far-viewers on consoles, tucked in and around the greenery; the orb-shaped devices were the ley-powered variety, which meant that they had fully three-dimensional images, if ones in black and white, and the various heaving, gasping figures depicted therein gave clear demonstrations of the various activities available. There were also various women standing in alcoves in the walls, raised just above the level of the floor. Each was either nude or just barely clad, and they stood in a variety of poses, slowly shifting, or outright dancing in place, to the sound of light music filtering in from a hidden speaker.
Adam took one look at the room, and thought, God. Where am I supposed to put my eyes? How am I supposed to protect the propraetor if I’m trying not to look at anything, but everything’s screaming for attention, all at once? He took a deep breath, and looked around, trying to treat it like a Hindu temple, instead of what it was: a place of commerce.
It . . . didn’t really help. But he did his best to keep his mind on the job at hand.
Behind him, Livorus said, lightly, “Are you quite sure, Matrugena? I’m sure we can arrange for you to be . . . what is that lovely phrase? Ah, yes. Comped.”
“That is really quite generous of you, propraetor,” Trennus told the other, his voice still strangled. “I’ll get by on my own, however.”
“Then do not blame me if you develop some sort of nasty condition, brought on by an imbalance of the humors.”
“Sir? You’re putting me on. No one believes in the balance of the humors anymore.”
“You really should take advantage of the offer,” Kanmi put in, needling Trennus. “Both you and ben Maor have the worst cases of inner tension, caused by obvious blue balls, that I’ve ever seen.”
Adam looked over his shoulder. “How in god’s name,” he asked, “did I get into this conversation?” I’ve been keeping my mouth shut. “If I wanted a matchmaker, I’d tell my family to go ahead and set something up for me.”
Kanmi widened his dark eyes. “Who said anything about a wife? I’m talking about relaxing for an hour or so.”
“That’s quite all right,” Trennus said, quickly.
Adam, for his part, just looked at Kanmi. What is this, another way of marking status? Trying to come over worldly-wise and older than the rest of us? Or is this just your . . . bent sense of humor, Eshmunazar? “I don’t see you or Ehecatl jumping at the offer,” he said, after a moment.
Ehecatl spread his hands. “Leave me out of this. I have a wife and three children, and I am not a Roman.”
Kanmi looked up at the menu of services above the front counter, and at the bored young Nahautl woman, scantily clad, underneath it, waiting to take their order, as if at a diner. “It’s a very nice selection. And don’t get me wrong . . . it’s tempting.” He shook his head after a moment. “However, my wife is both Nubian and a physician. She’d turn me into a galli surgically, and then I’d have to go worship Cybele, because Astarte would no longer have any use for me.” He nodded to himself, then grinned at the others, challengingly. “However, the two of you have no such impediments. You’re bachelors! You should be living the lives of such! And here, the girls are clean. No diseases. No vermin in their hair, and their breath is probably even sweet.” Every word was a needle of some sort.
“I’ll pass,” Adam replied. “Never needed to pay before. Not starting now.” Admittedly, his experience wasn’t extensive, but there’d been a couple of women while he was in the JDF, and a few more, since being transferred to Novo Gaul. Enough to know he wasn’t exactly desperate for options. The Hindu temple devadasi had been interesting to watch, but he hadn’t been interested in participating in the rites of an alien goddess.
Livorus smiled faintly, and gestured to Adam. “If you wouldn’t mind . . . ?”
Oh, so now I’m a pander as well as a bodyguard. Adam sighed, and moved to the desk, where the bored young attendant suddenly flashed him a much more attentive smile. “Centehua Izel, please.”
“Her price for an evening is two aurei.”
Adam did his best not to choke. A gold aureus was worth ten golden solidi. A solidus was worth ten silver denarii. A denarius was worth ten bronze assarii. As a lictor, one of the highest-paid soldiers in the Roman Imperium, Adam made four golden aurei a month—enough to rent an nice apartment in a good district of Rome, feed himself, and possibly, if he saved, to buy a house somewhere else, as well . . . but the asking price for this unseen prostitute could pay seven families’ rent for a month, if they weren’t worried about being a little crowded. Money meant something in Rome; the economy had never deviated from the gold standard. Dropping half a month’s pre-tax salary on an evening with a woman seemed . . . moderately ridiculous to him, but he’d seen his ambassadorial charge spend at least the same amount on the ‘bride of the city’ in India. And without, as far as he’d been able to tell, the prospect of gaining information.
“That’s not on the sign . . .” he managed.
“Sweetheart, if you have to ask, you can’t afford her.”
Good thing Livorus handed me the coin before we came in. It’s beneath his d
ignity to handle the pecuniary transactions himself, but I’d be damned if I wrote a draft on my personal bank for this. Adam counted out the coins, and, on looking at the small fortune in gold in his hands, shuddered inwardly. There were at least sixteen fat golden aurei in the purse, and twice as many solidi. That was enough to purchase a rather sumptuous motorcar. I suppose this means I have the propraetor’s trust!
Centehua Izel herself emerged to greet the propraetor, once enough money to feed a family in modest means for a month had traded hands. She was slim, dark, and lovely, with a single tattoo twining around one ankle, and dressed in a Roman-style draped dress of translucent silk—that, imported from Qin, surely. Her dark eyes had smoldered with interest and intrigue . . . either she was a phenomenal actress, or she was genuinely interested in the propraetor . . . and she escorted Livorus to her room, which his lictors had to examine before they could allow him to stay with her, alone. “Do try to cry out if she decides to knife you,” Adam told the propraetor, in Hellene.
“I would never do such an unmannerly thing,” the courtesan assured him, also in Hellene, which while accented, was still perfectly grammatical. She’d been educated, and well, it seemed.
“I’ll be able to ensure that nothing untoward occurs,” Kanmi told Adam in Latin, his voice completely neutral.
“You’re not going to be looking in through the balcony window, are you?” Trennus asked quietly in the corridor, his eyes widening.
“Looking . . . no. I can use a sort of gravitic pulse that functions in much the same way as radar. I get a very clear sense of where everyone inside of about a hundred yards is. Humans tend to be softer than their environment.” Kanmi went through the door, first, and checked it, before heading to the tall glass doors that led to the balcony, where he’d be standing watch in the night.
The Valkyrie (The Saga of Edda-Earth Book 1) Page 28