Mary Reed - Four for a Boy

“Would you like to see my room? I have a very interesting fresco.” Hunila favored John with a sly smile that he guessed was as contrived as the expressions on the statue a few paces away.

“He’s no use to you,” Felix cut in. “Here’s Darius to take us to see Isis. I’ll try and visit you soon, Hunila.”

Isis was perched on an ivory stool in front of the window of her private sitting room. Sunlight delineated the delicate features of an olive-skinned young woman arranging her employer’s long, glossy black hair.

To John’s chagrin the Persian doorkeeper formally announced them as the excubitor Felix and the slave John.

Isis welcomed them warmly. As she spoke, her hairdresser swept the last stray, raven locks into a tight coil and deftly secured them with a jeweled hair pin. She handed Isis a mirror.

“It is done, madam,” the girl said softly in Egyptian, Isis’ native language.

Isis complimented the woman on her efforts. “Take a few sweetmeats and share them with the other girls.”

The servant took the proffered bowl, gave a small bow and departed.

“Isn’t she a treasure? Not only wonderful at arranging my hair, but an excellent cook. I was lucky to be able to buy both her and her mother at a reduced price.”

It was the sort of comment John heard every day. It reminded him he was a chattel that could be purchased by even a well-to-do whore. His jaw clenched. Their sharp-eyed hostess noticed the tiny movement.

“John, let me tell you that I was once a slave myself. There’s no shame in it. And it’s not too long since I scraped up enough to buy my freedom although it took a year or two longer to be able to set myself up in business. Who knows what Hemsut has in store for any of us? Until you find out, sit down and have some wine. In my house all are equal.”

Felix dropped onto an overstuffed couch and helped himself to wine from an intricately engraved silver vessel that would not have looked out of place on the emperor’s table. “I’ll wager you’re wondering how I know Isis, beyond the obvious. She keeps me informed of what’s going on behind the emperor’s back. I make sure her establishment isn’t overlooked by interested parties at court who might like some female companionship.”

“And when you succeed in sending me clients with heavy coin purses who also happen to know what’s going on behind the emperor’s back, the better for both of us!” Isis commented. “Information is a valuable commodity in this city, John. As you are learning. Here, have a splash of wine.” John accepted a cup and sat next to Felix.

Isis poured herself a libation. “And now, my friends, a toast. To the health of Emperor Justin and to his nephew Justinian.”

“I shall drink to half of that!” Felix replied.

Isis smiled at Felix and then cursed him for his stupidity with a string of Egyptian epithets that would have burned the ears off the Sphinx.

“Is that another of those melodious poems from your native land, Isis?” Felix inquired.

John’s eyes had widened at the unexpected phrases. Isis pointed a ring-encircled finger at him. “You understood what I said! You speak Egyptian, don’t you?”

John admitted it was so in Isis’ native language.

“You have a passable accent. How long is it since you were there?” Isis began chattering away happily.

Felix looked at his companions in confusion. “Isis, you amaze me. We’ve been here a very short time and already you’ve found out something about this man’s mysterious background. You certainly take a keen interest in the lives of your visitors as well as your clients!”

“That’s because my clients and visitors have such interesting lives, Felix,” Isis laughed. She was an attractive woman, John thought, although in that soft, rounded way that had never much appealed to him. “Now John, when were you last in Egypt?”

“It is some years since I left, madam.”

“And you lived where?”

“Alexandria.”

“Oh, but Hemsut has been kind today.” Isis clasped her hands in front of her ample bosom. “I too lived there before I came to Constantinople. I hope to see Alexandria again when I am able to retire. That will be few more years yet. Yes, it will be good to live there again. Do you not long for those bottomless skies? Soft nights with stars as bright as the gems on an empress’ robes. The Nile flooding in the spring until nothing remains of the land but the cities, rising above the water like islands in the Sea of Marmara.”

John gave a thin smile. “I think of Egypt often, madam. Unfortunately my master requires my constant attendance at court.”

“Yes. How thoughtless of me. I apologize.” She reached over and patted John’s knee. “What does your friend Felix want to know?”

Felix frowned at the two whose conversation, in Egyptian, had been indecipherable to him. “I hope you’re not busy plotting, Isis. If you’re going to talk about me, can’t you speak in Greek?”

“Of course.” Isis refilled his cup and pushed a tray of dried apples toward him. “What do you seek?”

Felix took a hearty swallow of wine. His eyes looked unfocussed. “We’re interested in anything you might have heard from your girls about the Blues.” He described the distinctive young man John had observed fleeing after Hypatius’ death.

Isis shook her head. “Nobody like that has been here, Felix. It sounds as if even Darius would have had his hands full if such a man had visited.”

“He was larger even than your doorkeeper,” said John. “But we hear you’ve had problems with other Blues?”

Isis muttered a ripe curse under her breath. “Yes, we have. I am contemplating barring them from my house since lately they have been more trouble than their money is worth. It’s my opinion that Justinian lets them get away with murder because of Theodora’s affection for them. Not that I can blame her.”

John asked Isis if she had a particular reason for her opinion.

“You’ve probably heard that her father was a bearkeeper for the Greens and that when he died, her mother remarried. Theodora’s stepfather hoped to keep the bearkeeper’s job in the family, but the Greens turned him out. They condemned the whole family to poverty, because the father’s fate is the family’s fate. It was a terrible act. Unforgivable. Theodora and her two sisters were very young. Luckily the Blues were willing to employ the man and so her family was saved. I can appreciate Theodora’s feelings perfectly. If for some reason someone had to step in and save my girls, I would be eternally grateful to them as well.”

“Few in this city share Theodora’s gratitude toward the Blues,” put in Felix.

“True enough. But while none of us wants a blade in the ribs, I’d say the empire has more to fear from the Gourd than dim-witted young men parading around in outlandish clothing.”

Felix squeezed his eyes shut. John wondered if he was thinking hard or trying to conquer an impression that the room was spinning. Isis had already refilled the excubitor’s cup more than once.

“John was treated to a fascinating spectacle the night of the last riot,” the excubitor finally said. “I was keeping the statuary in the Gourd’s garden in line so I missed the show. From what John told me I begin to wonder if the Gourd really does practice magick, as many say.”

“They say it in whispers, surely?” was Isis’ tart reply. “And what was this astonishing spectacle?”

John quickly related the scene he had witnessed at the Gourd’s dinner party. Isis, chewing on a segment of dried apple, considered the information, then ventured the comment that nothing would surprise her with the Gourd. More importantly, what dishes had he served to his guests?