Arena by John Jakes

intricate inlaid combs. Rings and chains and brooches of onyx and sard and amethyst and agate winked on her fingers, arms and breasts. She’d been well rewarded for her night’s work, the traces of which still reddened her face to a deep hue.
    She saw me staring at her flushed, roughened cheeks. A sapphire on her hand mockingly blazed back the light of the false dawn as she hid one cheek.
    “Cassius, I would have come out sooner —”
    “Except that what you told me at the school was a lie. A lie to amuse your friends,” I finished.
    “I beg you, Cassius, listen a moment. Let me tell you why —”
    I struck her full in the face.
    She fell back, gasping. “I know why, Acte. Because you’re a whore, and whores give out false words as easily and cheaply as they give their bodies.”
    Suddenly Syrax bolted from the brothel doorway. He rubbed his eyes furiously. He spotted the wounded Serenus, who was staring into the street, hunting for signs of the watch. Instantly Syrax turned pale. He pushed Acte aside, hissing in my ear, “I drowse off a while and what happens?
    You brainless lout, do you know the identity of that wounded man? Annaeus Serenus himself, Prefect of the Vigiles.”
    “And so? His friends, the fine, noble gentlemen visiting this sweet and pure lady attacked the old man.”
    “Ah, gods, how I wish I’d stayed awake!” For the first time Syrax looked unsure of himself.
    “You didn’t — lay hands on them? Or anything so rash as that?”
    “What if I did? I struck one snot-cheeked boy who started the baiting.”
    “Brainless clod!” Syrax practically screamed. “That snot-cheeked boy was the Emperor!”
    “TheEmperor! ”
    The word boiled my guts with fear. Now I recollected exactly why his weak and pudgy-lipped countenance had seemed so familiar. I had gazed on it many times before, struck into the metal of Imperial coins.
    “I wanted to come out to you, Cassius,” Acte was saying. “But the Imperator wanted his nightly revel and —”
    “And whether he’s a beast or not, you flatter him with lies, the same way you did me.”
    “Cassius, what I said at the school —”
    “Never mind!” I shouted. “The cur won’t trouble you again.”
    Page 20

    A hand closed on my forearm. Serenus stood there, weaving. His skin was pale, and the greasy swathe of blood on his cloak shone in the day’s brightening gleam. He indicated the gate.
    “Stranger, whoever you are, you seem to have your wits about you.” His deep voice was broken by pained breaths. “I am Serenus, as that man told you. We have only a few moment’s grace. The watch turned off to chase some of the Emperor’s friends. Futile. They’ll be down on us next. It would be highly embarrassing for their commander to be caught disturbing the peace. Help me out through the rear gate. I’m not sure I can walk alone. I’ll pay well.”
    In a sense I felt responsible for his injury. But I hedged. “My friend and I must return to —”
    I stopped. There was little point in worrying about Syrax. He had put the salvation of his own hide uppermost, and melted out of sight. I noted the narrow purple stripe of Serenus’ toga, just visible beneath an opening in his cloak. I might as well reap some sort of profit from this dismal night, like everyone else.
    “All right, I’ll help you. Lean on me and direct me to the gate.”
    Drawing breaths with difficulty, Serenus supported himself on my shoulder. We started toward the rear of the building. Sulla himself, a fat, bald eunuch, was herding his girls back inside. Even the doorkeeper had crawled off to hide. Feet hammered in the street, converging from several directions.
    At the building’s corner, Serenus stumbled, cried out and nearly fell. Catching him, I happened to turn in such a way that the courtyard was still in plain view. In its center stood Acte, watching us.
    The grayish light rippled and shone on the gems she’d won for her night’s work. “I meant what I told you,