David Wishart - Parthian Shot

‘No. No, that’s okay,’ I said. ‘Anna’s fine.’

‘As you wish. Then the price is five gold pieces. Payable in advance. There are, naturally, no other charges.’

Ouch; at those rates I’d hope there wouldn’t be! Yeah, well, like I say the lady was nothing if not business-like. I reached into my pouch and took out the five big ones. She laid them on the table.

‘The wine’s to your liking?’

‘It’s fine. Syrian?’

‘But yes! From the region near Apamea. You’ve met with it before?’

‘Something similar. You’re, uh, from Syria yourself?’

‘Palmyra. Although I spent some time in Antioch.’

‘The Graces been open long?’

‘Three or four years. We’re very well established. And, as your colleague Vitellius no doubt explained, very exclusive.’

‘He recommend many new customers?’

‘A few. The ex-consul is very much taken with the Graces. Understandably so.’ The slave had come back in and was waiting politely. ‘Ah. Anna is ready for you now, Valerius Corvinus. Praxas will take you. There will be wine in the room, Apamean, but if you have any other preferences then please say so. We have an extensive cellar. Also food and, if you do change your mind and wish to use the bath suite the furnace is hot.’

‘No, I’ll be okay.’

‘I’m sure you will be.’ She stood up and I stood too. ‘Enjoy your stay with us.’

I noticed that she’d left the coins on the table. No doubt she’d pocket them as soon as I was gone, but the point was made. Classy place right enough.

‘This way, sir,’ Praxas said.

I followed him through into a wider hall with a staircase at the back. We went up to the first floor past alcoves with candelabra and bronzes, then along a short corridor to a panelled door. Praxas knocked gently then stood aside.

‘Just go in, Valerius Corvinus,’ he said. ‘If there is anything further you require then please don’t hesitate to ask.’

The bedroom beyond could’ve belonged in an eastern client-king’s palace. I recognised the girl on the bed straight off. The last time I’d seen that little stunner she’d been sharing Callion’s couch at the embassy dinner.

She recognised me too. Her eyes widened, then her expression settled into careful blankness. I closed the door behind me, walked over to the couch on the right-hand side of the room — it was plain cedar-wood, not gilded, with red-plush upholstery — and sat down. She was watching me all the way.

‘Hi,’ I said.

Stunner was no exaggeration. Like Helen, she was obviously an easterner, with long blue-black hair worn loose, dark eyes with just a trace of makeup and a face and figure that would’ve had any self-respecting artist after a model for Aphrodite reaching for his sketch-pad. Her legs beneath the short silk dressing-gown were bare. She drew them up until her chin rested on her knees.

‘Hi,’ she said.

It couldn’t be a coincidence; no way could it be a coincidence, especially since she was still watching me like a cat caught with the cream and deciding which way to jump. I remembered Vitellius, in the litter going back from the dinner, saying that the first thing Callion had asked for when he arrived in Rome was the address of a decent brothel. And Vitellius had recommended the Graces, no doubt Anna in particular; which was why Phraates had very carefully linked their two names when he sent me here…

Everything fitted. Vitellius had fixed Callion up. Vitellius was — at least where the Parthians were concerned — Isidorus’s right-hand man and a shit-hot diplomat. Or whatever these buggers called themselves. And Callion, he was the odd man out of the embassy: a Greek from Seleucia, which might well be — according toVitellius himself — less than a spit’s distance from opting out of Parthian control altogether…

It was the oldest game in the world. And it was beautiful.

‘You work for Isidorus, don’t you?’ I said quietly.

If I’d sounded less certain, even to myself, I think she might’ve denied it. As it was, she just shrugged and said:

‘He told you?’

‘Uh-uh.’ I shook my head. ‘But it makes sense. He had Vitellius plant you on Callion when the embassy arrived. Your job was to find out all you could about Seleucia’s plans for revolt. Right?’

She blew a wisp of hair from her face. ‘Yes. More or less.’

‘Were the other girls at the dinner in on it too? The ones with Tiridates and Damon?’

‘No. There was just me.’ She was still watching me closely, eyes slitted, wary.

‘How about the boss of the place? Helen?’

The lips twitched. I thought she was going to laugh, but she didn’t. ‘Helen doesn’t work for Isidorus.’

There was something there that I didn’t quite catch, but I let it go for now. I stretched out on the couch. ‘Care to tell me all about it?’ I said.

This time she did laugh, a genuine amused laugh but with a hard edge; a woman’s laugh, not a girl’s. A thinking woman. Now that I’d had a bit more time to study her I could see she was older than I’d thought at first, mid-twenties, easy, and I had the distinct feeling that statue-maker’s dream or not she’d be no pushover. Without a trace of self-consciousness she sat up against the headboard of the bed and brushed the hair back completely from her face, letting the silk dressing gown part completely. No fancy gilded nipples or spangles there. Mind you, with what she had she didn’t need them.

‘Corvinus — that’s your name, isn’t it?’ she said.

‘Yeah. That’s me.’

‘All right. Let’s get this clear. You’ve paid out five gold pieces and you want to talk? ’

I grinned. ‘It’s my money, lady.’

She stared at me — she was beginning to relax now — then shrugged again and stretched her long beautiful legs out in front of her. She didn’t make any attempt to close the dressing-gown. ‘Fair enough,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter all that much to me either way. Nor to Isidorus; he’s got what he wants and my part’s finished. There’s wine on that table beside you. Pour some for yourself; not for me, I’m not allowed it, and that bastard Praxas sniffs your breath after a customer’s gone.’

The jug and cups were heavy silver with a hunting scene on them. I reached over and poured. ‘So how did you get into this business?’ I said. ‘The cloak-and-dagger side, I mean?’

Her eyes rested on me for a long time, considering. Then she said: ‘I’m from Ecbatana originally. Artabanus had my father crucified, him personally, and my mother and two sisters died too. I won’t bother you with the details. I was fifteen. I got away thanks to a not-completely-disinterested merchant and ended up in a cat-house in Alexandria. One of Isidorus’s friends — colleagues — happened by one day and suggested I come to Rome. That was three years ago. I’ve been here ever since.’

‘Helen doesn’t know? About your link with Isidorus?’

Again that small, strange smile. ‘No. She doesn’t know. Isidorus — through Vitellius — sends me customers now and again. Not very often, and the result isn’t always productive, but he gets good value. And if I can harm Artabanus along the way then that’s an extra.’

I took a sip of the wine. ‘So what about Callion?’

‘He was the big one. Most of the special customers are from the eastern client-kingdoms, or the Parthian satellite kingdoms at best. I’d never had a real Parthian, even the Greek variety. Isidorus knew Callion had been given secret instructions before he left Seleucia to do a private deal with — ’ She hesitated. ‘With a high-up Roman. The Seleucian revolt would be timed to coincide with the invasion. Isidorus wanted details.’