Lindsey Davis - Two for Lions

"My brother has asked," said Helena, gazing now at her food bowl with a subdued expression that suggested to me she was on the verge of laughing, "whether you-with your market-gardening family background and your well-known horticultural expertise-could possibly send him a description of what he is looking for?"

SOMETHING 'S HAPPENED AND I can't decide whether to tell you or not," said Anacrites next morning.

"Suit yourself."

Petronius Longus had also loved keeping things to himself, though at least he usually kept quiet until I noticed the signs and forced him to come clean. Why could none of my partners be honest, open types like me?

That day Anacrites and I had both reached the Calliopus barracks at roughly the same time, and at once took up our station poring over the lanista's scrolls like dutiful taxation screws. I could learn to like this life. Knowing that every discrepancy we identified meant more aureae for rebuilding the state made me, as a patriotic citizen, simper with piety. Knowing that I took my percentage from every gold coin kept a big grin on my face too.

Anacrites opted to remain coy. Secrets were his dirty heritage as a spy. I kept working until it was obvious he chose to play the shy maiden, then I rose from my stool quietly and went out of the office. As soon as our profits topped a reasonable figure, I would chain up my partner, smear him with my mother's damson jelly, and place him on a very hot sun terrace that was known to be undermined by biting ants. Could I endure him until summer, though?

Breathing slowly to control my wrath, I walked to the menagerie. Slaves were mucking out the cages but they seemed to assume I had right of entry. Trying not to impede their work, I elbowed through the tall-necked crowd of inanely curious ostriches, then set about taking a full inventory of the beasts. In one stall a sleepy-eyed bull dribbled gloomily; he was labeled "Aurochs" and named "Ruta," but having once fought a wild aurochs on a riverbank way outside the bounds of civilization, I knew this was just some domesticated cud-chewer. Ruta was big, nonetheless. So was the bear, "Borago," chained by one back leg to a post which he was slyly gnawing his way through. Each of them could be matched against an elephant and it would be a balanced fight.

I helped a man to unload a bale of straw. He spread it around in the bear's stall, keeping well out of arm and snout's reach, then stirred the prongs of his fork in a ground-level feeding trough. It was falling to pieces after what must have been a very violent life. "What happened to the manger?"

"We had a croc once." Apparently that explained it all.

"You sound as if you didn't like him."

"I hated him. We all did. Laurus looked after him, thank the gods. Poor old Laurus disappeared-gone without a trace-and we reckoned he had ended up inside the snapper."

"If the croc got Laurus, who got the croc?"

"Iddibal and the others, in the Augustan Games venatio."

I grinned. "Iddibal's the one who knows what to do with his spear?"

"Pardon, Falco?"

"Sorry; that was lewd. Doesn't he have some fancy dame chasing after him?"

"I wouldn't know." It sounded genuine. But then lies always do. The fellow seemed to think about it, with a rather scathing expression, then he added in an oblique tone, "Who knows anything about the mysterious Iddibal?"

I let it pass, but noted what he said.

They had braziers lit today, keeping the animals warm; the fug made the smells almost unbearable. I felt unsettled by the stink, the heat, the growls and occasional shuffling noises. I noticed there was an open door that I had never explored at the end of the building. Nobody stopped me, so I mooched along and looked in. I found an unconvincingly small pen labeled "Rhinoceros" and a slabbed area with damp edges labeled "Sea lion"; both were empty. A sad eagle was chewing out his feathers on a perch. And letting out a hard, terrifying roar was a huge black-maned lion.

For some reason, with Leonidas dead, the last thing I had expected to see was another great cat. He was caged up, thank Jupiter. I stood my ground, regretting the show of bravado. He was more than two strides long. The muscles of his long, straight back rippled effortlessly as he paced around. I could not imagine how anyone had ever captured him. He looked younger than Leonidas, and far more unhappy at being confined. A board leaning outside the bars said his name was "Draco." At my entrance he had rushed forwards and with a huge roar let me know what he would do to me, given the chance. When I faced up to him he prowled angrily, searching for a way to break free and attack.

I backed out of the room. The lion's roar had attracted attention from the slaves. They let out appreciative whistles at how he had made me go white. "Draco looks a handful."

"He's new; just off a boat from Carthage. He's going in the next hunt."

"Something tells me you haven't fed him yet. In fact he looks as hungry as if he hasn't been fed since he left Africa."

The slaves all grinned. I said I hoped the cage was strong. "Oh we'll be moving him later. He belongs in here normally."

"Why has he been in solitary? Is he the bad boy of the class?"

"Oh…" Vagueness set in suddenly. "All the beasts get shifted to and fro a lot."

There was nothing to query in what they had told me, yet I felt a distinct doubt. Instead of creating a fuss, I merely asked, "Did Leonidas have a name board? If no one else wants it, could I have it for a souvenir?"

"All yours, Falco." They seemed relieved I had changed the subject. One of them went for the board, which I noticed he had to fetch from the inner room. I was trying to remember whether Leonidas had had his official cognomen on his cage on previous occasions. I could not recall it, and when the board was brought out and displayed for me, I failed to recognize the uneven red lettering. I decided this was the first time I had seen it.

"Why were you keeping it in there instead of on his cage?"

"It must have been on the cage when he was in it." "Sure?" They didn't answer. "All your animals have names, don't they?"

"We're a friendly group."

"And the crowd likes something to yell out as the creatures go to their deaths?"

"Right."

"What's happened to Leonidas, now he's dead?"

They knew I had a particular interest, because of Thurius. They must have guessed I had worked out for myself that the dead lion's carcass would become cheap fodder for some other animal. "Don't ask, Falco!"

I was not intending to stick my neck out here. Not in a place where even a keeper could completely vanish without a trace. I had heard that crocodiles chew you up boots, belt, and all. A hungry lion would probably clean his plate nicely too.

I wondered how many casualties had there been at this barracks? And had any of the victims ever died other than accidentally? This would be a good place to dispose of an unwanted corpse. Was Leonidas simply the latest in a line? And if so, why?

Feeling gloomy, I returned to the office where Anacrites had undergone one of his unpredictable mood swings and was now eager to please. To get my own back I pretended not to notice his welcoming smile, but wrote steadily on my tablet until he could bear it no longer and jumped up to see what I was doing. "That's poetry!"

"I'm a poet." It was an old ode I was scribbling to annoy him, but he assumed I had just composed it at speed while he watched. He was so easy to fool it was hardly worth the effort.

"You're a man of many parts, Falco."

"Thanks." I wanted to hold a formal reading of my work one day, but I was not telling him that. There would be enough hecklers if I invited my family and real friends.

"You wrote all those lines just now?"