Read Online House Of The Vestals by Steven Saylor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Steven Saylor
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younger man, Asuvius, the one who died?" I asked.
"Yes, what of him?"
"He was equally debauched?"
The landlord shrugged. "You know how it is-these young men from small towns, especially the lads who have a bit of money, they come to Rome and they want to live a little."
"Sad, that this one should die, instead."
"That has nothing to do with me," the landlord protested. "I keep a safe house. It wasn't as if the boy was murdered in one of my rooms. He took sick and died."
"Did he look particularly frail?"
"Not at all, but debauchery can ruin any man's health."
"Not in a month's time."
"When illness strikes, it strikes; neither man nor god can lengthen a man's time once the Fates have measured out the thread of his life."
"Wise words," I agreed. I pulled a few coins from Lucius's purse and slapped them into the man's waiting palm.
The brothel down the street was one of the Subura's more respectable, which is to say more expensive, houses of entertainment. Several well-dressed slaves lingered outside the door, waiting for their masters to come out. Inside, the floor of the little foyer was decorated with a black and white mosaic of Priapus pursuing a wood nymph. Rich tapestries of red and green covered the walls.
The clientele was not shoddy, either. While we waited for the master of the house, a customer passed us on his way to the door. He was at least a minor magistrate, to judge from his gold seal ring, and he seemed to know Lucius, at whom he cast a puzzled gaze.
"You-Lucius Claudius-here in Priapus's Palace.?"
"Yes, and what of it, Gaius Fabius?"
"But I'd never have dreamed you had a lustful bone in your body!"
Lucius sniffed at the ceiling. "I happen to be here on important business, if you don't mind."
"Oh, I see. But of course. Don't let me interrupt you!" The man suppressed a laugh until he was out the door. I heard him braying in the street.
"Harrumph! Let him laugh and gossip about me behind my back," said Lucius. "I shall compose a satirical poem for my revenge, so witheringly spiteful that it shall render that buffoon too limp to visit this-what did he call this place?"
"Priapus's Palace," piped an unctuously friendly voice. The master of the house suddenly appeared between us and slid his arms around our shoulders. "And what pleasures may I offer to amuse two such fine specimens of Roman manhood?" The man smiled blandly at me, then at Lucius, then at the baubles that decorated Lucius's neck and fingers. He licked his lips and slithered to the center of the room, turned and clapped his hands. A file of scantily clad women began to enter the room.
"Actually," I said hurriedly, "we've come on behalf of a friend."
"Oh?"
"A regular client of your establishment in recent days, I believe. A young visitor to Rome, named Asuvius."
From the corner of my eye I saw a sudden movement among the girls. One of them, a honey blonde, tripped and thrust out her hands for balance. She turned a pair of startled blue eyes in my direction.
"Oh yes, that handsome lad from Larinum," gushed our host. "We haven't seen him for at least a day and a half-I was beginning to wonder what had become of him!"
"We're here on his behalf," I said, thinking it might not be a lie, when all was said and done. "He sent us to fetch his favorite girl-but I can't seem to remember her name. Can you remember it, Lucius?"
Lucius gave a start and blinked his eyes, which were trained on the girls and threatened to pop from their sockets. "Me? Oh no, I can't remember a thing."
A look of pure avarice crossed our host's face. "His favorite? Ah, let me think… yes, that would be Merula, most definitely Merula!" Another clap of his hands fetched a slave who put an ear to his master's whispering lips, then ran from the room. A moment later Merula appeared, a stunning Ethiopian so tall that she had to bow her head to pass through the doorway. Her skin was the color of midnight and her eyes flashed like shooting stars.
Lucius was visibly
"Yes, what of him?"
"He was equally debauched?"
The landlord shrugged. "You know how it is-these young men from small towns, especially the lads who have a bit of money, they come to Rome and they want to live a little."
"Sad, that this one should die, instead."
"That has nothing to do with me," the landlord protested. "I keep a safe house. It wasn't as if the boy was murdered in one of my rooms. He took sick and died."
"Did he look particularly frail?"
"Not at all, but debauchery can ruin any man's health."
"Not in a month's time."
"When illness strikes, it strikes; neither man nor god can lengthen a man's time once the Fates have measured out the thread of his life."
"Wise words," I agreed. I pulled a few coins from Lucius's purse and slapped them into the man's waiting palm.
The brothel down the street was one of the Subura's more respectable, which is to say more expensive, houses of entertainment. Several well-dressed slaves lingered outside the door, waiting for their masters to come out. Inside, the floor of the little foyer was decorated with a black and white mosaic of Priapus pursuing a wood nymph. Rich tapestries of red and green covered the walls.
The clientele was not shoddy, either. While we waited for the master of the house, a customer passed us on his way to the door. He was at least a minor magistrate, to judge from his gold seal ring, and he seemed to know Lucius, at whom he cast a puzzled gaze.
"You-Lucius Claudius-here in Priapus's Palace.?"
"Yes, and what of it, Gaius Fabius?"
"But I'd never have dreamed you had a lustful bone in your body!"
Lucius sniffed at the ceiling. "I happen to be here on important business, if you don't mind."
"Oh, I see. But of course. Don't let me interrupt you!" The man suppressed a laugh until he was out the door. I heard him braying in the street.
"Harrumph! Let him laugh and gossip about me behind my back," said Lucius. "I shall compose a satirical poem for my revenge, so witheringly spiteful that it shall render that buffoon too limp to visit this-what did he call this place?"
"Priapus's Palace," piped an unctuously friendly voice. The master of the house suddenly appeared between us and slid his arms around our shoulders. "And what pleasures may I offer to amuse two such fine specimens of Roman manhood?" The man smiled blandly at me, then at Lucius, then at the baubles that decorated Lucius's neck and fingers. He licked his lips and slithered to the center of the room, turned and clapped his hands. A file of scantily clad women began to enter the room.
"Actually," I said hurriedly, "we've come on behalf of a friend."
"Oh?"
"A regular client of your establishment in recent days, I believe. A young visitor to Rome, named Asuvius."
From the corner of my eye I saw a sudden movement among the girls. One of them, a honey blonde, tripped and thrust out her hands for balance. She turned a pair of startled blue eyes in my direction.
"Oh yes, that handsome lad from Larinum," gushed our host. "We haven't seen him for at least a day and a half-I was beginning to wonder what had become of him!"
"We're here on his behalf," I said, thinking it might not be a lie, when all was said and done. "He sent us to fetch his favorite girl-but I can't seem to remember her name. Can you remember it, Lucius?"
Lucius gave a start and blinked his eyes, which were trained on the girls and threatened to pop from their sockets. "Me? Oh no, I can't remember a thing."
A look of pure avarice crossed our host's face. "His favorite? Ah, let me think… yes, that would be Merula, most definitely Merula!" Another clap of his hands fetched a slave who put an ear to his master's whispering lips, then ran from the room. A moment later Merula appeared, a stunning Ethiopian so tall that she had to bow her head to pass through the doorway. Her skin was the color of midnight and her eyes flashed like shooting stars.
Lucius was visibly
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