Mary Reed - Seven for a Secret

Isis led him away. A murmur of excited voices followed them down a corridor whose wall hangings told the story of Leda and the swan in a manner more graphic than tasteful.

Isis paused as she placed her hand on the swan-head latch of the door to her private chambers. “Do you know, Anatolius, these days there’s as much money to be made in wonders as in sexual comfort? I have thought I will give up this establishment and take to selling gryphon’s claws and salamander eggs and the mummified foreskins of saints. But then what would my girls do for a living?”

Anatolius helped himself to wine and tried to make himself comfortable on an overly stuffed couch while Isis went off to find further refreshments. Compared to the garish decor of the rest of the house, the room was simply furnished with a few finely wrought chairs and side tables and subtly patterned wall hangings which, he guessed, were, like Isis, of Egyptian origin. The polished sandalwood writing desk where she did her accounts was a reminder that she had long since ceased laboring in her profession and become an owner.

Isis returned with a silver bowl filled with nut-stuffed dates. “You’re looking glum, Anatolius. You haven’t suddenly developed religious scruples against my house, have you?”

“Certainly not! It’s just that…well…I’m always of two minds when I come in here.”

Isis daintily popped a date into her mouth and spoke around it. “Why, I’m surprised. I thought you’d had more than a few pleasurable adventures here.”

Anatolius nodded. “I have. Only practically all of them have occurred when I’ve been…um…alone.”

“And suffering from the pain of a broken heart? Tell me, will you be needing some solace today?”

“Not today. All I need is information.”

“You have a mistress then?”

“Only the law. She keeps me busy.”

“That explains why I haven’t seen you much lately. Alas, all my friends at court have deserted me. Captain Felix hasn’t crossed the threshold for a long while. I’ve missed seeing that bear of a man. Is he frequenting some other establishment? I recall when he swore he would marry one of my girls. Berta. Remember? But, needless to say, that didn’t happen. Maybe he tired of searching for another Berta here and found her elsewhere.”

“I don’t think so, Isis. He knows better than to allow himself to become involved like that. Just as I’ve learned.”

Isis sniffed. “Men never learn. Fortunately for me. Do you know, only yesterday I was pondering where I could find another doorkeeper now Thomas has left his post for the fresher air of the coast.”

She tapped Anatolius on the knee. “Now tell me, you’re a friend of his. Do you think Felix might be interested in the post? Though as captain of the excubitors he has power and wealth enough…and yet, the last time we spoke, he appeared to be very restless and not a little dissatisfied with his current duties.”

Anatolius stared at Isis in astonishment, then realized she must be jesting. He laughed. “You’re right! To hear Felix tell it, watching your door would engage his military skills to a greater extent than the tiresome duties Justinian expects of him. Which is to say, little in the actual fighting line.”

“He hasn’t been relegated to sharpening swords for the generals in the field?”

Anatolius laughed. “Hardly. He probably made it sound that way. Now and then these old soldiers get the urge to march all day and subsist on plain rations while fending off nocturnal attacks. I can’t imagine why, but then I’ve never been a soldier. Anyway, Constantinople is more dangerous than any battlefield. Mithra knows there’re backstabbers aplenty on the palace grounds, and all of them eager enough to insert a blade between someone’s ribs if it would advance them even just the length of a reception hall. Speaking of rations, where did you obtain these excellent stuffed dates? I haven’t seen dates on sale since before the plague arrived.”

“I got them from a cook in the imperial kitchen,” Isis admitted without a blush. “No knives were involved. He’s taken a fancy to one of my girls so we came to an arrangement which benefited all of us, including my employee.”

Dropping her voice, she looked at him appraisingly. “Speaking of which, I’ve engaged a couple of new girls since you were last here. One, in fact, met you at the door. Perhaps you might like to meet her behind another and more private door? The law is not nearly so warm or playful.”

The thought of the prostitute reminded Anatolius of his reason for calling. “Do any of your new girls have tattoos?”

Isis stared back in consternation. “Tattoos? Is this a new fashion at court? I’m always interested in hearing about these things. I like to keep ahead of my competition. If you want a girl with tattoos-”

Anatolius grinned. “Let me tell you why I’m making inquiries, Isis. I’m here on John’s behalf to consult you about tracing a woman with a tattoo on her wrist.”

“It’s been some little time since he visited too. Tell him I hope he’ll come to see me soon, especially since he’s not long returned from Alexandria,” she grumbled. “Who else can I talk to about the old days?”

John had explained to Anatolius that although he and Isis had both spent time in Egypt they had never met there. Anatolius, as usual, did not bother to point out her error. She appeared to cherish the recollection. Her imagination? Or, perhaps, it was simply her own little joke.

“There’s always that magician downstairs,” Anatolius suggested. “It’s only a couple of months since he was in Egypt.”

“An excellent suggestion, but why is John seeking a woman with a tattoo? It seems a strange quest.”

Anatolius explained the circumstances. “Personally, as I told John, I suspect the victim was a prostitute.”

“I see. So as for the authorities…” She waved her hand dismissively. “We are nothing to them, except when they need a bit of bodily comfort or the next bribe is due. I wish I could assist, but the only tattoos under this roof decorate a couple of girls from Egypt, both of whom I saw this morning, and the tattoos are on their ankles.” She glanced down at her feet. “Like mine.”

“This is the third house I’ve visited this morning, and all to no avail. You’ll keep an eye open though? The tattoo depicts a scarab with a rough cross on top of it. Does that mean anything?”

“The scarab is the sacred beetle. By cross you must mean the ankh? It signifies life. The gods carry them.”

“John thought it might originally have been an ankh. If so, it’s rather ironic under the circumstances, isn’t it?”

Isis looked thoughtful. “If you don’t discover anything useful for John, you may at least be able to help me. Let me know if any of the houses you visit are offering anything new to bring in more custom. Since the plague people seem more interested in miracles than in the natural joys of this life.”

Anatolius agreed he would inform Isis if her competitors were providing any unusual services.

“I’ll see that Leda does something special for you,” Isis promised.

“Leda?”

“The girl who showed you into the house. Don’t think I didn’t catch your glance at her, but trying to give the impression you were looking elsewhere. Why, the first time you visited me as a lad, you pretended to be more interested in the wildlife in the floor mosaic than the wildlife surrounding you.”

“I was scared out of my wits,” Anatolius recalled with a smile. “You really remember that?”

“I have an excellent memory,” Isis assured him, offering the bowl of dates again.

“Then you’ll recall it wasn’t that I came to that last place of yours of my own accord. I thought I was going to the market with one of father’s servants and the man insisted he needed to stop there. He’d only be a few moments, he said, and left me in the atrium and…well…”