Gladiatrix, p.23
Gladiatrix, page 23
One look at it and I grabbed Alexander’s arm, pulling him down to my level. ‘What is that?’
‘Liquamen. It’s a sauce made from fermented fish entrails.’ The look on my face made his eyes narrow slightly in what could have been carefully controlled amusement.
‘Of course.’ I steeled myself to look back at the dolphin. No wonder it was vomiting.
The tidbits that surrounded it were equally revolting, and Domitia described them in way too much detail. Around the bottom of the dolphin was an array of pastry-covered testicles, stuffed sow’s udders, and other various intestinal meats. They were piled there ready for dipping in the spewing sauce. Claiming I had to stay light for the fight tomorrow I passed on that course. Domitia approved.
Vegetarianism was starting to look good for many reasons.
For the main course a long narrow table was placed at the front of the room, and carvers filed in to stand behind it. They began juggling their blades, waiting for instruction.
The first food sculpture brought in was a giant fish somehow springing out of an artificially coloured pastry rock pool, and surrounded by oysters and sea urchins in their shells. Oysters? Hmm. Not a good risk in any era.
The head carver symbolically delivered the killing blow before slicing. His manoeuvres revealed that inside the giant fish were successively smaller fish. The last one was stuffed with seasoned fish eggs.
The next sculpture was a roast wild pig raising its tusks to disembowel a hunter made of cake. The pig had tiny herb-stuffed suckling pigs hanging off its undercarriage, and the hunter’s entrails were made of honey figs.
When the carver sliced the neck of the roast pig, a rain of fried snails fell out.
Hmmm. I may never eat again.
The last sculpture was a stuffed peacock in all its brilliant blue-and-green-feathered glory, sitting on a nest of egg-like pastries containing chicken embryos. When its neck was cut a songbird flew out.
Better not think about what it had been doing while it was in there.
The worst course was the final savoury meal, which was fried bear paws complete with the claws. Lurco used a claw to pick his teeth while he burped his appreciation. He was a mess, covered in food stains and slurring his words, but I didn’t underestimate him. Every now and again, his little piggy eyes would look over at me and speculate.
There hadn’t been much dinner conversation, both Domitia and Gaius had seemed put off by Lurco’s eating habits. But when he’d finished spitting out the food that he had stuck between his teeth, Lurco lay on his side and demanded, ‘So, Domitia, when am I going to see Andromache? I’ve heard about what she can do. Is it true?’
Domitia just nodded.
‘And is she as beautiful as they say?’
‘Yes. But she has mutilated feet,’ added Gaius, with distaste.
‘Really?’ From his prurient expression Lurco obviously didn’t feel the same way. ‘Mutilated in what way?’
Domitia ostentatiously ignored his question, but it made the hair on the back of my neck rise.
Gaius caught my look. He said pompously, ‘Lurco specialises in distorti.’
Lurco grinned at my cold expression. He lay sprawled across the cushions opposite me, with more of himself exposed than was needed. He looked pleased that the conversation had finally come around to his favourite topic. Himself.
Gaius took my silence for ignorance. ‘Distorti are misshapen slaves. They’ve become very fashionable in Rome in recent years.’
This piece of shit dealt in disabled slaves? My hands automatically went into fists. I was very close to having Lurco on the floor, with my fist down his throat. I felt Alexander tense as well.
I looked up. He was watching Lurco too, the hate written in neon lights across his face.
I tapped the side of his knee. He knelt. ‘Calm down, Alexander,’ I whispered. ‘If anyone else sees your expression they’ll punish you.’
He dodged my eyes, nodded curtly and stood.
Lurco, meanwhile, had decided to run with the topic. ‘I got into the niche market at the start and made a financial killing. My produce fetches top price at the market.’ He burped. ‘And I do special orders.’
‘What? You have your own pool of human waste?’ Gaius was only disgusted with Lurco because he dealt in damaged goods.
‘I have scouts out around the countryside looking for freaks. And,’ he said proudly, ‘I have my own production system as well.’
I couldn’t stop myself from asking, ‘What d’you mean “production system”?’
‘I’m investing in the future. The demand hasn’t peaked yet, so now I’ve started working with root stock.’ Then he smirked at his wit.
It was clear, even to me, that he was talking about mutilating children.
‘I have special boxes made, so I can fill private commissions. The richer they are the more monstrous they like ’em.’
Everything went red. I picked up my knife again. This time I was going to use it.
Before I could move, Alexander had dropped straight down to land in a kneel at my side, blocking my way off the lounge. He pretended to brush away some non-existent crumbs, whilst carefully shielding everyone’s view of my hand. ‘If you even threaten Lurco … he’ll have you killed,’ he whispered into my cheek. ‘Don’t take him on, you won’t win.’
I turned to stare at his profile, just inches away. A few minutes before, I’d been the one stopping Alexander from lunging over the dinner table to attack Lurco.
I took a deep breath.
He had a point. I had another responsibility to fulfil, and until that was done I was going to have to watch my temper. I put down the knife. Alexander stood and moved back behind my couch.
Domitia commanded Horace, ‘Bring Andromache down now.’
Lurco licked his lips. ‘So how much did you pay for her in the end?’
Pre-empting Domitia, Gaius scoffed, ‘More than you’ll ever see in a lifetime.’
Lurco eyed him lazily, ‘And what happened to the sister? Did you ever find out?’
‘No,’ Domitia took a sip of her wine. ‘She was never found.’
‘What were they called? The …’
‘The Gallic Pearls,’ Gaius cut in, full of himself. ‘More precious than gold. Dwarf twin sisters from Gaul, each with different occult powers. Andromeda could heal with a touch …’
‘Yeah, yeah. And Andromache can see the future. Everyone knows the legend,’ Lurco, not liking the little history lesson, had interrupted to supply the bit he did know. But his curiosity got the better of him. ‘I thought they both died in Egypt. With Cleopatra?’
‘Andromeda may have. But Andromache was smuggled past Augustus’ troops by one of the court sorcerers. He took her to Parthia. To the king. That’s where she’s been …’
With the sound of footsteps, our eyes all swung to the doorway.
Horace carried Andromache into the room on a lapis lazuli and silver embroidered cushion, just as if she was some kind of exotic pet. He placed her, cushion and all, on a stool carved in the form of a crouching tiger, which now stood at the foot of the dining table. It put her on the same eye level as the rest of us, her gaze no less penetrating than that of the real version of the jungle cat on whose back she now rested.
A tiny woman, well below normal height even for this era, she was perfectly formed with blue eyes, red hair and chalk-white skin. Between her physical appearance and her forceful expression she seemed like a powerful fairy queen who’d dropped in to deliver a curse whilst on her way to somewhere better. Without doing a thing she had us all waiting for her first words. Even Domitia had shut up.
It was very strange for a slave to have such a sobering effect on these particular people.
Andromache surveyed the room with an air of profound cynicism. Everyone here was lacking in her world-weary eyes. Then, without warning, her expression changed, as though she’d caught some intriguing scent. She turned to stare straight at me, her heavy-lidded blue eyes transformed from cynical to curious. Very curious indeed.
I stiffened. She knew. I don’t know how, but she knew about me.
‘Why have you come here?’ she demanded. She’d ignored everyone else to focus on me.
Lurco, petulant at the lack of attention, whined to Domitia, ‘So what can this little bitch really do? Other than warm cushions with her backside, and make small talk?’
Domitia ignored him. She was too busy watching Andromache watch me.
Andromache turned her stern gaze on Lurco. He was smirking at her as he lounged back on his cushions. Now that he had her undivided attention he tried to intimidate her. ‘You remind me of a little peach I had a few years ago. She was a tasty one.’ He licked his lips, then said, ‘While she lasted.’
He waited, so very pleased with his cruel wit, for a reaction. It was becoming obvious that Lurco liked a little fear to season his more intimate social interactions.
Surprisingly, the tiny woman was unafraid; on the contrary she returned his gaze with a look as sharp as a knife. As though she knew something he didn’t. And it was going to happen soon.
Lurco was completely disconcerted by her lack of reaction, his mouth slightly open in disbelief. He must be used to grovelling pleas for mercy from his targets. He didn’t know what to make of her, but then neither did I. What was going on here? And what did she know about me?
As Lurco remained silent, trying to work out what little plum of wit to come out with next, Andromache directed her next statement to Domitia. ‘I suppose you expect me to entertain you?’ Her voice was low, deep even, each word said with a complete lack of respect.
Domitia chose to ignore the provocation, saying, ‘Lurco wants to go first.’
Andromache’s eyes glinted. Gaius and Domitia exchanged a mocking glance; they were enjoying a very private joke at Lurco’s expense.
Lurco, angry at the way he was being excluded but unwilling to confront his powerful host, threatened the little slave instead, ‘You’d better not waste my time, bitch. So make it good!’
Horace looked to his mistress for guidance, and when she nodded, he clapped his hands. Two male servants carried in a high table and placed it directly in front of Andromache. A third female servant entered carrying a large jewelled box and placed it on the left side of the table. After a nod from Andromache, the three bowed to us and backed out of the room.
‘What is it you think you want to know?’ The way Andromache said it inferred that Lurco would be taking a great risk in giving her an answer.
He merely crossed his arms and, in a venomous tone, said, ‘I don’t believe you can do anything.’
Domitia’s patience came to an abrupt end and she sat up. ‘Lurco! You said that this is what you want. So get on with it!’
Gaius smirked at Domitia’s display of temper, and taunted their guest, ‘If you want to test her why don’t you just ask her a question to which you already know the answer? She has other talents besides telling the future.’
Lurco, realising he had overstepped the mark, kept quiet while he struggled to find a suitably difficult question. When he’d evidently struck on an idea he liked his puffy face remobilised along more crafty lines. ‘I know,’ he said smugly. ‘Tell me what I was just thinking?’
Andromache had been watching him carefully the whole time. As though he was some kind of insect she’d been paid to study. She opened the box in front of her and, one by one, took out four large dice, each larger than my fist. There were Egyptian-style figures painted on the sides of each die.
As one, we all leant closer to her chair.
‘Each face of the dice is a page from the Book of Thoth, the Egyptian god of wisdom,’ explained Andromache. ‘It tells the story of our existence, from birth to death, from darkness to light. To roll the dice is a serious matter,’ she warned Lurco. ‘You will gain knowledge. But in doing so you will also be judged.’
She gathered up the four dice, two balanced on each tiny hand, and focused on Lurco. She rolled them, shutting her eyes as soon as they hit the table. Though thrown with some force the dice merely twirled around on their points for a moment and dropped. We all leant forward to view the results.
It was not good.
I looked over at Lurco; he was shifting on his lounge, uneasy.
The four pictures formed a horrible story, each contributing its own little jagged edge to the overall message.
The first picture seemed innocuous enough. The main figure was Pharaoh surrounded by all the symbols of his Earthly authority. He wore the double crown, held the crook and flail crossed across his chest, and sat on the winged throne of Isis. Looming over his splendour was the sombre shadow of the Great Pyramid. The Egyptian symbol of eternal life. The words underneath the picture said ‘The Power of the Hand’.
The second picture was of a black figure about to step off the top of a cliff. Beneath their feet was a dark, bottomless chasm. The title was ‘The Abyss’.
These first two pictures evoked a mixture of emotions, but it was the last two that were unnerving. The third picture showed a group of people dancing in a circle. They were all either hysterically laughing or crying. It was hard to tell which, as their features were stretched in a kind of rictus. Each figure was stabbing or hitting the person ahead of them in the circle. The image was designated ‘Consequences’.
The face of the final die was the worst of all. It was called ‘Addiction’. A man was sitting at a dinner table surrounded by plates of food and drink, but instead he was greedily chewing off his own hand. He was eating with such relish it was hard to look at.
Andromache opened her eyes and, without looking down at the dice, said, ‘Her face will be the first thing you see, Lurco. She will be there when Anubis decides your fate.’
I knew that the jackal-headed god decided the fate of the dead by weighing their hearts on a set of scales. So she was talking about Lurco’s death.
At first he just blinked rapidly then started to shake, his eyes darting around the room as though searching the shadows. In those few, short words Andromache had evidently ripped open the gate to Lurco’s deepest fears.
Domitia and Gaius both watched Lurco’s disintegration with expressions of gleeful horror, hugging the pleasure to them. Seeing their response, Lurco became angry, the hot, sharp emotion helping him to get back in control. He turned on the attack and spat out, ‘That could mean anything, you little bitch. You don’t know anything, so don’t try and con me.’
Hmm. She had been vague …
Holding his gaze Andromache simply replied, ‘She was so young, Lurco, and so afraid. She pleaded, but you’d set your mind against all considerations but your own pleasure. When you finished you hid the body in the sea cave and your parents mourned her loss until their death.’
Lurco looked scared, but defiant. If this was all true then there was no repentance here.
‘That decision, that action, has moulded your life,’ she said, with complete knowledge and authority. ‘Without releasing that burden, without a commitment to reparation, you will die as a consequence of that addiction.’ Lurco’s face flickered with fear. She sat back, judgement finalised. ‘It is your choice and your fate. There will be no other warning.’
The blood drained out of Lurco’s now taut face. He looked like a cadaver.
Leaving him to consider his future, Andromache directed her gaze to me. ‘Traveller,’ she said. ‘What is it you need to know?’
After seeing her take Lurco apart so accurately, the temptation to ask about Victoria was very strong. But Domitia was far too interested. At Andromache’s words she had leant forward with bright inquisitive eyes.
I didn’t trust this whole set-up; maybe they’d found out about Lurco’s sister some other way and were using it to undermine him? He was still sitting there, staring at the wall opposite. What a way to manipulate your business competition. Invite them to eat their fill, pour on the wine, and then wham, bring out the so-called psychic to perform emotional surgery at the dinner table.
Domitia was curious. ‘Why don’t you ask about the fight, gladiatrix? Surely that is your prime concern?’ She tilted her head on one side. ‘Or do you have something else on your mind?’
Andromache intervened, forestalling the inquisition. ‘Why don’t we just see what they want to tell her?’ Then before I could respond she rolled the dice.
The four dice spun, dropped and revealed a very different scene to Lurco’s, but they were still disturbing in a way that was hard to explain. If Andromache was going to visit my past in the same way she’d dredged through Lurco’s, then we were all in for a big surprise.
The first die showed a half-open eye. With stars twinkling in the black pupil like a mini cosmos. It was entitled ‘Awakening’. The second was ‘Justice’, with Anubis, the noble dog-headed god, holding his scales. Well I was certainly seeking that.
The third one was more puzzling; I wasn’t sure how to interpret it at all. It showed a golden ball streaming light onto the world. It was called ‘The Power of the Essence’.
The last face was Isis. Winged Isis. A beautiful woman wearing a horned crown and with her feathered limbs outstretched about to take flight. The title was simply, ‘The Protector’.
Domitia whispered something to Gaius, but he just shrugged.
Andromache opened her eyes.
Domitia cut in. ‘Will she will win her fight tomorrow?’
Andromache deliberately ignored her question. Instead she picked up the die showing Isis and twisted it to face me. ‘She knows you. And she knows your goddess.’
‘My goddess? I, I don’t have a …’ I stuttered, her words had caught me off-guard. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The deliverer of all who suffer.’ I stopped breathing, but she continued naming the names. ‘The hearer of all cries for help. The one called Lotus Heart.’ That was Yuki’s favourite name for Kannon, the goddess of compassion.
Andromache smiled. She knew she’d hit the spot. That I’d listen to her now.
‘You must remember everything I tell you,’ she demanded. ‘You have made this long journey because Isis chose it to be so. She has led you here from your earliest days.’ Seeing my confusion she picked up a different die in her other hand. The one showing Anubis.
