Furies (45 page)

“Some men tried to murder us in the Agora yesterday,” Idaia announced. Tyche shot her a warning look.

“They what?” Aculeo demanded.

“It was just some thieves,” Calisto said. “We’re fine.”

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

“Some men, sailors I think, they jostled the litter, tried to steal my necklace. There were some soldiers nearby who chased them away. We’re alright, really.”

“They tore Calisto’s dress,” Idaia said. “She cut one of them with a knife. I hid behind a shrine, I was so scared!”

“Idaia, shush!” Tyche said sharply.

“You stabbed one of them?” Aculeo said in astonishment.

“The child exaggerates,” Calisto said dismissively. “I was afraid you’d react this way.”

“I thought they were going to kill us!” Idaia said.

“But who were they? You said they were sailors?” he asked.

“I think so,” Calisto said. “I didn’t understand their language.”

“How many of them were there?”

“I’m not certain. Not many.”

“They were six at least,” Idaia said. “One of them had a twisted lip.”

Aculeo looked at her in surprise. “Like this?” he asked, running his finger down across his upper lip. The child nodded. He glanced at Tyche. “Was it the slave Geta?”

Tyche bowed her head, making an almost imperceptible nod. The poor girl was terrified. Aculeo smiled grimly and squeezed their hands. “You need to be more careful. Keep out of the Agora for a while, yes?”

“How is it you know the man?” Calisto asked.

“He’s one of Panthea’s slaves. Don’t worry. Just promise me you’ll not leave your villa on your own for a while.”

“So we should hide away like bees in a hive?”

More like moths caught in Cob’s web, Aculeo thought. He forced a smile. “What’s wrong with being bees? Especially when you live in such a pretty hive?”

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Calisto said hollowly.

Aculeo leaned closer to her, took her soft chin between his fingers, tipped her face towards his and kissed her on the lips. She resisted at first, then kissed him back. Idaia giggled. “Let’s enjoy this moment at least,” he said.

They noticed an old man approaching them tapping his walking stick along the paving stones, a young slave at his elbow guiding him through the crowds. The man’s robes were tattered, his eyes clouded white, but he gave a broad smile when he stopped next to them.

“Welcome in peace, in peace in peace,” the old man said in a singsong voice. “A beautiful lady, a handsome gentleman, and two lovely little flowers, my boy tells me. How are you all this fine day?”

“We’re well, and you?” Calisto said graciously, wiping away her tears, recovering her composure.

“Every day I can still feel the sun’s warmth on my face is a gift, Miss. Come now, give me a brass coin, I’ll spin you a golden tale.”

“What sort of tale?”

“Anything you like, Miss. What shall it be? A tale of love or a tale of war?”

“One that has both,” Calisto said, gazing at Aculeo, who pressed a coin into the man’s outstretched hand.

The blind poet smiled. “Of course – the finest sort.”

Aculeo opened his eyes, still half asleep, listening to the sound of the children playing in the garden, squealing with laughter. He felt the feathery touch of Calisto running her fingertips along his face, his jaw, then tracing the ropey scar that stretched from beneath his ribs to the breadth of his chest in a knotted pink line. He pulled her close, his hand against the small of her back, her skin soft and smooth as silk. She kissed him, her warm, sweet breath against his neck.

“Is it from a battle?” she asked, tracing her finger along the fibrous band, which wrapped around his right shoulder to his upper back.

“I never fought in any battles,” he said with a smile.

“What’s it from then?”

He sighed. “I was seventeen, training to be an officer in the army. One of the other trainees caught me during sword practice when I wasn’t looking.”

“You were a Roman officer?” Calisto said, surprised. “I had no idea.”

“My father had a great deal of ambition for me. More than I had for myself. He thought some military experience would help advance my career. Anyway, this put an end to those dreams.

“He died soon after, leaving me a small inheritance. I got involved in business with one of his old friends, a man named Corvinus who ran a grain export company. Corvinus became like a second father to me. With his guidance I was able to turn my inheritance into a fortune.” He paused, his expression darkened, brows knitted.

“What happened?” Calisto asked.

Aculeo shrugged. “I thought I knew once, but in truth I’m not entirely certain what happened anymore. Either way, what fortune I once had is long gone.”

“Idaia told me you have a son,” Calisto said. She paused for a moment. “And a wife?”

Aculeo lay his head back on his pillow. “Yes. She left me when I lost everything. They returned to Rome in Januarius. Titiana just remarried.” He turned his head away.

She kissed him, held him tight. “You must have truly loved her.”

Aculeo said nothing in reply, just lay in her arms. He pulled back a bit so he could see her, threaded his fingers through her dark hair, combing it off her face, tracing down her forehead, around her closed eyes, around her cheekbones, touching the white scar that ran along the line of her chin to her jaw. “Where did you get this?”

Calisto flinched and looked away, her eyes clouded. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I only …”

“My husband sliced my face with a whip one night.”

“Oh,” Aculeo gasped.

“It was many years ago, and he was drunk. I left him that very night. I made my way to Alexandria. Then I met Ralla.”

“And you became his hetaira?”

“Yes.”
They held one another close as they listened to the sound of the children playing in the garden.

“I think we should leave,” he said.

“Let’s stay here just a while longer.”

Aculeo shook his head. “I meant we should leave Alexandria.”

“But why?”

“It isn’t safe.”

“I have you here to protect me,” she said, kissing his chest.

“It wasn’t a random attack on you in the Agora yesterday. Panthea’s slave Geta was behind your assault in the Agora. It was her men that attacked me at Ralla’s symposium and likely murdered Gurculio that same night.”

Calisto pulled away from him, looked up at him in surprise. “Why should they have wanted to do these things?”

“It has something to do with some tablets Iovinus had been carrying when he returned to Alexandria. Gurculio’s men almost murdered me over them.”

“What tablets?” Calisto asked.

“They belonged to a man named
Marcellus Flavianus
. It doesn’t matter anymore, we’ll never know what was on them. They were destroyed in the fire at Gurculio’s villa.”

“Why would he attack us though?”

“I wish I knew. It must be connected to the murders of Myrrhine, Iovinus and Petras somehow.”

Calisto tucked her head against his neck. “I don’t know what to do.”

“
Tell me something – who was Petras’ patron before she disappeared?”

She paused a moment. “
Petras was involved with a number of men.”

“Who?”

“There was Gemellus. And Hirpinius I think. And Posidippus …”

Aculeo looked at her in surprise. “Posdippus of Cos?”

“You know him?”

“Yes, I know him. What was his relationship with Petras?”

“They were quite close for a time,” she said. “There was even talk of him buying her from Panthea, of emancipating and marrying her. That was until Ralla set his eyes on her as well.”

“Ralla?”

“Yes. Posidippus sold off what properties he held and made Panthea an offer for her, but Panthea wouldn’t go against Ralla.”

“When was that?”

“I’m not sure, Februarius perhaps?”

“That was a month before Petras was murdered. Ralla’s women don’t survive for long, do they?” Aculeo said bitterly.

“Aculeo…”

“Did you know Petras was with child when she was murdered?” he asked.

Calisto gave a sharp intake of breath and closed her eyes. “Oh …”

“The priests mummified the child she carried as well, it was not three months along. So small I could have held it in the palm of my hand.”

“Please, no more,” she said weakly.

“Who’s next? You? Then Tyche? Idaia even? Whatever madness that drives him, whatever reason he has to do these things, what makes you think he would stop now?”
Calisto buried herself in his arms, crying, unable to speak for a while. “Come with me,” Aculeo whispered. “We’ll take the girls and run away.”

“You say that so easily. Where would we go?”

“Anywhere but here.”

“You have money?”

“A little. Enough for us to get away at least. After that …”

“After that we’ll be paupers. I can’t even sell my properties,” she said. “It’s all such a mess right now. Everything I have is held
through Ralla.”

“Ralla? Why?”

“Because I’m a woman. I can no more own property directly than if I were a slave or a freedman.”

Aculeo stared at her a moment. “What did you say?”

“I’m not permitted to own property. I had to put the title in Ralla’s name in order to …”

Aculeo bolted from the bed. “I have to go,” he said, pulling on his tunic.

“Why? What’s the matter?”

“I’ll explain later. Pack your things. You need to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Understand me?”

“No, I don’t …”

“Then trust me.”