The Dreams of Morpheus(16)
‘Evening, Postumus,’ Magnus said. ‘Me and the lads are here to see Terentius.’ He indicated back to Marius and Sextus who stood on the pavement; behind them the street was choked with wheeled vehicles, banned from the city by day, taking advantage of the fall of dusk to make their deliveries.
The door ground open; Magnus and his brothers entered past a hulking man who grinned with broken teeth. ‘I’ll send one of the apprentices to find him for you, Magnus.’ He closed and bolted the door before leading Magnus through the vestibule into a sweetly perfumed and subtly lit atrium. ‘Galen, the master’s steward, will look after you whilst you wait.’ Postumus indicated a middle-aged man of refined, well-preserved looks that were obviously enhanced with cosmetics.
‘Masters, you are welcome; please, follow me.’ Galen led them off as Postumus called a small boy of eight or nine to him and sent him on an errand.
Delicate chords of two lyres, ascending and descending in slow rhythm, thrummed in the background over the gentle patter of the fountain in the centre of the impluvium at the heart of the chamber, beneath the rectangular opening in the roof. Around the pool were set many couches upon which languished scantily dressed youths, each of a different combination of skin tone and hair and eye colour, but all possessing a beauty and allure not to be ignored, and Magnus found his eyes roving as the steward led them to a group of tables at the far end of the room.
‘Some wine, masters?’ Galen suggested as he bid them recline at a free table. ‘And perhaps some pastries?’
‘Just wine.’ Magnus set himself down, glancing left and right at the other tables; they were occupied by groups of men sipping from finely worked bronze and silver cups and nibbling at small delicacies laid out on platters before them, whilst examining from a distance the merchandise for hire. Here and there a client had a youth reclining next to him for closer perusal or to ascertain areas of expertise before coinage changed hands.
‘You won’t have time, Sextus,’ Magnus warned with a grin as his brother gawped, open-mouthed, at the feast of lithe flesh displayed all about. ‘We’re just here to make a pickup and then we’re back to the tavern; you can have a whore or two there if you fancy.’
Marius took a cup from a tray proffered by an effete man in his late twenties, who had evidently outgrown the desires of most of the clients and been relegated to waiting upon them. ‘We don’t really have to hurry back, do we, Magnus? I mean, well, I’m surprised by, er … how nice some of them look. Not all of them, mind you.’
‘No, no, of course not.’ Magnus took a large swig from his cup. ‘But I’m afraid this is far too refined a place for you two to frequent, lads; Terentius wouldn’t like you soiling the goods, Marius, and he certainly won’t be best pleased if our oversized friend, Sextus, caused unpleasant damage to one of the boys in his enthusiasm.’
‘I’m sure they’ll treat my boys with the greatest respect, Magnus.’
Magnus looked up; Terentius stood before them, hands clasped at his chest. His long, auburn hair had been dressed and woven in intricate coils on top of his head, held in place by jewelled pins and partially covered by a woman’s crimson palla; gold earrings dangled almost to his shoulders, exposed by the extended neckline of his ankle-length, pleated midnight-blue stolla. He smiled, his painted lips contrasting with whitened teeth and his eyes peering out through rims of kohl. Very nice, Magnus mused, if you like that sort of thing.
‘They’re welcome to enjoy themselves as my guest, Magnus, whilst I offer you some hospitality in my private chamber and discuss a business proposition with you.’
Magnus looked back at his two brothers and shrugged. ‘Well, if you really are interested, lads?’
Marius and Sextus nodded with ill-concealed eagerness.
Terentius signalled his steward to join them. ‘That’s settled then. Galen will help you make your choices; he’ll know just what is best if it’s your first time.’ He leant down and took the cup from Magnus’ hand. ‘You can have something of a far superior vintage if you follow me.’
Leaving Marius and Sextus to make their choice of entertainment with Galen, Magnus followed Terentius as he sashayed from the atrium, out into a surprisingly large courtyard garden imbued with the scents of damp, autumnal vegetation, then on round the colonnaded walkway, past curtained-off doorways that blocked the sights if not the sounds of passion, and finally to a set of double doors at the far end.
Terentius ushered Magnus into his private domain, which was everything that could be expected of a successful master of a respectable male brothel: a fine mosaic floor depicting numerous positions of male congress; frescoes of a similar nature but with famous lovers of Greek antiquity as their subjects, and furnishings of a lavish, but not vulgar, disposition.