Arena (5 page)

Her mouth stopped mine with a kiss. She clung naked against me. “Not pleasure, Cassius. All Rome hunts that, night and day. Say love instead. Even if you don’t mean it, say it. This night only, love.”

“All right, Acte. Love.”

She offered the wine-spiced sweetness of her mouth, gently parting, almost like a maid’s. My hands crept down her white back and held her. Then we lay on the couch, her hair unbound, her laugh eager, her breasts sweet as pomegranates to my lips.

She knew all the arts of Venus the Purifier. Her caresses were expert and ardent. Yet I believed, as the tallow smoldered down and went out, that what she said was true. A part of her had been held back, a part she gave now with joyous abandon. I wanted to tell her I was committed by the vow before Tigellinus and the crazy pact with the Syrian. My mouth was silenced with her warm flesh. We loved all night long, as though both of us were truly free.

In the hour of dawn, as the last cart rumbled out of the city and the rain drummed at last on the
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slate roof, sleepy Fabius came by with a lamp, knocking his whip against the outer wall.

“Time’s up, ladies, time’s up.”

Acte folded the sky-blue shawl around her dark hair and leaned against my shoulder.

“A week seems like forever, Cassius. I may not get back even then. Sometimes Sulla sends another crop of girls.”

I held her hand tightly. “Then I’ll come to Sulla’s. One night soon.”

Her eyes flew wide. “From here? If you’re caught —”

“Too late to worry about that now, Acte. One night too late.”

And she was in my arms again, saying things no woman had ever spoken to me. I spoke them also, words I thought only the poets wrote in their silver Latin. A rowdy commotion began outside as the whores trooped away, no more serious or sober than they had been at nightfall.

Only Acte and I, caught in one of those strange convulsions that shake the world from time to time, had changed.

“I want you to come, Cassius. I want it terribly. But not if they’ll punish you.”

“Worse punishment to stay away. Kiss me a last time.”

Willingly she did, until Fabius raised such a row that she had to go. The lanista threw me another oblique glance as if to say he was pleased that I’d behaved normally for at least one night. I laughed silently. What would he think if he understood how my whole life had been torn apart?

I was in love with her, and already doubting whether I wanted to stake my future in the arena.

Little stands out in the routine of the school during the next three days, except that my thoughts were constantly full of her. The third night another drenching rain broke over the seven hills.

Blue lightning played around the Capitoline. When the school had dozed to silence, and even the vestibule guard was nodding on his stool, witless with too much wine, I threw on a dark cloak and crept by him in the dim torchlight.

Gaining the door, I ran across the court to the outer wall. Cold rain beat my face as I leaped high and caught the wall’s edge. Ready to throw a leg over, I heard a voice.

“Cassius! Stop!”

A blue sword of fire sliced the sky in half, followed by a deafening thunderclap. My fingers slipped. I tumbled into the court mud, expecting the thrust of a guard’s spear any instant.

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BUT INSTEAD OFa death-dealing spear head, the figure hulking over me shot out a hand to seize mine, and jerk me upright.

“In the name of both our futures, Cassius, back inside. Quickly!”

Angrily I flung off the grip. “Syrax! What the devil are you doing out here?”

A brief burst of faraway lightning lit his rain-drenched forehead and the jiggling hoop in his ear.

“Watching out for you. Obviously you don’t have enough sense to do the job for yourself. Now hurry, Cassius. Come with me before the guards see — oh-oh. That’s done it. Down!”

He hurled himself against me and slapped a palm across my mouth to stifle any outcry. A dull yellow light bobbed on the far side of the courtyard, then seemed to pause and float in mid-air.

Rain plopped in little pools. The wind blew eerily. Presently the guard with the lantern sauntered on.

Enraged by Syrax’s effrontery, I ripped his hand away. He sighed despairingly.

“Cassius, Cassius, my friend. Don’t peril yourself over such foolishness.”

“Foolishness? What makes you say that?”

“Well, it’s all too clear that you’re worked up over that tawdry whore you bedded a few nights back, and you’re risking your life to see her.”

Once again I was struck by the man’s devious ways. “You seem very well informed about my affairs.”

“Naturally. I keep my eyes open. You’ve walked around in a fog ever since the night the women visited. Even old fool Fabius has mentioned the peculiar change in your behavior. When he
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notices, don’t you think it must be doubly plain to someone with my wits? In fact I’ve been expecting a ridiculous stunt like this. So I’ve kept track of you.”

“Then stop keeping track, Syrian. I do what I wish.”

I prepared to jump the wall a second time. He danced around in front of me, seizing my shoulders. “Cassius, remember the pact we made. We are sworn partners. When you endanger yourself, you endanger me also. Satisfying lust is one thing, but completely losing your head over a woman can wreck your future.”

“That jabber about partners was a joke,” I snarled. “Stand out of my way.”

Syrax cocked his head. “A joke, eh? Truly you’ve become a love-struck lunatic. All right, then. If there’s nothing I can do to talk you out of this nonsense, I have only one alternative.” He gathered his light, frayed cloak about him and indicated the wall. “You go first.”

I gaped. “I don’t intend to take you along, you ridiculous leech.”

His chuckle carried a cold determination. “Try again, Cassius. Experts have cursed me. I can’t be stopped. Words mean nothing so long as I can protect my most valuable asset — which is your talent with the beasts. Therefore I appoint myself your bodyguard. The streets of Rome are dangerous at night. Also, I know the shortest and safest route to Sulla’s. Coming?”

With that he leaped for the top of the wall, kicked up a leg and dropped to the other side.

Clearly no amount of argument was going to shake my self-appointed partner’s stubbornness. I shook my head in amazement and followed.

In the sour alley beyond the wall, Syrax drew me left when I would have started out to the right.

Before long we were twisting and turning through wretched little thoroughfares dark beyond belief.

We spent the best part of an hour slipping along the shop porticos at the edge of the Field of Mars. Several times we were obliged to hide while parties of vigiles, Rome’s fire officers who doubled as night watchmen, passed in the distance. Their tallow lanterns danced as they went hunting thieves and malefactors.

The rain slacked off. A slim rind of moon appeared as we neared the great bend of the Tiber.

Across the river, gleaming like an omen or a promise, were piled countless huge blocks of marble for building the Emperor’s own Circus. Along the near shore crowded small and large houses bright with lamplight. Muffled up in our cloaks, we skulked toward the most imposing, a sprawling place protected by a high wall. An old doorkeeper dozed on a stool at the gate. In the dark opposite him, Syrax hesitated, listening. He indicated the brothel.

“Business is brisk even on such a foul night.”

True enough. All the draped windows glowed, crossed now and again by the limber shadows of revelers. A lute hummed. Women laughed shrilly. Drunken male voices rose in a bawdy ballad.

My belly tightened when I thought of what Acte might be doing this moment. I tried to remind myself that love would in no way remove her need to earn her keep.

I crossed the street and shook the doorkeeper.

“What do you want?” he said querulously. “Only gentlemen are received at Sulla’s.”

“Take a message inside to the lady Acte.”

The doorkeeper’s eyes narrowed in rheumy mirth. “From the looks of that patched cloak, you couldn’t afford the price of Acte’s toe, let alone all of her. Be off, or I’ll shout for the vigiles.”

I seized his wrist, turning my head so light from the gate lamp shone across my face. “You’ll take the message in, as I ask. Is that plain?”

He nodded nervously. “Oh, very well. But I warn you, stranger. There are illustrious personages in the house tonight. They won’t take kindly to — all right, all right! Don’t double your fists and glare like a wolf. I’m going. What’s the message?”

Gazing up at the lighted windows, I said, “Tell her there’s a cur waiting for her outside.”

The old fellow made the sign against evil eye. “A dog?” he repeated uncertainly.

“A cur. She’ll understand.”

Muttering, he tottered away and vanished through a doorway decorated with the green boughs
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hung on every brothel lintel. I became aware of Syrax standing at my side. Beneath his cloak he jingled a few coins.

“As long as I’m here, Cassius, I see no reason why I shouldn’t avail myself of Sulla’s choice wares. Do you mind?”

“I’m not your keeper. But where did you get money to buy a woman?”

The Syrian laughed. “Fabius donated it. Unwittingly. But I’m sure he’d consider carelessness with his purse an act of mercy. Keeping up the spirits of a promising student and all that. I’ll see what I can do to locate the girl if the old clown has no luck. You keep quiet out here. Don’t make any scenes.”

He hurried inside, ear hoop flashing. I huddled under the gate out of the bite of the damp Tiber wind. Halloos of the watch drifted from the Field of Mars. An eques in an ornamented chair was carried by, linkboys running ahead and behind. For no very clear reason, I began to worry that something had happened to Acte.

The roistering inside the brothel continued unchecked. Presently the doorkeeper emerged. The reason for his delay was evident in the reek of posca on his breath.

“The lady, as you call her, received your message. She’s unable to come out now.”

Saying the words turned my stomach. “Was she — occupied?”

“Not at all. She’s singing and dancing for the gentlemen. Having quite a merry time. She told me to say she couldn’t possibly speak with you until the nobles departed.” He leaned forward, his watering eyes strangely awed. “Show some sense, fellow. Get out of here without starting a row.

Tonight of all nights.”

“No,” I said. “I’ll wait. Yonder — under the arch across the way.”

Still grumbling, he took his seat on the stool. I wrapped myself in my cloak, crossed the street and crouched down to wait. My spirits were heavy.

The message Acte sent back did not jibe with the impassioned words we’d spoken that shattering night at the school.

Or did it?

A new suspicion troubled my mind. Had I made a dismal fool of myself by coming here?

The chill of the night deepened. The singing and shouting in Sulla’s continued. The stars that had followed the rain paled. Morning approached, bringing with it the risky task of returning to the Bestiarii School.

The brothel became quiet. The fine gentlemen inside were at the night’s true business. And my bitterness was complete. Acte had spoken falsely when she mouthed her words of love.

Probably she and some young fop were tittering over the incident this moment, while they rested between sports on the couch. Disgusted and ashamed, I stared at the lightening heavens. I stood up. My bones creaked. Let Syrax take care of himself, wherever he was. I’d remain no longer.

I took but a few dispirited steps in the direction of the Field of Mars before a commotion started in Sulla’s courtyard. I dodged back to my hiding place. The night’s celebration was done.

Half a dozen nobles, heavily cloaked so their Senatorial and equite togas would not be visible, spilled outside, together with linkboys and attendants. The doorkeeper woke, blinking.

“What a dismal, stinking failure of a night,” one of the nobles complained. “Lacking something, something. I wonder what?”

He smiled in a rather nasty way. The others grouped about him, waiting. I saw with surprise that the speaker was no more than a youth, some spoiled Senator’s son, no doubt. He was thoroughly drunk. He had a round face, ugly popping eyes and a slack mouth. His voice was shrill as he went on.

“No one here has been genuinely impressed with our station, friends. Let’s do something about that, eh?”

The young noble tottered forward, eyeing the doorkeeper who sat clutching his hands together, gaze downcast. The other sycophants applauded the young man’s move. One, however, stepped
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quickly to his friend’s side. He was older, grizzled, and had a craggy, intense face that seemed out of place among the crowd of loose-lipped weaklings. The older man implored his friend,

“Domitius, the wine has overcome us all. Let’s not cause any scandal by —”

“Scandal, scandal!” the youth jeered. I puzzled over the oddly familiarity of his flushed face.

“Serenus, you’re duller than a magistrate. No, I take that back. You’re duller than my wife at the height of passion.” His companions broke into appropriately fawning guffaws. The youth roared at his own jest Then he turned to the doorkeeper, advancing on him, words slurring together drunkenly.

“Old man, when we arrived earlier, I detected a distinct gleam of arrogance in your eye.”

The poor wretch was barely able to speak. “No, sir. It must have been a mistake.”

“Mistakes are things I never make,” his antagonist screeched, delivering a vicious box to the old man’s ear. The doorkeeper reeled against the wall and fell.

The young noble lifted one exquisite sandal and kicked the old man in the side of the head.

“More respect is what gentlemen require from cattle like you! More respect in the posture! The speech! The glance!”

Each word was emphasized with another brutal kick. Sickened and furious, I watched from behind a pillar. I knew I had no part in this quarrel. Yet I hated these men with a fearful hate, for they were the ones who had taken pleasure with Acte all night, keeping me skulking outside like an animal. The older, grizzled noble was the sole member of the party who was not enjoying the senseless sport.