Furies by D. L. Johnstone Read Free Book Online

her freedom outright, even marrying her. Fool that he was.”
    “Do you remember her name?” Aculeo asked.
    Pesach thought for a moment, itching his arms and shoulders. “Neaera, I think. She worked in a brothel in the Venus District. The Blue Bird I think it was called. Pricey little place but quite pleasant. Pretty young girls.”
    The fuller started to stir. Pesach considered him for a moment, then horked loudly and spat a wad of phlegm on the man’s head. The fuller absently ran his fingers back through his hair, blinked up at the two men in vacant surprise, then closed his eyes and started snoring again.
    “Ah well,” Pesach sighed, “enough fun for now. I’d better get back to work. I’ve many important responsibilities to take care of, you know.”

     
    The Venus District lay in the western edge of the city tucked in behind the Gates of Selene near the Harbour of Kibotos. It was already late in the day by the time Aculeo finally stepped onto its narrow streets. A rank stench rose from the yellow-brown sludge that spilled into the Eunostos Canal from the nearby tanneries, swirling at the water’s edge. Ornate marble tombs and funerary monuments lined the main road that led out through the gates. The covered benches of the tombs, which by day provided shade and respite to mourning family members, served by night as relatively private meeting places for those in search of more carnal comforts. As long as the pornes and pimps continued paying the city their fees for use of the area however, no one troubled them much.
    It was a dangerous time of day as the narrow laneways filled in with shadows, the day’s crowds had thinned, new groups emerged. What had been quaint, quiet corners by day had turned into sullen meeting places filled with grunts of passion from the couplings in the shadows. The she-wolves slinked along the city’s outer walls, their faces painted, pale breasts barely covered, calling to the men, chanting in singsong voices about the services they’d provide, no matter what the danger, he supposed, for who knew what their lovers had in mind for them? And the rent boys, scared, scruffy little fellows, their eyes devoid of any joy in life.
    “Hey lover, where you headed?” a veiled porne called out. Aculeo looked up and saw her smile at him. Her dark brown eyes had a flinty prettiness to them.
    “I’m looking for a brothel,” he said.
    “Why pay extra to a harbour master when you can bring your great ship to port right here?” the porne said with a laugh.
    Aculeo held out a brass coin. “It’s called the Blue Bird. Do you know of it?”
    “I know a place we could go,” she said, appraising the coin with a scowl. “You’ll need more than that, though.”
    “And worth every as, I’m sure, but I’m looking for the Blue Bird.”
    “There’s a thousand birds in the sky, should I know each one by name?” she asked, pressing her body against him, her slender hand stroking his thigh, caressing him, smelling cloyingly of amber mixed with sweat and body odour. “You should see the things I’ll do to you for a single sesterce. Come on, let’s see your silver, lover.” Aculeo felt her fingers grasping for the purse tied about his neck and pushed her hand away. The porne thrust her knee up hard into his groin. Aculeo dropped to the pavement, writhing in agony.
    “Why don’t you go fuck yourself then,” she said sourly, plucking the coin from his outstretched hand, then moved on to find her next mark.
    Aculeo made his way to his feet after the aching waves of nausea passed. He watched as drunken clots of men and their rented lovers staggered together through the streets that stank of countless years of piss, spilled beer and sour sweat, wandering from tavern to tavern, the loud revelry, flute and lyre and roaring laughter from behind the mud-brick walls. The porne was right, he thought, there’s hundreds of brothels about the city. How am I to find this one, running about the Tannery