Chapter 4

When Corvus returned to his room, Clover was dressed, taking clothes from a wicker basket and hanging them in the closet. He sat on a couch and watched her until she noticed him. When she did, she gave a startled, little gasp and put a hand in the center of her chest. "Oh, forgive me. I didn't hear you come in."

Corvus smiled. "No matter. I was enjoying watching you. You might be even more beautiful when you don't know anyone's watching."

Clover blushed and lowered her head. "Thank you, Corvus. How may I serve?"

Just hearing those words could turn him on now, but if he let himself be distracted, he would only prove his mother right. "I need to see a tailor tomorrow."

Clover smiled. "Of course. Will your father's tailor do?"

Corvus didn't consider himself particularly fashion-aware, but he knew that his father's style of dress was ultraconservative and very martial. "No ... find me someone known for dressing patricians my age."

"Of course." Clover stepped out of the room. A minute later, Corvus heard an odd electronic screech and the sound of static.

He stepped into the antechamber. "What's that sound?"

Clover wrinkled her nose. "It's the modem. It connects my computer to other computers over the phone line. I'm dialing into one that runs a bulletin board where we talk about what's going on in the capital. I can ask there who the hot tailors are now."

Corvus came around behind her. He hadn't really paid much attention to the computers around the estate, mentally placing them in the same category as a dishwasher or a riding lawnmower - things that made the slaves lives easier, but were of no interest to him. Now, he leaned forward to see glowing green letters on a black screen. "This can tell you who the hot tailors are?"

"Other slaves will tell me. They're usually very helpful." Clover's fingers flew over the keyboard and text scrolled by too fast to read. When it slowed, she typed in, "Hey, guys. I need a tailor - one who knows how to dress young patrician men (late teens.) Only the best will do."

Within a few seconds, the same came up three times - Natta Manilus. Clover smiled and typed, "Great. Anyone have his contact info?"

On the screen, someone called Doug14 replied, indicating that he was in service to Natta Manilus. After a brief exchange of information, an appointment was arranged.

"Just like that?" Corvus asked. Clover nodded and he wondered if a knowledge of computers might help him in his career, but then remembered he would be a senator soon. His assistants might need to know these things, but he wouldn't. Still, he said, "Very cool."

Clover smiled broadly. "Thank you, Corvus. How else may I serve?"

Corvus stepped back and beckoned. "Let's go inside. I have something I need your advice on."

Clover followed him through his rooms and out to the balcony overlooking the wine-dark ocean, a full moon reflected in the surf. Corvus sat down, enjoying the view. "What do you know about Mariko?"

"The girl your father brought home with him from Europe?" Clover knelt at his side. "She seems nice."

Corvus reached over and stroked her hair. "My mother is afraid I'm becoming besotted with you and need to sleep with some of the other slaves."

"Of course," said Clover without even a tremor. "Should I ask one of them to join us?"

"She suggested Mariko," Corvus said.

"Oh." Now, there was a warble of uncertainty in her voice. "Well, if she thinks that's best..."

"She said it was a recommendation. Is there a reason it's not a good idea?"

Clover didn't answer right away. Corvus looked over. "What is it?"

"It's only ... perhaps your mother didn't realize that General Gallicus has a ... special fondness for Mariko." Clover lowered her head. "He might prefer you choose another."

Corvus frowned. "Are you sure? I could have sworn he told me it was unseemly to develop a special fondness for any one particular slave."

"I know only what I hear," said Clover. "My understanding is that she was a gift from the governor of Londinium, that he kept her with him for the duration of the conquest of the Eternal City, and that she served in his rooms until..." She trailed off.

"Until my mother and I moved in," guessed Corvus. He received a faint nod of acknowledgement. "Yes, that does seem like someone my mother would want out of the way. Thank you, Clover. You may have saved me a good deal of awkwardness."

"Of course," said Clover. After a few seconds, she looked up. "May I suggest an alternative who may serve your tastes?"

Corvus looked down at her. "Yes. Of course."

"There is Rose, who serves in the gardens," said Clover. "We shared a room when we belonged to Senator Scribonius."

"You belonged to Senator Scribonius? Why did he sell you?"

"I wasn't told," said Clover. "I don't think he was specifically displeased with me. He sold a little over half of all his slaves at once."

Corvus stroked his chin. He'd met the old senator the same time he met Senator Petronius, but hadn't gotten much of an impression. "And ... you think this Rose would be to my tastes?"

Clover smiled. "Rose is petite, but has fuller breasts than I do. She is as pale as I am dark with strawberry-blonde hair and light blue eyes."

"She sounds very exotic," said Corvus. He'd grown up around New Romans who almost exclusively had black hair and dark skin and eyes. Clover's pale complexion was enough of a novelty by itself, but he'd never even met a blonde, blue-eyed girl before.

"Shall I fetch her?" Clover asked.

Corvus gave a faint shake of his head. "Tomorrow will be soon enough. But, tell me ... were all of Senator Scribonius's slaves named after plants?"

"Only the girls," said Clover. "He was very fond of his garden."

Corvus frowned again. "He ... named you?"

"Of course. We were his property. If my name did not suit you and your father agreed, you would be in with your rights to change it."

Corvus turned to look at her, wrapping his brain around the new idea. "Do you like your name, Clover?"

Clover looked up at him. "It is my name ... and the only one I've ever had. I was born into the senator's service."

Corvus noticed the faintest flicker of worry in Clover's eyes and cupped her cheek. "I like Clover too. It was only a thought."

He woke the next morning without Clover's familiar weight on the mattress next to him, but the soft sound of footfalls at the foot of his bed. When he opened his eyes, he saw a blonde woman with very pale skin. "You must be Rose."

Rose came and knelt by the side of his bed. "I am, sir."

"You're very lovely," said Corvus.

"Thank you, sir." Rose lowered her head. "How may I serve?"

Corvus went up on his elbows. "Where's Clover?"

That got a smile. "Only in the next room, selecting your clothes for day. Shall I fetch her?"

It was tempting, but a quick glance at the alarm clock told Corvus that his appointment with the tailor Natta Manilus was rapidly approaching. It had been a little tricky to arrange and Clover had only gotten it confirmed when she mentioned General Gallicus by name. "I imagine she'll be back shortly on her own. I need to get up and dressed and eat something before I head out for my day. I ... didn't mean to have Clover summon you so early. I should have been more specific."

"Yes, sir," said Rose. "If you like, I can return to my duties in the garden. Only ... I was hoping to be clean and perfumed when you were ready for me. It ... takes some time to get the dirt out from under my nails."

Behind her, Clover entered the room. When she saw the tableau, she stopped and waited.

"I ... may not be ready for you until some time after dinner," said Corvus.

Rose smiled up at him. "How may I serve?"

"You ... don't mind waiting for me?" Corvus asked. He did like the idea of her being clean and perfumed.

Her smile broadened. "I will wait. May Clover and I use your bath to prepare?"

"I ... don't see why not," said Corvus evenly. It wouldn't have occurred to him that they needed his permission.

"And, if we finish getting ready, may we wait for you together in your bed?" Rose went on.

"Rose..." Clover started to say, but Corvus was too entranced by the mental image she'd just given him to really register that. Quickly, he said, "Yes. That will be fine."

The image of the two slave girls waiting for him together in his bed was distracting enough to Corvus that he spent several minutes staring at a point in space about six inches from where Quadratus Ulpius sat on the facing back seat of the limousine before he remembered his mother's words. He spoke abruptly. "Centurion, I would ask a favor of you if you could see fit to grant it?"

The Centurion blinked once in surprise. "If you ask it I may ... citizen." The title seemed an abrupt afterthought and carefully neutral.

"My mother feels I need to learn the speech and deportment of a patrician and I am inclined to agree with her," said Corvus. "We thought you might be able to help with that?"

That got a small snort. "Me?"

"You are a patrician. Aren't you? I thought all officers were."

"I am," said the Centurion. "We are. But, there are a lot of different kinds of patrician. I haven't had comportment or diction lessons since I was sixteen and, truthfully, I didn't pay a lot of attention at the time."

"That still puts you ahead of me," said Corvus. "Plebeian comportment classes were one week out of each school year and basically amounted to 'Don't spit and don't throw rocks at girls.' At least, that's what I remember."

Quad gave him a sidelong glance. "Then I may have some small advantage of education. Still, any one of the other officers stationed in your father's house would be a better choice. I ... have not spent much time among patrician society. I've lived most of my adult life in Europe." For the first time, the man that Corvus had never seen be anything but stoic looked uncomfortable.

"So have all my father's other officers. Haven't they?" Corvus frowned.

"More or less, sir. But ... I have been told I am unusually uncouth, even among them. Education notwithstanding, you probably already know more about behaving like a patrician than I do."

"So, you won't help me?" Corvus didn't know why he was starting to enjoy seeing the soldier squirm.