The Earthly Gods

by Nick Brown

  If Idan was uncomfortable with the night so far, it was about to get far worse for him. Having each paid the two denarii entrance fee, the pair gave up their weapons to the quartet of burly enforcers at the door. They were then shown through to a subtly lit reception room staffed by a middle-aged woman and a maid who reappeared swiftly from an anteroom with a complimentary glass of wine. Neither she nor the madam seemed at all concerned by Idan’s appearance.

  ‘Are you Dianthe?’ asked Cassius.

  ‘Her granddaughter.’

  ‘Ah. So this place really has been going for a long time.’

  ‘It has, sir – since the time of Gordian. Now what can we do for you?’

  ‘Actually it’s not for me. Something of a gift for my bodyguard here. You wouldn’t think it but he’s a picky sod. Perhaps we could see what’s on offer.’

  Though he felt like he knew the girl, Cassius had never seen Aikaterine – or Dinora or Marte. He would need Idan with him to make an identification.

  ‘Your price range, sir?’

  ‘Oh anything.’ Cassius gestured at Idan, who was standing bolt upright, looking apprehensive. ‘Saved my life, he did.’

  The woman adjusted her necklace; an expensive-looking collation of amber. ‘Really? Well, of course many of the girls are occupied. But we can show you the others. They’ll be outside their rooms. Any specific interests or tastes? I might be able to help you.’

  Idan shrugged.

  ‘I’m afraid if he doesn’t make a selection we’ll have to charge another denarius – our viewing fee.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Cassius, ‘I may indulge myself.’

  ‘As you wish, sir. Ioanna here will take you through, and she’ll also inform me of any transactions. Most of the girls charge by the hour. You’ll see more of our men in the corridor but don’t worry about them – they’ll stay out of your way as long as the girls are treated well. Would you like to take your drinks with you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Best of luck.’ The madam reached out and patted Idan’s arm. ‘And don’t you worry, sweetheart – we get all sorts in here. The girls will treat you as well as a handsome prince.’

  Ioanna pulled aside a heavy curtain. It seemed obvious to Cassius why she was tasked with such duties; some affliction had left one of her eyes half-closed. The corridor beyond the curtain ran a surprisingly long way back. It was illuminated by lanterns and provided access to rooms on either side. An enforcer was stationed at both ends of the corridor. The one they passed nodded cordially to Cassius but glared at Idan.

  The doorways were covered with thinner curtains. The first two were pulled across. From one came the sounds of amorous activity, from the other male and female laughter. Under the lantern outside each door was a square of slate in a wooden frame. Written upon these two in chalk was a single word: busy.

  The next two prostitutes were not busy and each stood in a doorway. Both wore diaphanous gowns and lots of jewellery. According to the slates they were Aoide and Photine. Both charged five denarii per hour.

  ‘Good evening, sirs,’ they said, almost simultaneously.

  ‘Evening,’ said Cassius, trying to look like a normal customer. ‘We’re just browsing for the moment. Might see you later.’

  As they continued on, Cassius turned to Idan. ‘See anything you like?’

  ‘I don’t like anything about this.’

  About half the girls were not engaged and they had encountered five more by the time they reached the end of the corridor and turned right. The second enforcer – who was mining his mouth with a toothpick – waved them onwards.

  ‘More on the other side.’

  They passed what looked like an office, where a portly man was counting coins and an elderly woman was operating an abacus at impressive speed. Then came a spacious lounge, where a group of well-dressed men were playing dice. Musical accompaniment was supplied by two female flautists in revealing outfits.

  There was no enforcer at the next corner but they saw a third at the far end of the corridor. Six more girls came out to offer themselves, some more enthusiastic than others.

  ‘Nothing take your fancy?’ asked Cassius loudly as they neared the man, who was standing with his back to the wall, one boot up against it.

  Idan shook his head.

  Just as the enforcer reached for the curtain, Cassius held up a hand. ‘A question. Which of the girls is the newest? I prefer them … fresh.’

  The enforcer – a bear of a man with a stench that radiated outwards – just looked at him.

  ‘Ah.’ Cassius reached into his money bag and handed over a sesterce, ensuring the girls behind him did not see. ‘And a lively one, perhaps. Can’t stand it when they just lie there.’

  ‘Like a sack of onions,’ grunted the enforcer.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Zosime will see you right. Seems to enjoy her work and she’s only been here a couple of weeks. They change them all the time.’

  ‘I’m sure. Thank you.’

  ‘Round the other side,’ added the man.

  Once past prying eyes and open ears, Idan stopped at the corner. ‘What was all that about?’

  ‘I need to talk to one of the girls. Obviously a new arrival suits our purposes, as does one who likes to talk.’

  ‘You’re not going to—’

  ‘Gods, of course not. I’ll be as quick as I can. I suggest you wait outside. If anyone asks, just say nothing appealed to you but I am partaking. Don’t divulge any more than … well, I’m sure you won’t.’

  The prostitutes were clearly not surprised by clients who took their time but there were some unpleasant looks when Cassius approached Zosime and Idan returned to the reception room.

  While the girl turned her slate over and pulled the curtain across, Cassius examined the room. With the small bed and only a table for furniture, it was similar to others he’d seen. The fresco on the wall beside the bed was so faded that only a tree and the head of a woman could be discerned. Considering its apparent popularity, Dianthe’s Den seemed to Cassius rather downmarket.

  ‘What’s your name, sir?’ asked Zosime.

  ‘Cassius.’ Like most Roman first names, it was so common that he was not concerned about using it.

  ‘Would you like more wine?’ She gestured to the flask on the table. ‘I can have some fetched if the house blend isn’t to your liking.’

  ‘No thank you.’

  Noting that the sheets upon the bed at least appeared clean, Cassius placed five denarii in Zosime’s hand and sat down.

  ‘As I am paying for your time, do you object to me using it however I see fit?’

  The girl was already removing the green belt of cloth around her waist. She stopped. ‘Sir?’

  ‘Come. Sit. Leave that on.’

  Zosime possessed a curvy figure and a round face. Her make-up was little short of disastrous but her soft, even features compensated. She sat down.

  ‘I’m going to be completely honest with you, Zosime. I have been hired by a man whose daughter and two friends were illegally taken as slaves. We believe they are working somewhere in Byzantium – in your profession. They are Syrians, from nomadic stock: their names are Aikaterine, Dinora and Marte. All are seventeen. Do you know anything of them?’

  Zosime looked at the wall opposite and gave this some thought. ‘I don’t think so. I’ve been here since the Festival of Vesta and five – no, six – girls have started here since then.’

  ‘The names don’t ring a bell?’

  ‘No – but a lot of girls don’t use their real names. One was young enough – she didn’t say she was Syrian though. Don’t remember the name.’

  ‘Is she still working here?’

  ‘No. She only did a couple of days. Don’t know what happened.’

  ‘I have another question.’

  Cassius watched a man’s feet walk past the door. He waited ten seconds then got up and peered though the gap between curtain and doorway. The man – a small fello
w carrying a cloak over one arm – spoke with a girl further down the corridor then followed her into her room.

  Cassius returned to the bed. ‘Have you heard of another brothel – an expensive place with girls from all over?’

  ‘There are some other places in the city. I think they all have lots of different girls.’

  ‘I mean from very far afield – Britain and Germania perhaps, even Africa or Arabia.’

  When she shrugged Cassius realised he had not been particularly clever after all. A long-serving girl might have known more.

  ‘And this name: “The Earthly Gods” – does it mean anything to you?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Right. Now, listen. I don’t want to get you into trouble, but if you could find out what happened to that girl and listen out for anything about any of the three I mentioned, I would be very grateful. The names are Aikaterine, Marte and Dinora.’

  He made her repeat them twice.

  ‘All from Syria,’ she added. ‘All seventeen.’

  ‘That’s it. I’ll come back in a few days and pay you the same again. If you know girls from other places, ask them too.’

  ‘And about these earthy gods?’

  ‘Earthly. No. Don’t mention that.’ He didn’t want to expose her to the risk of directly attracting their attention. ‘Right, we’ll leave it a few minutes then I’ll get going.’

  Zosime squeezed up close, her right breast against Cassius’s arm. ‘Sure you don’t want to?’

  ‘Yes. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy it, of course.’

  In fact, Cassius wasn’t sure that he was ever going to use the services offered by such a place ever again.

  Though he thought it wise to keep a clear head, he downed another mug of wine before leaving Zosime. Afterwards, he was never sure how much it affected the decision he made once back in the reception room. Idan was loitering by the door because the rest of the space with packed with at least a dozen men.

  ‘Can we go now?’ asked the nomad, who was as usual attracting quite a bit of attention from the patrons.

  Cassius appraised them: well off and of varying ages, possibly the members of a guild or simply a large group of friends. Frustrated by the results of his night’s work, he decided on another calculated risk.

  ‘Greetings, gentlemen,’ he declared loudly. ‘This is a fine establishment but my man and I are seeking more exotic fare. Tell me, have any of you heard of “The Earthly Gods”?’

  The madam turned and stared at him, along with every single one of the men.

  ‘No? None of you? I’ll say it again – “The Earthly Gods” – I was told they are well known in Byzantium. Was I misinformed?’

  ‘You should leave.’ A man at the back appeared from behind another. He was about fifty, his face grim.

  ‘You should leave now,’ said a second man. He was younger but with a similarly resolute expression.

  ‘I think perhaps you should, sir,’ said the madam.

  The enforcer pushed his way through the curtain and another appeared on the far side of the room.

  ‘Very well,’ said Cassius.

  He and Idan crossed the silent room. By the time they left it, he was sure: some – if not all – of the men knew precisely what he was talking about.

  ‘And now?’

  Cassius and the four Syrians were sitting on the low wall of a darkened sanctuary with a fair view of the Via Bithnyia.

  ‘Now we wait,’ he told Kabir. ‘To see if word of the big-mouthed idiot at Dianthe’s reaches the right people.’

  ‘Nothing from the girl?’ asked Idan.

  ‘No, but I asked her to keep an ear out. If this proves fruitless, we’ll do the same thing tomorrow and I’ll return to her in a few days – if they let me in.’

  ‘The girls in there are legal slaves?’ asked Kammath.

  ‘Probably. I mean probably slaves. Some might be doing it temporarily – for the money.’

  ‘I don’t see how it works – surely many of them will be with child if they—’

  ‘How do your women avoid that?’ asked Cassius.

  ‘They don’t. Before marriage, we do not … we do not do that.’

  ‘Ah, I see. Well, it does happen, of course. But there are ways – medical ways, that is. Vinegar, for example.’

  ‘These women,’ said Kammath. ‘How—’

  His father silenced him.

  Idan muttered something in Aramaic, which Kabir seemed to agree with.

  ‘How long must we wait?’ asked the chieftain.

  ‘In an hour, I will walk along the street once more, mentioning our secretive friends to whomever I encounter. In another hour I will return again.’

  Cassius gestured to the strip of grass in front of them. ‘Rest if you wish. We have had little sleep and I might need you alert and ready later on.’

  He did precisely as he’d said he would. Before visiting the street for the third time, he expanded on his instructions to Kabir, Kammath and Yablus.

  ‘So remember – if we’re approached, leave it to us unless I give the signal. I can’t believe it will be any more than a warning, though just how fierce a warning remains to be seen. There are three of you. I’ll be surprised if there aren’t at least three of them. Follow as best you can. If they split up, you split up. If they go into buildings, mark the areas. I know it won’t be easy. Just do your best.’

  It was by now the sixth hour of night and even the Via Bithnyia was virtually deserted. As Cassius and Idan walked along it, they saw only a few enforcers and some drunken patrons lurching out of the inns with a late-night licence. Cassius took his time and slowed down as he neared Dianthe’s Den. One of the doormen had seen him half a dozen times.

  ‘Ain’t you got a home to go to?’

  Cassius ignored him and continued on his way, noting a few workers cleaning up inside the hostelries. The pair were two-thirds of the way along the Via Bithnyia, approaching a side street.

  It was Idan who turned first. Cassius heard the rasp of the Syrian’s dagger being drawn as he spun around.

  Two figures had stepped out of a shadowy alley ten feet behind them. They had chosen the place well; barely a trace of light from the surrounding buildings reached them. All Cassius could make out was the outline of two tall, well-built men, and the hoods with which they covered their faces.

  ‘Good evening, young man.’ The man to the left spoke in Greek, with no obvious accent.

  Knowing he had to try and draw them closer to a light, Cassius grabbed Idan’s wrist and backed away. But the Syrian stopped after three steps.

  ‘Behind us,’ he breathed.

  Cassius looked over his shoulder. Two more men had appeared from the side street. He could see almost nothing of them either.

  ‘Stay exactly where you are. You are only in danger if you move.’

  Behind the first pair, a man was walking unsteadily along, whistling a tune. The leader’s compatriot turned, grabbed hold of him and with a few hissed words in his ear, sent him back the other way.

  ‘Sheathe that knife.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ Cassius told Idan. The Syrian obeyed.

  ‘I’m told you’ve been talking a lot tonight,’ said the faceless stranger. ‘Loudly.’

  ‘I’m just curious. I was told about these “Earthly Gods” and this paradise of girls from all over. But nobody seems to know a damn thing.’

  ‘Who told you that name?’

  ‘Some drunk. It sounded like he’d had the time of his life. I don’t suppose you could get me into the place?’

  ‘The name you speak of belongs to a gang of criminals once based here in the city. They were of the worst kind – pederasts and rapists. Nobody wants to hear that name in Byzantium. Understand?’

  ‘I’m sorry but I had no idea. Might I ask what your interest is in all of this?’

  ‘You will not come to this street again and you will not mention that name again. Understand?’

  Cassius didn’t have to feign anxiousness
for his answer. There was something utterly chilling about the calm way in which the man spoke.

  ‘I shall do as you say. I pledge it.’

  ‘Good. Because if you do not, we shall tear out your tongue. You’ll note I didn’t say cut – I said tear. By the root. We have done it before. We use workman’s pliers. There will be a lot of blood and an indescribable amount of pain.’

  With that, he and his compatriot walked away – to their right, into the middle of the street so that the gloom would hide them.

  Neither Cassius nor Idan moved until they were sure all four of the interlopers had gone. They remained there for a while but saw no sign of the other Syrians either.

  The next two hours passed painfully slowly. Once back at the inn, Idan busied himself sorting through the nomads’ collection of sling ammunition, while Simo prepared his master a strong mug of wine. Cassius sat by the window, unable to avoid mulling over the scenarios that might play out with the Syrians trying to follow the mysterious quartet. Few of them were good, and as two hours became three, he began to think this had been a calculated risk taken without proper calculation.

  Yablus returned first. Breathing loudly, he sank to the floor and gratefully sloshed down the water Simo gave him.

  ‘They split up about a half a mile away, further into the city. We were with a pair but then they separated so I had to follow one. He kept taking strange turns and I thought he knew I was there. Then I lost him completely.’ Yablus put a hand to his head. ‘Then I got lost myself. Sorry.’

  ‘You did what you could,’ said Cassius. ‘Where you lost him – would you be able to find it again?’

  The young nomad grimaced. ‘Maybe … probably not.’

  A quarter-hour later, Kammath turned up. Cassius had harboured fears of him pouncing on one of the men in an effort to get information. But although Kabir’s son had restrained himself, his news was little better than his cousin’s.

  ‘It was almost impossible. Twice I was nearly seen by city sergeants. The second time I ended up so far behind, I lost him.’

  ‘You followed the other man from the same pair as Yablus?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where were you when you lost him?’