Household Gods

the crowd’s roar. One looked ready to bolt back into her den, if the gate hadn’t slammed shut behind her.

Padusius’ shriek brought both of them to abrupt and complete attention. There was their dinner bell, loud and clear. They shook off the daze of sudden sunlight and the crowd’s roar, and loped toward the condemned man. They weren’t even bothering with stealth. Something in their manner told Nicole they’d hunted criminals before, and killed, too. They had no fear at all of his humanity, and took not the slightest notice of his flimsy excuse for a weapon.

Nor, for that matter, did he. He dropped the useless shield and club and bolted for the wall. Nicole had never seen a human being move so fast or jump so high. His fingers actually caught the topmost edge; a good ten feet up, and hooked over it. His feet scrabbled at the wall below, inching the rest of his body upward.

There were people sitting in the first row above the wall, men and women better dressed than most, some with parasols to protect them from the sun. One such, a creature so epicene Nicole took it for a woman till it turned slightly and she saw the curled beard, stamped down hard on the straining fingers. The crowd cheered. The dandy turned grandly about, bowing and throwing kisses.

Padusius dropped wailing to the sand. The lionesses sprang.

He was unarmed, his toy weapons flung aside and far out of reach, not much more useless there than they would have been in his hands. His fists beat against one great cat’s side. He kicked at the other. The lionesses took no more notice of his struggles than of the death-throes of a gazelle. He was nothing more to them than meat.

Nicole watched Padusius’ writhing ebb. She couldn’t shut her eyes, or turn her face away. She was caught in a sick, and sickened, fascination.

She’d never watched a man die before. Not for real, not right in front of her. People in California, in that world so far away in space and time, had spoken in favor of televising executions. Let the public see what capital punishment was really like, they had said. They’d abolish it then, in a fit of righteous horror.

Nicole had been rather inclined toward that view herself. Now she was sitting in a place where public executions were, from the looks of it, a common thing. The faces around her were avid, the eyes greedy, drinking in the sight of a human being dying hideously under the teeth and claws of lions. They’d made it a sport, like the slaughter of animals. It was a spectacle for their amusement.

Padusius’ struggles had all but stopped. The lionesses paused to lick red and dripping jaws, then bent their heads and began to feed. They wouldn’t wait for him to finish dying, any more than the male of their species had waited for the bear, or the wolves for the aurochs.

Calidius Severus spoke beside Nicole, startling her half out of her skin. The crowd’s roar had sunk to background noise. His voice was surprisingly distinct, and rather loud. “Well, that’s that. Pretty cursed quick, too — quicker than the son of a whore deserved.” He paused as if to ponder that, then sighed and shrugged. “Still and all, he won’t be breaking in the heads of honest people again, or doing worse, for that matter. I hear he outraged Domitius Zmaragdus’ wife after he’d murdered her husband in front of her.”

“Did he?” Nicole said faintly. It seemed her overloaded stomach would stay where it belonged. A few minutes before, she wouldn’t have bet on it. Calidius Severus had just given her the most powerful argument of all in favor of capital punishment: Now we know he won’t do it again.

Did hearing that Padusius was a rapist as well as a murderer make her feel easier about watching him die? Almost with his dying breath, he’d sworn he hadn’t committed the crime for which he’d been condemned. Was he telling the truth?

There was no way, now, to know. All the witnesses were dead. The suspect was dying, was maybe already gone. His foot jerked beneath a lioness’ paw, startling Nicole. The lioness snapped at it and began to gnaw, as a dog will gnaw on a favorite bone.

Whatever the truth was, whether the man was guilty or innocent, it didn’t matter now. One way or the other, he was just as dead.

They — the authorities, Faustinianus, whoever was in charge — let the lionesses eat their fill of Padusius’ body. People started getting up, stretching and belching, jostling one another as they headed for the exits.

Calidius Severus touched Nicole’s arm, a light brush of the fingers, quickly taken away. Nicole shivered. She wasn’t repulsed, not at all, but neither was she in a mood to be touched.

“Shall we go?” he asked. “No gladiators this afternoon; it’s too early on in the games. The last couple of days, I expect they’ll put on a healthy show.”

“Gladiators?” Nicole knew what the word meant: she could hardly help it. She hadn’t thought she would need the knowledge. Carnuntum kept surprising her, as usual in ways dismaying rather than delightful.

If you looked at them the right — no, the wrong — way, gladiatorial shows made a horrid kind of sense. Beasts killed beasts for the Romans’ amusement. Beasts killed men for the Romans’ amusement, too; the lionesses were still gnawing meat from the bones of the man who had insisted he wasn’t a murderer. If you took those two for granted, why not have men kill men for the Romans’ amusement?

Nicole thrust herself to her feet and turned her back on the bloody spectacle below. “I have no interest in watching gladiators,” she said firmly.

“All right,” Calidius Severus said equably. “If I have time to go, I’ll go with Gaius. He’s always been more interested in the finer points of the fighting than you have, anyway. “

He didn’t sound annoyed at all, or even particularly disappointed. It was like a father taking his grown son to a football game and leaving his girlfriend at home.

And what did they show of football on the news? Half the time, it seemed to Nicole, they showed players getting spectacularly, if not usually bloodily, hurt. Maybe the gap between Carnuntum and West Hills was narrower than she’d supposed.

No. She shook her head. Football injuries were incidental to the game. They weren’t the point of the exercise. Boxing? That was legalized mugging, pure and simple. But people didn’t usually die in a boxing match.

But that wasn’t all Calidius Severus had meant. He was a veteran, an ex-legionary. He’d really used sword and spear and shield. (And… killed people with them? Nicole didn’t want to think about that. Not just this moment.) Fine points in his line of work weren’t just about winning a game. They were about staying alive.

When in Rome… Nicole shook her head again, and shivered slightly as she always did when she caught herself understanding how the Romans saw the world. Things made sense if you looked at them in that particular way. It didn’t make them any more right.

The crowd by now had thinned quite a bit. Calidius Severus led her back down the rows of benches, sidestepping the debris of a long day’s entertainment. Instead of paper cups and cigarette butts and hotdog wrappers, Nicole made her way past empty sausage casings and half-eaten buns and spilled wine. It seemed an unconscionably long time before they reached the exit, and longer still before the bottleneck of people let go and disgorged them into the sunlit field. The green of its grass was cool and restful after the hard glare of sand in the arena.

Nicole let out a long sigh of relief. Her eyes slid back to the place where the Heidentor didn’t stand. In much the same way, her tongue ran over the broken teeth in her mouth more often than it sought out the whole ones. What was missing and should have been there was more interesting than what was where it belonged.

“I hope you had a good time.” Titus Calidius Severus sounded more like a nervous teenager coming home from his first date with a girl than a middle-aged man out with a longtime lover. He’d been eyeing her the same way she’d eyed the Heidentor: wondering where the familiar had gone.

She didn’t let him see her smile. He’s not taking me for granted, she thought. Good. Aloud, she said, “I enjoyed the time with you, but I’ve lost my taste for beast shows. “

He started to speak. She would have bet a fistful of denarii it was something about womanish weakness. If that was so, he visibly and prudently decided against it, and cleared his throat instead. He walked on for a bit, toward the city gate. Then he said, with some care, “I always enjoy the time I spend with you, Umma.”

Nicole regarded him with widened eyes. “Why, Titus! That’s sweet.” Did he blush? Hard to tell. She found she was smiling. He might smell like ancient piss, but he had more style than most of the California yuppies she’d known.

The moment she stepped through the gate of Carnuntum, Titus Calidius Severus’ familiar stench blew right out of her head. She’d been away from the city stink for a few hours; it was gone from her nose. Now it struck her