Gordianus The Finder Omnibus (Books 1-4) by Saylor Steven

Author:Saylor, Steven [Steven, Saylor,]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781780339771
Publisher: Constable Robinson
Published: 2012-05-10T23:00:00+00:00

Eco and I managed to get home relatively unscathed. A group of giggling prostitutes impeded our progress for a while by dancing in a ring around us, another King Numa carried aloft in a litter poured a cup of wine over my head, and a drunken gladiator vomited on one of Eco’s shoes, but the trip from the Palatine to the Subura was otherwise uneventful.

The fare we prepared for dinner was very simple, as suited my talents. Even so, Bethesda seemed barely able to keep out of the kitchen. Every so often she peered through the doorway wearing a sceptical frown and shaking her head, as if the very way I held a knife betrayed my utter incompetence in culinary matters.

At last, as the winter sun was beginning to sink into the west, Eco and I emerged from the kitchen to find Bethesda and Belbo comfortably ensconced on the dining couches normally reserved for ourselves. Eco pulled up the little dining tables while I fetched the various courses – a lentil soup, a millet porridge with ground lamb, an egg pudding with honey and pine nuts.

Belbo seemed content with his meal, but then Belbo enjoys every meal, so long as there’s enough of it; he smacked his lips, ate with his fingers, and laughed out loud at the novelty of sending his young master Eco to fetch more wine, accepting the tradition of reversing roles as a lark. Bethesda, on the other hand, approached each dish with an air of cool detachment. As always, her typically aloof demeanour masked the true depth of what was going on inside her, which I suspected was as complex and subtle as the most exquisite ragout. Partly she was sceptical of my cooking, partly she enjoyed the novelty of being served and the pretence of being a Roman matron, and partly she wished to hide any outward sign of her enjoyment because, ah well, because Bethesda is Bethesda.

She did, however, deign to compliment me on the egg pudding, for which I took a bow.

‘And how was your day, Master?’ she asked casually, settling back on the couch. I stood close by, my arms clasped deferentially behind my back. In her imagination, was I reduced to a slave – or worse, to a husband?

I recounted to her the day’s events, as slaves are often called upon to do by their masters at the end of the day. Bethesda listened abstractedly, running her hands through her luxurious black hair and tapping at her fall red lips. When I described my encounter with Cicero, her dark eyes flashed, for she has always been suspicious of any man who has a greater appetite for books than for women or food; when I told her I had called on Lucius Claudius she smiled, for she knows how susceptible he is to her beauty; when I told her of Stephanos’ demise and the disappearance of the silver, she became deeply pensive. She leaned forward to rest her chin on her

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