Abinnaeus put a hand on the roll, pinning it down, and reached for the woman's arm. She shrieked, "Don't you touch me, you capon!" but the threatened contact did cause her to jump aside-and toward the counter.
Hedia waited, her fingers on Alphena's wrist to keep the girl with her. The events of the past few days had put Hedia in a bad enough mood that she found the present business amusing. She didn't scorn people because they were former slaves-but she scorned former slaves who gave themselves the airs of noblewomen.
"I'm sure my colleague Cynthius in the courtyard will be delighted to serve you, ladies," Abinnaeus said. He spoke with an oily solicitude; nothing in his tone or manner indicated that he was sneering. "I think you'll find his selection suitable. Indeed, very suitable for ladies as fine as yourselves."
The youthful attendants were urging the women toward the opened gate. One went quickly, but the protesting woman tried to push the boy away.
Something happened that Hedia didn't quite see. Off-balance, the woman lurched toward the street and into it. The youth-who wasn't as young as he had first seemed; he was some sort of Oriental, childishly slight but not at all a child-walked alongside her without seeming to exert any force.
Hedia saw the woman's arm muscles bunch to pull away. She wasn't successful, though the youth's smile didn't slip.
"Well, you'll never see me again!" the woman cried. Her companion had been staring first at Hedia and Alphena, then-wide-eyed-at their escort. She tugged her louder friend toward the entrance into the courtyard; their maids followed, laughing openly.
"Ah," Abinnaeus said in a lightly musing voice that wasn't obviously directed toward anyone. "If only I could be sure of that."
He turned and bowed low to Hedia. "I'm so glad to see your ladyship again," he said, sounding as though he meant it. "And your lovely companion! Please, honor my shop by entering."
"Come dear," Hedia said, but she swept the younger woman through the gate ahead of her. "Abinnaeus, this is my daughter, Lady Alphena. We're looking for dinner dresses for her."
"You could not do better," Abinnaeus agreed. He was a eunuch; his fat made him look softly cylindrical instead of swelling his belly. "Please, be seated while I find something worthy of yourselves."
One of the attendants was closing the shutters: barred openings at the top continued to let in light and air, but street noise and the crowds were blocked by solid oak. The other attendant had carried out a couch with ivory legs and cushions of silk brocade; he was returning to the back room to find its couple.
Hedia gestured Alphena to the couch; she dipped her chin forcefully to refuse. Hedia sat instead of reclining and patted the cushion beside her. "Come, daughter," she said. "Join me."
Alphena hesitated only an instant, then sat where Hedia had indicated. The youth appeared with the second couch. He eyed them, then vanished back into storage with his burden.
Abinnaeus returned with six bolts of cloth over his left arm. "Sirimavo," he said to the youth who had bolted the shutters, "bring wine and goblets, then go fetch some cakes from Codrius. Quickly now!"
"No cakes for me," Hedia said. "Though if my daughter…?"
Alphena gestured a curt refusal, then consciously forced her lips into a smile. "Not at all, thank you," she said.
The girl really is trying. Soon perhaps I can introduce her to some suitable men without worrying that she's going to tell them she'll cut their balls off if they dare to touch her again.
"It would be remiss of me not to offer your ladyship every courtesy," the eunuch said. "What you choose to accept is your own affair, but I will say that my friend Codrius just down the portico has even better pastries than my beloved father at home in Gaza."
"No one has ever been able to fault your hospitality to a customer, Abinnaeus," Hedia said. The tramps he had just turfed out of his shop might have quarreled with her statement, but they weren't proper customers. "It's been too long since I've been here."
"We have missed you, your ladyship," Abinnaeus said, setting down five bolts. "Your custom is always welcome, of course, but even more I've missed your exquisite taste. So like mine, but more masculine."
He and Hedia laughed. Alphena looked shocked, then went still-faced because she wasn't sure how she should react.
Abinnaeus stretched a swatch from the last bolt and held it close to Alphena's ear. "There, your ladyship. What do you think about this with your daughter's coloring?"
Hedia gave the fabric sharp attention. It was faintly tan-the natural color of the silk, she was sure, not a dye-but it seemed to have golden highlights.
"Is that woven with gold wire?" she said in puzzlement. Surely no wire could be drawn that fine.
Abinnaeus chuckled. "To you and you alone, your ladyship," he said, "I will tell my secret. No, not wire-but the blond hair from women of farthest Thule. They let it grow till they marry, then cut it for the first time. The strands are finer than spider silk, purer than the gold of the Tagus River."
"And you, dear?" Hedia said to her daughter. Abinnaeus stepped back with the cloth spread in a shaft of sunlight through the clerestory windows. "It complements you perfectly, but do you find it attractive?"
Alphena had swollen visibly while Hedia and the proprietor discussed the matter as though she was a dog being fitted with a jeweled collar, but she had managed to control herself. "It's all right, I guess," she muttered. "It's-well, it's all right, if that's what you want."
When we're back in the litter, I'll remind her that we came for information; and that I had to put Abinnaeus at his ease. He wouldn't be able to imagine Lady Hedia caring about anybody else's opinion on matters of taste and fashion.
The attendants returned, each carrying a small table already set with a refreshment tray. There was a passage to the courtyard shops from the back room, but the wine was probably from Abinnaeus' own stock. He kept better vintages on hand for his customers than could be purchased nearby.
He eyed Hedia and gestured minusculely toward the wine. "Three to one," she said, answering the unspoken question. That was only possible choice with her daughter present, and it was what she probably would have said regardless.
Turning to Alphena, she said, "I used to visit Abinnaeus more frequently before I married your father, dear. I lived close by; just across Broad Street, in fact."
To Abinnaeus she went on, "I sold the house to a Gaul from Patavium; Julius Brennus, as I recall. Do you see any of him, Abinnaeus?"
"Well, not Master Brennus himself, your ladyship," he said, kneeling to offer each of the women a silver cup. "But his wife, Lady Claudia, visits me frequently, I'm pleased to say."
So the wealthy-extremely wealthy-trader from the Po Valley married a patrician after moving to Carce, Hedia thought. Good luck to both of them.
She sipped her wine, which was just as good as she expected it to be. Alphena had leaned forward slightly to lift the silk for closer examination. An attendant moved the bolt slightly closer. He didn't speak or otherwise intervene for fear of causing the young customer to rear back. It must be like bridling a skittish horse.
Aloud Hedia said, "I recall Brennus having some very odd-looking servants. Is that still the case?"
"Odd?" said Abinnaeus, pursing his lips. Discretion warred with a desire not to lose the chance of a present sale. "Well, I don't know that I'd put it quite that way, your ladyship. But it is true that many of Master Brennus' servants did come with him from the north… and one could say that they brought their culture with them. One could scarcely claim that boorishness and bad Latin are unusual in Carce, though, I'm afraid."