“Aedile, are you listening?” Andromeda waved her fingers before my eyes.
“Eh? Of course. Just got distracted a bit, that’s all.”
She laughed. “They’re pretty distracting, all right. That’s the troupe of Eschmoun, the oldest of all the Gadean dance troupes. They’re on their way to dance at the Great Dionysia in Athens, and then to the court of Ptolemy before they return to Iberia. That beauty on the top of the pile is Yeroshabel, said to be the finest dancer in the world.”
“I can believe it,” I said, my throat gone oddly dry. I took a hefty slug of wine to wet it. I considered myself to be more worldly than most, and I had seen Gadean dancers before; but these women were doing the most shockingly orgiastic things I had ever beheld. The strangest thing was that it was all in pantomime, but with none of the broad, farcical gestures you see when Italians practice that art. The women’s faces remained as serene as those of sculptured Muses, their movements had swanlike grace, and nothing was really happening if you looked closely enough (I did). They simply left you with the impression that you had seen something only gods should look upon without being struck blind.
When the performance ended, I jumped to my feet and applauded as vociferously as the rest. Even the most hardened whores were struck with admiration, and I instructed Hermes to go and toss some coins onto the stage. He complied eagerly, before they could get away.
I resumed my seat. “Now, where were we?”
“Would you like to meet Yeroshabel? I can arrange it.”
“Alas, duty forbids, not to mention my wife.”
“Most men don’t,” she said.
“Don’t what?” I was still slightly befuddled by the spectacle. I know it wasn’t the wine. “Mention their wives, you mean? I suppose not. Well, mine is Caesar’s niece, and she shares many of his qualities.”
She whistled. “I’d be careful around a woman like that, too. Caesar has been among my patrons, too. One of the best, in fact.”
“I can believe that,” I assured her, now thoroughly relaxed in this woman’s company. It was her profession to be agreeable, I suppose.
“Actually, he usually came here when he was entertaining important foreigners. In sizable parties most often. He saw to their entertainment, but his own feats weren’t quite up to his reputation, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, I suppose his inroads among senatorial wives left him with little energy.” Somehow, I felt I should come to his defense.
“I think little excites him except that which increases his power. He doesn’t care a bit about food, wine, or comfort, you know, despite his reputation as a rake.”
“I know that better than most,” I said ruefully. “I’ve campaigned with him in Gaul.”
“It’s the same with women or boys. He’ll go through the motions of being congenial, but I think he’s always planning his next election or campaign.”
“You judge men shrewdly, Andromeda.” I, too, was always on the lookout for contacts who could be of use to me. It struck me that this woman was uniquely placed to ferret out useful information about important men, both residents and visitors. Some have held that such information would be unworthy of the dignity of a Roman official. I’d never thought that way.
“How long would I last if I didn’t?” She seemed to be thinking along the same lines as I. Well, we were both at the peak of our professions. “A man like you, on your way up, needs to know such things. You understand, I have to be discreet about certain of my patrons, the regulars and the ones in a position to do me real harm.”
“But you can always use a friend and protector, can’t you?”
“I can never have too many of those. But I am a professional woman, accustomed to charging for my services.”
“Understood. I am never reluctant to pay for good value. But the matter we were discussing comes under the heading of an official investigation.”
She sighed. “Just so you don’t get in the habit of expecting free information. Anyway, those two men talked for a while. At one point they started to argue, and a bouncer went over and rapped on their table with his stick. They quieted down, and that was the end of it.”
“Send the bouncer to me,” I said. “He might have overheard something.”
She thought for a moment. “You’re out of luck. It was Astyanax, and he was killed at the funeral games for Terentius Lucanus in Capua four months ago.”
“Why did it have to be a clumsy swordsman?” I groused. “Oh, well, no help for it.”
“A short time after that the man in the hooded cloak got up and left.”