Chapter Ten
The broad-shouldered and highly perfumed man who answered Felix’s rap at Madame Isis’ door took the excubitor’s sword and the short blade that John carried before allowing them inside.
The day had been long and fruitless. Felix had finally suggested they come here. “There’s more information to be found at Isis’ place than there is marble on Proconnesus,” he’d said.
The atrium’s floor, with its intricate scenes of entwined carnality, left no doubt as to what sort of establishment they had just entered. It was equally obvious by his accent, curly beard, and long, wavy hair that its doorkeeper was Persian. For John, the Persian and the erotic mosaic created a painful juxtaposition.
“We’re here for some wine and conversation, Darius.” As Felix spoke a girl dressed in white, hair crowned with a chaplet of interwoven flowers, rose gracefully from a gilded couch that sat beside a statue of Venus in the embrace of Mars. She padded toward them on bare feet.
Felix frowned. “I don’t have the coins for more right now, I fear. They’re right when they say if you don’t have a nummus for a sausage it’s better not to be hungry!”
“Well, Darius, it seems we have been favored by a visit of two gentlemen from court.” The girl smiled sweetly at John and Felix, and then raked them with a shrewd, appraising glance.
“In this instance I fear we have arrived to see Madam Isis, not you, Hunila.”
The girl pouted. “Oh, Felix, it’s been ages since I entertained you. When are they going to raise your wages?”
The girl looked down to the floor and following her gaze John saw she was expertly caressing one of the mosaic’s naked figures there with her bare toe. She looked up expectantly at John. “And who’s this handsome friend of yours?”
“John. He’s a slave. Assisting me.” “I will ask madam if she can see you.” Darius moved away quietly. John saw he was wearing soft yellow slippers.
“As far as that goes,” Hunila said, “we make no distinctions here, although I can think of a few of my clients who would be horrified to learn I’ve also occasionally entertained their servants. There again, who’s going to tell them?”
Felix observed that they would certainly not reveal anything. “I’m certain we can trust your professional discretion as well. Even though I’m sure there are plenty of interesting stories you could tell.”
Hunila’s face suffused with such anger that the flush on her cheeks showed through her fashionable white makeup. “Interesting? Ugly, more like it! If it hadn’t been for Darius we would have had a very bad incident the other night. Three boys from one of those idiotic factions showed up in the small hours. Not that madam minds since she just charges them extra for keeping us up late.”
Felix guffawed at such business acumen.
The girl glared at him. “Unfortunately they objected to paying a little extra for the inconvenience. You know how they are, dressed so richly but generally with about as much wealth as starving dogs. And the manners of starving dogs. Anyway, they decided to take what they wanted for nothing. Just as they’d probably stolen their fine clothing. Darius tossed them out. I thought madam would be annoyed to lose clients, but she just patted him on his shoulder and thanked him for his efforts.” Felix turned to John. “Darius has been with Isis ever since she set up this house. Beautiful place, isn’t it?”
“It’s certainly very well appointed.” John didn’t add that the dizzyingly detailed floors, plush wall hangings, decorative columns, and the gilt glittering from every nook and cranny did not match his Spartan tastes. He studied the statue of Venus and Mars, who, in contrast to the white-faced girl, had been painted in warmly realistic flesh tones.
“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.”