Spartacus: Morituri

succumbing to a slight fever, his body flushing hot and cold as tiredness prickled in his limbs?

He tried to put the thought from his head, scowling as if to deny it. It was nothing but a passing minor ailment, that was all. This entire situation would wear a different complexion in the morning.

“I do not embrace belief in evil spirits,” he said again stubbornly.

Ashur gave an exasperated grunt, but Oenomaus nodded.

“It pleases to hear it.”

“And yet still you come with wild tales?”

“I come to a man of conviction-one of single-minded purpose, not easily molded and manipulated.”

“Surely such trait more hindrance than boon to a trainer of gladiators?” Spartacus said lightly.

Oenomaus allowed himself a tight smile.

“A challenge, certainly-but such form has you champion, Spartacus. And if unknown forces told by Ashur besiege us, the men will look to their champion as example against adversity.”

“You seek me for ally?” Spartacus said with sudden realization and more than a little surprise.

Oenomaus looked at him steadily for a moment, and then gave a short nod.

“In anticipation of troubled times.”

For a few seconds Spartacus sat motionless-and then he reached out and clasped Oenomaus’s arm.

“Then you have one,” he said.

Ilithyia flounced into the atrium, her eyes widening in amazement.

“What is sound that assaults ears? Can one call it song?”

Lucretia forced a smile, though she couldn’t quite hide her embarrassment. Trust Ilithyia, duplicitous as two-faced Janus himself, to arrive just at the moment when Batiatus was doing something which the pampered senator’s daughter and those of her acquaintance would no doubt find vulgar in the extreme.

“I fear one must,” Lucretia said, brazening it out by making a joke of it. “Gods smile upon husband this day. He responds with raised voice in gratitude.”

“Spirits raise to hear the gods show generous heart,” Ilithyia said with a tinkling laugh. “But such bleating calls to mind sacrificial pig awaiting slaughter!”

“We will retire to my chamber,” Lucretia suggested, taking her friend’s elbow and steering her gently from the atrium, away from Quintus’s caterwauling.

The preparations for the evening’s festivities were well underway. Slaves hurried hither and thither throughout the villa, carrying tableware or floral displays or ingredients for the sumptuous feast that Lucretia had planned. Others cleaned and scrubbed the marble walls and mosaic floors, making them gleam. Still more filled the lamps with perfumed oils and placed incense burners on ledges and alcoves.

As they walked, Ilithyia leaned close to Lucretia, her voice dropping conspiratorially. Apparently oblivious to the activity around her, she arched an eyebrow and enquired, “And why do the gods smile on husband? Perhaps loving wife has granted rare pleasure within bed chamber?”

Lucretia’s smile stiffened slightly.

“Be assured he wants for nothing in that department, no pleasures standing rare.”

“You surprise,” Ilithyia said lightly, and then widened her eyes as if only now realizing what she had said. “Intention was not to offend. My meaning implied only that at advanced age one imagines energy for carnal pursuits stands less vigorous than in youth. Admiration abounds for your tenacity and persistence.”

Lucretia’s smile had become a grimace. Reaching the first of her sitting rooms, she said, “Wine?”

“Some water perhaps,” Ilithyia said, and-as ever- looked around as though sympathizing with her friend’s lack of wealth. “Speak more of your husband’s good fortune.”

The fact that she wasn’t didn’t prevent Lucretia from doing so now. After all, she was proud of the news that she was about to impart. She told Ilithyia of what had transpired at the games the previous day, and of the imminent arrival of Marcus Crassus and his acquaintance, the Sicel merchant, Hieronymus. If she expected Ilithyia to be impressed, or even envious, she was disappointed.

Barely concealing a very obvious yawn, Ilithyia said, “I wish you good fortune with Crassus. The man is a crushing bore. His talk only of politics and business, and his face-like his grandfather, who Gaius Lucilius named Agelastus on account of grim demeanor-it has not yet been seen to crack in joy.”

“Perhaps sight of your delicate beauty would pry it open?” Lucretia suggested.

“If I were a woman fashioned from equal coin maybe. You know he is the richest man in all Rome?”

“Everyone knows it,” Lucretia replied.

Ilithyia raised her eyebrows in mild surprise.

“Such knowledge extends all the way to the provinces, penetrating grubby homes and ears of those often ignorant of politics and power. Present company excluded, naturally.”

“Naturally,” Lucretia muttered.

Ilithyia reached out and touched Lucretia’s hand lightly, bestowing upon her a generous smile.

“It must stifle to reside among the ill-informed.”

Bringing the conversation back on track, Lucretia said silkily, “So you will attend tonight? I shudder to be left without company when talk turns to politics and business.”

“It tempts,” Ilithyia mused, sounding anything but, “but I fear another engagement presses. I tire from being forever in demand.”

“One can only imagine,” Lucretia said.

Oblivious to her friend’s sarcasm, Ilithyia continued, “I envy you anonymity, Lucretia. Tell me again who accompanies Crassus this evening?”

“Hieronymus. The moneyed Greek. Crassus takes up residence in his villa for summer’s remainder. A shame you cannot attend, as everyone of note in Capua will be here, drawn by lure of honored guest.”

Ilithyia pouted prettily.

“Perhaps I will attend. To lend support for endeavors.”

“Gesture of friendship overwhelms, Ilithyia,” Lucretia said, her face deadpan.

Ilithyia looked around as though wary of eavesdroppers, and then leaned forward. “Do you know how Crassus assembled fortune?”

Not wishing to be thought a backward rustic, Lucretia said, “Support for Sulla elevated position, did it not?”

Ilithyia raised her eyebrows dismissively, as if Lucretia’s knowledge was so inadequate as to be almost negligible.

“For a man of apparent dullness, Crassus claims a lurid past, steeped in blood of his enemies.”

“It is the Roman way,” Lucretia remarked.

Frowning at the interruption, Ilithyia continued, “The right wing of Sulla’s army was his to command at the Battle of Colline Gate. It is said his tactics proved ruthless. His army crushed all opposition. The Samnite troops and the Marian adherents utterly destroyed. After Sulla’s ascension, Crassus made use of Sulla’s proscriptions. You have heard this detail?”

“Of course,” Lucretia said tersely. “They ensured those who aided Sulla’s cause would recoup fortunes. Adding to those gained by plundering wealthy adherents to Gaius Marius or Lucius Cinna. Yet Sulla’s enemies lost not merely fortunes, but their lives.”

Ilithyia’s eyes were shining. “Crassus was master of the campaign. Cutting through Sulla’s political foes as he had the armies fighting in Cinna’s name. He made purchase of land and houses for smattering of coin. His acquisition of burning houses notorious, purchased along with surrounding buildings for modest sum. Then employed his army of five hundred clients to douse flames before severe damage was done. His proximity convenient to so many unfortunate accidents.”

“Wealth was surely acquired by more conventional methods as well?” Lucretia said.

Ilithyia wafted a hand.

“Crassus acquires coin through traffic of slaves and working of silver mines. His long fingers extend everywhere, though I fear they provide little pleasure.” She smiled wickedly.

“A formidable ally,” Lucretia murmured.