Steven Saylor - Arms of Nemesis

'Didn't he like it?'

'Frankly, no. It was done especially to fit the wall above his table in the library. Well, he made it quite plain that he didn't want it there. If you've seen the room, you've seen his taste — those awful statues of Hercules and Chiron. The painting above his table was even worse, a horrible thing that purported to show the Argonauts attacked by harpies, such a hideous embarrassment I can't imagine how he dared to allow visitors in the room. A really terrible painting done by some unknown hack in Neapolis, a mishmash of naked breasts and nailing claws and stiffly painted warriors brandishing swords. Words cannot exaggerate how awful it was. Am I not right, Olympias?'

The girl looked down from her work and laughed. 'It was a very bad painting, Iaia.'

'In the end Lucius acquiesced and had the thing removed so that we could mount Gelina's portrait into the wall, but he was most ungracious. Gelina had ordered a rug to match, and he complained endlessly about the expense. She was in tears more than once, thanks to that episode. Of course, misery about money was an old story in this house. What a failure Lucius was! What an impostor! What's the point of living in a villa like this if you have to count every sesterce before you spend it?'

There was a sudden tension in the room. Olympias no longer smiled. One of the slaves knocked over a pot of varnish and cursed. Even the fish seemed to quiver with unease. Iaia lowered her voice. 'Let's step into the baths. The rooms are all empty, and the light at this time of day is quite delightful. Let the boy stay here and watch Olympias work.'

The plan of the women's baths mirrored that of the men's, except for the scale, which was considerably smaller. Across the open terrace the view was much the same; beneath the rising sun the bay shone with thousands of tiny points of silver light. We walked around the circular pool, which billowed with steam in the crisp morning air. Beneath the high dome our hushed voices echoed strangely.

'I thought that Lucius and Gelina were a happy couple,' I said.

'Does she seem happy to you?'

'Her husband died a horrible death only days ago. I hardly expect to find her smiling.'

'Her mood now is little changed from before. She was miserable then, thanks to him, and she is miserable now, thanks again to him and his messy death.'

'She doesn't look miserable in the painting. Does the image lie?'

"The image captures her just as she was. And why does she seem so happy and at peace in the portrait? Consider that it was posed for and painted in the one room in the house where Lucius never set foot.'

'I was told they married for love.'

'So they did, and you see what comes of that sort of match. I knew Gelina when she was a girl, before she married. Her mother and I were about the same age and great friends. When Gelina married Lucius it was hardly my place to criticize, but I knew that only sorrow would come of it.'

'How could you be so sure? Was he such a wicked character?'

She was silent for a long moment. 'I don't claim to be a great judge of character, Gordianus, at least not when it comes to men. Do you know what they called me in the good old days? Iaia Cyzicena, Always Virgin, they called me, and not without reason. When it comes to men, I have little experience and I claim no special insight. I'm sure my judgment of a man's character is less reliable than most women's. But judgment based on experience goes only so far. There are other, surer ways of foreseeing the future.' She gazed into the swirling mists above the water.

'Yes? And what does the future hold for this house and its inhabitants?'

'Something dark and dreadful, no matter what.' She shivered. 'But to answer your question: no, Lucius was not wicked, only weak. A man of no vision, no energy, no ambition. Were it not for Crassus, he and Gelina would have starved long ago.'

'A villa and a hundred slaves are far from starvation.'

'But Lucius himself owned not a bit of it! From what I gather, his income was entirely consumed in running this palace and maintaining a facade of great wealth. Given his connection to Crassus, any other man would have made himself independently wealthy long before now. Not Lucius; he was content to amble along, taking what was given him and asking for no more, like a pampered dog begging for scraps from his master's table. To be sure, the same hand that lifted him up held him down; Crassus seemed determined that Lucius should always be the cringing, ever-thankful kinsman, never an equal or a rival, and Crassus has ways of seeing that people stay in their places. Well, Gelina deserved better than that. Now she's completely at the mercy of Crassus, not even able to say whether her own household slaves should live or die.'

'And if that should come to pass?'

Iaia stared deeply into the mist and did not answer. We circled the pool in silence.

'No matter what their differences, I think that Gelina has suffered greatly from the death of her husband,' I said quietly. 'She will suffer even more if Crassus proceeds with this terrible scheme of his.'

'Yes,' said Iaia in a dull, faraway voice. 'And she will not be alone in her suffering.'

'Surely, if it was someone here in the house who murdered Lucius, that person cannot stand by and see so many people slaughtered in his stead.'

'Not people,' she corrected, 'slaves.'

'Still-'

'And for slaves to die, even ninety-nine slaves, for the benefit of a great and wealthy man — is that not the Roman way?'

To that, I had no answer. I left her standing by the pool, staring into its sulphurous depths.

In the anteroom Eco stood on the scaffold holding a horsehair brush, while Olympias hovered behind him, her hand laid gendy atop his to guide his strokes. 'A single sweeping motion,' she was saying. 'Lay it on in a thin, even coat.'

'Really, Eco,' I called up to him, 'I had no idea you had a gift for painting.'

He gave a start. Olympias looked over her shoulder with a cheerful smile. 'He has a very steady hand,' she said.

'I'm sure he does. But I think we will take our leave. Come, Eco.' He scrambled nimbly down, looking flushed and slightly disoriented and glancing awkwardly over his shoulder as we stepped into the portico outside.

'Did you press your attentions on her, Eco, or was it Olympias who suggested that you join her on the scaffold?' Eco indicated the latter. 'Ah, it was she who stepped so close, putting her arm around you?' He nodded dreamily, then frowned at the way I pursed my Lips. 'I would not be entirely trusting of that young woman's friendliness, Eco. No, don't be silly; I'm not jealous of you. There's something about the way she smiles that makes me uncomfortable.'

A voice hailed us from behind, and I turned to see Metrobius and Sergius Orata, each attended by a slave. 'Are you on your way to the baths, too?' asked the businessman with a yawn that indicated he had just got out of bed.

'Yes,' I said. Why not?

While Orata and Eco relaxed in the hot pool, I accepted an offer from Metrobius to share his masseur. We stripped and reclined side by side on pallets in the changing room. The slave went back and forth between us, kneading our shoulders and poking at our spines. The slave was a tall, wizened man with extraordinarily strong hands.

'If I were rich,' I grunted, 'I think I would have this done to me every day.'

'I am rich,' said Metrobius, 'and I do. How did you ever get that awful bump on your head?'

'Oh, it's nothing. A doorway was shorter than I expected. Oh! That's good! Yes, there, that spot below my shoulder… These baths are quite wonderful, aren't they? Eco and I came here yesterday, after we first arrived. Mummius wanted to show off the plumbing. He had a massage from the boy who sang last night, Apollonius I think he's called. But I doubt that Apollonius could be half as skilful as your man.'