The Lydian Baker

Interesting, right? And definitely food for further thought. I gave the subdued Harpalus a brief nod and went out to collect my purchase.

I walked back to the carriage carrying Nestor on his perch like a legion's Eagle, with the bastard glaring at me and trying to take my ear off the whole way. I was having serious qualms of conscience here: when she heard our new pet's language Perilla would kill me. Also just thinking about having a dead ringer for Uncle Cotta permanently in residence gave me hives. Maybe I should hand him straight over to Meton and be done with it: roast parrot with a nut and sunflower-seed stuffing had a sort of ring to it…

There were a couple of snot-nosed lads hanging around the carriage, kicking the wheels and bad-mouthing Lysias. They took to their heels when they saw me coming, but I called the elder one over. He came, eventually, and stood glowering at me.

'Hey, sonny.' I hunkered down to his leveclass="underline" no point in intimidating the poor kid. 'You want to make yourself an easy drach?'

The eight-year-old looked me up and down with eyes that belonged to a hard-boiled city-square huckster. He turned away and spat neatly into the gutter.

'Doing what?' he said. The tone suggested he thought he knew already, and the price was just about to take a hike. Jupiter! So much for innocence!

'The guy at the bird shop. You know him?'

'Harpalus?' The kid sniggered. 'Sure.'

'If he goes out I want to know where to. And I don't want him to know I know. Get me?'

'I get you.' He looked at his brother, who was about three years younger, waist-high, and at the taciturn, nose-picking stage. 'We work together. Fixed rates. Three drachs each, up front.'

Gods alive! What did they teach kids nowadays? For six drachs I could buy half a parrot. 'Deal. One now, two later. Fair?'

He considered, then held out a grubby mitt. 'Two now, two later. Otherwise you can go screw.'

I sighed and handed over the silver. At this rate I'd have to be paying a visit to my banker soon. Maybe I should start making a list of expenses and charge them to Priscus's bill. 'Okay. You know the cookshop near the Shrine of Hyakinthos? Behind the Serangeion?'

'I'll find it.'

'Good. When you have something for me leave a message there for Marcus Porcius Cato and collect from the owner. You got that?'

'That your name? Cato?' The kid might not know his Roman history, but he could spot a lie a mile off. I grinned.

'It'll do,' I said: the tight-fisted old so-and-so would be spinning in his urn. 'Just make sure Harpalus doesn't spot you.'

'Harpalus? Harpalus couldn't find his own arse with both hands.'

I winced. Gods! Well, I could see now where the parrot got his vocabulary from. It was obviously par for the local course. 'Okay. Don't forget. Marcus Porcius Cato, the Hyakinthos cookshop.'

'Marcus Porcius Cato, the Hyakinthos cookshop,' he repeated, and gave me a look like I was capable of dribbling into my bedtime gruel. 'You've got it, lord.'

I straightened up, and the two kids ran off. Probably on their way to liberate the lead from the Mother of the Gods's roof. Yeah, well, it kept them off the streets, and if they didn't break their necks in the process they'd probably end up millionaires. I shoved Nestor into the carriage and told Lysias to head back to Zea. Then, after I'd squared arrangements with my pal at the cookshop — another two drachs' worth — he turned the carriage in the direction of the City Gate and home.

The next bit I wasn't looking forward to. This was going to be tricky. And I don't mean Smaragdus, either.

Perilla was in the garden, picking flowers. When she saw Nestor she beamed. Good start.

'How beautiful, Marcus! A parrot! Wherever did you get him?'

'Bugger off, sunsh…'

Oh, hell! I grabbed at his beak, just in time. Luckily Perilla didn't seem to have heard, or maybe she just didn't believe her ears.

'A shop in the Piraeus,' I said. 'His name's Nestor.'

'But he's an absolute darling!'

The absolute darling was trying to bite through my finger. Enough was enough. I put my mouth next to the feathered bastard's head.

'Listen, pal,' I hissed. 'Cut it out. One word out of place in front of the lady and you're cat's-meat. Understand?'

The biting stopped. Carefully I let go. Nestor shuffled sideways along the perch, glaring at me. Perilla stroked his breast-feathers and he arched a claw in sexual ecstasy.

'He's lovely,' she said. 'What does he eat? Besides fingers, that is.'

Hell. I should've thought of that and had Harpalus throw some birdseed in with the deal. Well, no doubt Meton could rustle something up temporarily.

'Nuts. Sunflower seeds.' I caught the evil glint of an eye. 'Spare ribs. Hamsters…'

'Surely not.' Perilla frowned. 'Parrots are vegetarians.' She turned to Nestor and ruffled his feathers again. 'You don't eat meat, do you, darling?'

'Drop your pants, lady.'

This time my hand was years too late. Perilla pulled back like she'd been stung.

'Marcus, what did that bird just say?'

I had him by the beak again, and I swear could feel the bastard grin. 'It's…uh…just one of his standard phrases, Perilla. He comes from a deprived background. A few days in a more refined environment and he'll be a changed bird. I promise you.'

The frown didn't shift. 'Corvinus, I have enough on my hands training you. I have no intention of taking on a parrot in addition.'

'Fu — '

'Sorry, lady, my hand slipped. He'll be okay, honestly. Just give him time.'

'Very well. He has a month.' Perilla was staring at him. 'You know, this may sound silly but if you imagine him wearing a broad-striped mantle he'd be the spit and image of — '

I gave a yell of agony. Nestor had finally got a proper bite in, and it felt like being mugged by a set of nutcrackers. Which I suppose was what it was, really.

'Cadmus is an onanist!'

Right. That was the last straw. I didn't mind the swearing, personally, but when a parrot started using words I didn't know it was time for drastic action.

'Bathyllus!'

'Yes, sir.' The little guy oiled up out of nowhere.

'Here.' I handed him Nestor on his perch. 'Take this bit of crow's-meat up an alleyway and kick some civilisation into him, will you? I don't want to see the bastard again until his language is dining-room standard.'

'Like your own, sir.' Bathyllus sniffed. 'Certainly. Alexis the gardener has a way with animals. I'll give the bird to him.'

'You do that. And tell Alexis he has a month. After that one blue phrase and we fricassée the bugger.'

'Alexis or the parrot, sir?'

'Don't try to be funny, Bathyllus. It's been a long hard day and I haven't the mental energy.'

'Very well, sir. Apropos, Meton says that dinner is almost ready.'

'Great. What is it tonight?'

'Mussel forcemeat sausage, baked eel with egg sauce and a purée of green vegetables, sir. The chef is feeling nautical.'

'Eels are freshwater.'

'Piscatorial, then. Will that be all?'

'Yeah.' I stopped myself. 'No. What happened to the wine? You know the standing orders when the master's out.'

'It was waiting for you, sir, beside the pool.'

Shit. I'd walked right past it. And after a hard day back and forth to the Piraeus with nothing but the Hyakinthos wineshop in the middle I needed a drink badly. 'Okay, my mistake. Go fetch.'

'Certainly, sir.' He padded back inside.

Perilla set the flowers in a vase on the stone table and sat down on the bench. I sat beside her and draped an arm round her shoulders.

'How's Chrysoulla?' I said.

'The funeral was this afternoon. She wanted to go straight home afterwards, to get things ready.'