“Well, excellency, I must admit I’ve borrowed a few smaller items no longer needed by their owners. Yesterday, however, I had a very distressing experience. I chanced upon a woman wearing a most beautiful garment, brilliant blue it was. Very striking. But when I turned her over, I saw it was not a wealthy stranger, but a woman with whom I had some slight acquaintance.”
Pulcheria’s expression was sorrowful as she continued her tale. “She was an elderly widow who had been forced to live on the street late in life. She’d had a very hard time, as you might imagine. Just think, excellency, those blue robes were the finest garments she’d worn in years. I wonder where she got them from. Perhaps a cast-off from some aristocratic lady, such as she’d been once? I just didn’t have the heart to take them. It would’ve been like robbery.”
She began threading the braided red strip through her dark hair. “It’s as well that the theater is closed just now. A lot of my clients used to go there and then visit me afterwards, so with the sudden rise in other business I’d certainly have my hands full.” She gave a lewd laugh.
“Your knowledge of the theater is in fact why I’m here, Pulcheria. Do you happen to know an actress going by the name of Sappho? You may have seen her in the company of the bear trainers quartered near the Hippodrome.”
“Sappho, you say? I don’t recall her immediately, I admit, but you know how it is, they change their names all the time. What does she look like?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you. I’ve only heard about her from a person who wasn’t able to give me much of a description, except that this Sappho puts on airs.”
Pulcheria laughed. “If you’d told me she didn’t put on airs, I’d be able to identify her right away, since she’d be the only actress in the city who didn’t. I’ll ask around and see if I can find out anything about her for you. Ah, I see a possible client approaching. Notice the furtive look?”
She shook her head. Several of the ribbons and cloth scraps in her hair fell down in a colorful veil that partly obscured the ruined side of her face.
A portly, middle-aged man strolled slowly across the square toward them. His face was as pink as a baby’s, as if he’d just come from the baths. The buckle on his belt was silver. He appeared to be studying the empty porticos on the other side of the square with great attention and then transferred his gaze to the sky. He nodded a dignified greeting to another man who hurried past, paying him no heed at all.
Pulcheria giggled. “See? What pains he takes to declare to the world that of course he is not considering hiring a prostitute to satisfy his lust, as if anyone were thinking he was, or would even care.”
As predicted, the portly man passed in front of John and Pulcheria and then turned back suddenly and hastily tossed a handful of nummi at John. “I’ll borrow the woman. Here’s her hire.”
***
“And what did you do with Pulcheria’s fee?” Isis asked, pouring John wine. They were seated on a soft couch in her private apartment on the upper floor of the establishment.
“I’ve still got it,” John admitted. “I’ll give it to her on my way back to the palace.”
“Why didn’t you wait until she emerged from the alley?” Isis went on with professional interest in carnal transactions. Now that she had become owner rather than employee she had allowed herself to grow plump, but her soft prettiness concealed a business acumen that was one of the sharpest John had encountered.
John considered the question for a short time. “To preserve her dignity,” he finally replied. “It’s one thing to talk about her life, but quite another to…”
Isis nodded agreement. “That certainly wasn’t her usual fee! The ignorant fellow must’ve taken note of those expensive garments of yours. Apparently it didn’t occur to him in the heat of the occasion that you’d never be able to buy clothing like those if you were living off a street whore. For that price he could have had a nice bed at his back rather than a brick wall. Mind you, there are some who’ll pay extra for someone like Pulcheria.”
John asked what she meant.
“Why, she’s exotic, John. A woman with two faces. Some men say women are both angels and demons, and Pulcheria resembles just that strange notion. Then too, some clients might relish a demon lover and would be more than glad to anticipate being punished by a demonic visitation even while they were satiating themselves.”
“I had thought Pulcheria was reduced to plying her trade on the street because she was, well, damaged,” John replied.
Isis formed her red-painted lips into a rosebud smile. “It’s all in the way it’s presented, John. I once tried to persuade her to work for me, but she likes her independence too much. Mind you, she’s right about one thing. Even with half the population gone, my girls are seeing as many visitors as ever. We must be one of the few businesses still turning a profit.”
She paused. “Not the only one, however,” she went on with a glimmer of a smile. “One of our regular patrons visited us yesterday and was particularly generous in showing his appreciation. I gather from the girl he favored that he’s making a fortune right now. What do you suppose he’s selling, John?”
“Wine?”
Isis laughed. “You’re not that far wrong, if you consider, as many do, that wine is the way to oblivion. Only in the case of our suddenly wealthy client, he’s purveying eternal oblivion, or possibly not depending upon your religious views. No, he is selling hellebore.”
“Poison? Yet can we be surprised? He has a popular product to offer, given many prefer to depart in a hasty fashion than suffer for days,” John said thoughtfully. “No doubt he can name his own price for what he offers.”
Isis nodded. “Indeed. Apparently, being a charitable man, he accepts payment in clothing and jewelry as well as coins, not to mention the occasional, shall we say, personal favor of an intimate nature. And this reminds me. You are an old and very dear friend, John. If it should come to it, I have purchased a good supply of his wares and I can easily spare enough to set your feet on the ladder to heaven within an hour or two.”
“Thank you, Isis, but I hope not to have to accept your more than generous offer,” John replied with a thin smile. “The more so since, before that time comes for me or for Peter, I hope to find a particular woman who may well be able to give me important information in the matter.”
Isis settled back into the embrace of her well-cushioned couch. “You mean this actress called Sappho? The bear trainers were not able to assist, I take it?”
“No. I visited them as soon as I’d left the apartment of the wayward son I was telling you about. The only thing that I learnt was she has not been seen for a few months. As I left they were all telling each other how they knew Theodora when her family was still involved in the profession, not to mention much winking and suggestive gestures and hinting that they knew her better than they are now willing to admit. Even the ones half her age, I may add.”
“Theodora was a whore once, as we all know. Most of the men in the city have had their way with her at one time or another, according to them, and now that she’s co-ruler of the empire, well, men do boast about the oddest things at times.”
John smiled wordlessly.
Isis laughed. “They do! Of course, it’s very possible this so-called Sappho could be dead. All the same, I’ll ask my girls to keep their ears open in case one of their clients mentions her. Information such as that often comes knocking unasked on our door.”
“Perhaps that’s why I haven’t been able to find anything out, despite all the doors I’ve knocked at this past day or so. The truth’s been away calling on you. But then, as I’ve said, that is why I came to see you, Isis, to ask about this Sappho.”
“Not to reminisce about the old days in Egypt?”
John smiled again. Isis often recalled every smallest detail about their days in Alexandria, except the fact that their paths had never crossed while they lived in that huge city. “That too, certainly.”