Puberty Exam By Dad and Friend
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The first time Corvus saw Quad Ulpius dressed in a toga, he burst out laughing.
"What?" Quad looked down at himself. "It's just a toga. You're wearing one too."
"I know. Forgive me," Corvus stood at the window, considering the view of the bay from his father's house, one of the many amenities he hadn't been able to duplicate in his own house. "That was the laughter of relief. I was starting to think this was some practical joke reserved just for me. Is this seriously how everyone's going to be dressed tonight?"
Quad nodded. "Even security. We've got white leather holster belts so they don't clash too much with the fabric."
Corvus shot Quad a sidelong glance. When the centurion said things like that, he was rarely joking, but it still sounded odd. "How do I piss in this thing?"
"The goal is not to piss in it," said Quad. "If you get a stall, you can just hike it up like it's your wedding night. If you're at the trough, either bring a servant or ask one of the attendants to hold your skirts for you."
The tailor Natta Manilus entered the room with a pair of silken rope belts over his shoulder, one in red and one in gold. "Citizen Corvus, have you chosen a color for your trim?"
Corvus frowned. "I thought that was decided."
Natta frowned and Corvus could feel another complication coming on. When he'd suggested Gaius receive Plautus Iunius with "all honors," he hadn't realized the term had a very specific meaning - one that included a formal banquet where all the guests wore togas with the trim color chosen by the guest of honor.
Unfortunately, Plautus Iunius insisted on wearing the purple. It was technically his right. The Iunii were officially an Imperial Family, descended from some of New Rome's last emperors. Even so, it was considered in bad taste for Plautus to wear it and there would have been a mutiny among the other guests if Gaius had asked them to take it up in Plautus's honor.
Instead of receiving Plautus "with all honors," they were now receiving him "with honors" - a distinction that boiled down to each guest choosing their own color to show the interests of their family. The red sash over Natta's shoulder would represent a martial affiliation and Gaius would certainly wear one. The gold represented politics. Corvus might choose it to represent his own ambitions in that field.
"Forgive me, sir," said the tailor. "I must have been distracted when the decision was made."
Corvus sighed. There would be implications to either and he didn't understand them all. To buy himself time, he asked, "What color will the widow Crispa Iunius be wearing?" It might be the red of her late husband, a soldier or her grandmother's gold.
"I haven't been informed, but I can have my assistant call and ask," said the tailor.
"Please do," said Corvus. "And help me out of this thing. I have a lot to do."
If Corvus had realized how much relied on his specific word choice, he would have found some other way to express his suggestion to Gaius in a way that didn't involve the word "honors." He was already dreading wearing a toga for his own elevation and for his mother's wedding. He really didn't need another party in the quintessentially old-fashioned garment. As soon as the tailor left, Corvus stripped down and put his street clothes back on, glancing at his watch. He still had time to talk to his mother.
Between opening up his new house and her preparations for the wedding, he hadn't seen much of Lucretia lately or even known how to get a hold of her very often. This morning, she was just across the hall for her own scheduled toga fitting. He knocked on the door and heard her call out for him to enter.
As it turned out, she wasn't being fitted for her toga, but her wedding dress. Corvus hadn't seen it before and was surprised as he approached from behind to see how much it followed the current flouncy fashion, complete with big sleeves and a white silk bow on the back of the waist that completely hid her shape. Three young women crouched around her gesturing and measuring with pins, chalk, and a cloth ruler.
"You do know you're not wearing that tonight, right?" Corvus asked dryly. "Not that it isn't a lovely dress, but it's really only supposed to be for the one day."
"Just some last-minute alterations." Lucretia turned around, sending the young women crouched around her into a small frenzy of trying to keep their place and redo the work she'd undone. "How do my tits look?"
Where the dress from behind had seemed very modern, the front hearkened back to a much older tradition where brides went topless to display their fecundity. From the waist up, the front of Lucretia's dress was made of a gauzy white material that normally would be more appropriate to a veil and clearly showed both the shape of her breasts and her dark nipples.
Corvus was surprised, but not shocked. This was Lucretia to a tee, bending tradition to her own ends. "You're built like a house slave, mother. You know that."
Lucretia gave a quick eye-roll at the vulgarity. "Yes. But am I built like a young house slave? I don't want to look ridiculous."
Corvus sighed. "They're magnificent, mother. You have nothing to worry about."
She turned back to the mirror, considering herself. "As nice as Paphian's?"
Corvus gave a short bark of laughter. "I haven't seen Paphian's."
She turned to him again, the girls again scrambling for position. "Whyever not? You have one of the most notorious hetaerae of the last century living under your roof. You should make good use of her." She frowned. "You're not still fixated on that Rose girl. Are you?"
Corvus shook his head, unsure whether Lucretia had confused his two slaves in her head or was just testing him. "No. I've diversified like you suggested. But, that's not what I hired Paphian Nova for. She's there to help with training. And honestly, I'd like to keep the number of people you and I have both slept with to a minimum."
Lucretia smirked. "What Paphian and I did hardly qualified as sleeping together. It was almost always business."
Corvus really didn't want the conversation to go down that road. He was well aware of his mother's tactic of discomfiting him as much as she could before springing whatever trap she'd set for him. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something about Labeo Vitellius."
"A sad, little man come to a sadder end," pronounced Lucretia. "I hope you manage to scrub the stink of sanctimony off the walls before I come visit."
"You knew him then?" Corvus asked.
"Of course. We saw each other at school functions fairly regularly. I hadn't spoken to him in years, though."
"Why not?"
Lucretia narrowed her eyes fractionally, but answered. "He never approved of your father ... your first father ... being a common soldier. He thought we were overreaching by moving to the school district." She gave a snort. "He even tried to get the school board to redraw the map so that our neighborhood wouldn't be grouped with his."
Corvus had never heard that before and wanted a few seconds to process it, so he asked, "Were you surprised to hear he'd committed treason?"
Lucretia raised an eyebrow. "I'm still not sure he did. He was a humorless prig, but he was a hidebound humorless prick. The whole reason we won the redistricting fight was because we had the imagination to break the rules and he didn't."
Corvus was so accustomed to getting information from his mother in dribs and drabs that he wasn't sure how to interpret the sudden open flow. "What do you think happened if he didn't actually do it?"
Lucretia shrugged. "He always thought he was way above his actual station. He either made an enemy or lost a friend and they moved against him. It happens more often than you like to think in this city."
Corvus decided to throw all caution to the wind. "Were you one of his enemies?"
Lucretia smirked. "Probably, but if you're asking if I had anything to do with his being executed, I didn't. Labeo Vitellius was a prick and he snubbed your father and me, but if I went after everyone who fit that description, you wouldn't have much of a plebiscite left in your district."
Corvus gave a humorless snort of laughter at the truth of that statement. "Well, if you do decide to start having people killed, please give me a heads up so I can do some damage control."
Lucretia reached up and patted his cheek. "Always, my dear boy. We are a team after all. That's not going to change just because we're both getting married. Is it?"
"I'm getting married?" Corvus asked.
"Well, not this week. But you should soon." said Lucretia. "By my figuring, there are six girls of the appropriate age and station in capital society and, as fate would have it, all six of them will be at this banquet tonight."
"Funny how that works out when you let fate choose the guest list," deadpanned Corvus. "Will you let me know who they are so I can make a point of meeting them?"
"They know who they are," Lucretia told him. "They'll make a point of meeting you. If they're not bright enough to do that much, they're not as appropriate as I thought. You do know it's important to marry for love. Don't you, Corvus?"
The statement came so far from out of nowhere, Corvus sensed it had to be some kind of a setup. "Is it?"
Lucretia nodded. "Yes, so you'll want to decide which of the six you're liable to fall in love with and let me know so I can start arranging things with her family."
Corvus got back to his house just in time for Clover to report that Crispa was up and about and nearly ready for breakfast.
"How is she?" he asked.
"Much recovered," answered Clover. "She's had a bath and coffee and said she was hungry. Also, there's a ... woman in your office waiting to talk to you. She wouldn't tell me her name or why she's here, but Malcolm says she's from the agency and that you would know what that means."
Corvus drew in a breath. "Ah, good. Thank you. I'll attend to that first. Please let Crispa know I'll join her shortly."
When he saw the woman waiting for him in his office and using his phone, he understood Clover's hesitation in what to call her. His first thought was that she must be a slave sent over to deliver a message. She had reddish-blond hair and the pale skin common in Europe, but when she turned and held a finger up to keep him from speaking over her conversation, she lacked any provenance mark. Appearances to the contrary, she was a Roman citizen.
She finished her phone conversation and put the retriever down. "Good, you're here. I need a slave name."
"Beg pardon?"
She held out a hand. "Alyce Londinia, at your service."
Corvus shook her hand. Her surname explained part of the riddle. Alyce must be from London and one of the European-born Roman citizens who'd been joining the empire ever since the conquest of Britannia. "Corvus Gallicus."
As he shook, he looked Alyce over. She was pale, even paler than Rose and had reddish-blonde hair and green eyes. When she'd spoken, her Latin had a soft, lilting accent he didn't recognize.
She leaned back against his desk, ankles crossed and said, "I need a slave name - one appropriate to your household. I'll be working undercover."
"Pretending to be one of my slaves?" Corvus asked. "While watching Plautus Iunius?"
Alyce glanced to one side. "Is this room secure?"
"The army swept it over the weekend."
She nodded. "Yes. I'll be masquerading as one of your slaves so I can watch Plautus Iunius while he's a guest in your father's house."
"Tansy," said Corvus.
"Sorry?"
The young patrician smirked. Alyce Londinia wasn't the only one who would speak in cryptic non-sentences. "Most of my slaves are named after flowers. It's a naming convention I've inherited. I have Clover, Rose, Datura, and Lily, but I don't have a Tansy."
"All right." Alyce extracted a single sheet of paper from a thin leather case and wrote something down on it. "The story is that I'm Tansy. You just bought me for your household and you're lending me to your father to help out with the upcoming wedding. Malcolm will assign me to the rooms Plautus Iunius is using. I'll be your eyes and ears there and report back to you and the Widow once a night or more often if it seems like things are moving quickly."
She handed Corvus the paper, a standard form with the word "Tansy" written in one place. "Sign this, have it witnessed, and have it faxed to my agency. I'll start working as soon as they get it."
Corvus took the paper and read it, frowning. "This is a writ of manumission."
Alyse nodded. "It's my escape clause. Once I get the tattoos, there isn't much identifying me as a Roman citizen. If somebody tries to make a case that I'm really a slave, we have this to fall back on."
Corvus frowned as he read the writ over for any non-boilerplate language. "Do you find that the tattoos actually convince people you're a slave?"
Alyse shook her head. "Not alone. I need to act like a slave."
Corvus raised an eyebrow. He'd known Alyse less than a minute and already found her brusque and faintly masculine. "That must be some act."
Alyse went smoothly to her knees, her whole posture changing as she went. When she looked up at Corvus, her eyes had lost their keen focus and held instead the look of almost worshipful admiration he'd only seen in the eyes of slave girls.
"How may I serve, sir?" Her accent was instantly thicker than it had been a moment ago, reinforcing her foreignness.
The net effect was startling - as if the brash young spy had actually disappeared and been replaced by a slave with similar features. If Corvus had seen "Tansy" in the halls, he might not have connected her with Alyse Londinia. She wore a citizen's clothes, but she looked like a slave playing dress-up, not a citizen playing slave.
"Remarkable," acknowledged Corvus. "Won't it be dangerous for you to walk around looking like that?"
Alyse rose, shedding her slave demeanor as quickly as she'd put it on. "You're paying a standard danger rider. The target is a guest in your father's house with no known history of mistreating slaves. There's always some danger of these missions not turning out as expected. If the danger turns out to be too much for me to handle alone, you'll need to arrange for additional personnel or scuttle the mission."
Corvus gave a thoughtful nod. That hadn't been exactly what he meant, so he decided to try a different tack. "Yes. But ... if I may ask, how will you avoid someone deciding to ... uh, use you ... as a slave."
Alyse smiled like a predator. "I don't. My goal is to get close to the target. If he's not some kind of weird pervert, I expect to be in his bed tonight." Corvus must have shown what he thought of that in his face because her smile softened. "It's what I'm trained for and I'm good at it, but thank you for your concern."
Corvus shook his head. This was a whole new world to him, but he wasn't going to try to buck it. "All right. Is there anything I can do besides signing and faxing this form?"
Alyse shook her head. "Just try not to send too many pretty girls to serve Plautus Iunius while he's in your father's house. I don't need the competition. And remember, the next time you see me, I'm Tansy."
Corvus found Crispa at one of the small tables in the central courtyard. She'd chosen a table in the shade and wore a pair of dark sunglasses, but otherwise seemed none the worse for wear from the night before. Before her sat a plate of fresh fruit and a steaming mug of coffee.
Corvus slid in across the table from her "I've just met a most peculiar woman."
"No you haven't. You've known me for almost a month now. I just look different without makeup."
Corvus laughed. "Not you. I just met my first Colonial and my first professional spy ... as far as I know." He slid the paper he'd been given across the table. "I need you to witness that, please."
Crispa signed it. "What is it?"
"A writ of manumission." To her surprised look, he went on to explain.
Crispa nodded slowly. "Clever. A slave might be the perfect spy. It certainly wouldn't occur to me. I probably told Clover far more than she would ever want to know about my childhood last night."
"Slaves don't want anything." Corvus delivered the line with perfect aplomb. "Service is the master's gift that saves them from the suffering of desire."
"That is the party line." Crispa poured herself more coffee from the silver pot sitting between them. "And I think your girl might be a true believer. She's ... incredibly sweet."
Corvus accepted the pot from her and poured coffee for himself. "Her service was a comfort?"
Crispa chuckled. "I'd try to buy her from you if you weren't so clearly attached."
Corvus shook his head. "Definitely not for sale."
"Could I borrow her again sometime? I'd let you try Ibis if you liked."
"I'd rather try Sunya Green," said Corvus, more an idle fancy than a bargaining position.
"That would have to be soon. Her contract's wrapping up at week's end and I'm not planning to renew."
Corvus raised an eyebrow. "Problem?"
"No." Crispa shook her head and sipped her coffee. "She was a special treat that I knew I couldn't afford indefinitely and her owner has her lined up to make another movie once I'm done with her."
Corvus sipped his coffee and nodded thoughtfully.
"How about tonight?" Crispa prompted.
Corvus hadn't specifically meant to make the swap at all and felt that, at the very least, he should ask Clover how she felt about such an assignment. But that instinct was almost certainly wrong. Every conversation where he'd tried to suss out what Clover really wanted had been awkward and frustrating. Clover wanted to serve and make Corvus happy. That was the only answer he would get.
Would Clover and Crispa being together making Corvus happy? The idea certainly didn't make him unhappy in the way that the possibility of Clover serving some other man did. If the three of them were to wind up in bed together, he certainly couldn't imagine having any objections.
"I'd really like a chance for her to see me at my best," prompted Crispa. "I was kind of pathetic last night."
Corvus put aside that last thought. He wasn't sure what the protocol was for following up on turning down a patrician woman's offer of sex, but coming back the next day and suggesting they get together with his slave would probably be considered less than diplomatic.
"You're planning to be at your best when you get home from the banquet tonight?" Corvus sipped his coffee.
Crispa batted her eyelashes at him. "Knowing Clover's waiting for me might just be the incentive I need to get me through tonight intact."
Corvus rolled his eyes at the obvious gambit, but laughed at the same time before becoming serious. "Clover's very special to me, you know."
"I can see why," said Crispa earnestly.
"You'll be nice to her?" Corvus wasn't sure what he was asking exactly, but he felt the need to ask anyway.
"I will," said Crispa earnestly.
Corvus sighed and gave a nod. "Fine. Send Sunya over tonight. I'll let Clover know you've asked for her."
Crispa smiled at him from behind her dark sunglasses. "You really are a good friend, Corvus. Would you like to borrow Ibis as well?"
Corvus shook his head. "Honestly, she scares me a bit."
Crispa seemed to be waiting for more and when none was forthcoming shrugged her shoulders. "Well, if that's not your thing, you probably wouldn't enjoy Ibis much."
Corvus nodded. His mind was already on to other things. "Apparently, I'm supposed to fall in love at dinner tonight."
"Oh, dear," Crispa said with mock horror. "And you're so young. Who with?"
"No idea," admitted Corvus. "Lucretia says there are six acceptable matches in the whole empire and that they'll all be at the party tonight."
"Five more choices than I had," Crispa said brightly. "Not that I'm complaining. My husband was actually a lovely man, much nicer than I ever was." A cloud passed momentarily over her eyes. "Marriage can be a wonderful thing and, if you have a choice as to who you're going to do it with, I'd take choosing well seriously. There's a lot of variety in girls - even the acceptable ones."
Corvus hadn't expected such earnestness from his friend, which made it all the more impactful. "I agree. I was hoping you would be there when I met them."
Crispa raised an eyebrow. "May I ask why?"
"I want your opinion of them - first impression, anything you know about them personally, rumors, anything like that," said Corvus. "And I want to see how they react to you - maybe even ask them what they thought of you later. I doubt any of them will tell me directly what they think of me, but they can still reveal a lot by what they think of you."
"Ah. You want me to be polarizing and catty. I can do that," said Crispa. "In fact, it might be what I do best."
After giving Crispa a ride to his father's house, making sure that she was set up in the guest wing, and reassuring her that she could come hide in his wing of the house if things got to be too much, Corvus headed back to his rooms. Clover met him at the door to the antechamber. "How may I serve?"
"Has my toga arrived?" Corvus asked.
"No. Someone from Natta's team called a few minutes ago to ask what color trim you'll be wearing."
Corvus muttered a curse. "I meant to ask Crispa what color she was wearing so that we could match."
"The Widow Iunius will be wearing the purple tonight," said Clover.
"What?"
Clover gestured to the phone. "The man from Natta's shop said she'd be wearing purple tonight. I asked him to confirm and he did. Does that affect your decision?"
Corvus scowled and shook his head. "Not really, but I wonder what she's playing at." Without the guidance he'd hoped for and having no time to confer with anyone else, he made a snap decision. "Let them know I'll be wearing the gold tonight, please."
"Very good." Clover headed for the phone.
"The Widow Iunius has asked me to send you to her rooms to serve her after the banquet." Corvus said as casually as he could manage.
Clover smiled brightly. "She was pleased with my service, then?"
"Apparently so," said Corvus. "It's just for tonight."
"Of course." Clover indicated the phone she'd been headed for. "May I call the tailor? They seemed eager to get this information."
Corvus nodded. "Yes. Of course." He waited until she'd made the call. "How much work do you think it would be to set up a private party at the Butterfly Club two weeks from now?"
"How large a party?" Clover asked.
"About two hundred people."
Clover frowned. "I can check, but I think you'd have to rent out the whole club for a group that large. And clubs like the Butterfly are generally booked months in advance for this season with all the weddings and graduations."
"Never mind. It was just an idle thought," said Corvus.
"If you tell me what you had in mind, I can probably come up with a number of alternatives," said Clover.
"I ... was thinking that graduation is going to be in two weeks, : said Corvus. "It's the last chance I'm going to have to see that group as a group and they are going to be part of my plebiscite. When I was still going to school there, nobody was very happy with the options for our after-graduation party."
Clover bit her lip thoughtfully. "Would you like me to look into what can be arranged for that weekend?"
Corvus nodded. "All right. Let me know what you find out."
Corvus sat waiting in the antechamber of Crispa's borrowed rooms while Ibis went to fetch her. As silly as the toga seemed, what really bothered him was the subligar. The loincloth worn under a formal toga reminded him more of a diaper than proper underclothes and was fitted through a clever but hard-to-remember bit of folding. He'd spent an inordinate amount of time having Clover show him how to do the folds correctly. But he didn't want his first official public appearance to be remembered for his underwear having fallen down.
After a few minutes, Sunya Green emerged and knelt smoothly before him. "Citizen Corvus, the Widow Iunius has been delayed in her preparations. How may I serve?"
And just like that, another long-held fantasy was staring him in the face. Sunya Green was a sex symbol - the first woman he could ever remember wanting, albeit from the far side of the silver screen. She was lighter-skinned than most Roman citizen with jet-black hair and warm diamond-shaped eyes rimmed with kohl. She was dressed in a sparkling aqua sari and made up like she might run off and shoot a movie at any moment. Corvus found himself staring.
"Citizen?" Sunya asked after a long pause.
Corvus shook his head. "Sorry. What?"
"How may I serve?"
Corvus played back the last minute in his head and remembered what she'd said. "Oh. Do you know how long Crispa will be?"
Sunya looked thoughtful. "Another ... twenty minutes, perhaps thirty, I think."
Corvus glanced at his wrist before remembering that men in formal togas didn't wear watches. He looked at the wall instead. In twenty minutes, they would be late, but he supposed that might be the point. Crispa wearing the purple with her toga would almost certainly cause a stir and she probably wanted to make an entrance. "I'll wait. Thank you."
"May I offer you a refreshment or some other service while you wait?" Sunya prompted.
Corvus wondered not entirely idly how long her soliloquy from High Seas declaring her love and longing for her sailor husband thought lost during a storm was and if she still remembered it. The whole speech couldn't be more than three or four minutes - much less time than Crispa was expected to take. It had always been one of his favorite moments in film. There were plenty of Pax Dulci actresses who were nothing more than a pretty face and a nice body. Sunya on the other hand was a great actress as well. She'd really made him wish someone would one day love him that much.
He realized he was staring again. Embarrassed, he said, "Just some water, please. My throat's gone a little dry."
As he watched her sashay off, Corvus realized that Sunya Green was going to be waiting for him in his rooms when he got back from this party and felt a moment of pure panic. He had no illusions about his skill as a great lover and for several years, Sunya Green had been the hottest of hot commodities out of Pax Dulci. She was older now - maybe thirty or so, but in her prime, she'd served the sons of some of the richest and most powerful families of New Rome. He wasn't ready to be compared side-by-side with those scions of wealth and power.
When Sunya returned and handed him the glass of water, she met his eyes and gave a little self-aware smile. It was enough to make Corvus grin and chuckle. He didn't need to worry about how he stacked up against scions of wealth and power. He was one of them. Besides, being rich and powerful didn't make a man a good lover. To the contrary, Corvus knew that his own desire to please whatever woman he was with regardless of her class or status made him a bit of an odd bird. He'd heard the old saying repeated often enough: good sex was for mistresses. Wives and slaves would perform their duty.
Six girls? In the whole world, there were only six girls who might make a good wife to him? What if they all hated him? He'd still have to marry one of them, bring her into his house, and try to make the best of it. All of Roman society was built to accommodate men unhappy with their wives.
Far too much depended on tonight. Why couldn't Lucretia have waited a week and invited his entire pool of possible future wives to the wedding? As important as tonight might be to Crispa's future, it was hard to think of anything beyond those six girls waiting for him.
"Sorry I kept you waiting," called Crispa from the other room. "I'm ready now."
As she emerged, Corvus rose and kissed her on the cheek. She wore the pure white toga with the promised purple piping and belt. Her hair had been done in a style that might be suggestive of a laurel wreath with violets intertwined into the braid.
"You look lovely," he told her.
"Thank you," said Crispa. "The gold suits you."
"And the purple you." Corvus offered her his arm. "Should we go take the bull by his horns?"
"Yes." Crispa sounded uncertain, but took his arm. "I'm entitled to wear it. You know?"
"Of course," said Corvus easily. "The Iunii are an old imperial line." He was concerned about the repercussions of Crispa's wardrobe choice, but she must have a reason for it and he wasn't about to try to gainsay her on the matter.
Crispa didn't say anything as they walked down the hallway to the grand ballroom at the heart of his father's guest wing. Corvus realized now that the delaying tactic hadn't just been for the moment they were announced to the assembled party guests, but also for the first time Corvus himself saw her in the purple. She'd expected a fight.
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