Her mouth hung open, and I could see she didn’t have many teeth. I wondered how long she’d been living like this-and how much longer she could expect to live. I got up to leave. She just watched me. The shock had nearly sobered her.
“I’m going to find Stricta. Stay here, keep quiet, and tell Lupo you did what he told you to do. Remember-come if there’s trouble.”
I left her to hide the denarii wherever she could and entered the hallway. A retired veteran was walking toward me with a dyed blonde whore in a skimpy crimson tunic. He glanced at Draco and me, but the woman succeeded in pulling him behind the drapes of her stall.
Draco was still standing near the cubicle with the real Stricta, keeping an eye on the entrance to the corridor. I pushed aside the cheap green linen that hung from the doorway.
Inside, the small brunette I’d glimpsed earlier was perched on the far corner of an even cheaper mattress than in her own room, holding her arms tightly around herself, and rocking in a quick, repetitive motion. The smell of fear overwhelmed the other odors.
She looked up like a wild thing when I entered, and shrank against the wall as if she expected me to hit her. She was actually pretty. With her nickname, she must not have been in the business long. Her skin was olive and her face was Greek.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t be afraid of me, Stricta.” It was the voice I saved for the fatal cases. She understood the tone. Never letting her eyes leave my face, she edged toward the bed. I tried Greek.
“Are you Egyptian? I can speak to you in Greek, if that is easier.”
At the sound of the other language, her tired brown eyes found a spark of something, and she stared at me.
“That’s good. You can understand me. Listen. I am your friend. I am Galla’s friend, too.”
She frowned, and a little more spirit crept into her face.
“No, she did not betray you. But I knew she was not Stricta. I have seen her before.”
There was a long pause. She finally spoke in Greek, with a heavy Egyptian accent.
“Who are you? And what do you want with us?”
I wanted to get her out of there. She’d been beaten recently-bruises still showed on her thin arms, even behind the dark complexion. Her lip was swollen, and the garish white makeup that covered her face couldn’t hide the marks of violence. But she moved like a priestess. Despite her pain and the omnipresent stench, she made the squalid room feel like a temple.
“My name is Arcturus. I’m the governor’s physician. Something happened here last night to the Syrian. I’m trying to find out what.”
She nodded. She appreciated the truth.
“I know. He was murdered.”
“Do you know when?”
She shook her head and lowered her eyes.
“Do you know why he was here?”
Again, she shook her head. Kindness wasn’t enough. I tried money. I reached into my purse and pulled out six denarii. I’d spent that much on Galla.
Her face darkened at the sight of the coins, and she brushed me aside. They insulted her. I should’ve known better.
“Go now. I have nothing to tell you.”
I placed the money on the bed, and took her hand. “Who did this to you?”
Her eyes hurt too much to read them. “If I talk, I lose my ears. Or my eyes. Or anything else a whore doesn’t need. Please go. I have nothing to say.”
“Stricta, listen. You don’t have to stay here. You can come with me. I will protect you. I have many slaves-one of them is very strong, he’s outside. Please-promise me if they beat you again you’ll find me. I live by the river, not far from the governor’s palace. I can buy you.”
She shook her head before I was finished. “No. They will not sell me now. If I am quiet, they will be merciful.”
I took her by the shoulders, and she flinched. “Don’t believe that. Lupo asked Galla to pretend to be you. Both of you are in danger. I can protect you both.”
She looked at me with a kind of desperate hope, but then I heard Draco. Someone was coming. She reacted more quickly than I did.
“Take the coins!” she hissed, grabbing them from the bed. I pocketed all but one, which I kept in my palm. I raised my voice.
“So-Galla-you look like you could handle-”
Lupo lumbered in the room with another man, a young Roman immaculately dressed and coiffed. He moved with the lightness of a backstabber and stank of perfume. He seemed to hold Lupo with an invisible chain. I had a feeling he was the real owner of the entire business, inn, tavern, and whorehouse. The fact that I was seeing him at all meant I was doing something right.
I stared at his smooth, soft face-marred only by the closeness of his eyes. I turned to the Cyclops.
“What is this, Lupo? I’m not accustomed to being interrupted when I pay for a woman-”
“You pay to talk to Stricta. This not Stricta.”
I studied the giant like a haruspex examining a particularly foul liver. “I paid three denarii. That should be enough money to buy your entire shithouse of a business-”
“Not quite,” the young man interrupted. His voice was easy and pleasant, the voice of someone who spends his time selling dried-up mines and two-thirds shares in leaky ships.
“My name is Caelius. And you are-?” He meant it as a demand, not a question.
I smiled. My first look should’ve been enough to warn him. “I was under the impression that we don’t use names in an … establishment like this one. So you’re actually proud of your business. A citizen, are you? Why don’t they call it ‘Caelius’ Place?’ Such a nice ring to it.”
He turned a gratifying shade of purple. Small, mean eyes darted back and forth, looking for a target, and I expected the pink tongue that licked his lips to have a fork in it. He wasn’t showing fangs. Not yet.
“And who I am is not really the point, is it? I paid money-good money-”
I poked him in the chest with the denarius still in my hand. Hard. Lupo took a step forward, but Draco was right behind him.
“-to find out some information about a lying, cheating, smelly bastard that, unsurprisingly, chose to stay here last night. He always had a taste for shit.”
I moved close enough to smell the unguent on his cheeks.
“I play with real money, not the bark you people wipe your asses with. I talked to Stricta, who tells me he left. The Syrian was only interested in oiling his prick-she doesn’t know anything else.”
Sweat was starting to ooze from Caelius’ face. I watched a drop form on his forehead and slowly drip down his cheek. I moved in a little closer.
“The money was spent, so I decided to have a go at this little thing here. She’s not completely worn out, unlike most of the hags I’ve seen crawl out of these rooms. And then you come in and interrupt me before I can get her clothes off.” I took one more step. This time, he backed up.
I said: “You’re lucky I don’t haul you into court.”
Lupo was watching us, confused and alarmed. He kept looking toward Stricta, and concern etched a pattern in his caved-in face. But then, he wasn’t the monster.
Caelius had no dignity to recover, so he was scrambling to pick up the pieces of his shattered aplomb. He would’ve sold his mother’s eyes to find out who I was and what I really wanted. I almost wanted to tell him. But I was sure he’d long since blinded his mother for a chance at something else.
“Very well, I understand. Lupo thought-well, never mind what Lupo thought.”
Lupo looked at him with bewilderment. This wasn’t Lupo’s idea. Caelius’ small, girlish mouth was smiling the toothy grimace of a man afraid of something. It was something dirty, something he was equally afraid of losing and getting. Money was a part of it. I could smell it on him, despite the sandalwood. He probably slept with it at night.
He said: “If you like her, take her. I apologize for the intrusion.”
I shook my head. “Forget it.”