by Assaph Mehr
The crowd by then was roaring, a noise so thick and uniform it felt like a wall of sound. Together with this excitement, I had my own mounting reasons to be flushed, thanks to the ministrations of Cornelia maior whose skill was also quite superb.
At last the man managed to get his whip around the beast’s neck. It tried to pull away, but the net prevented it from taking flight. The man advanced, his whip wrapped firmly around his left hand, and his spear held tightly by his right arm against his side, levelled at the gryphon.
The gryphon reared again, flapped its wings, and in frustration lunged at the man, who was too tired to dodge again. He sank to one knee and brought the spear up. Its butt against the ground, its head guided by his hand, the man’s aim was true. The beast did his work for him, impaling itself on the lance so far it could reach the man with its dying breath to snap its beak at his face. Beast collapsed on top of man, raising a cloud of sand into the air, obscuring all.
The crowd hushed. As the dust dispersed, the body of the beast could be seen stretched on the sand, the spear sticking clear through it, its pale blood oozing on the sands, its head lying on the side with baleful yellow eyes open. And then the carcass moved, heaved to the side and from under it crawled the man, battered but alive.
The crowd went mad with shouts and I with it, for as the battle reached its climax so did I.
And as I sat breathing hard, finally able to concentrate on the sight before me, there, bleeding on the sands of the arena, with sudden inspiration, I saw my key into Zymaxis’ little cabal.
Chapter XVIII
While the crowd delivered a standing ovation to the bestiarius and to Aulus Paulinus, and while the ceremonies for the end of the Floralia took place, my mind was racing. I did not have much time to do what I needed and to remain unnoticed. Luckily Cornelia resumed her appearance of a proper matron, chatting with her sister and daughter as if nothing happened between us. However I was encumbered by a respectable toga, which is not the garment of choice for those skulking around; and of course I was unfamiliar with this particular circus and its layout.
So how could I go about locating the carcass of the gryphon, get access to it in a way that would not be traceable back to me, and manage to open it up and extract the precious internal organs to fulfil Zymaxis request for the arcane as my ticket into the cabal, all that done swiftly and without getting even worse stains than I already had on my toga?
I was about to excuse myself to the latrines and begin the search, when Cornelia, her hands now respectably folded in her lap, spoke up. “That was just wonderful! What an extraordinary show! And we have all been invited to the post-game festivities, where I do believe Aulus Paulinus has promised a very special feast.”
Publius Corpio, his face flushed with the excitement from the spectacle, responded “We are all invited indeed. I think now, from the comments he made before the show, that he is planning to serve us dishes of gryphon meat! That is surely the most exotic and spectacular menu anyone has served in recent memory.”
“Aulus Paulinus is making such an effort this year,” said Cornelia minor, “I believe he got quite a few of the nobilitas from Egretia to come here specifically for the event. He must be working already for the consular elections next year.”
“Well, a fancy party is just what I need,” said Cornelia maior, and linked her arm in mine in a way that made it clear that I was to be included in the invite. Publius was in a generous mood and did not seem to mind, although Aemilia scoffed. I was sure I was not her mother’s first play-thing, and Aemilia seemed to have a stricter view of such affairs.
We descended to the exclusive vestibule of the circus, and joined the queue of well-wishers congratulating the governor on games that will be remembered for years. As we got our turn, Cornelia introduced me to him as “a friend, a most interesting man of the world.” Aulus Paulinus was a good looking man in his prime, of medium height and build, with blond hair and clear blue eyes.
I congratulated the governor on the games, and added “This is quite a feat. No gryphons live anywhere close to here; the ship that brought and housed the magnificent specimen must have been a special vehicle indeed.”
“No expense is too big for my people,” Replied Aulus Paulinus with a smarmy smile.
“And to serve it for dinner as well! What a wonderful idea! Sending your cook for special training to Mazaca Carina in the Karikurum Mountains must have been a real inconvenience.”
“Yes, yes… Wait, what? Special training?” Aulus Paulinus peered at me with knotted brows.
“To handle the fugum fellis of course. Any careless carving of the carcass, and the bile from that bladder will contaminate the meat. You will have such a mass run on the latrines by your guests,” I added cheerfully, “the likes of which will certainly be remembered for a generation.”
Paulinus swallowed, and sweat broke on his forehead. “And this… this…”
“Fugum fellis.” I said helpfully. “Antoninus Liberalis talks about it extensively in his Metamorphoses.”
“That. It exists in all gryphons?”
“I do believe so. A common bladder to all hybrid animals. Helps regulate their opposing humours, according to Liberalis.”
“And it poisons their meat?” asked Aulus Paulinus, working through this difficult concept.
“Only if it is punctured and the bile spills out. If a careful cook knows his trade, the bladder can be removed quite harmlessly. Your guests will have a very delicious and memorable meal,” I said. “Either way.”
“And you are familiar with this bladder, yes? Perhaps you wouldn’t mind to talk with my cook. Just to double check.” Presenting politicians with potentially unpopular moves is like presenting a slave with a cross — they rush at any alternative. “I would be most grateful, if you would do me this favour, we don’t want any undue risks to my lovely guests after all.”
And with that I was escorted quite hastily to my goal by one of the governor’s aides, ensuring all doors were open to me.
* * *
The aide took me through back doors and underground corridors guarded by ex-gladiators and normally reserved for slaves. We got to the chamber where the gryphon was kept, and walked in. A team of slaves was working on the heavy carcass, hauling it on to a waiting cart. Luckily for me the cook was not there but was overseeing the preparations at the governor’s mansion. The aide spoke briefly with the foreman, and I was allowed to ride with the beast. I asked the aide to relate the message to his master and to my hosts, that I will meet them at the villa.
I hoped my luck would hold, and that the cook would be as easy to impress with my fantastic knowledge as his master. For those of my readers who have never read Liberalis, and given his dry and uninspired style I would not be surprised if that number was higher than those who did, he does indeed list the tales of the great monsters and creatures of our world. Liberalis has such a meticulous attention to details, from appearance to habitat and habits to mating practises, and in scrupulous punctiliousness that many a student has been known to read him as a cure to insomnia. What he does not, however, is mention any fugum fellis in relation to gryphons. Or in relation to any other animal for that matter.
We rode along the road which leads from the circus around the edge of town and up to the hill where the governor’s house perched. It was not a long ride, just long enough for my needs. As the driver sat in the front and kept the team of oxen going and the slaves walked behind us, I quietly got to work. I pretended to examine the carcass, looking at the magnificent beast for signs of excessive damage.
First I plucked the tail feathers of the gryphon. While the lower body is that of a lion, in a gryphon where the tail ends is a fan of feathers rather than a tuft of fur. I sat at the back end of the beast, and unobtrusively as I could lifted the tail and plucked a few of the unbroken long, golden feathers. I tucked these inside my toga. Not the most valuable part by far, yet sufficiently rare in case I could not get anything better for Zymaxis.
/> Next I considered what else I might abscond with, without cutting open the beast and getting its blood all over me. I decided that the eyes would be the most appropriate, least likely to be missed in a feast and quite valuable if preserved properly. However if I plucked them out now I would have no way to carry them discreetly. It would hardly be seemly if during the festivities planned for the night I reclined and they rolled out from toga to the middle of the room, or worse I sat on them and made them burst inside my toga like ripe figs.
We reached the mansion, and the cart took a side track towards the back, where the kitchen received deliveries. I hopped off the cart just as the cook was coming out.
“You’re late!” he shouted. “I still need to skin and roast the damn thing!” He took one look at the gryphon’s carcass and started pulling his hair. “I’m ruined! There is no way that such a beast will be ready in time! It will take hours — days! — to cook! The master will roast and serve me!”
“Calm down, man.” I spoke firmly. “Your master sent me here to help. I am here to assist you and ensure that all goes well for the feast tonight.”
He looked at me suspiciously. “And who are you?”
“My name is Felix. I am a specialist in these matters. Aulus Paulinus requested that I attend the cleaning and cooking of the beast, so that the fugum fellis does not poison the meat.”
“The what?” the man had a wild look about him.
“The fugum fellis, the poison bladder of the gryphon.”
“You mean the thing got poison inside it?” the cook shrieked. “Woe is me! Now all is lost for sure!”
“Calm down, calm down” I placed my hands upon his shoulders. “First let us get the beast inside. Then we prepare it, and then roast it. By the time your master commands it served all will be well.”
We ordered the slaves to drag the carcass inside. I took over giving the instructions for the handling of the gryphon, and the thankful cook, whose name I learnt was Gaius Nonius, started to take professional interest once he calmed down a bit.
First we had the carcass plucked for feathers. “Just like a chicken,” I instructed the girl called for the task when she gave us a dubious look. It took several of them to get it done. While they were working, we summoned a butcher to help skin the hindquarters from the lion’s fur. I instructed the servants working to be careful with both fur and feathers, and told the cook he could present them to the governor and his wife as ornaments and presents. The cook was happy at the idea, sure that it will buy him gratitude from his mistress.
As the assistants were working, I had a slave bring me a clay jar full of vinegar. “Now the eyes,” I told Nonius, “are absolutely noxious. Rather than spoil the effect of this magnificent roasted beast with the sight of the bulging, smoking, vile smelling orbs, we shall remove them now.” I had to borrow an apron and put my toga aside, but at least I could work without getting blood stains on me. With a thin and sharp knife I carefully cut out the white feathers around the eyes, and then using a bronze spoon I popped them out from the skull. I dropped them into the jar of vinegar, and closed it with the lid. “I will dispose of these later,” I told the cook, “just make sure no one accidentally tries to eat or serve this, or your master’s guests will be viscerally sorry.”
When all this was done, we cut open the belly of the beast. I poked a bit at the intestines and organs with a wooden spoon, pointed at a small intact bladder — the spleen, I think — and proclaimed “Aha! See there? That is the fugum fellis. You can see it is indeed intact, and we can rest assured that your master’s guests are safe.” I took the wobbly thing and dropped it with the eyes into the vinegar, and as an afterthought added the heart and a few other bits declaring them unfit for human consumption. I then closed the jar and sealed it with wax from a candle. The rest of the organs and intestines were sorted and taken by the cook’s assistants — the offal to be sautéed with onions, garlic and cumin for the master’s closest guests, the intestines to become sausages for the rest.
From then on the cook took over. His men rubbed herbs and salts into the flesh of the half-lion-half-bird beast; a large, thick pole was brought, and its sharpened end was threaded from the beast’s anus through its rib-cage and long neck, all the way out through its beak. A team of slaves mounted it over a hot fire, and began turning it slowly.
“Now what?” asked Nonius. “How can we get this roasted in time?”
As someone who had marched, albeit briefly, with our legions and has found himself crossing wild country on occasion, I at least knew the basics of cooking charms. I had also learnt some recipes for cooking game, together with a few other interesting poultices and potions, from a couple old ladies who could not pay me in coin when I returned their stolen silver mirror. “Now this is a trick I am willing to pass on to you,” I said, “because I like you, Gaius Nonius. Have a servant bring us an amphora of wine, a cheap one will do.” When the wine was brought together with some dried herbs I requested, I proceeded to mix the herbs with the wine. While that would no doubt improve the taste, the real secret was in a small charm I cast as I mixed them. Nonius was a cook trained under the best tutors and kitchens, and thus had no clue about the proper casting of charms. Sometimes I think our people lost almost as much as they gained when the magia was formalised by the incantatores.
We worked just the two of us in a side room with a closed door, and eventually he managed to repeat it correctly. I swore him to secrecy, a thing he had no trouble doing. By that time he moved from lamenting his impending doom to looking at me like his saviour. I hoped his trust was justified, as it has been a few years since I last performed this spell, and anyway I only ever used it on a rabbit and not something the size of a horse.
We poured the treated wine into a wineskin, and a boy was called to squirt it regularly on the roasting meat. The slaves kept turning the spit, the boy kept squirting and brushing, Nonius kept muttering the charm, and soon a wonderful smell filled the kitchens.
At that point I decided that it was safe to leave things. I washed and cleaned myself as best I could, and had a boy help me re-drape the toga. I collected the jar with the eyes and organs and hid it in the cart we came with before going upstairs to the feast.
* * *
I made my way up to the mansion’s interior gardens, where the governor had many couches arranged in close fitting U shapes in the colonnades and around the garden paths. While I was looking for my host and his family, I was spotted by the same aide who had accompanied me at the circus. He came after me with an anxious expression.
“All is well,” I reassured him. “The governor’s cook is a fine fellow, and has everything in hand.”
He looked much relieved. “The master will be pleased. He won’t forget it.” I was sure the master would not remember my name by dawn, as people in power do not like be indebted to the likes of me. All of that mattered little, as I had my precious gift safely tucked away.
As I was looking for the Corpio family couches, I saw the bestiarius reclining on a couch in the governor’s section, wearing only a skirt that showed off his well-muscled torso and with two midgets at his sides. The effect was to make him seem even larger than life, much for the entertainment of Aulus Paulinus’ closest friends.
Corpio’s couches were close to the governor’s central location, about three sections away. That showed his relative importance in the Kebric society. The inner sections were taken by other magistrates and special guests from Egretia, and many more guests were seated further away than the Corpio family.
Publius, his wife Cornelia and their son Marcus lay on one couch, while Cornelia maior and Aemilia on another. The third couch in our little triclinium section was taken by a man I did not know and a woman, presumably his wife. The man was in his late thirties, thin and with a smiling face. By his attire I estimated him to be a local magistrate, in the middle stages of his public career. The woman was a pretty flower of early twenties, heavily pregnant.
“Felix!” cried C
ornelia maior as she saw me coming, “Please join our couch. This is Titus Hortensius, the governor’s treasury quaestor, and his wife Marcia. Titus Hortensius, this is Felix — an associate of my brother-in-law.”
I sat down next to her, and let a slave take my shoes off and wash my feet.
“You left us in such a hurry, I am anxious to hear all about it.” She turned to Titus Hortensius. “Felix has special knowledge in matters arcane. Apparently we are getting a most special dish tonight, and Felix had to ensure our esteemed Aulus Paulinus doesn’t poison all the guests.”
To the sounds of gasps, I muttered “Oh, it was nothing really. There was never any real danger, the cook has things well in hand. No need to alarm anyone.”
“Do not be modest, please tell us everything, so we may rest easy!” said Cornelia maior, and since apparently the matter was discussed before I came the others chimed in.
“Well, it is a little known fact that gryphons, like other hybrid animals, have a small bladder of poisonous bile amidst their intestines. According to Antoninus Liberalis this is called the fugum fellis.” I heard Aemilia snort in derision, but continued. “If punctured by a careless cook, the bile will spill and contaminate the meat, thus rendering the beast unfit for consumption. However the poison is rarely lethal to adults. You need not worry, I supervised the cook removing the fugum fellis, and can vouch for its intact state. The gryphon will be safe to eat and, I daresay, most delicious. Though now I fear I have ruined your surprise.”
“I would have been more surprised indeed if anyone got anything worse than cramps from overeating,” said Aemilia. And when everyone turned to look at her added, “I read Antoninus Liberalis quite extensively, and — I daresay — there is no mention of any fugum fellis or any other poisonous bladders.”
How did Gnaeus Drusus describe her? A too-well-educated shrew. I could see his point. “Which edition have you read?” I asked.