Gladiatrix (14 page)

It was the middle of the day and the Roman Forum was standing room only.

It was a rectangular plaza with stately marble and stone buildings forming the sides, and, like the centre of most capital cities, the architecture was designed to impress and intimidate. The buildings mostly sat well above head height on high foundations with wide staircases at the front, which made them even grander. Whoever came here was left in no doubt as to the rulers of this empire. Looking up does that to you.

The plaza was as packed as the road in had been, but the clientele was definitely in a higher tax bracket. More exclusive. And that made the place dangerous.

I certainly stood out here, and for all I knew I could be breaking ten different laws just being female and wearing pants. So I moved quickly, and was careful not to meet any eyes.

Intense-looking men wearing purple-striped togas draped over their tunics argued foreign policy as they passed me. Wealthy matrons sampling the stalls spread around the edge of the plaza were trailed by bored slaves clasping expensive-looking packages.

Here and there a vendor glibly hawked their wares, trying to catch the matrons' attention, ‘Get your statues of the bravest Roman heroes here …'

Stalls sold fragrant tidbits of hot meat twisted up in some kind of bright green leaf. Nearby paperboys sold tidbits of hot gossip inscribed on rolled-up parchment for just two sestertii.

Musky incense combined with the smell of cooking food as the priests and their acolytes burnt sacrifices at the front of the Forum's temples. Inside, choirs raised their voices, imploring gods and goddesses for succour, power, a full head of hair, and an end to body lice.

Snatches of passing conversations centred on ‘the next invasion', ‘the price of grain', and ‘the newest millionaire'.

And again, here and there came the whispered name ‘Julia …' with the rest of the sentence muffled.

I pushed steadily through to the other end of the Forum, out past the Senate and into the adjoining street, never once catching sight of the other two soldiers. Maybe luck was on my side.

I scanned the less populated street carefully.

The apartment block was further along and on the right. And there was no mistaking it either, the block was eight storeys high. It towered over its neighbours, a dignified stone and wood temple dedicated to the two-faced Roman god Janus on one side, and an up-market bathhouse called The Big Dipper on the other.

It had all those thoughtful little touches that scream ‘poor people go away'. A yellow tiled path lined by a mini avenue of trees in matching ceramic pots led up to the front door, which was protected from the weather by a blue and white awning.

It was a great place for NTA mission headquarters. Victoria's business agent Valerius Musa had his office
in the Forum of Julius just across the street. The Iseum, the official headquarters of Isis worship in Rome, was just over the other side of the Capitoline Hill. And Domitia Crassus lived in her family mansion on the top of the Palatine Hill, directly behind the apartment block.

Not least of all, the apartments had their own full-time uniformed guards. It was the ancient version of a security block. Victoria needed a safe place to store her gear and to use the portal, and this did the job.

But it was this last feature that could kill me. If I couldn't get inside, I was in big trouble.

Two guards, wearing immaculately clean, brown tunics, stood to soldierly attention under the awning. Classic pose: feet apart and ready, hands clasped behind, eyes checking out each passer-by. From their keen expressions they took their duty seriously.

They hadn't noticed me yet. I was standing out of their way, so I could check the place out before I tried anything.

What the hell was I going to do if they didn't know about Victoria?

If Victoria was dead they wouldn't have even heard of her. They'd have no memory of her ever being here, and nothing would be left of Victoria's visit to Rome.

Three Praetorians, and now possibly a whole lot more, were combing the city for me.

What could I possibly do if the guards didn't know Victoria?

I forced myself to move forward.

My throat was dry as I croaked, ‘Bellona.' I coughed to clear it. ‘I'd like to see Bellona.' That was the name Victoria was using here and now. ‘Is she home?'

When they stared at me blankly, I had to fight the
anxiety twisting through me. Was she dead? Was the transponder speech function not working?

The dark-haired one said, ‘No.' He paused, giving my strange outfit the once-over.

My heart stopped. No? No to what?

He continued, ‘She hasn't come back yet.'

I sagged a little in relief. She's still alive! And just managed to stop myself from hugging him.

‘That's all right,' I said. ‘Bellona gave me the password.' Constan had told me about it. ‘I'll wait for her inside.'

At that they motioned me on to the next guard sitting at a small wooden desk just inside the entryway.

I sneaked another quick scan up and down the street. All clear. But I'd still be in public view, so I had to make this a very short conversation.

I moved up to the desk with what I hoped was a confident expression. There were another two guards standing behind it at the base of the staircase to the upper floors. All three watched me with serious professional interest and they didn't like what they saw.

The seated guard had sharp cheekbones, marked by four thin scars he hadn't got from shaving. ‘Password?'

I said, ‘Fifi,' very precisely, and waited for his expression to change.

It didn't.

‘That's it, isn't it?' I said, in confusion.

‘Not all of it. Mistress Bellona has changed her instructions.' He appraised me with aggressive eyes. ‘But you'd know that?'

The bastard was trying to bait me. ‘No. I don't know about any changes! I've just come back into town, so how could I? What are the new instructions?'

He was sure he had me. ‘She added a question to the password.'

I casually flicked my gaze down the street. At the far end there was a glint of metal. It could be a helmet?

‘About the password?' If it was about the stripper or her marshal buddies I was sunk.

‘Yes.'

Why the hell did Victoria do that? ‘Go on.'

‘Fifi is the goddess of … what?'

Right. Old Fifi was a goddess. What'd Constan said in the restaurant? Something about a naval battle. I tried picturing the statue in the middle of Union Square. She was poised on one foot, carrying a trident and a circle of …

That was it! She was holding a laurel wreath.

‘Victory,' I said with certainty. ‘She's the goddess of Victory.'

He scowled up at me. He didn't like the fact that I could answer the question, but couldn't think of a way to stop me from coming in.

‘That's right, isn't it?' I said. We both knew it was.

He ignored me to lean around and bark an order, ‘Take her up to the Faun suite.'

I'd made it! Yes!

The suite was two flights up, with one apartment opposite. There was a faun dancing a little too amorously with a deer painted on the front door. The guard clinked through his heavy keys, unlocked it and left.

I pushed the door, but it only opened halfway then stuck. I squeezed around.

And felt my jaw drop.

Holy crap. What had happened here? The place was a complete wreck. Clothes strewn across the floor. Broken shards of pottery scattered around.

Maybe Victoria was still here, lying wounded. I raced through the apartment. It was three rooms in
all, lined up from front to back. But there was no-one else here. And no blood. I looked down at the stuffing pulled out of the mattress. Then at the scattered clothes.

This wasn't a fight. Someone had been looking for something.

But what? And how did it relate to Victoria's disappearance?

I licked my dry lips and tasted grit. My fingers came away with a blob of dirt when I touched them.

The rear room had the plumbing, running water and all. The bathroom was on the left and a tiny kitchen on the right, separated by a half wall and curtains. The toilet wasn't up to twenty-first century standards, but it was clean and had a flushing system. I used it with relief, then washed off the sweat and the dust and the dried blood in the deep basin next to it.

There was a plastic water-filter next to the kitchen sink. You just poured water in the top and the clean stuff ran through to the bottom container. I filled a cup, drank it, filled it again and took it with me as I looked around.

The middle room was the bedroom and storage area. Armour and weapons were scattered across the floor. The rest of the room, aside from the bed, was full of storage chests — their contents also on the floor. Clothes, documents, medical supplies. And coins?

They were mainly gold coins, some silver. I checked the phactor. The gold were aurei — the largest denomination used in the Roman Empire. The silver were denarii — the next one down.

I counted the bags. There was a small fortune here.

What kind of burglar would pass up cash? And how the hell did they get in the building?

Valerius Musa. I had to talk to Valerius! He was the only person who could help me.

If I could convince him to.

I sorted through the clothes trying to find something as low profile and as far away from black as possible. I settled for a white under-slip, long cream tunic, with a plain leather belt and matching sandals. I found a cream veil for my head, and put it next to my shoulder bag and the gun, near the door.

Then I wrote a message for Victoria and the NTA rescue team in English, telling them what'd happened and where I was going. I left it on the floor just inside the front door.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs I caught the eye of the head guard. He was surprised, but pretended not to stare.

‘When did Bellona leave?'

‘Yesterday,' he grunted, not wholly convinced by my changed appearance. ‘Early.'

‘Someone's been in the apartment since then, haven't they?' It seemed a fair guess.

He immediately went back into full defensive mode. ‘No-one gets past here without the full password.'

I repeated, ‘Just tell me. Someone else's been up there, haven't they?'

A flash of guilt slapped across his face and was gone. He was scared he'd made a mistake. ‘Only one man,' he emphasised.

‘Who was he? Did he give you his name?'

‘No. All we require is the password.'

‘And he gave you that? The complete thing?'

He didn't like the implication, and said a curt, ‘Of course!'

Hmm. The only way the burglar could have got it was from Victoria. ‘What did he look like?'

‘Medium build. Dark brown hair.'

That could be half the men in Rome. ‘Anything else?'

‘He had a broken nose, really dented in. Looked like it'd happened recently too.'

Medium build. Dark brown hair. And a badly broken nose. It wasn't much — but it was a start.

I draped the sheer, cream veil over my head and then crossed the street. Logically I knew the Praetorians wouldn't recognise me now, that I blended in, but a tiny part of me felt like there was a neon sign above my head flashing ‘this is the one!', ‘this is the one!' in electric red letters.

I forced myself to drop the paranoia and concentrate on my next task: convincing Valerius Musa to help me find Victoria. And I had to hurry. The bustling crowds had started to thin, so it must be getting close to the time when Rome shut down for siesta.

The Forum of Julius was another plaza, but enclosed by a series of newer and more ornate buildings and columned walkways. Right in the middle was a beautiful pink marble temple dedicated to Venus, the front doors entirely covered with floral offerings of the same colour.

Valerius Musa's office was on the ground floor of the shiny new building immediately opposite the rear of the temple. Three guards, in full armour and
swords, stood on either side of his front door. That was six men altogether — and a lot of swords. They were curious, but let me walk through the doorway unchallenged. I got the feeling that if I'd been male I'd have had a very different experience.

Inside, the marble and polished wood trim made the place look a bit like an old Sydney bank I'd been in when I was a kid. Along the left wall was a row of clients, all in togas, waiting on a long backless wooden bench. They looked me over as though I had a price tag around my neck — and it was within their budget.

Directly opposite the front door was the equivalent of a receptionist's desk. But the middle-aged man behind the desk didn't even look up, just kept writing on the scroll in front of him.

I coughed.

No reaction.

I slid back the veil. ‘Excuse me, I need to speak with Valerius Musa.'

No reaction. He didn't even break writing stride.

‘Excuse me. I'm here to see Valerius Musa about Bellona.'

As soon as I said Victoria's cover name, he looked up. ‘Bellona?'

I nodded. ‘Yes.'

He stood so fast his chair squealed across the floor like a dying animal. He waved at the bench. ‘Please, er, take a seat.' He hurried into the next room pulling the heavy door closed behind him with a solid thud.

I surveyed the men on the bench, and they surveyed me with an even keener interest. I decided against sitting.

Valerius Musa was a wheeler-dealer who had connections all over Rome and knew where half the bodies were buried. Victoria had hired him to help her
find out about the Hierophant and the ritual sacrifice, and when things got too difficult he'd been the one to come up with the idea of using Domitia Crassus to get to him. This trip Victoria was supposed to tell him to go ahead and set up the contract to see whether Domitia would agree to all the conditions. It was meant to be a trial run in case the Governor gave her the go-ahead for the initiation.

The door opened again, and the secretary beckoned. ‘You may come through now.'

There was a mild storm of protests from the bench boys, but their words were too soft to travel much past my ears. Valerius had trained his clients well.

Valerius Musa was a tiny, little man with thinning, brown hair who glared up at me out of slanted brown eyes. He resembled a belligerent elf. The office was plainly furnished and he was seated behind a desk the twin of his secretary's. No pretence here — just business.

He curtly waved for me to sit. ‘So, who are you?'

‘Bellona's daughter.' That seemed the simplest story to use.

‘Her daughter?' His eyes became even more slanted in disbelief. ‘She never mentioned any family.' Something had really ticked him off and he wasn't afraid to share it with me.

‘Look.' I reined back the impulse to lean over the desk and shake him. ‘I'm here on urgent family business and I have to find Bellona immediately. Where is she?'

He snorted. ‘You can't just wander in off the street …'

I slapped Victoria's copy of her contract with Valerius on the table between us. And placed her signet ring on top of it. It was her legal mark; I'd found it on the floor of the apartment next to the gold coins.

He didn't even pick up the contract, just perused the ring. It was genuine and he knew it. He handed the ring and the contract back to me, saying, ‘All right. So you're in her confidence at least.'

‘She was supposed to meet me last night,' I started, ‘but she didn't turn up. She's not in her apartment today, so I came here hoping you'd know something. Do you know where she is or not?'

‘No! I have no idea where she is,' Valerius snapped back. ‘And I have just spent a humiliating morning at the Crassus house, kissing Domitia's bony buttocks, because Bellona missed her cursed appointment there last night!' He was livid.

‘Last night?' That didn't make sense. Victoria wasn't supposed to meet with Domitia Crassus until after the Governor had given the go-ahead. Until after she'd returned to the NTA for a briefing. This trip was supposed to just be a test run. ‘I didn't know it was so soon?'

‘Yes. Well,' Valerius threw his hands up in the air. ‘Discordia curse her — Crassus wanted it brought forward. Said she needed more time to make up her mind. But now she's backing out because Bellona didn't show. Says she had other possibilities …'

I didn't care about Crassus and cut in: ‘So when did you see my mother last?'

‘Yesterday morning.'

She must have come here after she left the apartment.

‘That was when I told her that Domitia Crassus wanted the appointment brought forward.'

‘Do you know what could have happened to delay her in this way?' Desperation edged my words. I realised then I'd been hoping he'd know where she was.

He tilted his head to one side. ‘What exactly do you know about your mother's business in Rome?' His eyes glinted with suspicion. He was testing me.

There was no point in being coy, I needed his help and I needed it now. ‘You're helping her prove whether or not the Hierophant performs human sacrifice. Is that what you mean?'

Victoria was paying Valerius enough money for him to not really care why she wanted the information. And as far as he knew, she was going through with the contract he was setting up with Domitia anyway. So what Victoria did with any knowledge she gained about the Hierophant wasn't really his problem.

In answer Valerius unlocked a desk drawer and pulled out a lethal-looking dagger. It had an intricately engraved hilt with a fine metal blade. He placed it on the desk in front of me, awkwardly; there were two fingers missing off his right hand. I studied the dagger for a moment then picked it up.

It was the Isis dagger. The one that Rous had described. Two thirds of its length was taken up by the razor-sharp, mirrored blade. I stroked the blade with my thumb. You could have performed surgery with it. But it was the handle that got your attention. It was a naked woman carved out of pitch-black ebony, with a heavy yellow gold used for decoration. She wore a crown. The body was finely modelled, but the face was a real horror. Fanged teeth hung over smiling lips and cold eyes shrewdly summed up the viewer.

It was designed to perform sacrifice.

‘That's Isis in her aspect as the Queen of the Dead; Victoria stole it from the Iseum. It belongs to the Hierophant and I'm using it to trace his identity,' said Valerius, with deep satisfaction. He tapped the handle
with one proprietorial fingertip, ‘It's quite a unique piece as you can see.' He frowned down at it. ‘I haven't found the maker yet, but I will.'

Then he studied my face for a long moment. ‘You must, of course, know that the Hierophant doesn't want to be found. And he most certainly wants his dagger back … could even be prepared to kill for it.' He tapped the dagger. ‘If it could be proven that he used this for human sacrifice, he'd be executed.'

His point was clear. ‘So you think the Hierophant may have taken Bellona, trying to get the dagger back?'

He sat back. ‘Yes, I do.'

‘I think you're right. A man ransacked her apartment yesterday, looking for something …' I remembered the stuffing on the floor next to the mattress. ‘… probably about this size.' I nodded at the dagger.

Valerius uttered a string of words that didn't translate, but the tone was profane. ‘That's what I was afraid of. I warned her to be careful.'

‘The apartment guards described a guy with dark hair and of medium height. He had a newly broken nose, pretty badly smashed in. Does that sound familiar?'

‘Broken nose? No, don't know him,' Valerius dismissed the idea with a shake of the head.

We both fell silent. Busy summing each other up.

I spoke first. ‘I need your help to find my mother, and I have plenty of money to pay you.' I plonked a heavy bag of aurei on his desk. ‘You continue trying to find out who the Hierophant is, and I'll go over to the Iseum. Find out if there have been any recent sightings of Bellona. See if they're keeping her there.'

He opened the bag, then weighed it thoughtfully in his right hand.

‘Deal?'

‘Yes. But forget going to the Iseum; I'll help you, but you're missing the point. I've been looking for the Hierophant for weeks now. Used every means I have to find him. And believe me, I know a lot of ways of finding people in this town. If he has Bellona, you won't find her by walking up to the Iseum and knocking on the door.'

He was making sense, but did he have an alternative? ‘So what do we do?'

‘There is only one way to find Bellona and that's by finding the Hierophant. And the only sure way to do that is through Domitia Crassus.' Valerius paused. ‘Can you fight like your mother?'

I knew where he was headed. ‘I'm not wasting time filling in as Bellona!'

He studied me for a moment. Cynically. ‘Let me put it this way. Am I right in thinking that, like your mother, you're a stranger here? That you don't know anything about the Iseum? In fact, you really know nothing about Rome?'

I didn't reply.

‘Look, I can send all my men to the Iseum today and get them checking for signs of Bellona. If she's there, or she's been there since yesterday, they'll find out. But if they can't find her, then we still have to find the Hierophant. And the only person who can give you access to him is Domitia Crassus.' He broke off, waiting for signs of agreement.

The thing that scared me was that he was right. If she wasn't at the Iseum I didn't know anywhere else to look.

He asked again, ‘Can you fight?'

‘Yes. But …'

‘It's simple. You meet with Domitia Crassus this
afternoon, and then tomorrow you do a demonstration fight for her at the amphitheatre. They don't want the best fighter in the world, they just want a gladiatrix who can look good in the arena.' He winked. It wasn't reassuring. ‘You know, play a part in the spectacle Augustus has planned.'

He checked me over like a piece of steak he was considering barbequing. ‘If you can fight a bit, then they'll take you on looks alone. In four days' time, if we haven't found Bellona by then, you'll be initiated by the Hierophant and we can use that to locate your mother.'

This was getting riskier by the moment. ‘When is the real fight scheduled?'

‘The day after the initiation. But the fight is fixed anyway. Bellona is supposed to lose to her opponent, and he will graciously spare her. It's not proper fighting — it's acting. It just has to look convincing enough for the crowd. But don't worry about that now. You just keep Domitia happy, and then you keep your options open.'

Before I could object, he said, ‘Just go and see Crassus today and start the whole thing going. You come back tomorrow, after the trial fight, and I can tell you what I've found out. Now that I know what's going on, I could even find your mother this afternoon.'

All my impulses were to look for Victoria myself …

‘There is nothing you can do by yourself that my men can't do better and faster. This is our town and we know it. But …' He jabbed his finger at me as though he could prod me all the way up the Palatine Hill. ‘… we can't find the Hierophant.' Jab. ‘And you can.' Jab.

I rubbed my eyes; the lack of sleep was starting to get to me. I was certain that it was nowhere near as
simple as he made it sound, and I wondered briefly what his agenda in all this was because I was sure he had one. But what else was I going to do? I couldn't think of a thing. And I needed his help.

I let out a long breath. ‘What do I have to do?'

‘While I send over a messenger to set up the new meeting with Domitia, you go back to the apartment and get changed.'

‘What d'you mean get changed? I'm just going to meet her, aren't I? Not fight or anything.'

‘Bellona bought a costume for the interview last week. It's probably still in her apartment.'

‘Costume?'

‘Yes. Bellona is competing for the role of Cleopatra. Augustus is re-enacting the battle of Actium.'

‘The naval battle he won against Cleopatra and Mark Antony.' I hadn't checked out anything to do with the actual fight.

‘Yes. The costume is meant to convince Crassus that you will make an excellent Egyptian Queen. One she can offer to Augustus with pride.'

Before I could respond, Valerius called out, ‘Abeona.'

A few seconds later a middle-aged woman with a quietly efficient manner appeared at the door. He said to me, ‘Abeona will help you change.'

Back at Victoria's apartment, Abeona calmly ignored the ransacked mess and started pulling things out of a pile of clothes in the far corner of the bedroom.

The dress was a wraparound; the cloth a rich red. But there wasn't a lot to it. It was thin, and more than slightly transparent. Abeona said, ‘Now, my lady, if you will please disrobe.'

I stripped off my clothes and was left with a very twenty-first century matching set of black briefs and
an underwire bra. Abeona studied them with professional interest, so I forestalled any questions by saying, ‘They're Egyptian. From the lower Nile Valley.'