by Tessa Afshar
The following morning Delia and I climbed into the household litter and wended our way through the streets of Corinth toward the baths. The two slaves carrying us set the litter down gently and helped us alight. I spied Claudia waiting for us, two muscle-bound giants and a burly woman at her side.
“Hail, Claudia!” I cried with a jovial wave. “Are you ready for a glorious morning?”
“You are cheerful,” she said, her tone sour. We began to make our way into the public building. The two giants and her female slave followed us step for step. I raised a brow but said nothing.
At the entrance, we paid a fee to store our clothes before moving into the frigidarium, the chamber that contained a large pool of cold water. It had been a sweltering summer and the cool water felt delicious against our skin. Claudia’s giants stood watch in one corner.
I had instructed Delia to keep Claudia’s personal slave occupied if possible. I listened with half an ear to their conversation. Delia tried to speak of the latest hairstyles to the stocky woman and encountered no interest. She moved to clothing with the same results. Leather goods came next, but Felonius’s strapping spy proved unresponsive.
Claudia and I sauntered to the tepidarium, the room that housed a warm pool. Our attendants followed behind, Delia chatting, the others watchful.
My companion discussed recipes and described meals served at recent banquets. I was beginning to grow desperate to shake our chaperones. How many ways can you cook a peacock? Heaven be merciful.
I suggested that we move on to the caldarium, the hot-water pool. The room was steaming. It had the desired effect on our guards. Within moments, they were sweating.
And then, finally, Delia struck gold. She introduced the topic of chariot races and, to my relief, found an eager audience. Felonius’s spy was a fanatic for the races. When she discovered that Delia belonged to Theo and lived next door to Justus, she turned pink like a geranium. It was a beautiful sight. The two Herculean guards sauntered over and joined their conversation.
My Theo. He came to my rescue even in his absence. His very name was a guard over me.
As the torpor of heat and steam worked its magic, the four began to inch their way toward the exit, where a cooler breeze blew. Finally I could speak freely. Whispering, I told Claudia my plan.
She was shivering by the time I finished. In the vaporous warmth of the caldarium, she trembled, her arms crossed over her chest like bars. The mere thought of rising up against her husband reduced her to a quivering kitten.
She did not refuse to participate in my scheme. Nor did she agree. She needed time. Time to build up the courage for such a risk. Time I did not have.
“Why would you do this?” she asked. “Why risk your well-being for mine?”
“I told you. There is a document in that box that I need. I hope you will give it to me as a reward.”
“Does Felonius hold some misdeed against your father?”
“Felonius has no power over my father or any member of my family.” I bent my head. “But over this man, he holds sway. I cannot tell you more.”
After we emerged from the heated pool, Delia and Claudia’s servant scraped our bodies with bronze strigils and massaged us with scented oil. I wanted to pound at Claudia the way Delia was pounding into my muscles. I wanted her to agree to the only path that offered her any chance at freedom. Instead, I bit my lip and swallowed my carping and prayed. Paul was having an influence on me.
CHAPTER 30
CLAUDIA ARRANGED for a small private banquet, inviting Dionysius and me. Father’s leg, though improved, still hampered him, making it impossible for him to leave the house. My brother had delayed his return to Athens until such time as our dilemma could be solved. I felt safer for his presence, and grateful for the sacrifice of his time.
Of course, Claudia did not know of my betrothal to Justus. I did not think it wise to put her old jealousy to the test. We had no way of asking him to accompany us without revealing our close association. Where I was tested by what I must do, Justus was tested by the sting of inactivity.
I brought Stephanas’s daughter Chara with me, offering her like a bouquet of flowers to our host. My father had not exaggerated her beauty. Her blonde hair flowed down her back like a stream of gold. Delia had woven a crown of fresh blossoms into that hair and dressed the girl in white linen. She looked like a glorious visitor from some ancient land. When she turned her amber-colored eyes on Felonius, he gave his hyena smile and stared, transfixed.
“I hope you will pardon my presumption in bringing dear Chara.” I signaled Galatea, who had accompanied us, and she hefted over Chara’s instrument. “She plays the cithara. I thought you might enjoy her music.”
“She is most welcome.” Felonius’s tone indicated that he held no high expectation of the girl’s musical talent. He probably believed he already knew every accomplished cithara player in the city.
Felonius was not the only one to knock an opponent sideways, however. I knew how to spring my own surprises. Chara did not perform for the general public, which meant that he would have had no way of hearing her.
After Felonius’s slaves served us the third course, I asked Chara to play her instrument. Our host gave a tolerant nod, expecting a schoolgirl performance. Chara sat on a stool and settled the box-shaped body of the cithara on a slim thigh, inclining the instrument toward her torso. She did not tether the weight of it with a yoke to her wrist as many players I had seen. Rather, she held the instrument loosely, balancing it with her body.
Her bare arms lifted to the strings, and she began to pluck with one hand, using a flat plectrum. The sound wafted soft, a tender melody. Without warning, the fingers of her left hand joined in the music, dampening unwanted strings, and then, to our utter astonishment, producing harmonics that held us breathless.
Chara had seemed lovely before, a vision of old-fashioned grace. When she played the cithara, she became luminous. A spellbinding creature from another world. Her long neck inclined now forward, now back, a swan turned into human form. No one dared move lest we disturb the magic she wove about us.
When she came to the end of a movement, I nodded to my brother, signaling him to bring the performance to an end. So deeply had he been captivated by Chara’s allure that he missed my gesture and I had to poke him in the ribs.
He cleared his throat and stood before Chara could start another piece. “We must take our leave of you now, Felonius. My thanks for a pleasant evening.”
“What?” Felonius vaulted to his feet, upending a tray of figs in his haste. “You can’t leave now! Chara has hardly started.”
“I fear we must. I promised Chara’s father that I would have her home early.”
“There is yet time to play another song. I want her to play my own cithara.” Felonius gestured to his prized instrument on its golden perch. “I insist you remain.”
“You are too gracious,” Dionysius said, dark eyes stern. “But I must keep my promise. You understand.”
Felonius saw that my brother would not be moved. His face turned a dull red. “Indeed. If you must leave, then give me your word that you will return tomorrow.” He directed his words to Chara. “Will you not honor me by coming here to play again, Chara? My cithara would be at your disposal.”
Chara gave a slight nod. “If my father permits.” She gave Dionysius a shy look. “And if Dionysius chooses to bring me again.”
We had trained her well. My brother placed a hand about her shoulder in a protective manner. I did not think he had to playact very hard. “We cannot return tomorrow evening, Felonius, as we have another engagement. Perhaps next week?”
Felonius swallowed hard. “I shall anticipate it with delight.” It had cost him something, that capitulation. He burned with anger at being denied.
I let out a long breath. He had swallowed my bait. Denying him had been part of my plan. Stewing with longing as he waited to see the girl again would serve to enlarge his craving.
Delia dressed Cha
ra in a modest golden tunic and painted the girl’s eyelids and cheeks with gold dust. She even brushed the shimmering dust into her hair, making the blonde curls spark like a living thing when the light touched them. A plain golden diadem sat at the crown of Chara’s head. Majesty and modesty twined to make her appearance that of a heavenly being, as if God had sent one of his angels for a visitation.
In contrast, I wrapped myself in a severe tunic, dark blue and shapeless, making it easy to move and easier to blend into the night. Next to Chara’s splendor, I faded like a crow standing near a swan.
She gasped when she saw herself in the mirror. Chara was shy, and I had turned her into the unmistakable center of attention.
“If you are uncomfortable, I will give you a different tunic to wear,” I said. “Remember that you are meant to draw Felonius’s eyes, and the eyes of his men, also. You are my distraction. My only protection tonight.”
Chara smoothed the folds of her skirt. “I will keep this tunic.” She smiled. “The Lord shall be my covering.” Her gaze brimmed with reassurance. “And yours.”
I had an overwhelming sense of grateful affection for the girl whom I hardly knew. I had found her sparing with words. Most people waste speech on useless matters. When Chara spoke, she accorded each word with significance, a quality I could not help but admire.
This time, Justus had managed to get himself invited, posing as Chara’s escort, throwing off any suspicion that he may be connected to me. Dionysius and Justus acted like rivals for Chara’s affections, adding misdirection to diversion, putting Felonius’s eyes everywhere but on me. We hired a large enclosed carriage that afternoon, and the four of us along with Galatea wound our leisurely way back to Claudia’s villa.
Felonius himself met us in the street, his manner distracted, greeting us with clipped words of welcome. Chara alighted last from the carriage. I had the sense that the man barely breathed until he saw her. The sun shone with steady afternoon light, making the gold of her tunic and the softer sparkles on her skin come to shimmering life when she emerged. Felonius could not hide a gasp.
Claudia’s reception in the vestibulum, though proper, was far colder. She had arrayed herself in the robes of an empress, her hair, fingers, shoulders, neck, and wrist dripping with jewels. After the way her husband had ogled Chara when we had last come to their house, she no doubt wished to demonstrate her superiority. The girl might sparkle with youth, but Claudia shone with majesty.
Our hostess had arranged for the meal to be served in the outdoor dining room with its rectangular pool and fruit trees. She led us through a wide colonnade covered with a roof of red clay tiles.
Most visitors would be so entranced by the intricate design of the mosaics under our feet that they would miss the many doors leading to various chambers to our right and left. One of these was hidden behind a thick green curtain. A man whose muscles spoke of military training at some point in the past stood guard by that door. As Chara walked by him, his whole body swiveled, as if attached to her by strings. His distraction gave me a momentary chance to survey the curtain and the closed door behind it, which thanks to Claudia’s tutelage, I knew led to Felonius’s tablinum.
The table was set under a blue linen awning, protecting us from the afternoon sunlight. As we took our seats beneath its shade, I smelled roses. Felonius had splashed the awning with rosewater. He served us delectable food on expensive Roman glass platters. Wine from Pompeii filled our goblets. Nothing seemed too good for our Chara.
Just before the desserts were served, I placed a hand on my belly, wincing with pain. “I seem to have eaten something that disagreed with me.”
Claudia gave me a haughty look. “At my house?”
I gave a convincing impression of a fish, my mouth opening and closing soundlessly. “Of course not.”
The desserts arrived, an impressive array of sweet cakes with fruit compote and nuts. Instead of helping myself to a healthy selection, I eyed them with distaste. In spite of the heat, I began to shiver.
Chara came to sit near me. “Dear Ariadne, are you unwell? You are trembling.”
“I feel chilled to the bone.”
Chara looked from Dionysius to Justus. “Perhaps we should take her home.”
Felonius sat up on his couch, his back ramrod straight. “No need for that.”
Dionysius waved a hand. “She’s had a sensitive constitution since childhood. These bouts are nothing to be concerned about.”
“Perhaps you should have stayed home.” Justus plunked a fig into his mouth.
“She is suffering, the poor thing,” Chara said, her tone reproachful. “I can accompany her home and send the carriage back for you.”
“No.” I wiped my forehead with my napkin. “I would not dream of interrupting everyone’s enjoyment. We have all been looking forward to hearing you play.”
“Ariadne is right. There is no need for you to leave, Chara.” Felonius turned to his wife. “Claudia, why don’t you take Ariadne to a bedchamber where she can lie down in comfort?”
Justus rubbed his hands together. “That is an excellent solution. Felonius, won’t you fetch your cithara for our lovely musician? I, for one, cannot wait to hear her pluck those strings.”
Felonius obeyed with alacrity while Claudia helped me to my feet. We could already hear the strumming of Chara’s instrument as we began to walk down the length of the enclosed garden.
Claudia stopped outside the chamber that abutted Felonius’s tablinum. The beefy guard watched our progress with intent eyes.
“The lady Ariadne is sick. She can lie down here until she feels better,” Claudia explained as she led me within.
In the bedroom, she covered me with a cloak that sat neatly at the bottom of the bed. No sooner had I lain down than I grabbed my belly and doubled up. “Lavatory!” I cried loud enough for the guard and his maiden aunt in lower Corinth to hear.
Felonius’s villa was a relatively new Roman construction, and like other prosperous modern houses, enjoyed an indoor toilet and piped water. Claudia helped me to my feet and we left the confines of the bedchamber once again. She rolled her eyes as we walked past the guard, who smirked openly at my discomfort. I clutched the cloak my hostess had given me and stared at my feet in embarrassment.
Claudia guided me to the room that housed the double stone receptacles, where one could enjoy seated comfort while going about one’s business. She stepped inside with me and closed the door behind us.
Galatea awaited us within. She had ensconced herself inside the small cubicle when we had first arrived. Felonius may have stationed spies everywhere in his house, but no one bothered to pay much attention to the lavatories. Even if they had, they would have merely found a servant, relieving herself. At most, she would have earned herself a reprimand for using a facility set aside for the master and mistress’s use, not to be encroached upon by servants. Galatea had come equipped with a pitcher of water under her light cloak.
“Ready?” I asked. Both women nodded.
Growing up with boys meant that I had developed certain untapped skills. I might not be able to play the cithara, but I knew how to make a sound with my mouth that could fool a physician. As children, Theo and I had spent hours mimicking the sound of people who suffered from a surfeit of wind. It was an endless source of entertainment. I only prayed it would prove useful tonight.
I began my own private concert in the lavatory, the music of my lips interrupted by my convincing moans of pain. Galatea covered her mouth to stifle the sound of her giggles. I motioned for her to pour water into the stone receptacle. It splashed inside, the noise a plausible approximation of someone struck with painful dysentery.
I signaled Claudia to leave. Her fingers clutched at her chest, turning white. If she wished to turn back, to stop, now was the time. I held my breath and did not release it again until she walked out, her shoulders rigid. Through a crack in the wood of the door I could see her approach the guard. The lavatories were situated sufficiently clos
e to the tablinum that I could hear Claudia’s conversation.
“Cheap food from a street vendor, would you believe? The woman has the bowels of a cow. Disgusting.” She looked toward the garden, where Chara was playing. “You can’t see her very well from here. Can you?”
I missed the guard’s response. Claudia said, “You may move closer. She plays like Minerva.” Claudia waved a hand over her shoulder toward the lavatories. “You need not be trapped here, near that thunder.”
On cue, I let loose a sound that would have startled a sleeping babe.
The guard said something about Master Felonius. Claudia shook her head. “If you stand behind that column over there, he will not see you. In any case, he is drunk with the music. Can’t see anything but the alluring Chara. You are safe as long as she strums those seven strings.”
The guard moved a few steps. Not enough. I vented a particularly loud series of sounds, followed by groans and more water splashing into the stone receptacle. He looked over his shoulder in my direction once, then walked ahead rapidly to hide behind the column Claudia had indicated. Within a moment, his attention was snared by the golden beauty who had started to sing with a sweet voice while playing.
I slipped out, telling Galatea to continue my work. She lacked my expertise but made up for it in enthusiasm. If anyone came searching for me, or the guard returned to his post, they could still hear sufficient evidence of my torment to make a hasty retreat without investigating further.
On bare feet I padded toward the curtained door and slithered inside like an eel.
CHAPTER 31
WITHIN THE TABLINUM the world was gray and still. Near the ceiling a row of narrow latticed openings allowed a faint ray of light into the room. Enough for me to see once my eyes adjusted. I had no time to dawdle. Everything depended on speed and silence. I turned and spotted a large tapestry hanging on a wall. With an impatient motion, I thrust it to one side. And found more wall.
