The Lydian Baker

23

It felt like I'd just stepped across the River Orontes and into the Parthian king's palace. The sharp corners of the room and the ceiling were hidden with spreads of blue and yellow silk, making a tent, and the air was heavy with perfume and spices. The girl lay on a divan lit by a single standing candelabrum. She sat up with a whisper of silk on bare flesh. Her almond eyes were ringed with black cosmetic.

Sticking with the research idea was going to be difficult. I could tell that already.

'Uh…you're Cleo?' I said.

'Yes, lord.' She stretched, and the bells at her ankles rang gently. 'Come in, please. Make yourself at home. Would you like some wine?'

'Yeah.' My throat was dry already. 'Yeah, that'd be good.'

The jug and cups were sitting on a low table by the bed. She reached over to pour, and the thin silk blouse moulded itself around her nipples.

'Your over-tunic, lord.' She smiled. 'You'd be more comfortable without it, I think.'

'No, that's okay.' She was right, though: the room was warm, and there was a small brazier giving off a scent that cut through the other perfumes and set the back of my nose tingling. 'I'll keep it on for now.'

'As you wish.' She held out the cup. 'Here. Some honeyed figs? From Damascus. Very good. You're hungry?'

'No, I'm fine.' I took the wine cup and sipped.

'Then lie down. Relax. There's no hurry.'

Jupiter Best and Greatest! Maybe I'd've been better with Cotile after all, time of the month or not; at least I had past acquaintance to fall back on. Hermippe was right, Cleo was a real honey: smooth skin white as cream, dark hair done up in the Parthian style, breasts shining through the thinnest of silk coverings. Shit! What was that scent?

I lay down on the divan. Her fingers touched my forehead, light as feathers.

'You're Roman, lord?'

'Yeah.'

'I haven't met a Roman before. Not properly.' The fingers found the bruise at the back of my head. I winced. 'You're hurt?'

'It's nothing. Just a bump.'

'Not just a bump. Put the wine cup down and turn round a little, please. Let me reach your neck. There, that's better.'

Jupiter and all the gods, that was good! Her fingers worked their way down slowly to the top of my spine, rubbing gently.

'The doctors do this in Parthia, lord,' she said. 'It's a very old skill which relaxes the muscles. You feel it working?'

Sure I did. I was almost purring. As a masseuse back in Rome she could've made a fortune. 'Yeah. Yeah, that's great. Fantastic.'

'Good. You have a strong neck, but the muscles are bunched and knotted. Something is worrying you.'

'Maybe.'

'It's not important. Or not now. Relax.'

I found myself drifting. Relax. I hadn't felt this relaxed for years. Certainly not recently. Certainly not since…

Since…

Oh, hell! I was falling asleep! I shook my head and sat up.

'Lord?'

'It's okay,' I said. It had to be done now, or never. A pity. Personally at that moment I'd have opted for never, and the hell with Priscus, Melanthus and the Baker, but I knew I'd regret it later. 'Cleo, you mind if we talk for a minute?'

'Of course not, lord. We can do whatever you like.' We were face to face. Her eyes were wide and luminous and her breasts with their gilded nipples beneath the transparent silk were brushing the folds of my mantle. Gods, maybe this hadn't been such a good idea at that. And whatever was burning on that brazier was doing funny things to my brain. Pleasant as hell, sure, but that wasn't the point…

I shook my head to clear it. 'I'm looking for a guy called Melanthus. A regular. He usually goes with Anthe. You know him?'

She considered. 'No, lord. I haven't been here long. And we're strictly forbidden to — '

'Discuss one customer with another. Yeah. Yeah, I know. One of the house rules. But this is important.' I described him. 'You seen him around, maybe? Outside working hours, as it were? In the building?'

'No, lord.'

Well, it had been worth a try. Back to the original plan. I took out my purse and found the remaining gold piece. 'Okay. I'm going to slip out for a while. Say nothing and this is yours. That seem reasonable?'

'The Lady Hermippe — '

'I won't tell, I swear. I've gone down to have a word with the coachman, that's all. Cleo, this is important!'

A pause. 'Yes, I know,' she said. 'Cotile said he'd disappeared. The man you were asking about.'

'Yeah. Yeah, that's right. Only he may still be here, and I've got to check. You understand?'

She nodded; not the world's greatest brain, but with a body like that who needs brains? 'Very well, lord. It's not really permitted, but — '

I slipped her the coin and got to my feet. Gods alive! I just hoped that if Perilla ever found out about this she'd appreciate the sacrifice I was making. Not that she ever would find out…

'Uh…what is that stuff you're burning, by the way?' I said.

'The upper leaves of the qef plant. lord.'

'The which?'

She smiled. 'It hasn't a name in Greek. They burn it in Parthia and inhale the smoke. It brings good dreams.'

'Is that right?' Well, maybe it was the qef or Cleo's massage, or probably a combination of the two, but I felt really good, almost like I was flying. 'You stay here, okay?'

'Of course.' She half-sat on the divan and drew her beautiful legs under her. I took one last look. Gods alive! I must be crazy!

Crazy or not, it had to be done. I listened for a moment at the closed door, then opened it and slipped outside. There was no one around. It was lucky we were at the end of the corridor and I only had one direction to worry about. I put my ear to the unmarked door next to Cleo's. Nothing. I turned the handle…

Then I heard the sound of voices from downstairs: men's voices. I froze, ready to dive back into Cleo's room, but whoever it was must have crossed the hall and gone into one of the downstairs rooms because I heard a door close and then silence. I turned the knob again.

The door opened onto a broom closet. Shit. Talk about anticlimax. Well, if Antaeus caught me I could always say I'd had this uncontrollable urge to sweep the corridor. So. That left downstairs, which was a complete bummer. Added to which I didn't know where Antaeus parked himself when he wasn't doing his perfect butler act. On the other hand, there had been those voices, and although I hadn't heard them at all clearly I was pretty sure neither of them belonged to the jolly giant. It was just possible one of them was Melanthus's; but if so then I sure as hell wasn't going to find out shaking in my sandals up here.

I walked along the corridor as quietly as I could without sneaking: if Antaeus did come up I could tell him what I'd told Cleo, that I wanted a word with Dida outside.

The middle door on the right was marked for Anthe. I stopped. Cotile had said she'd gone to Corinth, which meant the room should be empty. And if Melanthus was hiding out in the Scallop then an empty room was well worth checking.

I listened, then tried the door. It was open. I pushed.

Anthe obviously had a thing about dried flower arrangements: the room was full of them, but otherwise it was uncluttered. The bed was made up. I went in and closed the door behind me. Then I checked the dressing table and the clothes chest. Lots of perfumes and cosmetics, but nothing else, and the only clothes in the chest were women's ones. What there was of them; Anthe was clearly the direct type. Well, it'd been worth a try. If Melanthus was here I doubted if he'd taken that much trouble over his cover; or if he had then I didn't want to know. Downstairs it had to be.

I stopped outside Hermippe's office at the top of the stairs. No sign of Antaeus. Hopefully he was off somewhere polishing his diphthongs. I could hear the voices again, muffled this time. They weren't coming from the salon but from behind one of the doors I'd tried earlier. Cautiously, I came down and put my ear to the panel…

'Can I help you, sir?'

I spun round. Bugger! Antaeus! The guy must have woollen feet!

'Uh…I just wanted a word with my coachman, friend,' I said. It didn't sound convincing even to me. 'He's waiting outside.'

'Indeed.'

'Yeah. So if you'll just excuse me…'

He didn't move. It was like finding that a stone wall had suddenly decided to get between you and where you wanted to be.

'Perhaps, Valerius Corvinus,' he said, 'if you're so interested in overhearing private conversations you would care to join in.'

'Uh, no, that's okay. I think I'll just — '

He reached over and took a grip my arm. Gently enough, but it would've been easier to get out of a vice. With his other hand he knocked at the door. The voices stopped.

Antaeus opened the door and guided me inside.

The place was another office, like Hermippe's, but plusher, almost a sitting-room, with two or three life-size bronzes and veneered marble panelling round the walls. Behind the desk was a little wizened guy, his bald head sticking up from an expensive-looking mantle with enough purple and gold thread on it to fit out a triumphal procession. As I came in the man sitting opposite with his back to me turned round…

I shook Antaeus's hand off. He stepped back and did a good imitation of a piece of decorative furniture.

'Well, well,' I said.