Адриан Голдсуорти - Brigantia

‘So tits aren’t everything?’

Vindex considered this. ‘Dumb question. They’re a lot, course they are…’ He lapsed into silence for a while, studying the girl on Gannascus’ lap, who was giggling and whispering in the big man’s ear. ‘Bit small,’ he said after a while. ‘Nice, though. She’s a dancer, worth a fortune according to her former owner, but he was desperate and had run out of coin.

‘No, I reckon it will be a new king rather than a queen. That’s the way the Romans think. Still, maybe it doesn’t matter. From all that’s said, brother and sister are more Roman than anything else, and you know what they’re like.’

‘Bastards every one of them,’ Titus Flavius Ferox agreed. He noticed Sempronius the lanista was down in the arena and kept glaring up at him.

‘You always make so many friends, don’t you?’ Vindex said. ‘It really is a gift.’

Ferox stood up. ‘Tell Gannascus that the girl cannot come with us. So he can either sell her back or find someone to take care of her while we are away, although I cannot promise that we will return to Londinium.’

‘Where are you off now?’

‘Work.’ Ferox did not tell his friend that the work in question meant visiting several brothels, otherwise he knew it would be even harder work stopping the scout from coming along. For a married man, Vindex had a lot of energy. Armed with letters written by Flora, he was calling by appointment on three of their owners. It was business, not pleasure, and he hoped to find out things it would be hard to learn another way.

Three hours later as the sun was setting, he found Longinus waiting at his lodgings. The others were out, apart from Philo. ‘He’s been here for a long time,’ the boy said in explanation.

‘Promised to give you this in person,’ the veteran said, standing up and handing over a closed and sealed tablet. ‘Make sure it isn’t left lying around. Right, I’ll be off.’

Ferox told the slave to fetch a lamp and light it. The boy looked surprised, for the room was still fairly light, but did as he was told. Once he had gone, Ferox broke the seal and opened the letter. The wooden frame was thick, for this was the sort with a heavy layer of wax on them and someone had scored the letters deeply.

I need not say who I am, but I remember a bath and a tower far away. C whose name is hated and mocked in Parthia is in trouble. CF lures him into conspiracy for his position is one where there is plenty of wealth. He has letters that I thought gone where C wrote foolish and disloyal things and threatens to show them if C does not do what he asks. CF is cruel and does not threaten idly. Help me, please, for love, friendship and for another most precious to us both.

When the slave returned Ferox held the stylus over the lamp’s flame until even the handle became hot. Then he rubbed it over the surface of the tablet, melting the wax to erase the writing. It took a while, for the wax was hard and the pen soon cooled, but in the end he was satisfied.

‘I’m going out,’ he said. ‘I may send word. If I do, the others are to come with all speed.’

THE BOARDS CREAKED as Ferox edged towards the light. He stopped, his breath sounding terribly loud, and waited. The low murmur of conversation did not change, and after a while he started to crawl again. There was dust and chaff all over the floor and his throat started to prickle. It had made sense to leave his weapons’ belt behind, and certainly he could not have crawled so easily with it on, but he still felt naked and unprotected. Slowly the edge came nearer. The light was a lamp, dim enough in such a big warehouse, and, whenever the conspirators gathered around it moved, they cast weird tall shadows. Conspirators they must be, to meet in secret so late at night, but whether or not they had anything to do with his business, he did not yet know.

One of the brothel keepers, a woman of the shape conjured up by Flora’s laugh, but who spoke surprisingly pure Attic Greek as well as polished Latin, had given him the tip, and one of the others had helped explain how he could get there. There were two groups meeting in secret most nights, each in a different building that ought to have been locked shut at that time of night. Prominent men met in this way, at least so it was claimed by freedmen and slaves from their households who liked to tell secrets to the girls when they visited. The whores told their owners, and for Flora’s sake they were willing to tell him.

Getting there was not easy. Ferox started in one of the brothels not far from the wharfs on the river. He climbed to the top of the house, passing some of the thriftier or poorer clients who paid for no more than a coupling in an alcove off the stairs or corridor. Some did not have curtains, so his walk was accompanied by moans, sighs, screams and glimpses of writhing flesh. Half to his surprise he did not see Vindex or anyone else he knew. The slave who led him must have seen all this and more so many times that he paid no heed, and eventually they reached a ladder that took him to a hatch that opened onto the roof. From there, the man pointed out the backs of the two taller buildings, and showed how he could get in. An alley separated them from the row of warehouses, but the jump was not too far. Even so, Ferox eyed it for a while as the rain pattered down. The shingle roofs were slick and getting slicker by the minute, and he could feel his tunic and breeches getting steadily wetter. A cloak would be too cumbersome for what he had in mind.

Taking a deep breath, Ferox leaped, slamming hard into the opposite roof and only sliding a little before he got a firm hold. The first one was the easiest, and just a few paces away there was a hatch similar to the one on the other side. He felt around the edges, found a catch and was surprised to find that it lifted easily. Once he clambered through and dropped down onto the top of a big barrel, he could understand why. No one could have sneaked in through the roof and made off with anything so bulky and no doubt heavy. The upper floor was crowded with similar barrels, the light too poor to read any markings on them. It took a while to find the gap around a trapdoor leading downwards. Ferox eased himself down from a barrel taller than he was, and sneaked to the open trapdoor. The light from below was bright, and at first there was silence. Then people, dozens of people by the sound of it, began to sing a long, repetitive song, and many of the words were in a language he did not understand. After that, a man spoke for a while, then another voice took over.

Ferox edged to peak through the open trapdoor, and saw the speaker, arms stretched out on either side, head bare and looking up, but with closed eyes. He spoke of blood, flesh and sacrifice, and much of what he said seemed to be quotations that Ferox did not recognise, although presumably the audience did. Most were in a similar pose, and it was odd to see people praying with their heads uncovered, apart from one woman who wore a scarf. She was the only woman he could see, but there must have been more people out of view. This was no conspiracy, at least not one to bother him, and as they began to sing once more, he went back up the way he had come. The new song was in Greek, and spoke a lot of love for others and of the god. Presumably this was a cult frowned upon by the authorities, unless its rituals were secret for the sake of being mysterious. A lot of what they said reminded him of Philo, and he wondered if this was some Jewish sect for he knew that there were many. Since the great rebellion against Nero, Jews had to pay a special tax, but as far as he could tell they had once again become reasonably loyal to the empire.

The rain was a lot worse by the time he was back up on the roof, and he slipped a couple of times on the shingles as he made his way all along the row of buildings. Each warehouse pretty much butted onto the next, so only once did he have to make another leap. The one he wanted was almost at the far end, and once he was close he could see the crane sticking out from its wall. According to the slave, all he had to do was lower himself off the roof, swing and grab onto the crane, turn and then use one foot to lift the catch closing the loading door, hook it around the edge, open the door and swing in. The man claimed to have done it a fair few times on business of his mistress. Ferox thought it better not to ask what such business might have been, neither did he ask if the fellow had ever done it in this sort of weather.