Read Online The Mammoth Book of Roman Whodunnits by Mike Ashley (ed) - Free Book Online
Authors: Mike Ashley (ed)
Ads: Link
nodded.
Rather young
, he went on to say, in the elaborate system of gestures we had devised between us,
with skin the colour of night
.
I raised an eyebrow. “A Nubian?”
Eco nodded.
“Show her in.”
My memory did not do justice to her beauty. As before, her hair was done up with ribbons and she was attired in pale blue and burnished copper. Probably the outfit was the best she possessed. She had worn it to attend the funeral games; now she wore it for me. I was flattered.
She studied me for a long moment, a quizzical expressionon her face. “I’ve seen you somewhere before,” she finally said.
“Yes. In Saturnia, at the funeral games for Sextus Thorius.”
She sucked in a breath. “I remember now. You sat across from me. You weren’t like the rest – laughing, joking, screaming for blood. When Zanziba was killed, you saw the suffering on my face, and I could tell that you . . .” Her voice trailed off. She lowered her eyes. “How strange, the paths upon which the gods lead us! When I asked around the Subura for a man who might be able to help me, yours was the name people gave me, but I never imagined that I’d seen you before – and in that place of all places, on that day of all accursed days!”
“You know who I am, then?”
“Gordianus. They call you the Finder.”
“Yes. And you?”
“My name is Zuleika.”
“Not a Roman name.”
“I had a Roman name once. A man who was my master gave it to me. But Zuleika is the name I was born with, and Zuleika is the name I’ll die with.”
“I take it you shed your slave name when you shed your former master. You’re a freedwoman, then?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s sit here in the garden. My son will bring us wine to drink.”
We sat in the shade, and Zuleika told me her story.
She had been born in a city with an unpronounceable name, in a country unimaginably far away – beyond Nubia, she said, even beyond the fabled source of the Nile. Her father had been a wealthy trader in ivory, who often travelled and took his family with him. In a desert land, at a tender age, she had seen her father and mother murdered bybandits. Zuleika and her younger brother, Zanziba, were abducted and sold into slavery.
“Our fortunes varied, as did our masters,” she said, “but at least we were kept together as a pair; because we were exotic, you see.”
And beautiful
, I thought, assuming that her brother’s beauty matched her own. “Eventually we found ourselves in Egypt. Our new owner was the master of a mime troupe. He trained us to be performers.”
“You have a particular talent?”
“I dance and sing.”
“And your brother?”
“Zanziba excelled at acrobatics – cartwheels, balancing acts, somersaults in mid-air. The master said that Zanziba must have a pair of wings hidden somewhere between those massive shoulders of his.” She smiled, but only briefly. “Our master had once been a slave himself. He was a kind and generous man; he allowed his slaves to earn their own money, with the goal of eventually buying their freedom. When we had earned enough, Zanziba and I, we used the money to purchase Zanziba’s freedom, with the intention of putting aside more money until we could do the same for me.
“But then the master fell on hard times. He was forced to disband the troupe and sell his performers piecemeal – a dancer here, a juggler there. I ended up with a new master, a Roman merchant living in Alexandria. He didn’t want me for my dancing or my singing. He wanted me for my body.” She lowered her eyes. “When Zanziba came to him and said he wanted to buy my freedom, the man named a very steep price. Zanziba vowed to earn it, but he could never hope to do so as an acrobat, performing for coins in the street. He disappeared from Alexandria. Time passed, and more time. For such a long time I heard no word from him that I began to despair, thinking that my brother was dead, or had forgotten about me.
“Then, finally, money arrived –
Rather young
, he went on to say, in the elaborate system of gestures we had devised between us,
with skin the colour of night
.
I raised an eyebrow. “A Nubian?”
Eco nodded.
“Show her in.”
My memory did not do justice to her beauty. As before, her hair was done up with ribbons and she was attired in pale blue and burnished copper. Probably the outfit was the best she possessed. She had worn it to attend the funeral games; now she wore it for me. I was flattered.
She studied me for a long moment, a quizzical expressionon her face. “I’ve seen you somewhere before,” she finally said.
“Yes. In Saturnia, at the funeral games for Sextus Thorius.”
She sucked in a breath. “I remember now. You sat across from me. You weren’t like the rest – laughing, joking, screaming for blood. When Zanziba was killed, you saw the suffering on my face, and I could tell that you . . .” Her voice trailed off. She lowered her eyes. “How strange, the paths upon which the gods lead us! When I asked around the Subura for a man who might be able to help me, yours was the name people gave me, but I never imagined that I’d seen you before – and in that place of all places, on that day of all accursed days!”
“You know who I am, then?”
“Gordianus. They call you the Finder.”
“Yes. And you?”
“My name is Zuleika.”
“Not a Roman name.”
“I had a Roman name once. A man who was my master gave it to me. But Zuleika is the name I was born with, and Zuleika is the name I’ll die with.”
“I take it you shed your slave name when you shed your former master. You’re a freedwoman, then?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s sit here in the garden. My son will bring us wine to drink.”
We sat in the shade, and Zuleika told me her story.
She had been born in a city with an unpronounceable name, in a country unimaginably far away – beyond Nubia, she said, even beyond the fabled source of the Nile. Her father had been a wealthy trader in ivory, who often travelled and took his family with him. In a desert land, at a tender age, she had seen her father and mother murdered bybandits. Zuleika and her younger brother, Zanziba, were abducted and sold into slavery.
“Our fortunes varied, as did our masters,” she said, “but at least we were kept together as a pair; because we were exotic, you see.”
And beautiful
, I thought, assuming that her brother’s beauty matched her own. “Eventually we found ourselves in Egypt. Our new owner was the master of a mime troupe. He trained us to be performers.”
“You have a particular talent?”
“I dance and sing.”
“And your brother?”
“Zanziba excelled at acrobatics – cartwheels, balancing acts, somersaults in mid-air. The master said that Zanziba must have a pair of wings hidden somewhere between those massive shoulders of his.” She smiled, but only briefly. “Our master had once been a slave himself. He was a kind and generous man; he allowed his slaves to earn their own money, with the goal of eventually buying their freedom. When we had earned enough, Zanziba and I, we used the money to purchase Zanziba’s freedom, with the intention of putting aside more money until we could do the same for me.
“But then the master fell on hard times. He was forced to disband the troupe and sell his performers piecemeal – a dancer here, a juggler there. I ended up with a new master, a Roman merchant living in Alexandria. He didn’t want me for my dancing or my singing. He wanted me for my body.” She lowered her eyes. “When Zanziba came to him and said he wanted to buy my freedom, the man named a very steep price. Zanziba vowed to earn it, but he could never hope to do so as an acrobat, performing for coins in the street. He disappeared from Alexandria. Time passed, and more time. For such a long time I heard no word from him that I began to despair, thinking that my brother was dead, or had forgotten about me.
“Then, finally, money arrived –
Similar Books
