Lost Republic (17 page)

The scabbards came off, clattering on the floor. The sight of forged metal took the fight out of most of their enemies. They bolted for the door. A thin guy with a long scar on his face traded fast cuts with Leigh, but his knife was outranged, and he quickly gave up and fled. Leigh let him go. In moments, the shop was empty. A dozen men lay around them, bleeding and unconscious. Two of Leigh's men had scalp wounds from projectiles. Watching the motionless men on the floor carefully, Leigh ordered his men to back out.

Outside, the street was empty except for the rest of Leigh's maniple. Leigh pulled the scarf from around his neck and mopped his face. Glancing at it, he saw it was streaked with red.

His second-in-command, a slightly older guy named Aurelius, stepped out of line.

“Aquilifer! Are you well?”

“Well enough. You could've come in to help, you know.”

Aurelius shrugged. “Our orders were to stay outside and keep order,” he said.

“And what if we got massacred in there?”

He smiled. “Then I would have arrested the killers and taken them to the city prefect.”

It was Leigh's turn to smile. “I guess I can't expect more than that.”

The gamblers, drunks, and other idlers had fled when the sound of the fight reached the street. With no one to arrest, Leigh ordered his men to line up as before. As he took his place at their head, he glimpsed an apparition in white a block away, hovering near the mouth of an alley.

“Who's there?” he called. Night wind stirred pale clothing, but the figure did not move or reply.

Leigh straightened his cloak and checked the sword on his hip. “Stay here,” he told Aurelius.

“Don't go, sir. It may be a trick.”

He'd thought of that. Why would anyone bother to ambush a lowly trainee, a newly minted aquilifer? He repeated his order for the maniple to stay put.

Leigh walked down the center of the empty street. All the shutters were closed in all the windows facing the street. Here and there, lamplight gleamed through cracks under doors or between shutters.

The ghostly figure did not move. Leigh half-convinced himself it wasn't a person at all, only a scrap of cloth billowing in the breeze. He changed his mind when he saw it shrink back into the alley.

He looked back once at Aurelius and his men. He waved everything was okay.

“Who's there? Do you need help?” he called. Ten yards away, he saw slender hands and feet showing outside the smoke-gray cloak. He slowed, letting his hand rest on the pommel of his short Roman sword.

“The fight's over,” Leigh said calmly. “Do you need to get somewhere? My men and I will escort you.”

“Are you Levius Moro?” said the stranger in soft tones. The Latin handle still sounded strange to Leigh, but he knew that was his name here.

“That's me. Who are you?”

She stepped out into the better light. He knew her instantly—Eleanor Quarrel, Elianora in the Republic.

“Elianora?”

“I have a message for you, Levius Moro. From your sister, Julia.”

He rushed forward, taking Eleanor by the hands. “Where is she? Is she all right?”

Eleanor leaned away from him, but didn't try to pull free.

“She is well, but afraid. Soon the mistress of the house of Luxuria will consecrate her to the service of Venus—”

“They're going to make her a prostitute?”

Eleanor nodded.

He let go of her hands. “Where is this house?”

“Two streets to the west and a block forward.”

That was in their assigned patrol area, but not on their present line of march. Still, Leigh wasn't going to go about his business while dirty old men did awful things to his sister. He thought hard.

“Wait,” he told Eleanor. He turned to his men and called through cupped hands, “Maniple, this way, quick!”

The newly trained soldiers trotted to him. He told Aurelius he was going to escort the young woman home. Aurelius would continue the patrol. Leigh would catch up with them by the Field of Mercury after seeing the frightened girl home.

Aurelius didn't hide his skepticism. “Do you know this girl, sir?”

“We . . . traveled here together from . . . the provinces.” Leigh knew his explanation was weak, but he was counting on the discipline of his troops to get them out of the way.

“Rufus won't like it if he finds out, sir.”

“Continue your patrol,” he said. Aurelius vowed he would.

“I hope to see the aquilifer in the Field of Mercury,” he said.

The maniple marched away. Leigh drew close to Eleanor.

“Do you remember?” he whispered. “The
Carleton,
the shipwreck?”

Her eyes darted from side to side. “Hurry. Already your sister may be lost to the service of Venus!”

She knew what to say to get Leigh going. Taking her hand, he let Eleanor lead him away down the dark alley to the house of Luxuria.

A single lamp glowed by the garden gate. By it stood Ramesses, the giant guard Luxuria employed to keep order in her house. As Eleanor and Leigh approached, the big man held out his hand to stop them.

Leigh tensed. He'd never used a sword to kill someone, but at that moment, he was considering his chances of taking down this giant.

“No women allowed,” Ramesses said in an appropriately deep voice. “Only those working here, or hired singers and dancers.”

Eleanor opened her mouth, but Leigh shushed her.

“It's all right,” he said. “I can manage.”

“But—”

“Do you remember our friend, Gallus?” Leigh knew in his head somehow that was France Martin. He hoped Eleanor remembered him. She nodded mutely.

Putting on a casual tone, Leigh said, “Find Gallus, and tell him where I am, will you?” Latin soldiers were expected to be macho around girls, so he patted her on the cheek, adding, “That's a good girl.”

Dismayed, Eleanor stood and stared as Ramesses led Leigh to the door.

“Sword,” said the giant. Leigh held on to the pommel. “You must give up your sword and any knives, legionnaire. No one enters the House of Luxuria armed.”

Grimacing, Leigh surrendered his blade. “I better get it back!”

“You ask Ramesses. I'll have your sword.”

Heart thumping, Leigh went inside. He smelled incense at once and heard the lilt of a harp. A woman's voice sang sweetly in a low, throaty voice:

Wine, wine is not the answer, stranger.

Sleep is not your friend,

Seek peace in the arms of a lover, stranger

It only costs a dream.

A dream and five denarii, Leigh thought. He'd heard enough barracks gossip to know what the going rate was in an Eternus brothel.

From a dark hall, Leigh emerged in a moderately big room with a low ceiling. The walls painted with frescoes—elaborately painted scenes from mythology. Naughty scenes they were, too, of frisky gods, nymphs, and ugly guys with hairy legs and hooves. Leigh did not look at them too closely. He could feel his ears getting hot just glancing at them, and he didn't want to give himself away as too much of a nerd.

Around the room were couches. Men—the clients—reclined on these couches, eating, drinking, and laughing while the courtesans of their choice sat with them. The singer, a plump woman with an obvious, curly black wig, was in the far corner. Her harpist was a downright dangerous-looking man with a leather eye patch. He played remarkably well with thick, lethal-looking fingers.

An attractive woman somewhere between forty and fifty appeared in front of Leigh. She would have looked better without the clownish makeup she wore, but he knew enough not to say so. All the women in the room were heavily painted, even the singer.

“Welcome, young hero!” said the woman with a warm smile. “An aquilifer! We haven't had a man of your stature here in some time.”

“I heard that, Luxuria!” said a lean, gray-haired man on a couch behind her.

“You're not a young warrior anymore, Lucius,” she replied. “Your fights are in the Senate, not the battlefield. But you were a lion in battle, I know.”

Senator Lucius laughed and would have carried on the argument, but his companion kissed him ardently, and he forgot what he was arguing about.

Luxuria slipped her arm around Leigh's. “Your first time here, is it not? I never forget a face, especially not a handsome one like yours. Let me show you around.”

She did not introduce him to the other men, or the women already entertaining them. They walked arm in arm into the next room, which was less decorated but better lit. A table against one wall was tastefully heaped with refreshments. Four women of different builds and coloring loitered near the table. When Leigh saw who was standing in the corner holding a tall pitcher of wine, he almost choked. It was Julie.

She was dressed in a simpler version of the gown Luxuria wore, a sleeveless sheath gathered tightly at the waist with a wide fabric sash. Her face was powdered and red rouge was dabbed on her cheeks. Julie's hair was drawn back in a severe bun, a style calculated to show off her neck and shoulders.

“Let me introduce you,” Luxuria said. She drew Leigh up in front of a tall blond woman in her midtwenties. “This is Eurydice.”

Eurydice lowered her eyes. It was an act, but she did it well.

“What may we call you, young hero?” Luxuria asked.

“Levius Moro.”

A loud crash from the corner signaled Julie's recognition. She had dropped her pitcher. Blood-red wine spilled on the tile floor. Julie dropped to her knees and sopped up the spill with a white cloth. Leigh pulled free of Luxuria and went to help her.

“What are you doing here!” Julie hissed.

“Trying to get you out,” Leigh muttered.

“You're going to get us both killed!”

“So, you want to stay here? Is that it?”

Luxuria loomed over them. “Gallant Levius, leave the girl to her work.”

He stood. The other courtesans stood about idly watching Julie struggle with the spill. No one helped her.

“In addition to Eurydice, I would like you to meet Callisto, Livia, and Daphne.”

The other women were older than Eurydice, and all put on an air of languid ease that passed for sexy in the Republic. Leigh had wondered what it would be like going to a brothel. Right now, aside from being worried sick about Julie, he was mostly unimpressed. Luxuria's women were all attractive—the one called Livia was quite beautiful—but their painted faces and air of phony sophistication left him cold. The girls he met in London clubs on weekends at college were a lot more interesting.

“Ladies, I'm honored,” he said, trying to sound formal. It came out lame. Julie rolled her eyes.

“What is your pleasure, young Levius?” Luxuria said.

Leigh tried to look interested, but he was too concerned about Julie. The thought of strange men coming in here, picking her out like some download, and paying for the privilege made sweat break out on his face. Luxuria saw his nervousness. She misinterpreted it.

Smiling, she said, “Take your time, young hero. I can tell you're not accustomed to this.”

“No, ma'am, I'm not.”

She circulated away to greet new arrivals. Eurydice poured a cup of wine for Leigh and pressed it into his hands. He swallowed hard, said thank you, and took a sip. It was strong, and very sweet, like a medicated cough drop.

When he paid her no more attention, Eurydice drifted away. Julie finished cleaning up and left the room, carrying wine-soaked rags in her skirt. Leigh started to follow her, but a dour-looking middle-aged woman wearing a slave's headband blocked the door Julie passed through.

Leigh retreated to a corner and studied the room. He couldn't stay here all night. The maniple would miss him, and if Rufus Panthera found out where he was, he'd damage Leigh in vital places. Really, he might have Leigh skinned for dereliction of duty. The army of the Republic was not a forgiving place.

Julie returned in a fresh gown. Leigh darted over and took her hand.

“I'm tracking down the others,” he said. “Once I find Gallus and Ioannus, I'll come back for you,” he hissed.

“When?” she demanded in a fierce whisper. “Do you know what's going on here? Luxuria's showing me off to her regular customers! If one of them makes an offer, I'll be rented to the highest bidder!”

“Don't say that!”

“It's true—!”

Luxuria suddenly returned. She was not smiling.

“Young hero of the Republic,” she said in a firm, controlled voice, “if you want this girl, it can be arranged, but you must speak to me about it, not her.”

For a second Leigh was revolted, being mistaken for a customer, and then he realized this was a golden opportunity.

“How much?” he said bluntly. Julie snatched her arm free and glared at him.

“Defender of the nation! If you are this bold in battle, our country will always be great.” Luxuria smiled, but her lips were tight together. She lowered her voice. “For a new girl, there is a premium.”

Leigh said, “Of course.”

Very quietly she said, “Twenty denarii.”

Julie almost choked. She'd been around long enough to know that was several times what the most desired women in the house went for.

It meant nothing to Leigh. Saving Julie was all he cared about. He quickly said, “Done.”

Luxuria smiled broadly. “If you would follow me—”

“No,” said Leigh. “It can't be tonight. I have my duties. I must get back to my men right away.”

For the first time, Luxuria seemed surprised. “If not now, when?”

“Two nights from now,” Leigh said, glancing at Julie to be sure she was listening. “But I want to be the first—you understand? If not, there is no deal.”

Luxuria considered. “Two nights from tonight? Very well, gallant warrior. But no longer. As you can see”—she held up Julie's face by two fingers under her chin—”such a prize will not long go unplucked.”

I've never wanted to hit a woman before
,
Leigh fumed. Outwardly, he tried to be worldly.

“Should I leave a deposit?”

Luxuria laughed. “I am not a sandalmaker! Your word as a soldier of the Republic is good enough, brave Levius!”

Leigh thrust his undrunk cup of wine on Julie and hurried out. In this watchless society, it was hard to judge the passage of time accurately. If he was late getting back to the maniple, he'd never be able to come back for Julie. Ramesses the guard gave him back his sword without a word.

By the time he reached the Field of Mercury, he saw the rear ranks of his unit marching away. He ran after them and caught up. Aurelius was leading them. Leigh drew his sword and waved it behind the marching men.

“Move on, lazy bastards,” he shouted. The legionnaires in training saw their aquilifer and parted ranks for him. Aurelius called for the men to halt.

“Aquilifer, I thought you had deserted!”

“No such foolishness. I can't tell time around here!” Leigh replied, panting.

Aurelius frowned. “‘Tell time'? Has the aquilifer been drinking?”

It occurred to Leigh his breath must smell of the strong, syrupy wine he tasted at Luxuria's. He grinned.

“A bit of refreshment from a grateful girl to a hero of the Republic,” he said.

Aurelius raised an eyebrow. “Was that your only refreshment?”

“Never mind! Let's not keep the Red Lion waiting!”

At a quick step, the maniple resumed its march. The streets around them were empty and still.

Two streets away, Hans heard the tramp of soldiers' feet and flattened himself in a doorway so he wouldn't be seen. As he had feared, it had not taken long for him to get into trouble with Piso.

It wasn't his fault. He worked honestly and diligently for Piso, graduating from proofreading to composition in just a few weeks. Everything Piso printed was in the same eighteen-point Latin font, naturally. Turning handwritten text into printed words only deepened the mysteries of the Republic for Hans. Though there was a senate, various public officials, army officers, and so on, the real power lay with the Princeps, the First Citizen of the Republic. Hans knew the early Roman emperors used the princeps title to imply they were merely the leading citizen in a republic instead of an absolute monarch. No one was fooled by that for very long.

The First Citizen of the Republic of Latium was a shadowy figure with total authority, yet he didn't seem to interfere with the daily running of the country. He didn't even have a name, at least not one anyone used. Hans carefully asked Piso once who the First Citizen was. He replied, “Our eternal guide and model.” His name was so august, it was not mentioned—and the eternal part made Hans suspect the office was a figurehead, an empty chair no one dared fill.

All this became moot when Lidicera made her move on Hans. Considering how amorous she was, she waited a long time, almost three weeks, before cornering Hans in the print shop when her mother and father were out. First, she was in the doorway; next, standing too close; then, she was nuzzling his neck and suggesting things that made Hans blush. He stood up, knocking over his stool, and backed away, with Lidicera in close pursuit. She cornered him and was in the process of biting his lower lip when old Piso walked in.

That was all it took. Though he must have known what his daughter was like, Piso blew up, threatening to denounce Hans to the city prefect as a barbarian spy. As there was no due process in Latium, this could mean arrest and torture for Hans. He denied any wicked intentions, and in the end, Piso relented enough just to kick him out of the shop. While this drama was going on, Lidicera stood by, leaning on the composing table, putting together dirty words in backward metal type.

Being kicked out was worse than it sounded. Hans literally had nothing—no food, no shelter, no place to go, and nothing to do. He soon saw firsthand how rootless people were harassed in the city. A beggar he met was beaten up by the street patrol and carted off to the city prefect, a merciless man named Margentus. The beggar would be held in jail for thirty days, and at the end of that time, if no one came forward to help (and if he didn't cough up some cash), he'd be sold into slavery.

Hans spent his days in the city parks, trying not to be noticed by anyone. He began to feel real hunger. Desperate thoughts filled his head. He wondered what he would do first: become a thief, a beggar, or get caught by the city guard.

Now, in a dark street two blocks from the Field of Mercury, he hid at the sound of the maniple's night patrol. When their footfalls faded, he dared put his head out to see if the coast was clear. It wasn't. Standing a few meters away, silhouetted against the starry sky, was a draped figure.

“W-who's there?” Hans stammered.

“A friend.”