The Trident

Several lamps pushed a tarnished light about the vaulted room. Smoke clung in layers. Here urns had been removed from their niches and junked in a corner. In their places were dozens of wire cages. In one something gold and coiled unloosened with a slow gliding motion and stretched its long neck to the top. A forked tongue darted out. Slithering things moved about with faint hissing sounds. Other cages contained mice who made squeaking sounds.

On a crude table at the end of the room were piles of scrolls and books.

The man was barefoot, a gold ring around his toe.

Gaius paused before a niche that contained the bust of a woman that had been spared.

"You have an eye for beauty," Merlo said in a quiet voice. "It is a representation of my goddess, Angitia. Do you seek her help?"

"If she can concoct a potion that will innduce slumber without memory upon awaking, yes."

There was something snake like about the man with his penetrating dark eyes. The tip of his tongue moved for an instant between thin lips, the face as impassive as a marble bust.

He moved to a shelf that contained an assortment of clay and glass bottles. Dozens of dried herbs hung from strings; pieces of bone as well as human skulls filled several shelves. He sorted through several bottles before deciding on a pale green one.

"This is what you need." he said, the thin lips curled into a cunning smile. It contains the juice from the leaves of the Thorn Apple. Three drops will give you the desired result."

A price was mentioned and Gaius placed a silver coin in his palm as cold as mountain snow.

Y

The rain dropped to a drizzle on their way back.

"What would you have done if Bagus had come back?" Lucius asked.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yeah, aren't you philosophers always saying don't worry about those things you have no power to alter?"

"Stoics say so." Lucius placed his stick under his armpit and made a fist, with his thumb poked between his first two fingers, and flipped it up and down from the wrist: a silent fuck you.

As they neared the gate they saw a couple of cohorts whipping the Christian to double his pain.

Making their way down the Suburanus a gang of toughs on a corner eyed them passively. Nearing Nero's statue Gaius paused and shown his light on a wall with an advertisement for a gladiatorial troop from the province.

* *

On the Kalends of May
the honorable Valerius Catullus Messallinus
is hosting a dozen gladiatorial combats
featuring the Thracian Sophrus
who has seven kills with no ties or losses.
There will also be plenty of wild beasts hunts
with the most dangerous of animals,
savage Numidian lions, ferocious Asian tigers
and fierce Syrian bulls
pitted against men armed with only swords.
At noon there will be the execution of noxii,
prizes and other entertainment for your amusement.

* *

"Sophrus has quite a reputation for someone who is only seventeen." Gaius said. "They say he started training when he was fifteen, before the legal age, and was so prolific that he had his first fight in only three months."

"A prodigy," Lucius said.

"We'll have to go."

"I doubt my tutor would approve."

"Why? You will see men die without fear; isn't that what your philosophy is all about?"

Before Lucius could respond a blonde-headed urchin darted up to Gaius and grabbed at his purse. Gaius dropped his stick with a curse and jerked the young girl up by her hair. For a moment her face was outlined in the glow of his lantern, then a knife blade flashed, and Gaius doubled over losing his grip on her.

Lucius swung his stick at her, but she rolled under it and disappeared down a dark alley.

"Did she get you, Gaius?"

"Little bitch; she kicked me in the nuts."

"I thought she knifed you."

Gaius felt around, doubled up on the sidewalk.

No, but she got my purse."

Slowly, he stood back up leaning against the wall with one hand, his lantern lying extinguished on the ground.

"She got the potion; hope the little bitch strangles on it."

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah, let's go. Ach!"

"Hurts, huh?"

"Only when I breathe."

When they got to the foothill of the Caelian they parted company.

Gaius gave a pull on the bell rope of his father's townhouse and Gaipor, the porter, opened the gate after a moment. In his bedroom Gaius unshuttered his window that looked out upon the peristyle. The rain had picked back up and spattered rhythmically on the tile walk of the colonnade.

He took off his wet clothes and lay down on the bed naked. Soon the ache in his groin eased off and he slept.

Chapter II

Lament for Orpheus

Pale Orpheus,
where is your lyre?
Why aren't you singing?
What has happened
to stop the flow
of your beautiful words?

Ah, such words, such music.
A tongue of gold,
and, yet, now silent.

Orpheus:

The universe ends
on the most beautiful note;
and that note is silence.

And words,
no matter how beautifully sung,
become dust in the mouths
of singers.

Time has turned us to stone.

Y

When Gaius awoke, Ajax, his personal slave since childhood, a muscular black who had once been a boxer, was standing by his bed holding a silver bowl of water and a towel. A snow white tunic with purple hem lay on the trunk at the foot.

"He who parties all through the night awakes to regret the morning light."

"Thanks for that pearl of wisdom, aged one, but I wasn't partying. A little bitch almost rerouted my nuts."

Ajax chuckled softly.

Gaius kicked the cover back and sat up. Sinking his hands in the cold water he splashed it onto his face several times briskly, then wiped himself dry with the towel. Tossing it to Ajax, he gave a nonchalant wave of his hand for him to leave, then put on the jasmine scented tunic.

Barefoot he walked to the window and leaned out to gaze upon the garden. Messalina, his stepmother, was setting at a round, ivory-legged table with green marble top that stood next to the ornamental pond. A life-sized, bronze statue of Priapus stood in its center with a stream of water coming from his enlarged cock.

Crystal drops clung to shrubs, a memory of last nights heavy rain -- that and a crisp loamy smell. The rising sun had begun to cast off its rosy glow for brilliantly lit clouds billowing up like rolls of golden fleece on the horizon. White doves cooed from the scrolled top of a column. A balmy air stirred about seeding his young soul for adventure.

"Gaius, come sit with me for breakfast," Messalina called out.

With a nimble leap through the window, Gaius joined her wading through the fish pond.

She gave an order to a young slave with shoulder length hair waiting attendance, and he disappeared.

"Fabius is such a good boy, eager to please," she said smiling. She was wearing a short, blue tunic of thin silk that left one shoulder bare. The other held a gold fibula. She took a sip of wine from a double-handled cup and, setting it down, gave him a wry look.

"You were out late in the rain."

"Yes, mother."

"Hmm, don't call me that, Gaius. I'm not your mother. I'm not all that older than you, and I'm not being nosy, just making conversation."

"Well, I was with Lucius trying to find a good game of dice."

Her dark hair was parted in the middle and arranged in buns over her ears. A necklace of square carnets and emeralds set in gold hung around her slender neck. She wore no makeup except for her lips and needed none. Several gold rings decorated her fingers.

"Did you find one?

"No, not really; I lost more than I gained."

Two slaves returned, Fabius with a tray containing plates of honey buns, figs, dates, nuts, cheeses, and salted black and green olives. A girl, slave, Helvia, poured a rare, soft, sweet Caecuban into a Greek cup and waited until Gaius waved her away. Fabius, in a light brown tunic, moved off to a discreet distance to await any further orders.

"Pity."

She picked up an olive and slowly licked the coarse salt off before chewing it and spit the pit into her palm placing it on her plate.

"You men are so lucky. You can come and go doing whatever you please while we women are stuck in our homes and expected to be content spinning wool and supervising the household."

Gaius laughed. When have you ever seen a spindle?"

Messalina shrugged.

"If you're really bored there's the bath," Gaius plopped a fig in his mouth, then went on. "The theater and the circus. Then, of course, the amphitheater. There are various athletic events --"

"But the atheletes are nude," she replied demurely. "So Domitian has forbidden women to attend. So silly when you consider that mimes, with both men and women, are routinely acted out in the nude."

Gaius scratched at the back of his neck. "Yes, but Domitian has banned them; however, they are performed privately as are boxing matches where the contestants fight in the nude. Women go to these."

"That's all too brutal for me," she whispered, holding an olive against her pursed lips. "Besides I'm not comfortable going out in public by myself."

"You could go with me to the theater. Paris will be entertaining."

Her face became brilliant like the sunrise.

"Oh, Gaius, that would be wonderful. You can't imagine how bored I get just sitting around."

When they had finished eating Messalina snapped her fingers and Fabius scurried up.

After wiping her hands with his hair, she said, "Give this to the lares," she said, nodding at the food still on the tray.

As he started off she touched his shoulder. "Hold off a moment."

She tore a crumb from a honey bun, then waved him on, tossing the crumb into the pond. A series of splashes followed as several goldfish fought over it.

"Even Neptune needs propitiation sometimes, too, as well as the household gods," she laughed, flashing firm, white teeth.

As Fabius exited into the atrium, the porter, Gaipor, came out and handed Messalina a letter.

"Mistress, this was lying on the floor beneath the mail drop when I got up this morning."

"It's from your father," she said, breaking the seal. She read in silence for a moment.

"He sends you his love and says he admired greatly your poems that I sent to him but hopes you will not abandon your legal studies for the life of a poet."

Messalina set the letter down.

"In a previous letter your father told me how proud he was to have a son who is becoming one of Rome's prominent young poets, but you must understand he is a warrior from the senate class and naturally wants his only son to follow in his footsteps."

"Yes, I understand, but there will be no problem. I'm thinking of giving up poetry. There are more important things in life perhaps."

"Oh, no, you mustn't do that, Gaius; you are so young, and yet what a wonderful gift you have."

Gaius shrugged.

She sighed and picked the letter back up, read silently for a moment, then frowned.

"He says, 'I am angered that Domitian did not complete the conquests of the Chatti begun by his father, Vespasian, and instead began a defensive line of roads and fortifications along the border while plundering insignificant tribes, under treaty, above the Danubius to win prestige. While there, I'm told, the emperor -- and I use that word loosely -- spent all his time in drunken orgies -- not at the front with his troops as he should have, and, as I hear, has returned to Rome triumphant as if he had accomplished great victories while, the fact is, he did so poorly that he had to give his soldiers an increase in pay to maintain their loyalty--' "

"By the gods, I hope father's messenger was a safehand. If those words were ever to be read by the emperor he would be executed."

"I will destroy it," Messalina said, slipping the letter in the top of her tunic.

Gaius started to rise.

"You're not going yet, are you?"

"I should find the courier."

She patted the space next to her. "Oh, he's long gone. Gaipor was up over an hour ago. Don't worry; the letter still had your father's official seal intact. Come, sit here and recite some of your poems for me."

Hesitant, he sat next to her feeling the heat of her body and smelling the scent of rose petals.

She moved slightly bringing her thigh against his.

He cleared his voice. "I call this one From Her Paramour:

I cover your breasts with wine-colored kisses.
From your navel I draw sweet nectar as from a flower.
A thousand kisses press upon your bruised lips
and a thousand thousand more uncountable
until swooning you guide my passion deep as yours,
flesh locked in flesh through surging night
'til dawn finds us distilled in sweetest light
embracing each like honeydew on the leaf."

Chapter III

Gaius started down the Vicus Cyclopis glancing in several taverns on the off chance that the courier might have stopped in one for a drink after having delivered the letter, but he saw no one in regimental dress with a satchel that army couriers carried their mail in, and by the time he reached the Via Triumphalis he had seen no one that looked the part. It was pointless anyway. If someone had read the letter, who wasn't supposed to, it was too late to do anything about it . . . but, still, he would have liked to know for sure one way or other. Seals could be counterfeited.

Pausing he glanced down a way street and stared at the outline of the amphitheater and without thinking turned in that direction, the courier forgotten as an image of someone else came to mind.

When he got to where the blonde urchin had attacked him he turned toward the alley she had disappeared into. He hadn't gone far down the narrow, cobblestone passageway when a fat man with thick lips and numerous gold rings on his chubby fingers stepped out of a doorway to confront him.

"Looking for a little pussy, young Master?"

"I like them young and blonde."

The fat man closed his eyes, pushed his lips out and tilted his head to the side slightly for a brief instance to indicate the request was easily supplied.

"I've got one who's a real blonde," he said, idly adjusting a ring on a finger. "No dyed-ass bitches for me; I deal only in quality. And she's young, virgin, not a hair on her pussy. How long do you want her?"

"Depends. I'd have to see her first."

"Of course, of course," the fat man said, "but as I said she's a virgin so it will cost you considerably more."

"And worth every as if she is all you say."

"Oh, do not doubt it, my young prince; she will give you the finest fuck of you life -- or she'll get a taste of my whip."

Without more words the fat man led him down a corridor, stopping in an office area to light a lamp, then proceeded on past several closed doors, stopping before one near the end and opened it.

The room was small, pale light coming through a window. A small figure lay curled on a cot, with straw poking from the ticking, next to a lamp stand.

The fat man ordered her to stand up, slipped off her tunic and held the lamp to her."

"Uh, is she not as I told you? Prime pussy."

"Indeed," Gaius murmured.

He took four denarii from his purse, about four times the usual fee for a quality lupa, to forestall any bickering and placed them in the fat man's doughy hand, then dismissed him with a wave. The fat man placed the lamp on the stand, bowed and backed out of the room clenching the silver coins in his soft fist.

When the door was closed Gaius picked the lamp up and held it close to her face.

"We meet again, don't we?"

"No."

"Oh, yes. You kicked me in the nuts and stole my purse."

"You're rich; I'm not."

"Smart ass, aren't you?"

"I do alright."

"Not very from the looks of it."

"Are you gonna do me or talk me to death?"

"You're too scrawny."

"Not too or you wouldn't have come looking for me."

"What makes you think I came looking for you?"

"You're here, aren't you?"

"An accident."

"Yeah, just happened to stumble down the alley I ran into, didn't you?"

"Maybe I wanted my purse back."

"Beggars carry more change than you."

"And you would know."

"Or was there something else in your purse?"

Gaius moved toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

I'm going to buy you; you'll be good for laughs."

"Hah, it'll cost you a fortune."

"I doubt that; he'll probably pay me."

Gaius didn't blink an eyelid at the fat man's exorbitant price, but merely signed a promisory note for the agreed amount and told him a messenger would be sent with payment later that evening.

The tunic she wore was shabby and stained, her hair unkempt as she walked next to him in barefeet.

"You won't run off, will you?"

"Why would I? You'd have me hunted down and stomped to death if I did. Besides you wouldn't be out anything, would you?"

"Hah!"

She smiled.

At the townhouse Gaius sent for the overseer. In a few moments a stout woman with graying hair entered the atrium.

"What's your name?"

"Justina."

"Porcia take care of this runt for now. I want you to soak her in the bath for a couple of days, groom her and give her something decent to wear -- and see that she gets something to eat; she's as boney as an old alley cat."

"Yes, Master."

"And I don't want to see her again until she looks human if that's possible."

Chapter IV

"You bought the little urchin who stole your purse?" Lucius asked.

"Yep."

"Has anyone ever told you you're a blade short of having a sword?"

They were almost at one of the public entrances of the drum-like amphitheater. They could hear the vibrant roar of the crowd echoing through the twenty foot wide entrance ways. An attendant stood back when he saw their purple hems.

"Maybe we should have worn togas," Lucius said. "Domitain passed a decree stating that all but slaves had to wear them to the games."

"Don't worry no one enforces it."

"Domitian has fed people to the lions for less."

Gaius grinned.

"Aren't you philosophers fond of saying that the short and happy life is preferable to the long and miserable one?"

"Stoics do, but I'd like to try for long and happy."

With Ajax escorting they made their way to the seating section reserved for the upper classes next to the Emperor's box. Ajax placed two cushions down for them in a block owned by Gaius' father -- prime seats at the very edge of the podium overlooking the arena.

"Father has twenty seats," Gaius said. "I rent them for thousands of sestertii a piece when family, guests or clients aren't using them."

"Who handles your father's clients while he is in Judea?"

"My uncle Marcus."

"When will Sophrus make his entrance?"

"Not until the last to increase the suspense. And to that end the college of food servers have a say in the format since they want as many people as possible to stay and buy their snacks."

Gaius glanced around at the crowded levels. The passageways were thronged with the lower classes. The smell of blood filled the air. A retiarius and a secutor were going at it in the middle of the arena. The crowd was vocal in their desire to see one or the other lying dead in the sand. Roars rose and fell like the undulation of the sea, then swelled into a deafening backdrop when one or the other gladiator scored a telling maneuver. The whole amphitheater vibrated with the intensity of blood lust. An orchestra gave musical accompaniment, emulating in pitch and volume the dramatic intensity of the spectacle.

Suddenly it was over. The retiarius was gutted. In stunned disbelief he stared down at his entrails spilling from his belly into the sand. The secutor advanced on him and with one swing of his sword lopped off his head which rolled a dozen feet away like a ball. Blood hosed from the neck twenty feet into the air as the retiarius' body staggered about in a macabre spastic gait, then fell down twitching.