The Silver Wolf by Alice Borchardt Read Free Book Online

if I gave him a little extra, he’d sell me something special—wine with syrup of opium and hemlock.”
    Regeane was horrified. She had a very good education. She knew how Socrates died. “Hemlock?” she asked.
    “It’s very good.” Silve had her dress up over her head and was tying her strophium. “It gives you a nice tingly feeling.”
    “To be sure,” Regeane answered.
And if you get tingly enough, you die
.
    “Anyway, we went in the shit room. We did it on the floor and then when he rolled off, he tried to take the wine jug back.” Silve’s voice was a yell of sheer outrage.
    “So?” Regeane asked.
    “I smeared shit on the bastard’s head.”
    “Ah,” Regeane said.
    Silve washed her hands in a rain puddle, then drank some of the wine. She thrust the jug at Regeane.
    “No,” Regeane said. “What now?”
    Neither of them wanted to return to the lodging house. Silve knew that if Gundabald had returned and was in a bad humor, he’d beat her. So might Hugo if—as she said—he’d had to sell himself to a sodomite for drink money.
    At present, no one would lay a hand on Regeane. Hugo never would and Gundabald wouldn’t want to risk disfiguring her. She suspected a lot of beatings would come her way if she did not prove as saleable as Gundabald thought. This was only in the nature of a temporary respite. No, she wouldn’t be beaten, but she would be locked up and sent supperless to bed. Gundabald would be angry that she didn’t return when Hugo sneaked away.
    The air was misty with rain. She could see it in the afternoon light sifting past the second-story windows of the houses. She felt the stare again. This time, it seemed closer. She scanned the street. The windows above were tightly shuttered. There were no doors, only blank walls made of the narrow terra-cotta brick the Romans favored. Ahead, the street curved away into the foggy distance.
    “Let’s see if we can find a bread seller. Have you any more money?” Silve asked.
    “A few coppers,” Regeane said. She and Silve both loved the flatbreads the Romans made, stuffed with olives, onions, garlic, and savory bits of pork. Regeane’s stomach was griping.
    They wandered off together in search of a bread seller. In due time, they found one and got lost in the narrow twisting streets near the ruined Colosseum. Regeane spotted the tall cypresseslining the Appian Way and they found themselves walking along the most famous of all roads to Rome.
    They were looking down on the city. It was covered by lowering rain clouds. Swags of mist stretched like gauze curtains between earth and sky. The afternoon was wearing on toward night, the wind getting colder and colder.
    “Let’s stop and finish the breads here,” Silve said. They’d each eaten one when they got it. Each had one left.
    “There’s no place to sit,” Regeane said.
    “Don’t be silly. If we take the bread home, Gundabald and Hugo will eat it.” Silve pointed to a ruined tomb down the road. “We can go in there.”
    At the height of the Roman order and power, people had buried their dead here. Now, all the tombs were desecrated; robbed long ago.
    This one must once have belonged to a great man, but now the building was empty. The sarcophagus rested at the roadside. Shepherds driving their flocks to market used it as a watering trough.
    The tomb once looked like a small house with a pitched roof, but one wall was broken and the side of the structure opened to the elements. However, the overhanging roof and the low platform that once held the sarcophagus created a dry spot where they could sit, look out on the road, and finish their stuffed bread.
    Regeane was ravenous. She felt a mild despair as she devoured the food. She could have eaten several more. Silve drank the wine with her loaf. She was soon replete and slightly glassy-eyed. She itched and started scratching herself everywhere.
    Regeane finished the bread, licked her greasy fingers, and wondered if there was enough food in