Lost Republic (15 page)

When he did find a poorly printed letter, he had to write it in by hand with a slim, brushy-tipped pen. At first Hans tried to match the rigid Roman font with his brush strokes, but after thirty or forty corrections, he simply wrote in the correct letter and let it go at that. If Piso noticed, he didn't complain.

After sundown, most of Piso's workers went home. Being a
desolo
, an “abandoned one,” Hans would eat and sleep in Piso's house.

He ate with the family. Piso's wife, Avia, was a slim, dark-haired woman who barely spoke in her husband's presence (a situation he seemed to prefer). Piso had two sons, Castorius and Pollux, who were twins. Castorius was in the army, in the city's X Cohort. Pollux worked for his father but had his own home next door.

Piso also had a daughter, Lidicera. She looked a lot like her mother, with smooth black hair down to her waist, sharp black eyes, and advanced ideas of her effect on men. She served Hans during dinner, leaning over him to pour wine mixed with water in his cup, passing him a platter of olives and hard-boiled eggs. She was pretty hot, and she knew it. Hans instinctively knew if he showed her any attention, Piso would throw him out on the street—and maybe have him beaten for daring to covet the boss's daughter.

Of all the people Hans had met in this strange Roman fantasy world, Lidicera was the only one who asked him where he came from and what he did before he reached the Republic. He tried to tell her (and her mother and father, seated nearby) about Germany and Europe in the twenty-first century. He couldn't. Though his memory of his own past life was clear, when he got to a term for which there was no word in Latin, he simply could not speak. He tried to say “personal data device, airplane, European Union,” or any modern place-name in Germany and found himself unable to render any of these things in Latin. He felt foolish, brow furrowed and stammering as he tried to describe the
Carleton
and his voyage.

“Ships are unsafe,” Piso said flatly. “I'd never get on one.” Hans asked why.

“They sink, don't they?”

“I can't imagine living anywhere but the Republic,” Avia said. “All those barbarians . . .”

“Were there girls with you on your voyage?” asked Lidicera.

“Yes, quite a few.” Hans wondered where Jenny, Julie, Eleanor, and Linh were right now.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. “Were they pretty?”

Hans glanced her way and saw everything she wanted him to see. He quickly shifted his gaze to his employer, who was gnawing a roasted chicken leg with frightening efficiency.

“I suppose so,” Hans said. “One girl was—” He thought about the shipwreck. “They were all brave and intelligent.”

“Is that so important?”

“I think so.”

Lidicera smiled a lot. Apparently, she found him amusing. Fortunately for Hans, when her father finished dinner, the meal was over for everyone. Avia lit a lamp and led Hans to his place to sleep. It was in the attic, among stored bundles of printing paper and tall jars of parchment rolls. A pallet of straw and a very dusty blanket were his bed.

“Good night,” Avia said. “Somnus take you soon.”

He was tired. His knee ached, too, though he thought it was getting better. Avia left with the lamp, leaving Hans in total darkness. When his eyes grew accustomed to the dark, he saw slender white beams of light filtering in through chinks in the terra-cotta tiles. Exploring, he found a hatch in the roof. It was heavy, but he got it open. Cool air rushed in.

The light was from the moon. He hadn't seen it in so long, he'd almost forgotten to expect it. Because it was so full and round, Hans wondered how he had missed it for so many nights.

He could see down to the street. People came and went, some on horseback but most on foot. A trio of young men staggered past, singing a drunken song about Luxuria's House of Pleasure. Must be a brothel, Hans thought.

Someone touched his arm lightly from behind. Hans almost leaped through the hatch.

Lidicera laughed, covering her teeth with her hand to muffle the sound.

“Nervous, aren't you?”

“You shouldn't be here,” he said, alarmed. Visions of the dead soldier who tried to molest Julie Morrison and the others filled his head. If Piso appeared, Lidicera was the just the type to cry rape.

“It's my house. I go where I please. What were you looking at?”

He moved away as far as the hatch frame would allow. “The moon.”

“I like her, too.”

“‘Her?'”

“Diana, the goddess.” Lidicera held out her tan arms to the white globe in the sky. “‘Pale goddess, queen of virgins, keep me safe,'” she recited.

She looked at Hans. “I used to say that every night.”

“Oh? What do you say now?”

“Now I pray to Venus.”

A muffled voice downstairs called Lidicera. Hans suggested she go.

“Yes, yes. It's only your first night here.” Lidicera faded into the shadows. Her voiced drifted back. “I hope you're with us a long time, Ioannus.” That was Johann, rendered in Latin. When Lidicera said it, it sounded like “Yonus.”

Angry words drifted up through the floor when Lidicera met her mother. Hans closed the hatch and went to his meager bed. It took a surprisingly long time for him to fall asleep.

Julie listened hard to the darkness. It was alive with little noises: bumps, creaks, groans, and faintly muffled voices. She had been in Luxuria's house three days, but every nightfall lent the place an entirely different, frightening flavor.

By day it was a spacious, four-story building in the Fourth Ward, a block from the large but tacky temple of Venus. They had come right through the square in front of the temple, so Julie got a good look at it (she thought it was Luxuria's house at first, given the way her new mistress kept referring to it as “our house”). The temple was built entirely of alternating courses of rose marble and red granite, which made it look like a fancy candy shop. There were a dozen or more great statues in the square, mostly muscular males barely dressed. Luxuria explained these were images of Venus's most famous lovers: Mars, Vulcan, Adonis, Anchises, and so on. Venus got around. Julie knew Mars was a planet, and Vulcan was the home of Mr. Spock, but the other names were ancient gibberish. One beefcake in a loincloth looked pretty much like another.

Compared with Venus's pink palace, the house of Luxuria was tasteful, even plain. The ground floor was whitewashed, and the upper floors half-timbered over brick. There was a garden between the front door and the street, surrounded by a seven-foot-high wall. Large double gates protected the entrance to the garden. A guard minded the gates. He was a giant of a man, nearly seven feet tall. Simply dressed, the giant didn't wear one of those big knives the macho Republic types liked so much. Julie guessed when you were as big as this guy, you didn't need weapons.

He was called Ramesses. Julie laughed when she heard the name. Luxuria asked her to explain. Ramesses was the name of an ancient king. Why was that funny? Julie couldn't bring herself to explain she knew the name from ads for condoms.

Luxuria's garden was delightful. Neat as a hospital, it was crowded with flowers and herbs serviced by a cloud of golden bees. Julie was not into flowers herself, but her mom was, so she knew many of the varieties by sight. Luxuria noted her interest.

“You know flowers?”

“A little,” said Julie. “Do you want me to tend the garden?”

Luxuria replied, “I do all the gardening myself.”

A slave boy, seven or eight years old, opened the door for them. Inside, the entry hall was shaded and cool. A mechanical fan, wafted by an elderly slave tugging on a rope, stirred the air. Four women lounging on couches stood up as Luxuria came in. A female slave took her mistress's cloak and silently disappeared with it.

“Maia, Hypatia, you're free, are you?” Two of the women, good-looking in a loose, lush way, smiled and agreed. “Hera, how's your cough?”

A slightly older woman, maybe thirty, coughed a bit in reply. Luxuria frowned.

“Go to Dr. Dioscorides at once. No one wants a bedmate wheezing and coughing all over them.” The woman called Hera bowed and hurried out.

The last woman had Asian features, which surprised Julie a little. She had seen quite a few African people sprinkled among the Latins, but no other Asian people so far. This woman was short and plump, and smirked a lot. Unlike the others, she did not seem at all intimidated by Luxuria.

“Roxana. Was the proconsul here again this afternoon?” Luxuria asked.

“Yes, domina.”

“Were you good to him this time?”

Roxana made a mocking gesture of surprise. “Of course, domina! I treated him like a god.”

“Which god? Not Uranus, I hope.”

Roxana bowed her head. She said, “No, domina.” Julie could hear the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

The older woman slave brought Luxuria a book. Julie peeked over her shoulder and saw it was a ledger filled with columns of names and figures. Luxuria checked the total at the bottom of the last page and sniffed.

“Not good,” she said, closing the ledger softly. “Revenue is definitely down.”

“Competition?” Julie said.

Luxuria handed the book back to the slave. “Sameness. In my business variety means success. I will be improving our variety soon.”

It took Julie too long to realize what Luxuria meant. As the older woman beckoned her to follow her into the heart of the building, Julie's knees went rubbery.

“I can't do this,” she said.

Luxuria paused in the doorway. A few steps away, Roxana sat down on a couch, plainly watching and listening.

“Anyone can do it,” Luxuria said calmly. “Anyone.”

“Not me!”

“Why not? Are you promised to serve a goddess as a virgin? You do not look the part.”

Julie struggled for a way to say what she wanted to say that didn't sound too offensive, and gave up.

“This is a dirty business! It's demeaning! I won't be part of it!”

“She's a princess, that's it,” Roxana observed. “Bred to marry some prince of her parents' choosing.”

“Hold your tongue!” Luxuria said. “Come, girl. None of us know what the gods have in store for us. What you do here may not be what you fear.”

She held out an arm. Slowly Julie walked past her through the curtained door.

From her couch Roxana recited, “‘Truly, Eros, thou art a dunce, and dost thou know the garment from the Man; every harlot was a virgin once, nor canst thou change the Olympians' plan.'”

Luxuria let the curtain fall behind them. Julie muttered a pungent word.

“Someday I shall have Roxana's throat cut,” Luxuria said quite casually. “But you, my girl, had better beware of her. She has powerful patrons who enjoy her favors. A word from her in the right ear, and you might end up in the river Styx.”

“Are you afraid of her?” Julie asked.

Luxuria passed her in the gloomy corridor.

“No. I have friends, too.”

She led Julie through a maze of halls and doors. The house was pretty quiet that time of day. They passed a kitchen, where trays of refreshments were being prepared. Julie saw pieces of glistening brown meat on skewers, bowls of figs and strawberries, and what looked like long breadsticks being dipped in melted butter. Her stomach growled, but Luxuria kept walking.

They emerged in a shaded courtyard. All these Latin houses seemed to be hollow in the center. In the center of the yard was a marble fountain. Water streamed out of a statue of a winged teenage boy standing on one side of the fountain. Julie rolled her eyes at the “art.”

Several wooden tubs lay by the fountain, heaped with dirty laundry. Luxuria pointed to the tubs.

“Your first job is to get these clean,” she said. Julie was so astonished, Luxuria had to repeat herself, a task she plainly did not relish.

“You mean, I don't have to—?” Julie cast a glance at the floors above.

“What, you? A reluctant virgin? There are some who put on an act like that, but not in my house. For now, you do laundry. Later, you may assist in the kitchen.”

Julie felt like kissing her. Hand washing laundry was no fun, but it was better than the alternative.

So she washed. The water was cold, and there was no soap, so Julie had to get down on her knees and scrub with her hands. She washed sheets, towels, and odd underclothes that were kind of like old-fashioned slips she'd seen women wear in old movies. Her first batches were not clean enough, so she had to scrub them again. She did this until nightfall, and the next day, and the next. Her hands turned red and her knees ached, but any time Julie felt like complaining, she looked at Roxana, Maia, Hypatia, and the other women and decided her problems were not so bad.

Only at night did she feel afraid. Sometimes she had to deliver wine or hors d'oeuvres to one of the rooms. She did as she was told, but she always kept her mouth shut. Julie saw things, things a sixteen-year-old girl seldom saw (or wanted to see). No one bothered her though. The male customers treated her like furniture, and the women did as their natures demanded.

Roxana was sarcastic and cruel, but a woman called Amalthea turned out to be quite kind. Amalthea was only eighteen, but she had been working for Luxuria more than a year. Maia was a widow who had lost her farm when her husband was killed in a barbarian raid. With no other means of supporting herself, she came to Eternus and ended up working for Luxuria.

The woman who called herself Hypatia, on the other hand, was smart and tough. Somehow, she didn't mind the work and used her clients to gain favors and influence. She invested her money according to tips she got in bed. Out of the boss lady's hearing, she would say she intended to run her own house someday. Her friend Hera was a simple woman whose goal in life was to get along and be liked by as many people as possible. There were other women in the house, but they did not live there, so Julie didn't get to know them.

At night, she kept to her room unless called. She sat on her narrow bed wishing she had a real door she could lock instead of a flimsy curtain. She listened, and heard all the little sounds of the brothel at night. It was not as raucous as she imagined it would be. Bursts of laughter filtered through the walls now and then, or singing. (Luxuria had a hired singer, Clio, who entertained some nights. She was not one of Luxuria's ladies and kept a scarred bodyguard around at all times to remind amorous patrons of her virtue.) As the night drew on, the sounds got fainter, harder to identify. Sighs. Gasps. Sometimes weeping.

Where was Leigh? Where was the German guy, Hans? What had happened to them all? Sitting alone in the dark, Julie could not imagine their fate.

Julie was always the first one roused by the housekeeper. Because she was the newest member of the household, she had to accompany the housekeeper, a stone-faced woman named Abdica, to the forum for the day's food. Julie was surprised to discover the Latins kept almost no food on hand. They didn't have refrigerators, or canned goods, or vacuum-sealed, pasteurized anything. Fresh or not so fresh, food had to be bought every day and woe to Abdica if they ran out of anything before the next market. Luxuria had her man Ramesses slap the housekeeper—or any of the women—if they broke any of her rules. By the time Julie was there a week, she got backhanded, just once, for not getting Hypatia's undergarments clean enough.

“What do you expect?” she said when Luxuria made her take the offending garments. They were dingy gray, not white as demanded.

“I don't have any . . .” She wanted to say “bleach,” but she couldn't think of the word. She stammered out,
“Niveus—candidus—albus—,”
but none of these were right. For her defiance Luxuria had Ramesses slap her down. Julie fell to the floor, stars going off in her head from the blow. Dazed, she let loose a string of choice invective. Ramesses drew back his hand for a second blow for his own sake, but Luxuria stopped him.

“You're no child of gentle birth,” she said. “You curse like a riverboat man.”

“Think so? You should hear my friend Melodia. Now she can cuss.”

In the forum one morning, Julie spotted Linh. She was wearing a rather nice gown, pale red, with a matching scarf draped over her head. Two little kids had her by the hands, and two others followed behind her, a boy about thirteen and a girl about fourteen. The boy had a wicked leer, while the older girl looked distinctly pained. So did Linh.

Julie dared leave Abdica's side to speak to her. She called her name, and it came out “Linnea! Linnea!”

“Julia? Is it you?”

They clasped hands. Up close, Linh looked exhausted. Her dark eyes were ringed with shadows, and her nails, once clean and elegantly shaped, were chipped and dirty. Linh explained she had been taken to be a governess at the home of a Republic official, Antoninus Livius the Younger. Livius's four children were supposed to be in her care, but they were each in their own way such terrors that poor Linh felt like their hostage, not their governess.

The younger children, Gaius and Drusilla, were spoiled brats who expected to have everything they wanted because their father was a minor member of the government. The older boy, Drusus, was a lecherous creep. The oldest child, Helen, thought she was too old to have a governess, especially a girl only a couple years older than herself.

Linh explained all this in hushed tones while Gaius and Drusilla darted around them, poking and pulling each other's hair. Drusus kept sticking his face too close to Julie's or Linh's, trying to listen in. Helen hung back, twisting her elaborately curled hair around one finger and trying to radiate all the boredom she could generate.

“Are you all right?” Linh asked. “I mean, have they made you—?”

“No, no,” Julie replied. “I make like Cinderella most of the time: wash clothes, scrub floors, run errands.”

“You work at a house of pleasure?” asked Drusus. His lip was covered with fine black hair, and his thick eyebrows met atop his nose. “I want to go! Can you get me in?”

“In about ten years,” Julie said dryly.

“It would be worth it if you'll be there,” he said. He brushed a lock of hair away from Julie's ear. She swatted his hand.

“I won't be.”

“Then I should come sooner. How's next week?”

“Oh, come right on!” Julie said with mock enthusiasm. Drusus grinned until she added, “If you want a fast kick in the family jewels!”

It took Drusus a moment to figure out what she meant. He reddened. Grabbing Julie by the elbow, he made a very crude threat. Linh called to Helen to restrain her brother. Twisting her curl, Helen looked away.

Julie smiled sweetly. “There's a very large man at Luxuria's who follows us girls, making sure no one molests us. His name is Ramesses, and he's killed fourteen men with his bare hands.” She held up her hands as if wringing an imaginary neck. “Want to make it fifteen?”

The color left Drusus's face. He let go.

“Never mind, little Venus. Linnea looks after me very well!” He wrapped an arm around the taller girl's waist. She shuddered and brushed him off.