Purple columbine, amaryllis,
lilac cyclamen, yellow chrysanthemum,
a single white orchid twisted with ivy,
all were wrapped in luxurious,
ultra-soft sheets of perfumed cream papyrus,
delivered at dawn courtesy
of the door-to-door service
of Wild @ Heart, the trendy ‘flower boutique’
on Cannon Street, and, in bold italics,
a parchment note, each time, a word: Anon.
And on the fourteenth day,
a spray of three hundred exquisitae red rosae
(the girls and I counted each and every one),
it was pay-back time.
Oh, make me suffer!
Attached, the ancient Sappho poem:
If Jove would give the leafy bowers
A queen for all this world of flowers,
The rose would be the choice of Jove
And blush the queen of every grove …
It was simple enough to track me down,
one inquiry would quickly yield
at the amphitheatre that afternoon.
Tranio arched a mischievous plucked eyebrow
as he handed over the bouquets
as if he and I were co-conspirators.
Wishful thinking, buster. This was my secret.
I’d convinced Felix years ago
that Tranio needed a wife, that as he wasn’t exactly
mâitre d’ of the Londinium Charm School,
he would live a happier, longer life,
everyone knew bachelors and widowers
did not last as long as their married
counterparts. I picked my moment.
Felix lay by my side, catching his breath,
oozing satisfaction, his sleepy member
curled up like a giant slug, still dribbling.
‘Does he need one, do you think?’
he replied, the very idea clearly new to him.
‘But of course,’ I purred, wrapping
a firm warm leg around his flubbery waist,
and stroking his dazed, soggy gastropod.
‘Everyone needs a one and only.’
I got the go-ahead, drew up a job description
and person spec, sent it to the Sales Manager
at the House of Venalicius plc –
They replied by return of messenger
(the des res postcode of EC4 did not go amiss,
methinks), with a list of potential candidates
and quote for services rendered:
20% commission of the total cost of,
to be paid upon delivery. I made several trips
with Tranio to Queen’s Wharf
to size up the latest consignments
from all over the empire, as well as native stock.
As they stood on the auction block,
I selected a short list. In no particular order,
my criteria: Beauty. Age. Dispositio.
Curriculum Vitae. References.
I marked them on a scale of one to ten and Mucia
won hands down with a score of 44 out of 50.
Beauty 8
Age 7
Dispositio 9
CV 10
References 10
Total 44
A robust, chubby all-rounder with a ready smile
and transferable skills, she had been a cook,
At twenty, she was pretty enough
to give a middle-aged man palpitations
when stripped to loincloth and brassiere
(Tranio perspired heavily), yet old enough
to handle the oft-displayed fascista tendencies
of our little enslaved dictator.
Stunted reproductions followed soon after:
a girl who still rolled about on her belly,
and a boy already strutting about the villa
on two short legs – rather like his father.
The mutually enamoured couple
could be heard after hours indulging
in horseplay in their whitewashed,
three-roomed bungalow which adjoined
the main house at the back,
built as a fabulous wedding present from –
Felix the Liberalis and I Want the World to See It.
Tranio would, of course,
henceforth be for ever in my debt.
It was collateral, should I ever need it.