Lost Republic (19 page)

Jenny stood in line to greet the sun. As the newest and least of the priestesses, her place was behind all the others. Through a veil of sheer linen, she saw the rose crescent of sunlight spread across the eastern horizon, go amber, and then suffuse the sky with clear white light.

“Ave! Ave!” chanted the older priestesses. The lesser servants of the goddess, not allowed to speak, shook tinkly instruments called sistrums in time with their elders' song. This went on until the sun was fully risen.

Enough already, Jenny thought. No punishing pain followed her disrespectful thought. She wasn't surprised. She had learned that the infallible, all-powerful goddess was none of those things. Ceres could punish you for acting or speaking sacrilegiously, but she couldn't read minds. This suggested something very concrete and mundane was at work. Cameras? Microphones? Somehow, the goddess's senses were no better than Jenny's, though her wrath was more painful.

After greeting the sun, the temple was ritually cleaned, which meant a real scrub down with primitive brooms, mops, but no useful cleaners, not even soap. The garden detail went to work pruning and weeding, watering and debugging the temple grounds. It all reminded Jenny of being in some fanatical organic nursery, with a thick layer of pagan superstition on top.

She was surprised to have a visitor in the midst of her duties weeding the flower beds. No one ever came to see the priestesses except important officials or wealthy patrons seeking the goddess's help. When the second senior hierophantess Urgula called Jenny away from her work, her first thought was she'd done something wrong. Urgula, a humorless woman in her midfifties with iron-gray hair, never had a kind word about Jenny's work.

“Someone to see you, Genera,” she said. She was quite calm about it.

“Who is it?”

“Her.”

Urgula pointed to a columned gazebolike structure standing thirty yards from the temple. It was a shrine of Proserpina, the daughter of Ceres kidnapped and taken to the underworld by dirty old Pluto, god of the dead.

“I didn't ask anyone here,” Jenny said quickly.

“It's all right. She has the grace of the gods with her. Go and speak to her, then return to your duties.”

Jenny was amazed. Who was this visitor that grumpy Urgula showed so much respect for? She hitched up her annoyingly long skirt and crossed the still dewy grass to the shrine. The person waiting there was a woman of modest height, wrapped in a homespun gown. Her head was modestly covered. Only at arm's length did she recognize Eleanor Quarrel, from the
Carleton
.

“Good god!” Jenny said. “How did you get here?”

“Good god indeed,” Eleanor replied. “Do you remember Gallus, Ioannes, and the fair Linnea?”

In her mind, these names were translated into France, Hans, and Linh. Jenny vowed she remembered them well.

“They need you.”

She explained, in cool words and simple gestures, the plight of Julie Morrison and how the group of teens planned to help her escape.

“You'll all have to go if that happens,” Jenny said, dropping into a whisper. She asked when the rescue plot was to take place.

“Tonight.”

Jenny rocked back against a cold stone column. “So soon?”

Eleanor said, “Julia's mistress is determined to initiate her into the mysteries of Venus.” Under the euphemisms, Jenny got the message. Julie's days as Cinderella were ending. It was time to go to the ball.

“I'm with you!” Jenny hissed. “This place is driving me crazy! Rules, rules, rules, a lot of ancient claptrap designed to keep the young ones working for the old ones!” She paused, waiting for the lance of pain to strike. Nothing happened. She went on, “After sunset we're confined to our dorm, but I can get out. The windows are high, but not too high for me!”

Standing next to the statue of Proserpina, Eleanor looked as stone-faced as the goddess. “Be by the Temple of Mercury as soon after dark as you can. We will be waiting.”

Eleanor turned to go. Jenny said, “What about that weird kid Aemilius?”

“No one has seen him. Gallus says he must have lost his memory, like the others.”

She walked quickly away, feet kicking up the hem of her long gown. Despite her message, Jenny had the odd feeling Eleanor was angry for some reason. Did she not approve of their escape? Why would that be so?

The day passed in a dull blur. She had never longed for sunset so much in her life. Her preoccupation was so high, she did all her chores more quickly and thoroughly than she ever had, which won her praise from Scipina herself. Jenny tried to look humble, but inside she was thinking, I'll soon be rid of you!

They sang hymns to the goddess after dinner and went to their quarters for the night. Jenny was tired and dropped solidly onto her bare straw mattress. It would have been easy to fall asleep until dawn, but thoughts raced about in her head and kept her awake.

The room around her was filled with even breathing and soft sighs. Jenny sat up, pulled on her sandals, and sat perched on the edge of the bed, waiting for one of the watchdogs—Urgula, for example—to sense her being awake. No one stirred. Jenny picked up the chamberpot at the foot of her bed. If stopped, she could claim she was taking it out to empty or else break it over her interrogator's head. Either way, she was going.

She had only the vaguest notion of where the Temple of Mercury was. The dim streets outside the sacred enclave of Ceres were busy as Latins hurried about finishing their last business of the day. Because she was garbed as a priestess, no one bothered Jenny. The laws about molesting clerics were severe. She heard a story once about a drunken merchant who laid hands on a priestess of Diana. He was tied to a pillar and shot full of silver arrows by the other women of the temple.

A mile away, Leigh Morrison was polishing his equipment. He had an inspection the next day before the proconsul, and Rufus Panthera meant every man in his cohort to pass perfectly. For all his hard work, he had earned a night off, and he bluntly told Rufus he intended to visit the House of Luxuria. The grim centurion approved, but he reminded Leigh that Luxuria's fees were high. There was another house, Berenice's, that many of the legion patronized. They knew how to treat a soldier there, he said.

Leigh pretended to take the advice to heart. He had a few denarii saved up, and he won some more by introducing his comrades in the cohort to Vegas-style craps. He was still short of the twenty denarii he promised to pay Luxuria. All he could do was pad his purse with copper coins and hope it would fool Luxuria long enough to get Julie out.

Rufus Panthera inspected Leigh's maniple and passed them. He offered a rare smile.

“You louts are finally turning into soldiers,” he said. “That's good. One day you may be worthy of the legions.”

The men cheered themselves, and those with leave dispersed. Leigh lingered. When the barracks was empty, he slipped his newly honed and polished short sword, his gladius, under his tunic and threw a wool cloak over his shoulders to help hide it. He nodded to the guards at the camp gate, who knew about his destination and offered to take his place.

You wish, he thought. The idea of any of these macho creeps getting near Julie made his blood boil.

A block outside camp, he was picked up by Eleanor. She was standing so still inside a street shrine, Leigh mistook her for a votive statue. There were little shrines like this all over Eternus, mostly devoted to foreign gods like Isis or Serapis. They were tolerated, but only the great national gods had real temples.

Eleanor emerged from the tiny roof enclosure so quietly, Leigh drew back, his hand going for the hilt of his sword. She saw this and froze.

“You are armed!”

“Damn right I am. This is going to work.”

“Will you shed blood?”

He stepped around her and kept going. Hobbled a bit by her long gown, Eleanor tried to keep up.

Dusk became night just about the moment they reached the Field of Mercury. They found France and Linh standing beneath a chestnut tree—rather closely, Leigh noticed—and as they drew near, Hans came out of the lengthening shadows on the lawn between the street and a row of ceremonial cedars. They came together in a small circle. No one said anything until Hans murmured, “Genera?”

“I spoke to her,” Eleanor replied. “She's coming.”

“We'll wait,” said France.

“Not too long,” Leigh said.

In the Field of Mercury, as the stars came out, darkness closed in on them. Eleanor became a statue again. Linh shivered, even though the night was mild. France stood closer to her, and then took her hand. Leigh stood with arms folded, looking very martial in his kilt and military cloak. Only Hans moved. He walked in a slow circle around the others, studying the surrounding darkness as if he could pierce it with his eyes alone.

They heard a soft, rapid thumping. Drawing together, they watched Jenny emerge from Maia Way, the large street that made up the east border of the park. Her sandals dangled from her hands as she ran, barefoot.

She arrived, breathing hard. “Dammit,” she said, “to be this winded after running a little more than a mile! I am out of shape!” Linh remarked she hadn't even broken a sweat.

Leigh interrupted any further homecoming. “We gotta go.”

It would be suspicious for them to go to Luxuria's together, so they broke up into two groups. Leigh, France, and Hans went together, posing as guys on a night out. They talked loudly and laughed, being as obvious as possible. Linh, Jenny, and Eleanor trailed by a full block, as quiet as they could be. Only once were they bothered, by a pair of workmen reeking of wine. As soon as they saw Jenny's priestess garb, they turned pale and made themselves scarce.

In the street outside Luxuria's, the boys saw three men waiting to enter the house. The giant guard, Ramesses, checked them for weapons. He was thorough, and found a dagger on one man and brass knuckles on another.

Leigh put out his arm to halt his friends.

“We can't go straight in,” he said. “I have a sword.”

“Give it to the giant and go in,” said Hans.

“No. I might need it.”

“What, then?”

Leigh beckoned them to follow him. He circled around Luxuria's usual entrance. The garden wall was a little more than head-high, but the enclosure was so small Ramesses couldn't fail to see them climb over. Leigh slipped into a very narrow alley along the north side of the house. He had to moved sideways to fit. France and Hans, less muscular, found the tight gap easier going.

Leigh stopped when he judged he was halfway into the alley. Two faceless walls loomed above him. Luxuria's had a ledge about two and a half meters up, and there were windows facing the alley on the second floor.

“Can you get up there?” he whispered to France. The latter shrugged.

“I'll try.”

Hans and Leigh boosted France up to the ledge. He got a leg up, and then rolled onto a wide ledge. The second story of Luxuria's house was set back a little. France sat up, letting his feet dangle into the darkness. He leaned forward and looked down. It was so dark, he couldn't see his friends right below him.

“It's wide enough to walk on!” he said.

A voice floated up. “Can you get in a window?”

France stood up and crept along the slate ledge, heart hammering. The nearest window was covered with a louvered shutter. He pried the slats apart with his fingers and peered inside. Recoiling, he remembered they were sneaking into a brothel. What he'd seen convinced him this was not a room they should try to enter.

He sidled down the ledge, trying the next window. The room beyond the shutter was as black as Pluto's heart. France strained to hear if anything was going on inside. He heard nothing. Growing bolder, he gave the shutter a hard tug. It was firmly latched.

Below, Leigh gnawed his lip. Time was passing, and the longer they were gone, the more likely they were to be caught by somebody—Rufus, Jenny's priestesses, France's builder . . . He was about to risk calling out when France's ghostly face appeared above them, several yards back toward the street.

“Here!” he hissed.

Hans and Leigh got under him. France said, “Give me your sword, Levius!” Leigh didn't want to surrender the weapon until France reminded him he couldn't get it past Ramesses. There's a window up here, leading to an empty room, France told him. Send Hans up with the sword. They'd hide in the room. When Leigh found Julie, he could bring her upstairs to the same empty room and they would all escape.

Leigh agreed. He hung his gladius around Hans's neck, then braced himself while Hans climbed him like a ladder. France grabbed his friend by the tunic and hauled him up to the ledge.

“I'm going in the front door,” Leigh called out hoarsely. “Wait for me.”

France and Hans slid along to the empty room. Hans used the sword to pry the shutter open. It made a single loud squeak, and the latch pin fell to the floor inside with a tinkle. Both of them held absolutely still, waiting for light and discovery to lash out at them. When all remained quiet, France and Hans climbed in the window. The empty room turned out to be a lavatory. Groping around, they found a pedestal sink and commode, carved from cold, hard marble.

“Must be a shock,” Hans murmured, thinking of what it must be like to sit on frigid marble.

“Check the door,” France said a little louder. Hans found it opposite the window. There was no latch on it. Standards of privacy were different in the Republic.

France rolled a heavy urn against the door. If anyone tried to come in, they would have to make enough effort that they would surely be heard.

From the street, Jenny, Linh, and Eleanor watched a slow but steady stream of patrons arrive at Luxuria's door. Some arrived on foot. Affluent Eternus men came in sedan chairs borne on the arms of burly porters. Before long, a dashing figure on horseback clattered up to the garden gate. He was a silver-haired man in fancy armor, with a long scarlet cape that covered his horse's hindquarters. He was followed closely by two other riders carrying strange-looking objects on their shoulders—bundles of rods about a yard long, in which was stuck a long-handled axe. The axe head stuck straight out.