The Mammoth Book of Historical Crime Fiction by Mike Ashley Read Free Book Online Page A

the play is over,” said Eutropius. “Teacher, if you and Gordianus would like to wash up a bit and change your clothes before the procession begins, you’d better do it quickly.”
    I looked up at the sky, which was beginning to fade as twilight approached. “A procession? But it’ll be dark soon.”
    “Exactly,” said Antipater. “The procession of Artemis takes place after sundown.”
    “Roman festivals happen in daylight,” I muttered, lapsing into my native tongue.
    “Well, you are not in Rome anymore,” said Antipater. “So stop speaking Latin!”
    “I’ll call for the porter to show you to your quarters,” said Eutropius. But, before he could clap his hands, the slave girl stepped forward.
    “I’ll do it, master,” she said. She stood directly in front of me and trained her gaze on me. I realized, with some discomfort, that to meet her eyes I had to look up a bit. She was slightly taller than I.
    “Very well, Amestris,” said Eutropius, with a vague wave.
    We followed Amestris down a short hallway and up a flight of stairs. Her shapely hips swayed as she ascended the steps ahead of us.
    She showed Antipater to his room, then led me to the one next to it. It was small but opulently appointed. A balcony offered a view of the harbour. On a little table I saw a basin of water and a sponge.
    “Will you require help to bathe yourself?” said Amestris, standing in the doorway.
    I stared at her for a long moment. “No,” I finally managed to say, in Latin – for at that moment, even the simplest Greek deserted me. Amestris made an elegant bow that caused her breasts to dangle voluptuously for a moment, then backed away.
    “Amestris – that’s a Persian name, isn’t it?” I blurted, finally thinking of something to say.
    For an answer, she merely nodded, then withdrew. I could have sworn I heard her laughing quietly.
    After we had refreshed ourselves and changed into our most colourful tunics, Antipater and I rejoined our host in the garden. Eutropius had been joined by another man about his own age and of his own class, to judge by the newcomer’s expensive-looking garments. Anthea had also been joined by a friend, a girl attired exactly as she was, in the guise of Artemis the huntress, but with flowing red hair and plainer features.
    “This is my friend and business partner, Mnason,” said Eutropius, “and this is his daughter, Chloe, who will also be taking part in the procession for the first time.” Under his breath he added, to Antipater, “The two of us are both widowers, sadly, so quite often we take part in festivals and civic celebrations together with our daughters.”
    The six of us set out. Amestris came along as well, apparently to make sure that all was perfect for Anthea and Chloe’s appearance in the procession. I deliberately kept my eyes off her, determined to take in the sights and sounds of the festive city.
    A short walk brought us to the main entrance of the theatre. There were a great many people in the square, and the crowd was still issuing out. Everyone looked quite cheerful, and, for those who needed more cheering up, vendors were selling wine. Some in the crowd had brought their own cups, but the vendors were also selling ornamental cups made of copper, or silver, or even gold set with stones; like the talismans for sale in the market, these precious objects were destined to be offered to Artemis at the end of the procession.
    As darkness fell, lamps were lit all around the square, casting a flickering orange glow across the sea of smiling faces. The crowd suddenly grew hushed. A way was cleared in front of the theatre entrance. I assumed some dignitary, perhaps the Roman governor, was about to make his exit. Instead, a statue of Artemis emerged, carried aloft by a small group of priests wearing bright yellow robes and tall yellow headdresses.
    Antipater spoke in my ear. “Those are the Megabyzoi, and that statue is the Artemis of Ephesus, the model for all the