The Lydian Baker

'That's okay. This time I'll just stay here and look at the pictures.'

'As you please.' He made for the stairs.

I let him get to the landing and out of sight, then tried the three other doors off the lobby. Two of them were locked, but the third gave out onto a passageway. Sure, it might lead to the cellars but I couldn't risk a foray down it, not yet. I shelved that for later. I was examining the Achilles painting when Hermippe came down.

'That a real Panainos?' I said.

She smiled. 'You have an eye for art, Valerius Corvinus. Rare in a Roman.'

'Not me, lady. I just know someone who does.'

'Then she taught you well. No, it isn't a Panainos, but it was done by one of his pupils and the style is almost identical. Beautiful, isn't it?'

'It's okay, yeah.'

'Shall we go into the salon? It's more comfortable.'

'Sure.' She led the way. No Cotile, not this time: the room was empty.

'Now.' She sat on a chair and waved me to a couch. 'Antaeus tells me this is a private visit. I'm delighted. It's always a pleasure to add to our clientele, and to welcome new friends personally. Do help yourself to wine, by the way.'

I did. 'You like some?' I said.

'No thank you. Wine isn't one of my weaknesses.'

Jupiter! If this was a cat-house then it wasn't like any I'd ever been in, and it was making me nervous as hell. Any minute now she'd start passing round the almond cakes and ask how my mother was doing. 'Uh…you are open for business, aren't you?’ I said. ‘I mean…'

'Of course.' Another smile. 'But I must know your preferences. I find that a relaxed chat on the first visit resolves all sorts of problems in advance. What exactly are your interests?'

'Uh…'

'We have quite a range of girls free at the moment, especially at this time of day. Cleo, perhaps? She's from Palmyra, Persian-trained, very skilled. Then there's Thalia, an Alexandrian, or if your tastes run to the more exotic I can offer you a Nubian girl, although — '

'How about the one I saw yesterday? Cotile?' Research; strictly research.

She hesitated. 'I'm afraid Cotile isn't available. Not for the next two or three days, anyway. Another time, perhaps.'

Ah, well. Maybe that was for the best. 'You like to recommend a girl yourself, maybe?'

'Certainly. I'd be honoured, if that's what you wish.' She gave me a summing look. 'Cleo, I think. Antaeus will show you to her room.' She reached into the fold of her mantle and took out a small bell. 'Incidentally, and I hope you'll forgive me mentioning the subject, but some of our guests prefer a monthly payment. It's quite up to you, but I would recommend it.'

'Ah… no.' I could just see Perilla's face when the bill hit the mat. I fumbled for my purse. Gods! That was a new one since my day! I wasn't used to moving in such civilised circles! 'No, I'll pay now.'

'That will be quite acceptable. And naturally there will be a reduction for the first visit.'

She named a sum that had me reeling. Jupiter's balls on a string! No wonder the place had original paintings on the walls! Still, I managed to pay up without seeming too boorish. At least I hoped I didn't.

Hermippe stood up. 'No need to take your wine with you,’ she said. ‘Cleo will have a tray of her own.' She rang the bell and the giant squeezed through the door. 'Antaeus, take this gentleman up to Cleo's room, please.' The guy bowed and stepped aside. 'I do hope you enjoy your time here, Valerius Corvinus. And that you'll favour us again soon.'

'Yeah. Yeah, thanks.'

'This way, sir.' Antaeus led me up the stairs. 'You didn't find the friend you were looking for, incidentally?'

'Melanthus? No. Not yet.'

'A pity. Still, I've no doubt you will in time. Cleo's is the last door on the right. Stay as long as you wish, naturally, and tell her if there is anything else you require in the way of food or drink.'

I'd been looking at the doors as we passed. Each of them had a small plaque with a girl's name written on. All except one, the one at the end of the corridor, beyond Cleo's. That one had no plaque at all.

Antaeus knocked at the last door on the right, then went back downstairs without a word. I went in alone.

23

It felt like I'd just stepped across the River Orontes and into the Parthian king's palace. The sharp corners of the room and the ceiling were hidden with spreads of blue and yellow silk, making a tent, and the air was heavy with perfume and spices. The girl lay on a divan lit by a single standing candelabrum. She sat up with a whisper of silk on bare flesh. Her almond eyes were ringed with black cosmetic.

Sticking with the research idea was going to be difficult. I could tell that already.

'Uh…you're Cleo?' I said.

'Yes, lord.' She stretched, and the bells at her ankles rang gently. 'Come in, please. Make yourself at home. Would you like some wine?'

'Yeah.' My throat was dry already. 'Yeah, that'd be good.'

The jug and cups were sitting on a low table by the bed. She reached over to pour, and the thin silk blouse moulded itself around her nipples.

'Your over-tunic, lord.' She smiled. 'You'd be more comfortable without it, I think.'

'No, that's okay.' She was right, though: the room was warm, and there was a small brazier giving off a scent that cut through the other perfumes and set the back of my nose tingling. 'I'll keep it on for now.'

'As you wish.' She held out the cup. 'Here. Some honeyed figs? From Damascus. Very good. You're hungry?'

'No, I'm fine.' I took the wine cup and sipped.

'Then lie down. Relax. There's no hurry.'

Jupiter Best and Greatest! Maybe I'd've been better with Cotile after all, time of the month or not; at least I had past acquaintance to fall back on. Hermippe was right, Cleo was a real honey: smooth skin white as cream, dark hair done up in the Parthian style, breasts shining through the thinnest of silk coverings. Shit! What was that scent?

I lay down on the divan. Her fingers touched my forehead, light as feathers.

'You're Roman, lord?'

'Yeah.'

'I haven't met a Roman before. Not properly.' The fingers found the bruise at the back of my head. I winced. 'You're hurt?'

'It's nothing. Just a bump.'

'Not just a bump. Put the wine cup down and turn round a little, please. Let me reach your neck. There, that's better.'

Jupiter and all the gods, that was good! Her fingers worked their way down slowly to the top of my spine, rubbing gently.

'The doctors do this in Parthia, lord,' she said. 'It's a very old skill which relaxes the muscles. You feel it working?'

Sure I did. I was almost purring. As a masseuse back in Rome she could've made a fortune. 'Yeah. Yeah, that's great. Fantastic.'

'Good. You have a strong neck, but the muscles are bunched and knotted. Something is worrying you.'

'Maybe.'

'It's not important. Or not now. Relax.'

I found myself drifting. Relax. I hadn't felt this relaxed for years. Certainly not recently. Certainly not since…

Since…

Oh, hell! I was falling asleep! I shook my head and sat up.

'Lord?'

'It's okay,' I said. It had to be done now, or never. A pity. Personally at that moment I'd have opted for never, and the hell with Priscus, Melanthus and the Baker, but I knew I'd regret it later. 'Cleo, you mind if we talk for a minute?'

'Of course not, lord. We can do whatever you like.' We were face to face. Her eyes were wide and luminous and her breasts with their gilded nipples beneath the transparent silk were brushing the folds of my mantle. Gods, maybe this hadn't been such a good idea at that. And whatever was burning on that brazier was doing funny things to my brain. Pleasant as hell, sure, but that wasn't the point…