Kelli Stanley - The Curse-Maker

“Not really.”

We continued into the temple, the other priests scurrying out of his way.

“My wife ran into yours at the baths yesterday.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? She met Flavia?”

“Had a great time. You know how women are-talk, talk, talk.”

By now we were in the sanctum of sanctums. Sulis was one rich lady. Gold, silver, gemstones, coins, statues-all lined the walls, covered the floor, or filled chests stacked and labeled. The dates on them went back a long time. I whistled. Hell of a business.

Papirius led me to the nearest chest. “We haven’t received many large offerings lately.”

I guess Bibax didn’t count.

He opened it and let my eyes feast on the bangles and bracelets. It was about half full. I looked up at the priest, who stretched his mouth and nodded.

I dug my hands in and brought up handfuls of gold and silver. They must let the bronze wash away. No clay, no wood. Just liquid assets, suitable for a spring.

I stood back up and thanked Papirius. He put a strongly fingered hand on my elbow and ushered me out. I’d seen plenty of jewelry and money-but no gold and amethyst necklace.

I shook my elbow from Papirius’s peremptory grip. A sound of wild geese flying south hit my ears, and I realized it was the baths, letting the women out. The head priest ran hurriedly back to his rooms. I was heading toward the marketplace when a thin shadow crossed my path. Calpurnius, looking more than ever like a well-fed rat.

I confronted him. “When can we talk?”

“It depends on what you want to talk about.”

“You know what I want to talk about, Calpurnius. Don’t play games. I just got done playing with your boss, and if I can beat him, I don’t think you’re much of a contest.”

His tongue ran over dry lips, pulled back in a mirthless smile. “If you talked to him, you don’t need me.”

I grabbed his arm and started to move him toward the spring. I kept my voice low. “I need to know what you know. I’ll make sure you’re rewarded for it.”

That lit his sallow complexion more than the trickling sunlight, and made his skin blend in with the stone. He only wanted money, which made him one of the cleaner people in Aquae Sulis.

He murmured: “Will you be in the baths today?”

I nodded. “In about an hour. Can you meet me there?”

Barely perceptible nod. He looked around quickly, scanning for ears or eyes. Some priests were cleaning off the altar, others were sweeping the pavement.

I took my hand off his arm and he melted back into the yellow. A pair of red-brown eyes fixed mine with an intense stare before he rounded the corner of the temple and vanished.

I sighed. Time for Sulpicia.

* * *

I was staring at an expensive-looking town house with an Egyptian cat statue by the doorway and an antefix that proclaimed it was a souvenir from Arabia. A sweetly pungent odor of sandalwood and myrrh sinuously wound its way under my nose and started to do a striptease. It looked like the place she’d call home.

I knocked on the heavy door. A wizened old lady answered with wine on her breath. She looked me up and down-mostly down-and then threw the door wide open. I guess I met the qualifications for admittance.

She showed me into a gaudily decorated triclinium. I noticed the red dining couches were a little wider and a little plusher than usual, and there was a conspicuous lack of chairs. The smell was stronger now, mixed with other spices and a bit of violet. Lightly melodic lute music started somewhere from inside. Sulpicia must keep a slave with musical talents on hand … just in case.

The heavy curtain was covered with an additional layer of strung blue, purple, and green beads, completing the exotic allure. It was suddenly thrown aside. I stumbled on one of the couches, nearly falling. Sulpicia stood in the doorway, one hand bracing herself against the frame, the other on her hip, a knowing smile on her face.

“Welcome, Arcturus. I was hoping you’d … find me.”

She sauntered into the room. It took her about half an hour to lower herself on to one of the couches. Then she clapped her hands for a servant and turned to me with more than an invitation. It was an outright demand.

“Any-preferences? Falernian, perhaps? Oscan? Maybe some … Greek?”

I looked down and found my feet on the floor. They were trying to point to the exit.

“No-no, anything will do, Sulpicia, thank you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Certainly not anything. One must be-particular-mustn’t one? Do sit down, Arcturus, you’re making me nervous just standing there, like a particularly strong specimen of-oak.”

I moved to the opposite couch and perched on the edge, making myself as uncomfortable as possible. Sulpicia eyed me for a moment and then burst out laughing.

“Oh, really, now, Doctor, you mustn’t be so frightened. I don’t bite-at least, not unless you want me to.”

Another servant-this one young and handsome-brought in the wine.

“Thank you, Gaius, that will be all. Please tell Numa to keep playing.” She turned to me. “I find the lute so relaxing-don’t you? And they say relaxation and leisure are the ideal things in life, don’t they?”

I gulped the wine. I knew it would be good, much better than anyone else’s in Aquae Sulis. Sulpicia sipped hers, long nails delicately wrapped around the silver cup, her eyes making promises I was afraid she’d try to keep.

She set the wine cup down with an air of decision and rose to her feet. Her body was outlined in a diaphanous sheath, and she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it. She made sure I noticed. It was hard not to.

The smile never left her face, but widened as she approached. Finally, she sat down. The heat from her body wrapped itself around me like an ivy tendril, and I shifted a few inches away.

“Come now, Arcturus. You’re a hard-hardworking, I should say-man … you’re also a man of the world. You’ve seen something of it, the palaces of Rome, the granaries and temples of Egypt. Let’s be … adults, shall we?”

She was curving herself closer, her smell overwhelming me, as the lute music echoed in my head and started to make me dizzy. I leaned as far back as I could without actually lying down. That might be fatal.

“Aquae Sulis is a place for relaxation. A temple for the soul … and the body. I think you should relax, Doctor … and think about … think about healing yourself.”

Her lips parted to reveal a small tongue, which darted over them before hiding itself, but promised to come out again if I blinked my eyes. She was leaning in, her breasts brushing my tunic, and I thought I could feel her hands start to travel up my legs. She was almost in my lap, and I thought about Gwyna, and this morning, and I jumped off the couch.

Sulpicia fell over, unprepared for the hasty exit. She glared up at me and suddenly looked a lot older.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing-now. I didn’t come here for an easy lay, Sulpicia. That would be young Drusius, not the old doctor.”

She flushed, angry, flounced back over to her couch and her cup, and threw back a shot of wine like a professional. She glared at me some more. When I met her eyes and held them, the anger started to fade. After another shot, she was able to smile, albeit a little vindictively.

“Did Drusius tell you? Maybe he mentioned how good it feels when I-”

“No. He’s a stonecutter, but he’s a gentleman.”

She snorted. “I don’t need a gentleman. Too many goddamn ‘gentlemen’ in this town as it is.”

“You mean like Vitellius?”

“Vitellius makes himself look too much like a hairless worm. I prefer men with some-hair-on their bodies.”