Lost Republic

by Paul B. Thompson

  “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.”

  The voice was feminine and familiar. He squinted at the featureless outline.

  “Genera?” That was Jenny Hopkins’s Latin name he somehow knew.

  The figure came closer. Pale hands appeared, easing back the drapery covering her head.

  “Elianora?” Hans almost laughed with relief. “Elianora, is that you?”

  It was her. Her manner was strange, detached, but it was good to see a familiar face!

  “Levius Moro and his sister, Julia, need your help,” she said, coming closer still. She explained how Julie had ended up in a brothel and how Leigh needed help getting her out.

  “I will help!” Hans vowed, and then he looked away, stricken. “But I am starving. Do you have anything to eat, Elianora?”

  She said nothing, but took his hand. Hans let himself be led like a child for many streets until he reached a fine, upper-class building on the far side of the Field of Mercury. It was built of the usual brick, but the doors and windows were faced with marble. In the lintel over the door was chiseled the word MEDICVS.

  “This is the home of my master, Dr. Dioscorides,” Eleanor whispered. “He sleeps above. Do not waken him.”

  She unlocked the door with a huge iron key. They went into the doctor’s dark consulting room, which smelled strongly of strange spices and medicines. Eleanor lit a candle. She used a strike anywhere match—more technology the ancient Romans did not possess.

  Two walls were lined with benches for patients. A lone chair across the room served as the doctor’s examination table. Beyond that were shelves and cabinets crammed with all sorts of weird organic items used in Latin medicine: dried herbs, pressed flowers, stones, jars of murky liquids, and mummified parts of animals. Overhead, a stuffed baby alligator hung from the ceiling on string.

  Amid the homely medicines and Spartan benches, one item was out of place. A gleaming white statue of a god, a quarter life-size, sat on a black stone pedestal opposite the door. In the poor light, it seemed to glow on its own.

  Hans eyed the statue. “Aesculapius?” he asked, naming the Roman god of medicine.

  “Apollo,” she replied, gazing at the image with a faint smile.

  He thought nothing more about it. Apollo was the god of healing, so it wasn’t odd to find a votive statue in a doctor’s office.

  Weary, he sat down in the doctor’s chair. Hans must have dozed a little, for the next thing he knew, Eleanor was gently shaking him awake.

  “Food,” she said. “Eat.”

  With dirty fingers, he tore apart the half-loaf of round bread she had brought, liberally doused with the oily fish sauce the Latins used like ketchup on everything. Hans didn’t care. At this point, he would have happily eaten a strip of shoe leather.

  “Can you take me to Levius?” he said through a mouthful of food. Sitting primly facing him, Eleanor agreed she could. But they had another task to do first.

  “We must speak to Gallus,” she said. “I know where he is.”

  “And Genera,” Hans added. Eleanor shook her head.

  “She is sworn to goddess Ceres. The penalties for deserting a temple are grave.”

  “So is working in a brothel.”

  Though he was exhausted from days of hunger and sleeping in ditches or doorways, Hans urged Eleanor to take him to France Martin.

  “There is another like you—Linnea. You may enlist her instead of the acolyte Genera.”

  “I want them both,” Hans insisted. “At least we can put the situation to them, and they can make their own choice.”

  Something went plop in the dark corner of the room. Hans leaped to his feet. Eleanor took the candle into the pyramid of darkness and showed him what made the noise. It was a clepsydra, or water clock, which marked time using water dripping from one bowl into another.

  Flexing his fingers, Hans said, “Let’s get going.” Eleanor promised to follow as soon as she put out the light.

  Hans slipped outside. When he was gone, Eleanor stood close to the statue of Apollo and whispered, “Lord, did you hear?”

  “Yes, I heard.”

  “What am I to do?”

  “Let the young newcomers do as they will.”

  “Is that best, lord? Will you stop them from fleeing the city?”

  The god was silent. Eleanor whispered his name, but the statue said nothing.

  Who knows what gods think? Their ways are mysterious, or they would not be gods.

  Before leaving, Eleanor went to the doctor’s closed cupboard. She took one of his keen knives and tucked it inside her gown. To extinguish the candle, she pushed the palm of one hand into the flame. It went out. Her skin blistered, but she felt no pain.

  Chapter 19

  Linh slept with her door blocked. As a servant, she wasn’t allowed a lock or latch, so every night she blocked the door to her room with her only piece of furniture besides her bed. The four-legged stool was sturdy, but it wouldn’t keep out a determined intruder. All Linh could hope for was that anyone breaking in would make so much noise, the Livius household would rally to her defense.

  She blocked the door mainly to keep out Drusus. He was too cowardly to assault her, but Linh didn’t want to wake up some time and find him snuggled up with her. So she blocked the door every night.

  Her thoughts were harsh when she heard scratching on her door. She said, “Go away, Drusus!” twice, but the tapping continued. She threw back her thin blanket and stalked to the door, stubbing her toe along the way. Biting her lip and cursing silently, Linh put her lips close to the door and hissed, “Go to bed, Drusus! I’ll tell your father if you don’t!”

  “—not Drusus,” she heard a muffled voice say through the panel. It sounded like a girl. Linh hazarded a peep. There were two figures outside. She started to slam the door, but a strong hand gripped the panel and pushed her back.

  “Linnea! Don’t make a fuss—it’s me, Ioannus!”

  Hans, here? Linh relented. In swept Hans Bachmann and Eleanor Quarrel, looking flushed and frantic. Both talked at once, and in no time, Linh learned about Julie Morrison’s terrible predicament. Would she come along and help Julie escape?

  “Before you answer,” Eleanor said, “know that this is deathly serious business. Julia can be flogged for abandoning her mistress. Levius could be executed for desertion.”

  “Yes, and I’ll be sold into slavery for being a vagrant,” Hans added hastily. “It’s plain we have to get out of Eternus Urbs forever, and the Republic, too, if possible.”

  “Where will we go?” Linh wondered alou
d. No one had an answer.

  Standing apart in the near darkness, Eleanor said quietly, “To the north and west lies Ys, the realm of the barbarians. Southeast is the wasteland of Heka.”

  Hans turned to look at her. “You’ve learned a lot. That’s good. What’s this Heka like?”

  “A desert of sand and sun, hostile to all life.”

  “Can’t be that bad,” Linh said. “We’re on an island, after all. How different from Latium can it be?”

  “We know what the people of Ys are like,” said Hans. He’d had enough of muscular idiots with swords. “If we get out of Eternus, I say we head south. If Heka has a bad reputation, maybe the Latins won’t follow us there. In any event, if we get to the sea, we may spot a passing ship.”

  Linh threw a light wrap around her shoulders and followed Hans and Eleanor out. Wordlessly, Eleanor led them through the black and empty streets to the house of Falco, the builder. Along the way, it struck Hans how knowledgeable Eleanor had become during their short time in Eternus. She knew about Latium’s neighbors, and she knew where to find Linh and France—come to think of it, she was lying in wait for him, too, and he was homeless, adrift in the streets! How did Eleanor know so much?

  He stopped so short, Linh walked into his back.

  “Elianora,” he said, “I have a question. More than one, really.”

  A few feet away, the girl paused, a shadow among shadows. Distantly she replied, “What?”

  Hans put it to her bluntly. “How did you know the things you know?"

  “The god has aided me, to see justice done.”

  Linh and Hans exchanged worried looks.

  “The ‘gods’ aren’t real,” Linh said.

  “Oh, but they are.” Eleanor moved on. Her last words drifted back. “They watch us, even now.”

  Linh shuddered a little and instinctively peered back over her shoulder. Aside from an expanse of brick wall and a few closed shutters, there was nothing behind them.