Unlikely; she was not pretty enough.
My confidante settled in to share her knowledge. Close to, she was no piece of art. Most of her teeth had fallen out, her hair was going the same way and nowadays she was warty. She wore an old tunic that might have belonged to a couple of other people before she picked it out as a bargain on a recycled clothes stall.
According to her, in Old Thales’ time the Hesperides pretended to be quite reputable-“If you didn’t look too close.”
“There are rooms upstairs.”
“And they used them.”
“For regular prostitution? Was it organized?”
“Oh no.” She was dismissive. “If men wanted it, they could get it-but not from full-time prostitutes. Apart from the fact there wasn’t a lot of very dirty activity in those days, Old Thales hadn’t the gumption to organize a piss in a public latrine.”
“You didn’t like him?”
“I never really knew him. My husband did, and called him lazy, all talk, and not trustworthy. He puffed himself up as the happy landlord, but Rufia was the busy one at that place.”
“What was the relationship between her and Thales?”
“She worked there. He made out he was the big wheel, while he let her get on with it. The place would have gone to the wall without Rufia.”
“No affair?”
“Oh no. Not between them. I don’t think Rufia trusted men. She never had a regular fellow, and never any children.”
“Did she go upstairs with customers?”
“If she had to. I don’t count that.”
I did wonder if Gran had ever done the same herself. I could not ask. She would have denied it indignantly. Nowadays she was grandmother to many and had a decent reputation to sustain. The past was formally quashed.
“Routine services? Did she do anything else, anything involving the other bars?”
My witness leaned forward confidingly. She had sweet breath as if she sucked apothecaries’ pastilles for some ailment. “Other business? Not like you mean. What she did was act as a mother to all the women.”
“‘Mother’ as in brothel madam?”
“No, more ‘mother’ as in mother! You know…”
I did not.
“She looked after them. Plenty of the girls who have to do that work are very young and ignorant. She taught them how to take care of themselves. Keep their spirits up. Keep as clean as possible. Watch out for each other, especially if they knew there were any nasty types of men around. How to deal with violence. And, if they was unlucky and fell for a you-know-what, Rufia quietly took them somewhere private and did the necessary.” I gazed at her. “So that the baby went away. You know!”
“Yes, I know.” So it was Rufia who taught Menendra, who now carried this out for the White Chickens girls. “What about Nona?”
“So you know Nona? She’s all right, though I hear she charges enough … Nona came in afterward. Same thing, of course. Well, she makes the babies go away; I don’t think she bothers with the other stuff. She really doesn’t care for men. She doesn’t much like the girls either. She does what she does to make money out of them and their misery. That was what made Rufia special around here. Her proper motherly approach.”
“She had no family, you said. Was that because she got rid of her own too?”
“Oh no, I don’t think so. Well, you get a feel for these things-I always thought she was one of those women who just couldn’t conceive. She had plenty of chances. Being a barmaid-you can imagine!”
“Did she want children?”
“I suspect so. She always spoke really nicely to my little ones if she met us in the street.”
“So, Gran, she looked after the good-time girls instead?”
“That’s right. That brought out her caring nature. She was a hard woman in many ways. I expect if she’d had her own, she might have been quite different.” The granny laughed, reminiscing. “Well, you have to stay calm then, don’t you? I say she was hard, but that was just her attitude. She talked hard. She stood no nonsense. But you knew where you were with her, and she was never unfair. People liked her for it.”
I put aside my food bowl. “Somebody failed to appreciate her. She was killed at the Hesperides.”
“Was she?” The granny assumed a vague, watery-eyed look. It was the kind of disassociation my own would have used. I am just a poor old body who can’t answer anything difficult … “Well, I don’t know about that, dear.”
“So you know nothing about the five men either, whose bodies we have dug up?” She shook her head with determination. I tried pressing her, though I knew it was hopeless. “They could have been salesmen-it’s been suggested. I don’t know what they were trying to sell.”
To my surprise, the old one suddenly perked up. “Oh, that would have been the cladding-sellers,” she cried. “Gavius and his crew. They were always coming round in them days. They used to love a night out drinking at the Hesperides.”
“Oh! But that was in the past?”
“Fell out with Thales. He was like that. Took against people for no reason, never mind if they was good customers. Stupid kind of man.”
“Or they stopped coming because they are all dead, Gran.” She looked at me quizzically. “If they fell out, would Thales have gone so far as to have them murdered?”
She now stared as if I were barmy. “No,” she explained, with a pitying manner. “Old Thales was a coward. But none of those men are dead. Whatever gave you that idea, Albia? They are as alive as you or me, same as always. Alive and decent-enough boys, for salesmen. They live in Mucky Mule Mews. As I recall, Rufia used to lodge in a cheap room above Gavius and his parents, when he lived with them.”
I drew in a deep breath. Then, since she seemed to have no more to tell me, I took the warm hot pot off the brazier and carried it across the road to give my man his lunch.
XXXVII
“Albia! You took your time.” Ravenous, my bridegroom sounded as sharp as if we were married already. Could our bliss be over-so soon?
It seemed worth reviving; I kissed him. “I apologize, darling. But I bring holy broth made from bootleg beef, if you don’t mind stealing from the gods-”
“Sorry, divine ones…” Tiberius grasped the bowl of hot pot, already pulling his folding utensil set one-handed from a pouch. He kissed me back-so there was hope for us-then leaned himself against a pile of full sacks, falling to. Although he was a pious man, he seemed unfazed by benefiting from a bull that had escaped sacrifice. Nor did he take any notice of Dromo, who had been drawn into the courtyard by the stew’s enticing scent, looking hopeful.
Dromo was pushed aside by Julius Liberalis, the Hesperides landlord, arriving in a bate. I took over, so Tiberius could eat without harassment.
“Liberalis! Your contractor is busy. Come and talk to me instead.” Tiberius was listening in, so I pitched my voice so he could hear and catch up on my latest discoveries. “I have been learning some dirty things about your precious bar-not least that it once was a center for local abortions.”
“Rubbish!” Liberalis blustered, unconvincingly. “These premises are wholly above board.”
“Possibly now. It will be up to you how you choose to run your hostelry, won’t it, genial proprietor?” Playing fair, I allowed he might alter the bar’s character for the better. “You need to buck up though. Since Old Thales passed on, the Garden of the Hesperides has already come under vigiles scrutiny-and you haven’t even started yet.”
“Is it my fault you dug up a load of old bodies?”
I felt my chin lift. “Bodies that are assuming a more mysterious role than ever. I now know about the salesmen who were in the bar on the night of the tragic events. They were locals, a group of men who are still well- known in the Ten Traders. They simply stopped coming because Thales quarreled with and then barred them. My sources reckon the falling-out was most likely unprovoked.”