Jovian shrugged. "I do what I must to avoid difficulty," he said. "This new church fights among itself as to what is correct and proper doctrine, and what is not. When they have settled it among themselves, perhaps I shall find my faith. Until then…"

"You will give lip service to it," she told him. "I know very little about the Christians, sir. I think, however, that I prefer my own gods: Danu, the mother, and Lugh, our father. They are represented by the earth and the sun. Then there is Macha, Epona, Sulis, Cernunnos, Dagda, Taranis, and my favorite, Nodens, the Goddess of the Forest. My mother particularly loved Nodens. The Christians, I am told, have but one god. It seems a poor religion to me that only has one god."

"You should learn about it, as you are to live in Constantinople," Jovian told her. "I will have a priest tutor you in the intricacies of the religion. We have several rather important clerics as clients."

"Am I to be a courtesan, then, sir?" Cailin asked him.

"Not immediately, my dear. You lack training, for one thing, and for another, I must be certain you are disease-free. The women who live in this house are healthy. I do not allow them to consort with men who are not. Some brothel owners are penurious when it comes to the health of their women. My brother and I are not. For a single solidus a good Greek physician can be purchased in the market. We own one who lives here and oversees to the health of all the residents of Villa Maxima."

"Then once he has decided that I am healthy," Cailin said, "you will have me trained to be a courtesan."

"Eventually," he answered. "Does it disturb you to know that you will be expected to entertain a variety of lovers, my dear?"

Cailin considered his words. In another time and another place, the mere thought of such a thing would have horrified her beyond anything, but this was not Britain. She was so far from home she could not even ascertain the distance. Her husband probably did believe her dead. Mayhap he had already taken another wife. Wulf. For a moment she saw his strong, handsome face before her, and tears sprang to her eyes. She quickly blinked them away. It would not be easy at first to take another man between her thighs, but she supposed in time she would grow used to it. "What future have I beyond my youth?" she asked Jovian.

For a moment surprise suffused his features, and then he said in admiring tones, "How wise you are, my dear, to consider the future. So many of them do not. They think they will be young and desirable forever. Of course, that is not the case. Well, I will tell you what that future can hold for you if you will trust me. Learn your lessons well, Cailin, and you will, I promise, attract the best lovers Constantinople has to offer to your bed.

"Learn more than just the sensuous arts, my dear. Many do not realize that to be truly fascinating a woman must be a clever and a knowledgeable conversationalist as well as a desirable female. Lovers will shower such a woman with expensive gifts, gold, jewelry, and other valuables. Eventually you will be able to purchase your freedom.

"At the beginning of each year we put a value upon each woman in our house. If during that year she decides she wishes to buy her freedom, there is no argument over price, for it is already set. Today I purchased you for four folles, but your value is already more now that your beauty is visible to all. You are worth at least ten sol-idi."

"How many folles is that, sir?" Cailin queried him.

"There are one hundred and eighty copper folles to each gold solidus. Eighteen hundred copper folles equals ten gold solidi, my dear," he said with a grin. "I am almost tempted to take you back now to that foolish slave merchant who allowed you to go so cheaply for want of a little water. No, I cannot. He will howl, and cry he's been cheated, despite the fact that I warned him. They are all alike, those people." He stood up. "Come, we will go and show my brother Phocas that I have not lost my ability to see a perfect gem beneath the mud in the road. Isis," he called to an attending slave. "You will accompany us." Then he turned back to Cailin. "You will address gentlemen who enter this house as 'my lord.' My brother, and myself, as well. 'Sir' is such a provincial mode of address, dear girl."

"Yes, my lord," Cailin answered him, following Jovian through the house to where Phocas sat awaiting them. When she was disrobed the elder of the Maxima brothers expressed his surprise at and his approval of her newly restored appearance. She stood silent as they spoke, until finally her garment was restored to her.

"Isis," her new master instructed the slave girl, "take Cailin to the quarters I have ordered prepared for her." When the two women had departed, Jovian turned to his brother, an excited look upon his face. "I have the most marvelous plans for that girl," he said. "She is going to make us a fortune, Phocas, and our old age will be secure!"

"No single courtesan, however well-trained," his elder brother answered, "can make us that much gold."

"This one will, and she will not have to personally entertain any of our clients. At least not for some time, brother dear," Jovian finished. Rubbing his hands together gleefully, he sat down next to Phocas.

They were a study in contrasts, these two brothers. Although they were of almost equal height, Phocas being slightly taller, no one who did not know them would have realized they were siblings, born of the same parents. Their father had been a courtier, their mother his mistress. Villa Maxima had been her home. Phocas favored the paternal side of his family. He was slender, with a long aristocratic face made up of a slim nose, narrow lips, and deep-set dark brown eyes. His hair was dark and straight, cut medium-short, and brushed away from the crown of his head. His clothing was expensive and simple. Phocas Maxima was the sort of man who could easily disappear amid a crowd. It was said by the women he owned that he was a lover of epic proportions who could make the most hardened courtesan weep with joy. His business acumen was admired citywide, and his generous works of charity kept him in favor with the church.

His younger brother, Jovian, was his opposite. Elegant, classically educated, a slave to fashion, he was considered one of the greatest wits of his time. He adored beautiful things: clothing, women, works of art, and particularly beautiful young men, of whom he kept several to see to his every need. His dark curls in careful and deliberate disarray, he was easily recognizable at the races, the games, the circus. The success of Villa Maxima was largely due to him, for although Phocas could keep the books and see to the budget needed to run the brothel, it was Jovian's wonderful imagination that set Villa Maxima above all the other expensive brothels in the city. Their late mother, a famous courtesan of her day, would have been enormously proud of them.

"What have you in mind?" Phocas asked him, his curiosity provoked by his brother's particularly excitable state regarding the girl, Cailin.

"Are we not famous the length and breadth of the empire for our entertainments?" Jovian said.

"Absolutely!" Phocas agreed.

"Our living tableaux have no equal. Am I correct?"

"You are correct, brother dear," Phocas answered.

"What if we took a living tableau a giant step further?" Jovian suggested. "What if, instead of a tableau, we staged a playlet of delicious depravity so decadent that all of Constantinople would want to view it- and would pay handsomely for the privilege. No one, brother dear, would be allowed to view this playlet at first but our regular clients. They, of course, would talk about it, intriguing their friends, and their friends' friends.

"Only those personally recommended by our clients would be permitted to enter here to view our little entertainment. Soon we would have so many requests for entry that we could charge whatever the traffic would bear, and thus make our fortunes. No one has ever before done anything such as I propose to you. Others will, naturally, copy us, but they will not be able to maintain the level of genius and imagination as we can. Cailin will be the centerpiece of the performance."

Phocas could fully appreciate his brother's plan. It was absolutely brilliant. "What will you call your playlet, and how will it be performed, Jovian?" he asked his sibling, fascinated.

" 'The Virgin and the Barbarians!' Is that not marvelous?" Jovian chortled, most pleased with himself and his cleverness. "The scene will open with our own little Cailin seated before a loom, modest and innocent in white, her hair unbound, weaving a tapestry. Suddenly the door to her chamber bursts open! Three magnificent naked barbarians enter, swords in hand, their intent quite plain. The frightened maiden leaps up, but alack! They are upon her, rending her garments asunder as she shrieks her protest! They violate her, and the curtain descends to the cheers of our audience."

"Boring," Phocas said dryly.

"Boring?" Jovian looked offended. "I cannot believe you would say such a thing to me. There is nothing boring about the scene I have described to you."

"Violation of a virgin is an ordinary topic of living tableau," Phocas answered, disappointed. "If that is all there is to it, Jovian, then it is boring."

"The gods!" Jovian exclaimed. "It is all so clear to me that I have not explained it in detail to you. Our virgin is violated by three barbarians, Phocas. Three!"

"Indeed were it one or three, it is boring," his brother repeated.

"All three of them at one time?" Jovian slyly elucidated.