Calgaich the Swordsman (40 page)

"Untouched?”

Quintus nodded. “The honor of the emperor was at stake.”

“To a black king in Nubia.”

Their eyes met across the table.

Lutorius came through the garden gateway from the olive grove. “I would have had her. Damn it! Why did that goat have to shit right where I was running?”

Calgaich grinned. “He knew you were coming, Bottle Emptier. You were ambushed.”

Lutorius dropped onto a couch and reached for the wine jug. “That's the story of my life.”

“Don't worry, Bottle Emptier. When you do catch her, you'll be sorry,” Quintus said. “She'll break your back in bed. I warn you. I gave up on her months ago. I like them a little quieter, if not less amorous. Besides, there are plenty of others around here, Lutorius. You've got this whole night and the next day to play the satyr. Take it easy! This isn't a whorehouse where you pay your money, hop on and then hop off, and then go home wondering if you really had anything at all.”

Lutorius nodded. “You're right, Oak Tree. The night is young. The wine is good. The companionship is of the best. Why worry?” He drained his wine cup and looked speculatively toward the shadowed olive grove. “Still, I
almost
caught her . . .” He looked at Calgaich. “Have you made a choice yet, eh, barbarian?”

Calgaich shook his head. “I hadn't thought of it.” “Perhaps that slender reed of a Nubian?” Lutorius persisted. “Not my style. Those tits of hers would poke a hole into a legion shield, and she's got no width to her rump.” His voice died away as he caught a warning glance from Calgaich.

“Crates!” Quintus roared. “Food, by the gods! Move those skinny legs of yours!” He looked at Lutorius. “The Nubian is a virgin, Bottle Emptier.”

“I’ll take care of that for you,” Lutorius offered. “Although I don't like virgins. Give me a broken-in filly like that damned speedy Syrian for my taste.”

“Paetina is like one of my own to me. I never had a family. I never knew my own father. My mother died of drink when I was no bigger than a fart. I had no brothers and sisters. The only relatives I ever really had were my comrades in the legion, that is, until Paetina came.

"So, you see, this is my home. My slaves are my family. This is where I can live and enjoy life, at least until I have to go back to that accursed school and train other men to fight and kill each other.”

A slave came from the house and lighted lamps which he hung about the garden. Crates and two women slaves brought food and more wine to the table.

"Is there no escape for you from the school, Oak Tree?" Calgaich asked.

“Where could I go? I have a position of importance. I gained my wooden sword because the city mob was always with me. Valens has always wanted to oust me from the Ludus Maximus and has the power to do so. But like every other official in the city, he fears the mob. Still, it is not an easy life, knowing that Valens is always looking for some way to oust me."

"Can't you retire here?" Lutorius asked.

Quintus shrugged. "I have been too long in harness to suddenly drop it altogether and become a gentleman olive farmer. Besides! I think I owe the mob something for what they have done for me. By the gods! Do you know how many boy babies born in the past ten years have borne the name of Quintus Gaius? There are half a dozen wine shops named The Oak Tree after me. They even had a street named after me! It is really through the mob that I gained this place, as well as the favor of the emperor."

"But, if the emperor were here, you'd be safe enough from Valens, eh, Quintus?" Calgaich asked.

"
If
he were here instead of fighting one of his damned frontier wars again. In Cyrenaica, of all places!"

"And Valens is plotting to take over the throne."

Quintus leaned forward. "It would be worth your life if you said that out in public. He has spies everywhere. He has the palace guard with him and the garrison of Ostia, as well as the powerful naval squadron stationed there. Also the instructors and students of the three other gladiatorial schools."

"A ready-made professional army able to gain control of the city," Calgaich added.

"Can you think of a better one?" Quintus asked quietly.

“But he needs the city mob as well before he could gain control of Rome.”

“How popular is he?” Calgaich asked.

Quintus shrugged. “Popular enough. He has done a good job as procurator of the Games. He'd throw his own mother into the arena to please the mob.”

“I can see now why he hated us the day I fought,” Calgaich said.

“He would have kept at you until you were slain if it hadn't been for your grandfather, barbarian.”

“Where does he stand in all this political intrigue?”

“He is loyal. First to Rome, and then to the emperor. Valens hates him and fears him.”

It was very quiet in the lamplit garden. Moths fluttered about the oil lamps. The soft splashing of the fountain mingled with the soughing of the night wind through the olive and cypress trees. Quintus suddenly looked uneasy. “Calgaich, take a walk toward the front of the villa, but don't go through the house. Lutorius, scout the olive grove. I'll take a look inside the house. You both know what I mean. The night has ears in Rome.”

Calgaich vaulted over the garden wall and padded through the shrubbery toward the front of the house. The faint grinding of wagon wheels on the flags of the road, mingled with the clopping of hooves, came to him on the wind from the winding road that passed along the bottom of the slopes on its way to the banks of the Tiber. The vehicle turned up on the side road toward the villa.

Calgaich faded into the shrubbery. The wagon came to a halt in front of the house. The driver descended from the seat. Quintus Gaius met him at the doorway. There was no mistaking the huge bulk of the gladiator master, even in the pre-moon darkness. A woman laughed shrilly. The house door opened, then closed softly.

Calgaich went back to the garden. Lutorius came through the gateway. He shook his head. “Nothing, not even that damned speedy Syrian.”

“There was a wagon at the front of the house.”

“I heard it. There was a woman there.”

Calgaich grinned. “A city whore, perhaps?”

“I don't know why. The Oak Tree has women in plenty here, enough for him and us. Why another?”

Quintus came from the house accompanied by a tall man clad in a white tunic and wearing gilded sandals.

“By Hercules!” Lutorius cried. “It's the weasel!”

“I must be drunker than I thought,” Calgaich admitted.

“Well met, friends!” Fomoire cried.

“You look like you’ve just come from the Forum, or at least the latrines there,” Lutorius said. “They say that’s where most of the business of Rome takes place anyway.”

Fomoire smiled. “Nothing quite as elegant as that.”

Quintus indicated a couch for Fomoire. “Fomoire brings us news.”

“You look well, Fomoire,” Calgaich said. “How are things in the sty of the Perfumed Pig?”

“I’m still a virgin, if that’s what you mean.” Fomoire studied Calgaich for a moment. “But you aren’t concerned about me, Calgaich. Isn’t it the women about whom you’re concerned?”

“You’re right,” Calgaich admitted.

“Morar and Cairenn have gone to the house of Aemilius Valens on the Viminal Hill.”

Calgaich narrowed his eyes. “What’s that you say?”

“It seems as though Morar wanted to go, and Lucius Sextillius fears the man.”

“Did she go with the permission of the Lady Antonia?” Calgaich asked.

“One woman is enough in the camp of Lady Antonia, and
she
must be the one. The Perfumed Pig resisted Antonia’s wishes at first, but she placated him by letting him keep Bronwyn.”

Calgaich shook his head. Morar meant nothing to him now, no matter what she did, or whom she slept with, but Bronwyn was another matter, an innocent in the hands of the depraved Lucius, whom Calgaich had learned to despise and hate.

“Fomoire, you are too brief in your report. Tell me more. Why did Morar let her stay? Could she be that evil?” Calgaich left his couch and began pacing back and forth between the fountain and the table laden with food and wine.

“Do you really want to hear, Calgaich? Is it not enough to know that Morar and Cairenn have gone to

Valens's villa and Bronwyn is left behind? Do you really want details?”

“I have to know
,” Calgaich said, pausing at the foot of Fomoire’s couch.

“Then, seat yourself and I will tell you.”

Calgaich resumed his place on a couch, his eyes on Fomoire. He drank deeply from his wine. Lutorius and Quintus did not move.

Fomoire picked up his wine cup, but he did not drink. There was a faraway look in his eyes as he began to speak, turning the wine cup in his hands.

“I am powerless in the villa of the Perfumed Pig. I can
do
nothing. But I
know
everything that goes on. I am in places I would be killed for even having seen. I have grown to know the gardens and the sweep and spread of the heavy curtains which line the rooms and baths. It is there I spend many hours of my time.

“Two weeks ago, late one afternoon, Lady Antonia and Lucius Sextillius were walking in the gardens. They were discussing Morar. Lady Antonia was telling Lucius that it was politically necessary for him to allow Morar to go to Aemilius Valens. I, too, was walking in the gardens,” Fomoire said modestly,” and heard everything.

“ ‘Valens has too much power for us to go against his wishes,’ ” Lady Antonia said. ‘We can gain favor by presenting Morar to him as a gift, a token of our loyalty, rather than have Valens seize the golden-haired woman, which he has the power to do.’ ”

“ ‘He would not have that power if the emperor were in Rome.’ ”Lucius pouted.

“‘He
is not
in Rome. Valens
is.
And he controls the mob.’ ” Lady Antonia said. She called for more wine. I could see from my place behind the shrubs that she was pouring his cup more full than hers. It was not like her.

“ ‘Besides,’” she continued, ‘there are those who say her sister is more lovely in her shyness. Morar is too brazen and well deserves the title
Flava Coma
—Yellow Hair.”

“ ‘She is
not
a whore; she was to be my
wife!”
Lucius said, dashing his cup to the tiles surrounding the fountain.

“Antonia signaled for another cup. ‘She will be Valens’s betrothed within a week.
She
wishes to go. I have told her she may go. She paused to allow Lucius to understand that it was already beyond his control. Then she said in a cajoling voice, 'But I have not yet told her of the one condition of her leaving here.’”

" 'Which is? '” Lucius asked peevishly.

" 'Her sister, Bronwyn, stays."

Fomoire stopped speaking to take a sip of his wine. Calgaich and Lutorius were silent. They, too, took deep draws on the fine Falernian wine, but their eyes never left Fomoire's face. Soon he continued.

"That evening Lady Antonia and Lucius went their separate ways—she to a party at her son's
domus
, and he to a reception for one of the emperor's generals, newly arrived in Rome, to bring news of the emperor's victories. I knew that the next morning was when Lady Antonia would speak to Morar. I went to Lucius earlier than usual and gave him his morning draught; then I made myself a part of the heavy curtain in Morar's chamber. Morar had just risen from a heavy sleep and too much wine the night before. She called for Cairenn to summon her slaves and the make-up boxes. She paints herself now in the fashion of the Roman women, puts ochre on her cheeks and lips.

"Then she sent Cairenn to bring Bronwyn to her for company, that they might be painted and dressed together. Cairenn works hard in Morar's service, running here and there to do her bidding, but at least she is safe." Fomoire stopped speaking at the word "safe."

"Continue," Calgaich said softly.

"When Cairenn returned with a sleepy Bronwyn, Morar made her drink a cup of wine to wake her up, and then she sent for fruit and cheese and bade Bronwyn eat because she was growing thin. Next, Morar told the slaves to begin their morning's tasks. Together the sisters sat in chairs as the women began to comb their long golden hair. They did this for at least an hour. The slaves love tending the hair of the sisters, because it is so soft and lovely.”

"Do not dwell on it," Calgaich said quickly. Quintus waved the slaves away who had come for the remnants of food.

Fomoire continued, "Lady Antonia entered as they sat there. She did not waste words. 'You are to prepare to leave tonight, Morar. Valens wishes to have you visit him at his villa, and we have generously agreed for you to go.’ ” She stood before Morar and waved away a chair proffered by a fearful slave woman. One could tell Lady Antonia was jealous of the sisters' youth and beauty.

“’The slave woman, ” she gestured to Cairenn who was holding a heavy gold necklace, “goes with you.” Cairenn never raised her eyes to Lady Antonia, but walked with her head down. I could see that Morar was delighted at being allowed to leave the Perfumed Pig's villa so easily, and already her eyes were clouded with the thought of being in Valens's bed that same night. But Lady Antonia's next words brought her back.

“ ‘Bronwyn, of course, stays here. Lucius and I have need of her company.’ ”

“ ‘But I cannot leave her here!” Morar cried, pushing away the woman who was lifting a lock of her hair into place.

“ ‘Then, you will stay and she will go. Valens would be disappointed for a few hours, but I think he would accept the substitution.”

“Bronwyn just sat there quietly while the two women spat words back and forth. Finally, quietly, she began to cry. But she said nothing until Lady Antonia had left the chamber. ‘Morar!” she wept, ‘you cannot leave me here. Anything is better than this house. You are more clever than I and have been able to hold Lucius at arm's length as it suits you.'

“ ‘Quiet,'” Morar said, touching her sister's hand; then she sent the other slaves away, telling them they could finish their tasks later. Bronwyn’s painted face was wet and streaked. Only Cairenn remained in the chamber. And I,” Fomoire said, “but they did not know I was there.