Furies (8 page)

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself then,” she said sourly, plucking the coin from his outstretched hand, then moved on to find her next mark.

Aculeo made his way to his feet after the aching waves of nausea passed. He watched as drunken clots of men and their rented lovers staggered together through the streets that stank of countless years of piss, spilled beer and sour sweat, wandering from tavern to tavern, the loud revelry, flute and lyre and roaring laughter from behind the mud-brick walls. The porne was right, he thought, there’s hundreds of brothels about the city. How am I to find this one, running about the Tannery like a fool? Pornes of all ages, sizes, shapes, sexes, colours … One
’s choice is practically without limit in this city.

He was about to enter a nearby tavern when a porne brushed past him, weaving drunkenly into the street. He glanced down at the paving stones, dimly lit from the torches near the entrance. And there, where her sandaled feet had just touched the ground, the blue inked image of a little bird with its wings folded in against its breast.
Pornes often put ink blocks with the name of the brothel they work for into their sandal heels so that when they walked about the city men might know where to find them later.

“Hold up a moment, pretty one,” Aculeo called, taking the porne by the arm. “Come on, I’ll buy you another jar.”

The building he sought was a few blocks southwest of the Tannery, down the dismal Street of the Dye-Makers. It was a dingy little building, its darkened doorway painted what may have once been a cheery shade of blue, now scarred and peeling. Over the lintel was a small painted placard of a blue bird. 

A slave, a thick-shouldered brute with a harelip, answered the door, eyeing Aculeo warily before finally permitting him within. The slave led him down a dim hallway lined with half a dozen doors decorated with paintings of men and women in various sexual positions and in multiple combinations. Whether they were for decoration or simply advertised the services available behind the doors wasn’t entirely clear. At the end of the hall was a large open courtyard, leading to a small colonnade overlooking a verdant forest at the edge of a moonlit pool. A naked woman stood next to a rectangular reflecting pool, pink and blue seashells at her feet. When Aculeo entered the atrium he saw it was only a plaster statue, the pool, colonnade, forest and sea just a painted mural on the wall.

There were several small tables and chairs set up about the atrium, most of them occupied by pornes and their clients, the young girls’ diaphanous chitons clinging to their bodies, their pretty faces blushed with rouge, wine and laughter. The thick smell of incense hung in the air like an invisible veil. The space was filled with a soft, warm light from the oil lamps sconced into the pale plaster walls. On one wall was a mosaic of Venus on the back of a white goat, soaring through the sky between day and night towards the moon, the sun resting on her heels. In a room off the atrium, partially hidden by thick curtains, sat several empty looms, the girls’ daytime occupations no doubt. The brothel keepers saw little value from idle hands by day or night.

A middle-aged woman approached, her hair flaming red, her narrow face painted with white lead and bright ochre accenting her cheeks and lips. She offered Aculeo a practised smile. “Welcome, sir, welcome. I’m Panthea, the owner of the Blue Bird. Let’s fetch you some wine and a pretty friend.”

“A friend of mine is a frequent guest here,” Aculeo said. “Iovinus. I’m sure you know him?”

“Of course,” Panthea said. She wore a gold ring with a ruby-eyed snakehead, which she twisted around and around on her finger as she considered him.

“How long since you saw him?”

“A few months at least. Where’s he then? Not with you tonight?”

“He’s been away,” Aculeo said in disappointment, and glanced about the atrium at the other tables. “There’s one girl in particular he recommended to me. Neaera.”

“Of course. She’s a lovely, talented girl. She’s already been taken tonight, though,” Panthea said. “I do have a new girl. Ethiopian, only sixteen years, and even more talented than Neaera. She was just brought in the other day. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

“I’m happy to wait for Neaera,” Aculeo said, offering up a coin – silver this time.

“As I said, she’s taken for the night.” Panthea eyed the coin and traced her fingertips across his shoulder, giving his arm an inviting squeeze. “Why don’t we find you another friend for the evening, alright?”

“It has to be Neaera. I’ll come back tomorrow then. Thanks for your help.”

“Of course, sir. My sincere pleasure,” Panthea said graciously. Her smile hardened though as she watched him leave and she summoned the harelip slave.

Aculeo walked towards the main street of the Tannery. A wasted trip, he thought in annoyance. No sign of Iovinus in months? Now what will I do? He paused a moment, listening, thinking he’d heard the echo of sandals against the pavement behind him. He looked around. Nothing. He continued walking then heard it again, the soft footfall of someone who did not want to be heard. Thieves, he thought bleakly, why not? He felt his palms begin to sweat, his heart throb in his throat. Am I to be murdered in this dismal maze at the end of a pointless day?

A face appeared like a vision from the shadows. It was just a girl, fourteen at most, with dark braided hair, long, lovely lashes and a round pale face. She was one of the girls from the Blue Bird, he realized. He’d seen her flirting with a client in the courtyard. She came a few paces towards him, keeping her distance from him though, her pretty cheeks marked with small circles of pink.

“Did you want something?” Aculeo asked.

“I … overheard you talking with my mistress,” the girl said, her head bowed shyly. “You’re looking for Neaera.”

“Yes. Why? Do you know something about that?”

“I don’t … I …” Her voice cracked with emotion, her ebony eyes glistened with tears. She tottered, ready to faint.

Aculeo barely caught her in time. “It’s alright. Take a deep breath. What’s your name?”

“Tyche,” she said weakly.

“Do you need to sit down, Tyche?” The girl shook her head. “Tell me about Neaera. When did you last see her?”

“She disappeared two days ago.”

“Oh? Why did your mistress lie?” The girl shrugged, looking desolate. “Did she live in the brothel with you?”

“No, not anymore. She lived in a tenement next to the Kapeleion of Menon. Her flat was paid for by her patron.”

“You mean Iovinus?” he asked hopefully.

The girl nodded. Aculeo tried not to smile. At last some progress, he thought. “She’s still owned by Panthea though. Panthea was furious when she learned Neaera was missing. Panthea thinks she ran away. She beat me because she thought I might know where she went,” the girl said, unconsciously touching a purplish bruise on her cheek.

“And do you know?”

“Neaera didn’t run away. She would have told me if she was going to do that, I know it. She … she promised to take me with her when she left. She gave me money a few days ago, told me to be ready … and that was the last time I saw her.”

“Have you checked her flat?” Aculeo asked.

“I can’t, they watch my every move.”

“I can check it then.”

The girl dropped to her knees on the pavement before Aculeo, pressing his hands to her lips. “I pray to the sacred Venus to bless you sir! I’ve been so afraid.”

“Afraid? Why?”

“There’s stories,” the girl said, still gripping his hands, her lovely eyes haunted.

“What stories?”

“Of demons that prey on women. Of rites they’re taken to and never return from.”

Demon tales, Aculeo thought, the sort children tell one another when they lie in bed at night, trying to frighten one another. He helped her to stand. “Don’t worry yourself, alright?”

The girl had put herself in danger coming after him like this, risking a beating or worse. She looked up at him, clutched his hands again like a drowning child might cling to a scrap of wood. “You’ll tell me if you find anything? Please? Please?”

“If there’s anything to tell, of course,” he said. Though I think the only demon here is that bastard Iovinus.

The flat was in a rickety, five story tenement in the outer edge of the Tannery. A small votive statue of Venus had been placed in a niche next to the building’s lintel, the white plaster stained with soot from years of long forgotten prayers. The landlady, a furtive little woman with brightly hennaed hair, claimed not to have seen her tenant in days but was vague on further details.

“Show me Neaera’s room,” Aculeo said.

“Who are you to her?” the woman demanded.

“Her brother.” She clearly didn’t believe him, but grudgingly allowed him into the building. He followed her up to the second floor. A pretty young woman wearing a traditional Egyptian braided black wig and a translucent chiton smiled at him as she passed him in the hallway, her lingering perfume smelling of jasmine. He could hear moaning and rhythmic thumping behind some of the doorways they passed. The landlady seemed oblivious to it all and led him to the far end of the hallway to the last flat. She opened the door and stood aside to let him enter.

It was a small, cramped little closet of a room with a small open window cut near the ceiling, letting a dim grey light from the streets below seep in. There was a small wooden table set against the wall with a terracotta basin and matching jug, a threadbare rug on the floor, a few cheerfully coloured Persian pillows and a tortoise shell lyre in the corner. A reed birdcage stood beneath the window. No sign of a bird though, the door was open, the water dish was dry, empty husks of seed lay scattered about the floor. On the wall hung a papyrus painting of three women standing near Pharos, the sort tourists have made for themselves by street artists, finely done though.

The first girl was fairly attractive with dark brown eyes, long, light brown curls that framed her round face and draped over her shoulders, a birthmark on her upper lip. The second looked familiar somehow, tall with high cheekbones and a sharp nose – he couldn’t recall where he’d seen her. The third had a spark of mischief in her dark eyes, a hint of a smile on her lips, as though she was about to laugh. She wore an elegant cameo necklace around her pale neck. Aculeo untacked the papyrus from the wall.