Infames

II

The sweet smoke trails of cinnamon and myrrh burning tangled in the air, the warm aroma masking a deeper stench of sweat and sex. The oil lamps dimly lit the main corridor of the lupanar, along which there were multiple doorways, each one curtained with a tablet above, reading either a name and price or simply 'occupata'. Gaizaz could not stand to his full height, lest he hit his head on the ceiling, but he had a good view of all the different murals, which depicted various erotic scenes in red and blue pigment, some of which the mercenary could never have even imagined. Then there were the sounds of skin against skin, of moans and cries, and of male laughter, all crashing together in a cacophony of pleasure. Ahead of him, a young woman ducked out of one room, her body damp and bare, and flashed him a lucrative smile before slipping behind the curtain of another room. Gaizaz frowned, but took a step further inside.

Sat to the side of the corridor on a wooden stool, spinning what looked to be a small brass token between his bony fingers, was a man in a dull yellow tunica with a patch of scraggly dark hair on his head, whose thin face reminded Gaizaz of a weasel. Seeing the new visitor, the man leapt up with a grin, bearing two rows of narrow teeth, and extended his arms.

"Friend, welcome!" he greeted, looking the mercenary up and down as he took in the sight. "Tell me, what is it that you are looking for tonight?"

Ah, so this man was the leno. Before Gaizaz could reply, however, the pimp rambled on.

"We have many fine ladies looking for your company, my friend. Wouldn't want to disappoint them, hmm?" He laughed; a nasally chuckle. "So many beauties, honestly, from all corners of the Empire, so there's no doubt that you'll find someone just right–"

"Actually," Gaizaz cut in, his voice firm, "I was hoping to speak with you."

The leno froze. "Me?"

"Yes, on a matter of business. I'm looking to make a more permanent purchase, if you understand." The mercenary tilted his head. "Do you have somewhere private where we may speak?"

The man's eyes lit up and he slung an arm around Gaizaz's side, ushering him further down the hallway. "Of course, my friend! Let us retire to my office."

At the end of the corridor, they ascended a staircase to the next floor, which looked practically the same as before. As they headed down this hall, one of the curtains swung open and a man, probably in his late thirties, emerged. He adjusted his pristine toga as he scurried past, eyes glued to the floor. The pimp raised his hand and called out, "Have a nice night, Lucius!" Without so much as a mumbled response, the customer vanished. Passing by the room from which the man had just exited, Gaizaz caught a glimpse of the naked back of a young man perched on the bed, but the curtain fell shut just as the mercenary caught a brief view of the side of his face.

Eventually they entered a small room and the pimp shut the door (not a curtain, this time) behind them. It was plain and smelled of wine instead of perspiration, with a desk and chair in the centre while there were different-sized boxes and crates against the left-hand wall. The pimp walked around and sat down, tossing the bronze token into a bowl with similar ones, then leaned forwards with a furtive eyebrow raised.

"So, you want to buy one of my whores, do you?" He chuckled and cracked his fingers. "Well, I'm afraid you aren't spoiled for choice, friend. Only a handful of my merchandise are enslaved; the rest are free, but they understand what a pleasure it is to work for me."

It was taking Gaizaz everything he had not to punch this miscreant in the face whenever he spoke. Instead, he nodded and replied, "That's fine. Do you have a list, or some sort of record you can show me?"

The pimp waved his hand dismissively towards the boxes at the side. "Somewhere in there, but I know my treasures well. I can just tell you instead."

Gaizaz eyed the boxes for moment, then looked back at the man. "I'd rather see a list."

His expression momentarily turned sour, but the leno obliged, rising from the chair as he reapplied that sickly smile. "I can appreciate a man that knows what he wants."

Once his back was turned, the mercenary stepped closer, gaze flickering down to the desk. To the side of it there was cutting board, which hosted an abandoned block of cheese and a few grapes, probably left over from dinner, but it was the knife that Gaizaz was interested in. Silently he picked it up, as the pimp talked away while he rummaged through the boxes. Then, without a moment's hesitation, Gaizaz came up behind the man and clamped a hand over his mouth, holding the knife against his neck as he hissed, "Scream and you're dead."

The pimp's breath was sticky against the mercenary's palm, and he trembled, terrified little noises squeaking from his throat. Gaizaz gently pressed the knife a little closer.

"Where do you keep your money?"

The pimp shuddered, then gestured to a large box in the corner. Gaizaz pulled the knife away and grabbed the back of the man's head, forcing him over to where he had pointed. He shoved the pimp towards it.

"Open it."

The man complied, and soon revealed simple wooden coffers, stacked on top of one another in neat rows.

"How much is it each one?"

"Five hundred dupondii," he stammered, followed by a quiet, "Please don't hurt me, friend."

"Stop calling me that," Gaizaz snapped, then quickly did the calculations in his head. "Hand me three."

Quivering hands passed the coffers over, and Gaizaz held them under one arm, pressed against his body. They were not the lightest.

The mercenary stabbed the knife into the table, fixing the pimp with a cold stare, then rested his free hand on the hilt of his sword.

"That money is going to waste in there," he growled. "You ought to use it for the good of your 'treasures', rather than hoarding it."

Without a moment to spare, Gaizaz turned and left the room, then shut the door behind him. With one hand, he fished a long piece of twine from a pouch on his belt and looped it through the handle, before tying it around the lamp holder beside it. That should give him some time.

Gaizaz quickly but quietly left the establishment and reemerged onto the streets of Rome, adrenaline coursing through him, then took off back the way he had come. Now cradling the money with both arms, the mercenary felt its weight even more.

He really hoped that this was all worth it.