Graveyard of the Hesperides by Lindsey Davis Page B

who were ecstatic to be roped in by Faustus for our wedding. No one had entrusted anything important to them before. They were arranging things better than I ever would, though with no regard for my wishes, my father’s willingness to pay or my mother’s good taste in social matters. It was the best fun they had ever had—and now they had capped that by coming to a shitty bar where they were hoping to see dead people.
    â€œHow did you get here?” I nagged. “Don’t tell me you walked, not down the Argiletum?”
    They had seen we had a bench, so were busy sorting out another for themselves. Soon the building site looked like a picnic spot. Julia took charge. “We did walk. Good heavens, that’s an interesting street. Wigs and false teeth!”
    Along the Argiletum, they would have tripped past barbers and slave-sellers, butchers, linen merchants, makers of iron goods and suppliers of all kinds of food. The teeth and wigs were certainly exotic, but oh dear gods, not as colorful as the whores, bumboys and people who called themselves actors and were openly bisexual. I hoped the girls would not go home to our concerned parents all full of it. But I knew they would.
    â€œWho were those fascinating women who left just now?” demanded Favonia. “What is the job they warned us off?”
    â€œProstitutes. You couldn’t do it. You don’t have the application and you’re both too squeamish.”
    â€œBut it is steady work,” suggested Faustus. I was really discovering his provocative side today. “They were telling us just now how their speciality is selling their virginity.”
    â€œOh, that’s so neat! How much could we make with ours?” asked Julia, apparently a serious question.
    I growled. “Not enough to buy you dress pins.”
    The girls sat down side by side on their bench (having thoroughly dusted it) and smiled at us. Neither had yet realized how beautiful they were, not even Favonia, who was the more observant; thank goodness for the murkiness of mirrors. They had dark hair, dark eyes, strappy sandals, fluttery stoles, complicated girdles they had created themselves from streamers of ribbon, and so much jewelry I knew they must have sneaked out of the house without Mother spotting them. The whiffs of peculiar perfume were ripe. Flies were dropping dead all over the courtyard.
    â€œWho brought you? Please don’t tell me you came unescorted.”
    â€œNo, no, don’t fuss, Albia. We have Katutis.”
    â€œ Where is he? ” Favonia mouthed, anticipating my next demand. “Outside, talking to Dromo.” Father’s Egyptian secretary and Faustus’ awkward slave had struck up an unlikely alliance while Dromo was guarding some scrolls Faustus had “borrowed” from his uncle and Katutis was transcribing the transaction history of Faustus’ inheritance.
    â€œTiberius is such a nice man,” said Julia, apparently to me, though she was aiming the compliment at him. “But have you noticed him slyly getting people to do things for him? He is very clever, Albia!”
    â€œRich boy,” I answered. Faustus smiled easily, unfazed by my sister’s outspokenness. Or even by mine. “So, gorgeous girlies, update me on my horrible wedding plans.”
    â€œLeave it to us. Just turn up and let it happen,” commanded Favonia sternly. I told you she was practical.
    â€œYou will enjoy it, you will, you will!” Julia pleaded, desperate for me to do so.
    I snorted that I was taking an interest and that I had myself arranged the augury. Like Faustus, they shrieked about duplication. I described the victimarii, laying it on thick. Wide-eyed, they backed down. They even wanted to be taken along to Costus’ office to inspect the heavenly hunks right now . I vetoed that.
    Instead, Favonia ran out to Katutis, returning with a set of note tablets from which she and Julia read aloud selected