”Bet his eyes are about to POP’“
”Hey, meretrix! Take a look at the barbarian. Could be a good prospect!” This latter was shouted to a nearby woman in a short tunic. She ogled the Palmyrene “boy” hopefully. Margo, oblivious, passed the whore without noticing. Malcolm winked at her. “Maybe later?” he said in Latin.
The woman laughed. “Cheap enough for you? Or expensive enough for him?”
Malcolm grinned. “You look good to me, but who knows what a Palmyrene likes? Sheep, maybe?”
She laughed and passed the joke on to another loitering whore nearby. Several Roman men also laughed, overhearing the exchange.
Margo, oblivious, trailed a wake of good-natured laughter at her expense. She found the Via Ostiensis without difficulty. But she was so busy gawking at the sights, she didn’t pay attention to the markings on the buildings when the Via Ostiensis apparently veered southwest. Margo committed the classic folly of taking the wrong fork in the road, wandering enthralled from one shop to the next. Malcolm, sweating under the weight of the luggage, let her walk all the way to the end of the Via Ardeatina. When Porta Ardeatina grew visible in the distance, she paused, then stared uncomprehendingly at her surroundings. She ended with a beseeching look at Malcolm.
”Where are we?”
He caught his breath. “You tell me.”
Margo widened pretty green eyes. “What? Don’t tell me were lost? I thought you knew Rome?”
”I do.. l know exactly where we are. We’re about a hundred yards from the Porta Ardeatina on the southern edge of Rome. Hell and gone, I might add, from the inn.”