Two For The Lions Read online

  "She can't have come this way!" The great door would have stopped her. It was cantilevered so it swung easily to the touch, but the cat would have seen it as a fixed obstacle.

  We fell back with relief Curious bathers tried to follow us "stay inside. Keep the door shut!" One of the vigiles had sense, but he was wasting his breath with advice. He was sweating so much he had lost all authority. People wanted to know what was happening. We had to find the cat. Then we could organize proper security around the area where she was.

  These baths were unfamiliar to me. There seemed to be corridors everywhere. They had private pools, latrines, cubby holes, attendants' quarters. A thought struck. "Oh Jove! We have to make sure she doesn't get into the hypocaust."

  A vigilis swore. Under the suspended floors of the baths lay the heating chambers, fuelled by huge furnaces. He realized as I had done that crawling through stacked brick piers in the baking hot cavity in search of the leopard would be ghastly. The space was hardly big enough to squeeze through and the heat would be unbearable. It would be dangerous to breathe the fumes. An attendant wandered through a doorway holding an armful of towels, thin things that were hardly fit to blow your nose on. Piperita grabbed him, threw the towels away, and shoved him down one of the access points, with a large trooper standing guard.

  "Search round all the columns. Shout if you see anything moving--" The man on guard grinned at me as Piperita gave his orders; even he looked a bit rueful. "Well, it's a start!"

  "He'll collapse." I was curt. It was stupidity. A big cat looking for a refuge just might slink between the hot pillars below, but for a man it was no joke.

  "I'll send someone else in to get him if he does." Without further comment I ran back towards the cold room. I met another attendant whom I sent running to warn the furnace master. "Where can I find the manager?"

  "He's still at lunch probably." Typical.

  Luckily the vigiles had hauled out an under-manager from some nook. He had been chewing a folded roll, but the cheese was rather ripe and he seemed glad to abandon it. We persuaded him to organize his staff in a methodical search. Every time we checked a room we left a man in it to warn us if the leopardess prowled in there later. Slaves started persuading the rest of the public to leave, grumbling but fairly orderly.

  The heat and steam were exhausting us. Fully dressed, we were overheating, losing our will to continue. Wild rumours of sightings were being exchanged. As the building finally emptied, the echoes of running feet and the vigiles' shouts made the atmosphere even wilder. I dragged my arm across my forehead, desperate to clear the perspiration. An overweight vigilis was emerging from a hypocaust vent but had stuck. His joshing mates rubbed his red face with towels as he gasped and swore. "Someone said they saw her go down--I went to look around, but it's hopeless. The space is only about three feet high and there's a forest of columns. If you met her nose to nose you'd be dead." With a last effort he wrenched his body out through the manhole. "Phew! It's hot as stink and the air's foul!"

  Temporarily done for, he fell full length against the corridor wall, recovering from the effects of humidity and hot gases.

  "Best to seal up the underfloor area," I suggested. "If she is in there either she'll expire or she'll come out of her own accord later. When we're sure she's nowhere else we can deal with that."

  We left him, and the rest of us dragged ourselves back to the search. Soon we reckoned we had checked everywhere. Maybe the leopardess was outside the baths altogether by now, causing a panic somewhere else while we wasted our time. The vigiles were ready to give up.

  I was finished myself but I did a final check through the building. Everyone else had gone out. Finding myself alone I glanced through a wedged open door to the hot steam room. Much of the heat had escaped now. I walked to the great marble bowl of standing water and leaned over to splash my face. It was tepid, and had no effect. As I straightened up, I heard something that made all the hairs on my neck stand up.

  The huge establishment was virtually silent. But I had caught the scratch of claws on marble--very close.

  XVIII

  VERY GENTLY I made myself turn around. The leopardess was eyeing me. She had stationed herself on one of the wallseats, sitting up like a sweating bather--between me and the open door.

  "Good girl--" She growled. It was terrifying. Fair enough. My luck with the feminine element had never been good.

  I kept still. There was no way out. I had my knife but was otherwise unarmed. Even my cloak lay on the flat marble seat beyond the leopardess. The floor was slippery, worsened by a large slick of spilled bathing oil. Its perfume was vine blossom. The one I hate most, more fishy than festive. Needle-sharp shards of the broken alabastron that once contained it lay in wait amongst the oil too.

  I sensed failure already. Expecting the worst makes it happen. If only success was as simple.

  I felt exhausted by the humidity. This was not for me. I had never been a hunting man. Still, I knew nobody who had any experience would try to tackle a big, fit leopard with only a small hand-knife.

  The spotted cat licked her whiskers. She seemed perfectly relaxed.

  Noises surprised me: low voices and hurried footsteps approaching in the outer corridor. The leopardess twitched her ears and growled ominously. My throat became too dry to call for help--a bad idea anyway. Very slowly I adopted a crouch, hoping the cat would have learned to recognize a human threat posture. A boot sole skidded on the oily floor. The sickly scent of the spilled oenanthinum caught in my windpipe. The leopardess also moved and also slipped, one great paw dangling off the seat. Replacing it fastidiously, she looked annoyed. A low, harsh rumble came from her throat again. We were now watching each other, though I tried to feign disinterest, not offering a challenge. She still had room to escape. She could hop down, turn, and stalk away. At least she could until the voices we had heard came yet nearer; then both she and I knew she was about to be trapped.

  It was a spaciously designed chamber. High walls. Vaulted roof Room for a whole guild of augurs to come here from the Temple of Minerva in the Saepta and lounge in the steam without knocking elbows. To a man hemmed in by a carnivorous wild cat, it suddenly seemed pretty confined.

  The voices reached the door. "Stay out!" I called. People came in anyway.

  The leopardess decided that the men now behind her represented danger. I must have just looked pitiful. She stood up and paced along the seat towards me, alert to the disturbance yet switchingly aware of me. I backed against the stone bowl; then I started ducking round it sideways. The mighty basin was shoulder high and might offer some protection. I never made it far enough. Whether the cat decided to spring up on to the bowl or whether I was her target, she came flying towards me. I shouted and got my knife up, though I stood no chance.

  Then one of her pounding paws must have caught in a drainage cover- one of the sn13ll square grids with flowershaped patterns that allowed condensed steam to soak away. Splay-legged, she scrabbled for balance. Either the grid or a shard of glass from the broken alabastron must have hurt her; she bit angrily at a claw, where blood streamed. I kept yelling, trying to drive her off.

  Someone broke through the knot of men in the doorway. A dark shape whirled through the air, briefly opened like a sail, then closed around the leopardess. She ended up writhing in a bundle, snarling and spitting, partially held in the folds of a net. It was not enough. One great spotted leg worked free, desperately striking out. The scrabbling bundle of fur and claws still came at me.

  My arm flew up to protect my neck. Then I was knocked askew. The powerful weight, all wet pelt, teeth and snarls, belted me sideways. Smelling carnivore, I gasped. I hit the wall. I must have crash-landed right by one of the internal flues; at first I didn't feel it, then I knew my bare arm had been burned from the wrist to the hem of my sleeve.

  People raced to the leopard, brisk figures who skated on the wet tiling but who knew what they were doing. Another net arched, spread and fell. Men held the beast dow
n with long iron-shod poles Sharp commands rang out--then soothing noises for the animal. A cage was still in and swiftly dragged across to the writhing cat. She was still angry and terrified, but she knew these were the people in control. So, with relief: did I.

  "Come out of the way, Falco!" A harsh order came from the tall, shapely female who had flung the first net and saved me. Not a voice to argue with. Not a woman to cross. I had had some dealings with her, though the last time I saw her seemed an age ago and we had been in Syria. Her name was Thalia. "Make some room for the experts--"

  She grabbed my burned arm. Pain kicked in; I shrieked involuntarily. She let go, but took a firmer grip on my shoulders, bunching handfuls of tunic. I let myself be hauled outside the sweating room like a drunk being expelled by a particularly adept bouncer, then I leaned on the wall of the corridor, sweat pouring off in rivulets, holding my right arm away from my body. Breathing seemed something I might never do in comfort again.

  My rescuer turned back to see the leopardess successfully caged. "She's in--you could have waited, darling. Trust a bloody man to want to do everything himself!" The inference was lewd. It seemed best to accept the criticism, both topical and sexual. She had always made suggestive remarks, and I had always pretended not to have heard them. I told myself I was safe because the lady was extremely fond of Helena. If she did decide to grope me, I was not in a state to protect myself.

  I had known Thalia some years now. We were supposed to be friends. I treated her with nervous respect. She worked in the Circus, usually with snakes. A woman who could be described as "statuesque"--not meaning a sculpture of some delicate nymph with a sweet smile and virginal properties--and she had a large character to match. I thought I liked her. It seemed the best attitude to take.

  As usual Thalia was bursting out of a minimal stage costume that was deliberately designed to cause offence to prudes. To augment the outfit she wore platform boots that had her tottering and arm bracelets like warship anchor chains. Her hair was piled in a towering concoction that she must have kept in place for weeks without dismantling. I swear I glimpsed a stuffed finch among its mass of combs and knob-headed pins.

  She dragged me to the cold room, made me kneel beside the dipping pool, and plunged my arm under water, up to the shoulder, to draw out some of the heat from the burn. "Lie still."

  "I bet you say that to all the men you get hold of--" It was a terrifying thought. Thalia knew it too.

  "Take my advice or you'll be in a fever tomorrow, and scarred for life. I'll give you a salve, Falco."

  "I'd rather have a chat."

  "You'll get what's good for you."

  "Whatever you say, princess'

  Eventually she let me up. As she was leading me meekly out through the baths we met a man carrying a whip and a long-legged stool. "Ooh look!" she shouted sarcastically. "Here's a little boy who wants to grow up to be a liontamer!" He looked suitably embarrassed.

  Thalia had accosted a tall, wide, dark-skinned, crinklehaired man, built like a fighter, puffed nose and all, though unexpectedly well-dressed. He wore a tunic with rich blue and gold braid, carried a full cloak of fine wool with Celtic silver toggles, and flaunted an expensive belt with a buckle that looked as if it had once cinched in Achilles when he was in a party mood. A group of men, obviously his slaves, followed him along the corridor, some bringing ropes and long hooked staves.

  "I caught her for you," Thalia called back over one shoulder as our paths crossed. Apparently he owned the leopardess. "Come and see me when you've got her home, and we'll talk about the salvage fee."

  The man grinned back weakly, trying to persuade himself she wasn't serious. I thought she was. So did he really.

  Thalia kept walking. I limped along after her. "Who was that?"

  "Idiot called Saturninus."

  "Saturninus! You know him, Thalia?"

  "Same business, sort of"

  "Well that's a bit of luck." She looked surprised. Then I promised that I would accept having my arm lathered with ointment, if she would tell me what she knew about the men who imported beasts for the venatio.

  "Saturninus, in particular?"

  "Both Saturninus and Calliopus, please."

  "Calliopus?" Thalia's eyes narrowed. She must have heard he was being audited for the Census. "Oh bugger it,

  Falco! Don't tell me you're the bastard who is doing the lifestyle checks? I suppose I'll be next?"

  "Thalia," I promised, "whatever lies you have chosen to tell the Censors, believe me, you are perfectly safe. I would never dare investigate your lifestyle--let alone your finances!"

  XIX

  THALIA HAD ALWAYS lurked outside the city, near the Circus of Nero. When I first knew her she was a down-at-heel exotic dancer. Now she had become a manager--of slinky banquet dancing girls, lovable donkeys who could perform feats of memory, extremely expensive musicians, one legged fortune-tellers who had been born with eagles' beaks, and dwarves who could stand on their heads on a pile of ten vertical amphorae. Her own act featured close contact with a python, an electric combination with the kind of pornographic sleaze you normally don't see outside of the nightmare bordellos dreamed up by high life villains.

  Her business had been inherited from an entrepreneur (of whom she spoke disparagingly, as she did of most men); he had experienced a fatal mishap with a panther (of whom she still seemed rather fond). Under Thalia's new strong management things appeared to be flourishing, though she still lived in a tattered tent. Inside it were new silken cushions and oriental metalwork. They vied for space with battered old baskets, some of which I knew probably housed untrustworthy snakes.

  "Here's Jason! Say hello to him, Falco." He was never stuffed in a basket. Jason was not her dancing partner, just a smaller pet, the fast-expanding python whom Thalia had always tried to persuade me was a son touch who loved company. She knew he despised me and I was scared to death of him. That just made her try harder to throw us together; a typical matchmaker. "He looks a bit rough at the moment and he's feeling low. You're sloughing another skin, aren't you, darling?"

  "Better leave him in peace then," I countered, feeling feeble for saying it. "So how long have you been back in Rome, Thalia?"

  "Since last summer." She handed me a cup of water and waited while I drank deeply. I knew how to be a good patient if the nurse was truly forceful. "I looked you up; you and Helena were in Spain. More spying on innocent businessmen?"

  "Family trip." I never liked to make too much of the work I had done for the Emperor. I finished my drink. When I put down the beaker on an ivory tray, Jason wove his way to it and licked the dregs. "How are things, Thalia? Davos still with you?"

  "Oh he's around somewhere."

  Davos was an actor whom Thalia had plucked from his peaceful life playing moth-eaten stage gods by persuading him he should revitalise his existence yoked to her. Their relationship was presumably personal, though I avoided asking. Davos was a private man; I respected that. Thalia herself was likely to make me blush with ribald details, stressing measurements.

  She was busying herself in a carved wooden chest, from which she extracted a small leather bag where I knew she kept medicaments. She had saved Helena's life once with an exquisite Parthian pick-me-up called mithridatium. Our eyes met, both remembering. I owed her a lot. No need to mention it. Under no circumstances would Thalia be audited by the Falco partnership, and if anyone else bothered her they would have to deal with me. "Did you bring home the little water-organist and her boyfriend as well?"

  "I shed the doe-eyed lad." She had found what she wanted and applied a big dollop of waxy, strong smelling ointment to my hot arm.

  "Oh I thougHt you would--Ow!"

  "Sophrona's here. She plays nicely and she looks good; I make a mint with her. But she's still a dopey little cow, always mooning after unsuitable men instead of thinking about her career."

  "You owe me a finder's fee." It was a joke.

  "Better send me a bill then." Even more frivolous.
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  "And you're also still importing exotic beasts?"

  Thalia said nothing, eyeing me. If she thought the question was official, this could be where our friendship ended. Only what was good for her business would ever really count. Her life had been too hard. She had no room to lower her standards; she would never grow some.

  "Thalia, I've no quarrel with you. I'll ensure the Census takes no interest in your outfit, if you'll tell me about the men on my enquiry list."

  "Better be quick," Thalia then agreed quite readily. She relaxed, fixing the lid back on her pot of salve and then wiping her finger clean on her few inches of tassled skirt.

  "You don't want Saturninus to walk in while we're dissecting him."

  "Will he come? He didn't look too keen when you mentioned salvage money."

  "Oh he'll be here. He knows what's good for him. How's your burn?"

  I waggled my arm. "Cooling Thanks.' Saturninus had already seen me with Thalia but if I could leave before he showed up here, he might not remember that. I was undecided how I intended to tackle him, and preferred not to let him see I had Circus friends.

  Enquiry soon ascertained that Thalia's own purchasing contacts were still mainly in the East. That let me exclude her from my audit on geographical grounds. "Don't worry. Falco & Partner are heroes with an abacus but we can't do everything. We're working on Tripolitania."