'Gordianus?' A voice whispered.
'Step outside, Rufus. Close the door behind you.'
He closed it with the same exaggerated stealth and then stood blinking like a mole, unable yet to see in the darkness despite the bright moon.
'Have you found them yet?' I asked.
'They're in the house, yes. Or at least there are two slaves called Felix and Chrestus, both new to the household; so one of the serving girls tells me. But I've seen nothing of them. They don't serve guests. They have no contact with anyone outside the household. Chrysogonus uses them as personal drudges. The girl says they almost never leave the upper floors.'
'Perhaps she can take them a message.'
'I already asked. Useless, she says. Chrysogonus would be furious if they came down during the party. But she's willing to take you to them.'
"Where is this girl?'
'Waiting for me, in the pantry. She found an excuse to come and fetch something.'
'Or she might be running to Chrysogonus this very moment.' Rufus looked worriedly at the door, then shook his head. 'I don't think so.' 'Why not?'
'You know how it is. You can tell when a slave is willing to do some dirty business behind her master's back. I don't think she cares for Master Golden-Born very much. You know what they say, slaves hate working for a freedman — it's a former slave who makes the cruellest master.'
I looked at the door, thinking how easily death could lurk behind it. I took a deep breath, then decided to trust Rufus's judgment, 'Lead the way.'
He nodded and stealthily opened the door. The lintel was so low I had to stoop. Tiro followed behind me. There was no reason for him to come, and I had meant to leave him outside, but when I looked over my shoulder I saw a look of such determination on his face that I acquiesced. With a faint creaking he closed the door behind us.
The giri was young and pretty with long black hair and creamy skin that glowed like honey in the soft light from the lamp in her hand. Had she been a courtesan, her looks would have been unremarkable; for a mere serving girl, her beauty seemed absurdly extravagant. Chrysogonus was famous for surrounding himself with pretty decorations and toys.
'These are the men,' Rufus explained. 'Can you take them upstairs quietly, so no one will notice?'
The girl nodded and smiled, as if he were foolish even to ask. Then her lips parted, she made a tiny gasp and spun around. The door behind her had begun to open.
The room was low and narrow, lined with shelves and crammed with bottles, urns, bowls, and sacks. Garlics hung from the ceiling, and the musty odour of flour was heavy in the air. I backed into one comer as deeply as I could, pushing Tiro behind me. At the same instant Rufus slid one arm around the girl's waist and pulled her close, pressing his mouth over hers.
The door opened. Rufus kissed the girl a moment longer and then they drew apart.
The man in the doorway was tall and broad, so large he almost filled the frame. Lit from behind, his hair made a shimmering golden halo around his darkened face. He chuckled softly and stepped closer. The girl's lamp, quivering in her hand, lit his face from below. I saw the blue of his eyes and the dimple in his broad jaw, the high cheekbones and the smooth, serene brow. He was only paces away and could surely have seen me between the clay pots and urns had it not been for the darkness. I realized the girl was intentionally blocking the light with her body, blinding him with the lamp and casting us into deeper shadow.
'Rufus,' he said at last, ending with a lingering hiss, as if it were not a name but a sigh. He said it again, slurring it and placing a strange accent on the vowels. His voice was deep and resonant, playful, showy, as intimate as a touch. 'Sulla is asking for you. Sorex is about to dance. A meditation on the death of Dido — have you seen it? Sulla would hate for you to miss it.'
There was a long pause. I imagined I could see the backs of Rufus's ears turn red, but perhaps it was only the lamplight shining through.
'Of course, if you're busy, I'll tell Sulla that you've gone out for a walk.' Chrysogonus spoke slowly, like a man with no reason to hurry. He turned his attention to the girl. He ran his eyes over her body and reached for her. He touched her; where, I couldn't see. She stiffened and gasped and the lamp shook in her hand. Tiro gave a jerk behind me. I blindly laid my hand over his and squeezed it hard.
Chrysogonus took the lamp from the girl's hand and set it on a shelf. He loosened her gown where it was clasped at her throat and slid it over her shoulders. It fluttered down her body like doves descending until she stood naked. Chrysogonus stepped back, pursing his broad, fleshy lips and looking from Rufus to the girl with a heavy-lidded stare. He laughed softly. 'If you want her, young Messalla, of course you can have her. I deny my guests nothing. Whatever pleasure you can find in my house is yours without asking. But you needn't do it like a schoolboy, cowering here in the pantry. There are plenty of comfortable rooms upstairs. Have the girl take you there. Parade her through the house naked if you want — ride her like a pony! It won't be the first time.' He touched her again, his arm moving as if he were tracing a mark across her naked breasts. The girl gasped and quivered, but stood absolutely still.
He turned and seemed about to go, then turned back. 'But don't take too long. Sulla will forgive me if you miss the dance, but later on Metrobius will be introducing a new song by… ah, well, by some sycophant Or other — who can remember all their names? The poor fool's here tonight, trying to curry favour. I understand the song is a homage to the gods for sending a man to stop the civil strife: "Sulla, Rome's favourite, saviour of the Republic," I think it begins. I'm sure it goes on in the same nauseatingly pious vein — except… ' Chrysogonus smiled and laughed behind pursed lips, a low, gravelly laugh that he seemed to keep to himself, like a man rolling coins in his hand. 'Except that Metrobius tells me he's taken the liberty of adding a few ribald verses of his own; scandalous enough to get the young author's head chopped off Imagine the look on the silly poet's face when he hears his homage turned into insults right in front of Sulla, who of course will grasp the jest at once and play along, stamping his feet and pretending to be outraged — just the sort of joke Sulla adores. It will be the evening's high point, Rufus; for some of us, anyway. Sulla will be very disappointed if you're not there to share it.' He made an insinuating smile, stared at them for a long moment, then retreated and shut the door behind him.
No one moved. I watched the flickering caress of the lamplight as it Hcked in silhouette about the sleek flesh of the girl's thighs and hips. Finally she stooped and gathered up her gown. Tiro, wide-eyed and resolute, pushed his way from behind me and helped her cover herself. Rufus studiously looked elsewhere.
'Well,' I finally said, 'I believe the master of the house himself has given us permission to go snooping upstairs. Shall we?'
25
The door through which Chrysogonus had vanished led into a short hallway. A narrow passage on the left opened onto the noise of a busy kitchen. The curtain which draped the opening on the right still swayed from Chrysogonus's passing. The girl led us through neither passage but instead to a door, at the end of the hall, that opened onto a winding flight of stone steps.
'There's another staircase in the room where the master entertains,' she whispered, 'very showy, very fine marble, with a statue of Venus in the centre. But this is the stair the slaves use. If we pass anyone, just ignore them, even if they look at us oddly. Or better yet, give me a pinch hard enough to make me squeal and pretend you're all drunk. They'll think the worst for sure, and then they'll leave us alone.'