'You want a carriage this morning, lord?' he said.
I shook my head. 'No thanks, friend. When I pay good money for a return trip I don't expect to walk.'
I must've still looked angry, because the other guys, scenting trouble, did a fast disappearing act. Dida just looked puzzled.
'I'm sorry, lord,' he said. 'I don't understand.'
'Last night at the Scallop you said you'd wait. You didn't. You care to tell me why?'
'Because you told me you'd changed your mind.'
'I told you?' Now it was my turn to look puzzled.
'Not you personally, lord. Of course not. But you sent a messenger out.'
This was beginning to make sense. 'A big, squat guy, built like a docker, right?'
Dida's face cleared, and he grinned. 'That's the one. I don't blame you, either. The Scallop's some place.'
I nodded. So. Prince Charming had sent Dida packing while I was talking to Cotile. Hermippe. Whoever. That was interesting.
'You say I sent this guy out,' I said. 'He came from inside, then?'
'Maybe. Maybe not; I was in the alley, remember. All I know is he told me he came from you.'
Yeah, well, it'd been worth a try. And the story rang true. If Dida was on the level – and I didn't have any reason to think that he wasn't – Prince Charming wouldn't want him hanging around when he sapped me.
Dida was inspecting my war wounds. He frowned.
'You've been in a fight?'
'Yeah. You could say that. With your pal the messenger.'
I could see that one going in: the guy was no fool.
'So you didn't send him after all,' he said.
'No, I didn't send him. You were suckered, chum. We both were.'
He nodded glumly and passed over the wineskin in silence. I drank.
'Good stuff,' I said. It was: an honest swigging red with plenty of body and a kick like a mule.
'My cousin makes it. He's got a farm out by Brauron, and he knows vines.'
I passed the skin back. 'Brauron's local. I thought you said you were from Kyrenia.'
'Yeah. But I moved. So did my cousin.' He paused. 'If it's any help, the man who delivered your message was Cypriot too. Probably a Paphian, from his accent.'
'Is that so, now?' Interesting: my Greek's pretty fluent by now, but I still can't place accents very well. 'Thanks, pal. That may be useful.'
'He hasn't been in Athens long either. Unless he's slow to change. Hick accents tend to get you laughed at in the City.'
'Uh-huh.' I took out a silver piece. 'Here. That's for the information. And by way of an apology.'
He shook his head. 'Put it back, lord. You already paid me. And I don't like letting a customer down, especially if he gets rolled as a result.'
'Fair enough.' I turned to go. 'I'll see you around. Thanks for the wine.'
'Don't mention it.'
Well, that was one problem solved. I walked away, still thinking about Melanthus, the Scallop and Callippus's note to Demetriacus. If I waited for Callippus we might as well not bother with a search at all. The question was, how the hell could I get to search the place before Melanthus found out what I was up to?
I'd got about five yards before the answer hit me.
Obvious, right? Too obvious. But it was the only way.
I turned back.
'You forget something?' Dida looked up in surprise.
'Would the Scallop be open this early?' I said.
He grinned. 'I told you before, lord. It never closes.'
'Fine.' Shit! What was I doing? Perilla would kill me! 'You've got yourself a fare.'
In the interests of research, you understand. Purely in the interests of research.
. . .
I had my second thoughts on the way, and they had nothing to do with Perilla or moral rectitude. If the Scallop was bent then I could be making a big mistake here. On the other hand, paying customers don't need an archon's warrant to hang their cloak up in a cat-house lobby, and once I was in I was in. It was a gamble, sure, but then there's nothing wrong with gambling if the odds are right.
'Okay, pal,' I said to Dida as I climbed out of the coach. 'Get it straight this time. You wait here until I come out, and you don't budge for nobody. I don't care if Zeus himself comes down from Olympus with half the pantheon and a dozen naked female flute-players to tell you different, you spit in his eye and call the Watch. Understood?'
Dida grinned down at me. 'Understood, lord.'
'Good.' I knocked at the door.
It was opened by Antaeus. He didn't look fazed when he saw me, which was a good sign, but then I'd already decided that Antaeus was a pretty cool customer.
'Valerius Corvinus,' he said. 'How nice to see you again. Welcome.'
I went in and he closed the door behind me.
'The Lady Hermippe around?' I said.
He paused. 'That depends on why you want to see her, sir.'
'No sweat. This visit's social.' I tipped him the ghost of a wink. 'You get me?'
He nodded; the smile came back. 'Of course, sir. In that case if you'd care to wait in the salon I'll fetch her at once. I think you know the way.'
'That's okay. This time I'll just stay here and look at the pictures.'
'As you please.' He made for the stairs.
I let him get to the landing and out of sight, then tried the three other doors off the lobby. Two of them were locked, but the third gave out onto a passageway. Sure, it might lead to the cellars but I couldn't risk a foray down it, not yet. I shelved that for later. I was examining the Achilles painting when Hermippe came down.
'That a real Panainos?' I said.
She smiled. 'You have an eye for art, Valerius Corvinus. Rare in a Roman.'
'Not me, lady. I just know someone who does.'
'Then she taught you well. No, it isn't a Panainos, but it was done by one of his pupils and the style is almost identical. Beautiful, isn't it?'
'It's okay, yeah.'
'Shall we go into the salon? It's more comfortable.'
'Sure.' She led the way. No Cotile, not this time: the room was empty.
'Now.' She sat on a chair and waved me to a couch. 'Antaeus tells me this is a private visit. I'm delighted. It's always a pleasure to add to our clientele, and to welcome new friends personally. Do help yourself to wine, by the way.'
I did. 'You like some?' I said.
'No thank you. Wine isn't one of my weaknesses.'
Jupiter! If this was a cat-house then it wasn't like any I'd ever been in, and it was making me nervous as hell. Any minute now she'd start passing round the almond cakes and ask how my mother was doing. 'Uh...you are open for business, aren't you?’ I said. ‘I mean...'
'Of course.' Another smile. 'But I must know your preferences. I find that a relaxed chat on the first visit resolves all sorts of problems in advance. What exactly are your interests?'
'Uh...'
'We have quite a range of girls free at the moment, especially at this time of day. Cleo, perhaps? She's from Palmyra, Persian-trained, very skilled. Then there's Thalia, an Alexandrian, or if your tastes run to the more exotic I can offer you a Nubian girl, although –'
'How about the one I saw yesterday? Cotile?' Research; strictly research.
She hesitated. 'I'm afraid Cotile isn't available. Not for the next two or three days, anyway. Another time, perhaps.'
Ah, well. Maybe that was for the best. 'You like to recommend a girl yourself, maybe?'
'Certainly. I'd be honoured, if that's what you wish.' She gave me a summing look. 'Cleo, I think. Antaeus will show you to her room.' She reached into the fold of her mantle and took out a small bell. 'Incidentally, and I hope you'll forgive me mentioning the subject, but some of our guests prefer a monthly payment. It's quite up to you, but I would recommend it.'
'Ah... no.' I could just see Perilla's face when the bill hit the mat. I fumbled for my purse. Gods! That was a new one since my day! I wasn't used to moving in such civilised circl
es! 'No, I'll pay now.'
'That will be quite acceptable. And naturally there will be a reduction for the first visit.'
She named a sum that had me reeling. Jupiter's balls on a string! No wonder the place had original paintings on the walls! Still, I managed to pay up without seeming too boorish. At least I hoped I didn't.
Hermippe stood up. 'No need to take your wine with you,’ she said. ‘Cleo will have a tray of her own.' She rang the bell and the giant squeezed through the door. 'Antaeus, take this gentleman up to Cleo's room, please.' The guy bowed and stepped aside. 'I do hope you enjoy your time here, Valerius Corvinus. And that you'll favour us again soon.'
'Yeah. Yeah, thanks.'
'This way, sir.' Antaeus led me up the stairs. 'You didn't find the friend you were looking for, incidentally?'
'Melanthus? No. Not yet.'
'A pity. Still, I've no doubt you will in time. Cleo's is the last door on the right. Stay as long as you wish, naturally, and tell her if there is anything else you require in the way of food or drink.'
I'd been looking at the doors as we passed. Each of them had a small plaque with a girl's name written on. All except one, the one at the end of the corridor, beyond Cleo's. That one had no plaque at all.
Antaeus knocked at the last door on the right, then went back downstairs without a word. I went in alone.
23.
It felt like I'd just stepped across the River Orontes and into the Parthian king's palace. The sharp corners of the room and the ceiling were hidden with spreads of blue and yellow silk, making a tent, and the air was heavy with perfume and spices. The girl lay on a divan lit by a single standing candelabrum. She sat up with a whisper of silk on bare flesh. Her almond eyes were ringed with black cosmetic.
Sticking with the research idea was going to be difficult. I could tell that already.
'Uh...you're Cleo?' I said.
'Yes, lord.' She stretched, and the bells at her ankles rang gently. 'Come in, please. Make yourself at home. Would you like some wine?'
'Yeah.' My throat was dry already. 'Yeah, that'd be good.'
The jug and cups were sitting on a low table by the bed. She reached over to pour, and the thin silk blouse moulded itself around her nipples.
'Your over-tunic, lord.' She smiled. 'You'd be more comfortable without it, I think.'
'No, that's okay.' She was right, though: the room was warm, and there was a small brazier giving off a scent that cut through the other perfumes and set the back of my nose tingling. 'I'll keep it on for now.'
'As you wish.' She held out the cup. 'Here. Some honeyed figs? From Damascus. Very good. You're hungry?'
'No, I'm fine.' I took the wine cup and sipped.
'Then lie down. Relax. There's no hurry.'
Jupiter Best and Greatest! Maybe I'd've been better with Cotile after all, time of the month or not; at least I had past acquaintance to fall back on. Hermippe was right, Cleo was a real honey: smooth skin white as cream, dark hair done up in the Parthian style, breasts shining through the thinnest of silk coverings. Shit! What was that scent?
I lay down on the divan. Her fingers touched my forehead, light as feathers.
'You're Roman, lord?'
'Yeah.'
'I haven't met a Roman before. Not properly.' The fingers found the bruise at the back of my head. I winced. 'You're hurt?'
'It's nothing. Just a bump.'
'Not just a bump. Put the wine cup down and turn round a little, please. Let me reach your neck. There, that's better.'
Jupiter and all the gods, that was good! Her fingers worked their way down slowly to the top of my spine, rubbing gently.
'The doctors do this in Parthia, lord,' she said. 'It's a very old skill which relaxes the muscles. You feel it working?'
Sure I did. I was almost purring. As a masseuse back in Rome she could've made a fortune. 'Yeah. Yeah, that's great. Fantastic.'
'Good. You have a strong neck, but the muscles are bunched and knotted. Something is worrying you.'
'Maybe.'
'It's not important. Or not now. Relax.'
I found myself drifting. Relax. I hadn't felt this relaxed for years. Certainly not recently. Certainly not since...
Since...
Oh, hell! I was falling asleep! I shook my head and sat up.
'Lord?'
'It's okay,' I said. It had to be done now, or never. A pity. Personally at that moment I'd have opted for never, and the hell with Priscus, Melanthus and the Baker, but I knew I'd regret it later. 'Cleo, you mind if we talk for a minute?'
'Of course not, lord. We can do whatever you like.' We were face to face. Her eyes were wide and luminous and her breasts with their gilded nipples beneath the transparent silk were brushing the folds of my mantle. Gods, maybe this hadn't been such a good idea at that. And whatever was burning on that brazier was doing funny things to my brain. Pleasant as hell, sure, but that wasn't the point...
I shook my head to clear it. 'I'm looking for a guy called Melanthus. A regular. He usually goes with Anthe. You know him?'
She considered. 'No, lord. I haven't been here long. And we're strictly forbidden to –'
'Discuss one customer with another. Yeah. Yeah, I know. One of the house rules. But this is important.' I described him. 'You seen him around, maybe? Outside working hours, as it were? In the building?'
'No, lord.'
Well, it had been worth a try. Back to the original plan. I took out my purse and found the remaining gold piece. 'Okay. I'm going to slip out for a while. Say nothing and this is yours. That seem reasonable?'
'The Lady Hermippe –'
'I won't tell, I swear. I've gone down to have a word with the coachman, that's all. Cleo, this is important!'
A pause. 'Yes, I know,' she said. 'Cotile said he'd disappeared. The man you were asking about.'
'Yeah. Yeah, that's right. Only he may still be here, and I've got to check. You understand?'
She nodded; not the world's greatest brain, but with a body like that who needs brains? 'Very well, lord. It's not really permitted, but –'
I slipped her the coin and got to my feet. Gods alive! I just hoped that if Perilla ever found out about this she'd appreciate the sacrifice I was making. Not that she ever would find out...
'Uh...what is that stuff you're burning, by the way?' I said.
'The upper leaves of the qef plant. lord.'
'The which?'
She smiled. 'It hasn't a name in Greek. They burn it in Parthia and inhale the smoke. It brings good dreams.'
'Is that right?' Well, maybe it was the qef or Cleo's massage, or probably a combination of the two, but I felt really good, almost like I was flying. 'You stay here, okay?'
'Of course.' She half-sat on the divan and drew her beautiful legs under her. I took one last look. Gods alive! I must be crazy!
Crazy or not, it had to be done. I listened for a moment at the closed door, then opened it and slipped outside. There was no one around. It was lucky we were at the end of the corridor and I only had one direction to worry about. I put my ear to the unmarked door next to Cleo's. Nothing. I turned the handle...
Then I heard the sound of voices from downstairs: men's voices. I froze, ready to dive back into Cleo's room, but whoever it was must have crossed the hall and gone into one of the downstairs rooms because I heard a door close and then silence. I turned the knob again.
The door opened onto a broom closet. Shit. Talk about anticlimax. Well, if Antaeus caught me I could always say I'd had this uncontrollable urge to sweep the corridor. So. That left downstairs, which was a complete bummer. Added to which I didn't know where Antaeus parked himself when he wasn't doing his perfect butler act. On the other hand, there had been those voices, and although I hadn't heard them at all clearly I was pretty sure neither of them belonged to the jolly giant. It was just possible one of them was Melanthus's; but if so then I sure as hell wasn't going to find out shaking in my sandals up here.
I walked along
the corridor as quietly as I could without sneaking: if Antaeus did come up I could tell him what I'd told Cleo, that I wanted a word with Dida outside.
The middle door on the right was marked for Anthe. I stopped. Cotile had said she'd gone to Corinth, which meant the room should be empty. And if Melanthus was hiding out in the Scallop then an empty room was well worth checking.
I listened, then tried the door. It was open. I pushed.
Anthe obviously had a thing about dried flower arrangements: the room was full of them, but otherwise it was uncluttered. The bed was made up. I went in and closed the door behind me. Then I checked the dressing table and the clothes chest. Lots of perfumes and cosmetics, but nothing else, and the only clothes in the chest were women's ones. What there was of them; Anthe was clearly the direct type. Well, it'd been worth a try. If Melanthus was here I doubted if he'd taken that much trouble over his cover; or if he had then I didn't want to know. Downstairs it had to be.
I stopped outside Hermippe's office at the top of the stairs. No sign of Antaeus. Hopefully he was off somewhere polishing his diphthongs. I could hear the voices again, muffled this time. They weren't coming from the salon but from behind one of the doors I'd tried earlier. Cautiously, I came down and put my ear to the panel...
'Can I help you, sir?'
I spun round. Bugger! Antaeus! The guy must have woollen feet!
'Uh...I just wanted a word with my coachman, friend,' I said. It didn't sound convincing even to me. 'He's waiting outside.'
'Indeed.'
'Yeah. So if you'll just excuse me...'
He didn't move. It was like finding that a stone wall had suddenly decided to get between you and where you wanted to be.
'Perhaps, Valerius Corvinus,' he said, 'if you're so interested in overhearing private conversations you would care to join in.'
'Uh, no, that's okay. I think I'll just –'
He reached over and took a grip my arm. Gently enough, but it would've been easier to get out of a vice. With his other hand he knocked at the door. The voices stopped.
Antaeus opened the door and guided me inside.
The place was another office, like Hermippe's, but plusher, almost a sitting-room, with two or three life-size bronzes and veneered marble panelling round the walls. Behind the desk was a little wizened guy, his bald head sticking up from an expensive-looking mantle with enough purple and gold thread on it to fit out a triumphal procession. As I came in the man sitting opposite with his back to me turned round...
The Lydian Baker (Marcus Corvinus Book 4) Page 15