"The Silver Pigs" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davis Lindsey)

V

I whipped into the bedroom, dangerous with annoyance. The curtain zinged along its rod. The little lost person jumped up guiltily, spilling my private notebooks onto the floor.

"Give me those!" I roared. Now I was really furious.

"You're a poet!" She was stalling for time. "Is "Aglaia the White Dove" about a woman? I suppose they are all about women, they're rather rude… I'm sorry. I was interested…"

Aglaia was a girl I knew, neither white nor the least bit like a dove. Come to that, Aglaia was not her name.

Bright eyes was still giving me that vulnerable look, but to rather worse effect. The loveliest women lose their gloss once you notice they are lying through their teeth.

"You're about to hear something considerably ruder!" I snapped. "Sosia Camillina? So why the false travel pass?"

"I was frightened!" she protested. "I didn't want to say my name, I didn't know what you wanted I let it pass; neither did I. "Who's Helena?"

"My cousin. She went to Britain. She got divorced"

"Extravagance, or mere adultery?"

"She said it was too complicated to explain."

"Ah!" I cried bitterly. I had never been married but I was an expert in divorce. "Adultery! I've heard of women being exiled to islands for immoral behaviour, but exile to Britain seems a bit bleak!"

Sosia Camillina looked curious. "How can you tell?"

"I've been there."

Because of the rebellion I sounded terse. She would have been six years old at the time. She did not remember the great British Revolt and I was not starting history lessons now.

Suddenly she demanded: "Why did your friend call you a tricky character?"

"I'm a republican. Petronius Longus thinks that's dangerous."

"Why are you a republican?"

"Because every free man should have a voice in the government of the city where he has to live. Because the senate should not hand control of the Empire for life to one mortal, who may turn out insane or corrupt or immoral and probably will. Because I hate to see Rome degenerate into a madhouse controlled by a handful of aristocrats manipulated by their cynical ex-slaves, while the mass of its citizens cannot earn a decent living…" Impossible to tell what she made of all that. Her next inquiry was stubbornly practical.

"Do private informers earn a decent living?"

Taking every legal opportunity, they grab enough to keep alive. On good days," I said, "there may be tucker on the table to give us the energy to rave at the injustice of the world I was well away now. I had matched Petronius levelly with the wine.

"Do you think the world is unjust?"

"I know it, lady!"

Sosia stared at me gravely, as if she were saddened that the world had treated me so hard. I stared back. I was none too overjoyed myself.

I felt tired. I went out into the living room and after a moment the girl came too.

"I need to go to the lavatory again."

I was seized by the wild anxiety of a man who brings home a puppy because it looks so sweet, then realizes that on the sixth floor he has problems. No need to panic. My apartment was spartan, but my way of life hygienic.

"Well," I teased. "There are several alternatives. You can pop downstairs and try to persuade Lenia to open up the laundry after hours. Or you can run along the street to the big public convenience but don't forget to take your copper to get in because six flights is a long way to come back for it"

"I suppose," snapped Sosia haughtily, "you and your men friends pee off the balcony?"

I looked shocked. I was, mildly. "Don't you know there are laws against that?"

"I had not imagined," sneered Sosia, "you would worry about the public nuisance laws!" She was getting the measure of the establishment I ran. She had already got the measure of me.

I crooked my finger. She followed me back into the bedroom where I introduced her to the arrangements which I modestly used myself.

Thank you," she said.

"Don't mention it," I returned.

I peed off the balcony just to prove my independence.

This time when she came back I was brooding. I seemed to be struggling more than usual with the background to this kidnap. I could not decide whether I had missed the point, or whether in fact I knew all there was to know. I wondered if the senator she belonged to was politically active. Sosia might have been snatched to influence his vote. Oh gods, surely not! She was far too beautiful. There must be more involved than that.

"Are you taking me home?"

Too late. Too risky. I'm too drunk." I turned away, wandered across the bedroom and collapsed onto my bed. She stood in the doorway like a leftover fish bone

"Where am I going to sleep?"

I was almost as drunk as Petronius. I was lying flat on my back, nursing my notebooks. I was incapable of anything more than feeble gestures and silliness.

"Against my heart, little goddess!" I exclaimed, then flung my arms wide, very carefully, one at a time.

She was frightened.

"All right!" she retorted. She was a stalwart little piece.

I grinned at her weakly, then flopped back into my previous position. I was pretty frightened myself.

I was right though. It was too great a risk to step out of doors with anyone so precious. Not after nightfall. Not in Rome. Not through those pitch-black streets full of burglars and buggery. She was safer with me.

Was she safe? somebody asked me afterwards. I avoided answering. To this day I don't know, really, whether Sosia Camillina was safe with me that night or not.

To Sosia I said gruffly, "Guests take the reading couch. Blankets in the wooden box."

I watched her construct an elaborate cocoon. She made a terrible job of it. Like a tentful of legionary recruits, eight lackadaisical lads wearing scratchy new tunics who had never made up a camp bed before. She fidgeted round the couch for ages, tucking in far too many covers far too tight.

"I need a pillow," she complained finally in a small, serious voice, like a child who could only sleep if she followed a fixed nightly routine. I was blissful with wine and excitement; I did not care whether I had a pillow or not. I hooked one hand behind my head then flung her mine, wide, but she caught it.

Sosia Camillina inspected my pillow as though it might harbour fleas. Another charge of resentment against the nobility. Possibly it did, but any wildlife was tightly sewn inside a cheerful red and purple cover inflicted on me by my mama. I did not care to have snooty chits of girls casting aspersions on my household goods.

"It's perfectly clean! Use it and be grateful."

She laid the pillow very neatly at the end of her bed. I blew out the light. Private informers can be gentlemen when they are too drunk for anything else.

I slept like a babe. I have no idea whether my visitor did the same. Probably not.