by J. G. Willem
Auribus shrank, trembling. “I, I, I... I don’t know the slave’s name off the top of my head, sorry to say, but the woman he intends to buy her off is the brothel-keeper, Vipera. She’s got her fingers in all sorts of pies, doesn’t she?”
The charioteer stopped. Calmed. His eyes began to light up. The tiniest of smiles began to curl the corner of his mouth.
He released Auribus, clapping him a little too hard for comfort on the shoulder.
“She surely does, my man. She surely does.”
*
Belbus and Ursa made their way down a tunnel beneath the stands. Their way was lit by torches bracketed against the wall.
“That was nice,” Belbus said. “That little pep talk out there.”
She smiled. “Mmm. Thought he could use it.”
They walked on in silence.
Belbus took out an opium tablet and popped it into his mouth. Began to relax almost instantly. His limp became smoother alongside her. His aura less intense.
The bookie surprised her when he said, “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
She creased her brow.
“Back at the safe house,” he clarified.
“Oh, that’s alright.” She shrugged. “All part of the plan. It was convincing though, I’ll give you that.”
They walked on for a bit, again without words.
Belbus was still tense beside her, like he was holding something back. She wondered if he was going to follow up his apology with a, “Although, you did lead them to us...”
What he said instead was, “Are we good now?”
She kept her eyes on the tunnel ahead. “What makes you think we’re not good?”
“Because you’re irked with me.”
“Irked with you? I’m not irked with you.”
“Yes, you are. You’re irked with me. You find me irksome.”
She forced a smile. “Maybe a little.”
He touched her arm and they stopped walking. She rolled her eyes and felt her cheeks flush hot as they turned to face each other.
“What is it?” he said, earnestly.
She went to blow him off, blow past it, but something stopped her. Something about the way she handled herself back there. About the way she convinced Tiberius. About the way she bolstered Leontius.
She braced herself.
“You’re right,” she said, brushing aside a loose strand of hair. “I am irked with you.”
“I knew it. Why are you irked with me?”
He was a little too casual for her liking. Trying to make her smile. She did not smile.
“Because you’re leaving me.”
Belbus let out a sigh. She could almost see the pieces connecting behind his good eye.
“That’s what this is about.”
“Partly,” she said. “Partly you leaving and partly you not telling me that the plan is at least partly, if not totally, about revenge.”
Now, he frowned. “Revenge? It’s not about revenge. You think because of what Leontius said about Pistrus...?”
“I think anyone would want revenge for something like that.”
“I don’t.”
“I don’t trust you.”
He winced. Ursa caught herself. Realised the words came out sharper than intended.
She softened. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s that I don’t trust that you can say to a certainty revenge doesn’t have something to do with this.”
Looking down the corridor either way to make sure the coast was clear, Belbus lowered his voice to a whisper.
“I’d be going after Pistrus even if he hadn’t wrecked me. He’s the reigning champion. It made the most statistical sense to rig the race against him.”
“The point is,” she said, “I’m not in what I thought I was in. What you brought me into. Suddenly, kids are getting killed and people are getting shoved off buildings and pretty soon I’m going to be left holding the bag while you hightail it out to the countryside. And I still don’t think you’re telling me everything.”
She stared at him long and hard. He squirmed, fixing his eyes on the burning wall-torch nearby as he considered his answer.
“I didn’t bring you into anything,” Belbus said, turning back to her. There was something hard in his good eye now. Something cold. “You chose this of your own free will.”
Ursa’s nostrils flared. “You plucked me out of my rhetoric studies. You groomed me...”
Belbus scoffed derisively. “I didn’t groom you. You let yourself be groomed. I saw potential in you, and for the record, I still do. I offered you an opportunity. You took it. That’s all.” He gave an exaggerated shrug to buttress his point. “Be angry about this if you want, but you’re just as complicit in your destiny as I am. You’re not a slave, you’re a free woman. A woman, I grant you, does not have the same freedoms I have, but you’re not a slave.”
“Don’t get your back up, Belbus. I’m not talking about that. I don’t want your pity because I’m a fucking woman. Spare me, alright. I know I’m a woman. I know I’m free. I know I’m not a slave. I know I signed up for this and that I’m responsible for whatever happens to me as a result of that. But you haven’t been honest with me. I can’t be responsible for something if I don’t know what the something is. Just be straight with me. That’s all I’m asking.”
She wasn’t angry anymore. She was pleading with him. Her eyes were shining. The bookie’s good eye flickered, jaw set against the flood of emotions rising in his throat.
“But fuck all of that for a second,” she said, waving a hand as if to erase everything she’d just said. “Fuck everything. We’re supposed to be friends, aren’t we? And now you’re leaving... Just like that...”
Ursa heard a wobble in her voice and she hated it. Couldn’t stop it. Feared that if she spoke again, the words would crack around the edges and she’d break with them.
Belbus hung his head. “Ursa, I didn’t know... I didn’t even think... I just... I never have to worry about you, y’know? Oftentimes, you’ve got a better handle on the situation than I do. I think of you like a younger, more capable, more attractive me.”
She scoffed a laugh through her tears.
“I guess I took it for granted. Took you for granted. I didn’t even consider how my leaving would affect you. To be honest, I thought you’d be chomping at the bit.”
“I am.”
“I assumed you were ready to take up my mantle, soiled and tattered though it is.”
“I am. But I’m going to miss you too.”
Belbus sighed. “I’m going to miss you.”
He said it with a snuff that seemed to indicate the thought surprised him.
“I’m going to miss you,” he said again, more intentionally this time. “By Jove, I’m going to miss you.”
Then he reached out and pulled her into a hug. The grin spread wide across her face as she wrapped her arms around him. When they pulled apart in the empty tunnel, she wiped her eyes. She noticed the tension had returned to her partner. Frowned.
“What is it?”
Belbus took a breath, like he was winding up for something.
“In the spirit of full transparency...” he began. “There’s a girl...”
Part VI - One Girl For Another
Belbus and Ursa ascended the steps to Pistrus’ villa and met the old centurion standing guard at the entrance.
Where on their previous visit the sun had been rising, now it was setting on what felt, to Belbus, like the longest day of his life. Auribus squinted into the dying light. Behind him, the great stone wall was bathed a deep orange, and seemed to be glowing with the day’s warmth.
“Evening, Auribus,” Belbus said, not nearly as chipper as he had been that morning. He shook his head. “Wow. Deja vu.”
Behind the centurion’s bruised, grouchy countenance, Belbus could detect a sheepish unease. An avoidance of eye contact. An awkward shifting of the feet.
“Hey, listen, uh...” Auribus cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry about the, uh... the eye.”
Belbus almost fell over. He exchanged a glance with Ursa. Even she was surprised.
“I didn’t mean to hit you so hard. I was just... I was angry that morning. My wife... she, uh... She’s leaving me. I know it’s got nothing to do with you. But that’s kind of where my head is right now. So... I’m sorry.”
Taking a moment to find the words, and doing his best to resist the impulse to rub Auribus’ nose in it, Belbus said, with as much grace as he could muster, “Apology accepted.”
Beside him, Ursa deflated.
“I’m sorry too,” she said. “I shouldn’t have punched you. You’re not the one who drowned the little boy. I mean, you did cut the ear off one, but...”
Belbus and Auribus shrugged, like it was regrettable, but not overly so.
“I didn’t know about your wife,” Ursa said. “That must be really hard.”
“Yeah,” Belbus echoed, trying to look past the bizarreness of the situation. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must be.”
“It is,” Auribus admitted. “It’s really difficult. But it’s no excuse to take it out on you two. I was a real beast earlier. It reminded me of the old Auribus. Younger, handsomer, but definitely crueller. He didn’t yet know what the world was made of. What memories would stick. What you take for granted. I don’t want to go back to being that guy...”
The guy who took a bunch of human ears? Belbus wondered. Sometimes from living people? The guy who’s still wearing them?
The centurion went on: “It’s part of the reason she left me, y’know? That anger. I guess if I’m going to take anything positive out of all this, it’s that I don’t have to be that guy anymore. It’s a wake-up call is what it is.”
Belbus and Ursa exchanged a surprised glance.
“Wow,” Ursa said. “That’s a very healthy and mature way to look at this.”
Belbus backed her up. “Yeah. Good on you, man.”
“Thanks, you guys. Really. I appreciate it. Go right on in. He’s expecting you. All the best, huh?”
“Yeah, you too,” Belbus and Ursa said in unison.
The centurion stepped humbly aside and the new arrivals walked in past him.
Only when they were out of earshot did Ursa say, “Wow...”
“I know. Was not expecting that at all.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence.
The same female slave from their previous visit escorted Belbus and Ursa to the pool room. As soon as they rounded the corner, blood began draining from the bookie’s face. He slowed, and then stopped entirely.
“Fuck,” he heard Ursa say beside him.
There she was. Standing between Pistrus and Vipera by the edge of the pool. The charioteer and the brothel-keeper were both reclined on couches, while Chimera stood between them with a pitcher of wine in her hands, waiting for the instruction to pour.
“What the fuck is this?” Ursa whispered. “That’s her, I’m guessing?”
“That’s her.” Belbus gathered himself. “Just... I don’t know. Stay calm. Let me do the talking.”
They crossed the cavernous room with the giant sculpture pouring water into the pool continually. The pool where the boy was drowned. His body was gone now. Belbus realised he expected it to still be there, floating. A show of dominance, perhaps, or intimidation. But no, they’d fished it out. Probably dumped the poor lad in a sewer for the rats.
Belbus touched the pouch of opium tablets through his cloak. Thought about it. Thought again.
As they got closer, he made out the smug grin Pistrus couldn’t quite contain. The indifferent, unreadable face of Vipera. The helpless, pleading eyes of Chimera, like a prisoner reaching out from behind the bars of her cell. Reaching out without moving. Screaming without making a sound.
Belbus and Ursa arrived at the square of reclining couches. Stood there.
No one spoke.
Pistrus was smiling openly now, giddy as a schoolboy. He was the only one smiling. Belbus was sure that if he ripped the man’s toga off, he’d have a huge, throbbing erection.
“What the fuck is this?” Belbus said.
Ursa, who was waiting for him to lead with something a little more tactful than her own initial response, almost rolled her eyes.
“What does it look like?” Pistrus said. “I got your girl before you did.”
The bookie’s teeth clamped so tight he thought they might shatter. The muscles in his jaw flexed visibly.
He turned to Vipera. Said nothing. Didn’t need to.
“He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” said the brothel-keeper, without a trace of regret. She reached forward and curled those long, ringed fingers around her wine cup. Raised it carefully to her painted lips. Drank. “I didn’t know anyone else was interested. As I said, she’s unremarkable in every way except how she looks.”
Chimera winced a little. Belbus felt his nostrils flare in anger.
Vipera went on: “I thought it would just drive your price up even further, but then he paid it. No questions asked.”
Pistrus turned his palms out. “It’s true.”
Belbus forced himself not to look at the charioteer. He stayed on Vipera. The first twinge of something between guilt and pity tugged at her flawless face.
“I wanted you to get her, Belbus. Truly I did. I wanted you to get her so you’d know it wouldn’t fill the hole in your heart.”
Belbus felt his cheeks burn. Pity had displaced the fear in Chimera’s eyes, and in that moment, he wanted to burn down the villa with all of them inside it. End it. End everything.
“But...” Vipera went on. “At the end of the day, I am a businesswoman. He offered me a higher price than even you were capable of. Frankly, a higher price than ten of her are worth. Money now is always sweeter than money later. If I wanted to teach people about life, I’d go squat in the agora and philosophise like those interminable Greeks.”
The brothel-keeper took another sip, then she rose.
“Leaving so soon?” said the charioteer. He seemed disappointed.
“I’m afraid so, Pistrus my dear. A pleasure, as always. Have a messenger let me know which girls you want sent up.”
“Well...” Pistrus eyed Chimera up and down, making her skin crawl. “I might not need to.”
“Very well,” Vipera said, without emotion. She didn’t so much as glance in Chimera’s direction as she turned to leave.
Belbus fumed, staring straight ahead. He felt like steam was coming off him. He wasn’t staring at anything in particular. He was just staring. Just fuming.
Vipera placed a hand on his shoulder as she passed. “Don’t do anything rash, my dear.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the bookie said, without meeting her eye.
She nodded, then walked out. Chimera watched her go, and with her, any remaining hope of the madam changing her mind, deciding to sell her to Belbus instead.
“Leave us,” Pistrus said to Chimera, without looking at her. He gave a dismissive motion with his hand, not bothering to raise his elbow where it propped him up on the couch.
Chimera swallowed. Did as she was told. She set the pitcher down on the table, and with one last desperate look at Belbus, retreated from the room.
“Please...” Pistrus said, grinning at his guests. He gestured to the empty couches. “Sit.”
They hesitated, then did so, taking up the places they had occupied on their previous visit. The same seats they had sat in while they so casually threatened their host. While they so casually blackmailed him. While he so casually drowned a little boy and they looked on and did nothing.
“Wine?” Pistrus offered.
Neither of them responded.
“Oh, right,” the charioteer said, snapping his fingers. To Ursa: “You’re hungover...” To Belbus: “And you probably shouldn’t mix wine with opium, should you?”
Again, no response. They weren’t biting.
“Straight to business then?” Pistrus swun
g his legs around, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “I have a proposition for you.”
He took a sip of wine, then examined the cup, impressed. “Oh, that is good. Are you sure I can’t tempt you?”
“Positive,” said Ursa, deadpan.
The bookie said nothing.
Pistrus smiled. “Alright. You’ve got something that belongs to me. I’ve got something that, by all rights, belongs to you.”
Belbus bristled. He didn’t like it being put that way.
“I propose a trade. One for the other. Simple. Easy.”
The bookie just stared at him.
Pistrus went on: “No me throwing the race. No muscle-bound plebeian sweeping in to steal my glory. None of it. Agnina for the slave. That’s all. No reprisals. No nothing. I’m willing to forgive this transgression on your part. You saw a shortcut to fortune and you took it. I can’t blame you for that. If I was in your sandals, I might even do the same thing. Right now, your slave bride doesn’t know anything about you kidnapping a little girl for her. Holding a fellow member of the fairer sex against her will. I wonder how she’d feel about that. Right now, she doesn’t know. I can keep it that way. Keep her in the dark. In blissful ignorance, as they say. We both go on with our lives, if you want to call what you do living.”
Belbus breathed through his nose. Chewed the inside of his lip.
The charioteer could tell he still needed some prodding. “It’s a win-win scenario. One of us need not lose in order for the other to profit...”
At this, the bookie’s ears pricked up. “What did you say?”
“I said we can both get what we want.”
Belbus felt Ursa looking at him. She’d heard it too. A coincidence, perhaps? Perhaps not.
“No, you said, ‘It’s a win-win scenario. One of us need not lose for the other to profit.’”
Pistrus shrugged, amused but not seeing where he was going. “And?”
The gears turned in Belbus’ head. He was considering who might have talked to Pistrus. Who might have betrayed him. Who he might have gleaned the ‘win-win’ concept from.
It was, in all likelihood, a coincidence, Belbus realised. He hadn’t said ‘zero-sum’ or anything specific like that. ‘Win-win’ was a common saying, he told himself. The bookie’s mind was simply working overtime, looking for someone to blame, someone to burn in effigy.