'What better advertisement at the last moment than for me to be seen sombrely performing my duties as augur for the whole Forum to witness? I shall certainly look more respectable than all those candidates bullying and begging the mob for votes.' He smiled shrewdly.
'Rufus!' I laughed. 'You're a new stripe of politician, I think. Idealism as pragmatism; attention to duty and virtue rather than violence and outright bribery as the means to win an election. A quaint idea, but it just might work.'
'Gordianus, you're hopelessly cynical.'
'And you, Rufus, are still admirably full of hope and virtue.'
He smiled. 'But now I really must change into my augur's robes. Oh, and I may have a surprise for you and for Meto later in the day. But well talk about it then.' I summoned one of Eco's slaves to show Rufus to a private room; his own small retinue of slaves, carrying his robes and augur's wand, followed behind.
I looked about, momentarily at sea amid the bobbing heads. Then, nearby and above the murmur of the crowd, I heard a familiar woman's voice speaking.a familiar name: 'Ah, then you must have known my late cousin, Lucius Claudius. Yes, a jolly man with hair as red as that of the handsome young man who just paraded through the room, but with a figure more like mine, I'm sorry to say. Yes, well, I inherited Lucius's house up on the Palatine, a huge, sprawling, wonderful old place, but far too big and fancy for my humble needs, though I'm told I can get a good income from it if I can find a renter who's rich enough to afford it, and if I’ll do a bit of investing to pretty the place up, though my cousins think I should keep the house empty as a place for all of us to stay here in the city, but that means keeping at least a partial staff of full-time slaves in the place even when it's unoccupied, and I don't hear any of my cousins volunteering to feed them… Oh, but look, here he is, our host and my own dear neighbour. Gordianus, all happiness and pride to you on your dear son's birthday!'
'Claudia,' I said, taking her proffered hand and kissing her rouged cheek. I would hardly have recognized her had I not heard her voice, for instead of the common, rather mannish country dress she wore on her farm, she was draped in an exquisite purple stola, the dark draperies of which elegantly accommodated the generous contours of her body. Her wispy hair had been rinsed with henna to give it a darker shade and arranged atop her head in a pillar so high that it must have grazed the door frame when she entered. Nor did she seem her usual relaxed self, but was exuberant to the point of bubbling over. She had been talking to a city neighbour of ours, a mousy little woman who had taken a friendly interest in Meto and Diana over the years and who had met Lucius Claudius a few times when he had come to visit. The little woman seemed completely overawed by Claudia's presence, and looked more relieved than offended when Claudia abruptly turned to me and thus gave her a chance to quietly escape.
'Gordianus, I never expected such splendid trappings. The food is superb — but not Congrio's cooking, I think. Your son Eco's cook, or some slave he's brought in especially for the occasion, am I right? Yes, I can usually tell one cook's touch from another; my palate is quite sensitive that way. And Meto looks so handsome in his toga! Though I notice that he does seem to have a bit of trouble keeping it properly draped over his left arm — there, you see how it's slipped down and he keeps tugging it up with his right hand and shrugging his left shoulder. But he’ll get the hang of it, I'm sure. Oh, thank you for letting me come, though I can hardly claim to be family or even an old friend. Perhaps you can think of me as representing dear old Lucius, who wouldn't have missed this event for anything.'
'Lucius and I sat together and sipped wine many times in this very garden,' I said.
'Charming, charming,' said Claudia absently. 'Of course I shouldn't be here at all. I'm leaving Rome for the farm this afternoon, and given the congestion on the roads—'
'Leaving Rome? I thought you planned to spend the whole month of Quinctilis here in the city, refurbishing Lucius's town house.'
'Ah, that's just it. I find myself more confused than ever over what I want to do with the property. I'm at such an impasse that I think the only thing to do is go straight back to the farm and collect my wits before trying to come to a decision. Yes, I know, I’ll miss the excitement of the election tomorrow, but thank Jupiter for that! I'm a woman and the family doesn't need me for voting, anyway. Besides, I've had more than enough of the city already. The idea of spending a whole month here — well, you can see how deranged it makes me. I feel like a complete impostor all made up like this; I'd feel much more comfortable in an old sack, and I get so rattled I can't stop talking…'
She suddenly laughed and took a deep breath. 'Well, you're seeing proof of that! And quite frankly, I've had more than enough of my cousin Manius and his shrill wife. They're the ones who have the property north of you but spend most of their time, here in Rome. They insist on dropping by to see me every day and inviting me to their house every night, and I've had enough. Their cook is a disaster, to begin with, and their politics are too conservative even for me. You can imagine all the ranting and raving in such a household, what with the elections going on.'
Claudia lowered her voice and brought her face close to mine. 'But my stay with Manius has borne at least some good fruit, dear Gordianus, and it has to do with you. In fact, that's why I stayed in Rome until now, and today came here first instead of heading straight home to Etruria, Gordianus, promise that you won't be angry, but I took the liberty of bringing cousin Manius with me today. Presumptuous of me, I know, but the opportunity seemed just right and I said to myself) "Do it!" So I did And I think it will all be for the best. There he is — Manius! Yes, cousin, come and meet our host.'
She was calling to someone over my shoulder. When I turned around, whom should I see but the greybeard who had been pilfering stuffed grape leaves and honeyed dates! No wonder my imperfect recollection of him had made me uneasy; he had been present in the court when Cicero had defended my inheritance from Lucius Claudius, though he was so nondescript that his face had made little impression on me. I remembered him now, and I also remembered the comments about me that Congrio's assistant had overheard him make at Claudia's family gathering: 'Stupid nobody with no ancestors, who should be put in a cage and carted back to Rome!' What was such a man doing in our house on Meto's toga day? Claudia was mad to have brought him with her. Had I been a superstitious sort like Rufus, I would have found his presence an ill omen indeed.
Claudia seemed to read my thoughts. As Manius approached, she gripped my elbow and spoke in my ear. 'Now, Gordianus, it serves no one's interests to have bad blood between our families. Manius resented your good fortune and has spoken ill of you in the past, as have all my cousins, but he and I have had many a conversation on the subject during my stay in Rome and I think I've convinced him to make peace. That's why he's here. You will be hospitable, won't you?'
I was given little choice, for the next moment the man was standing before me, with a sour expression on his face and his eyes averted 'So you're Gordianus,' he said, finally looking up. 'My cousin Claudia seems to drink we should be friends.' He made the word drip with sarcasm.
'Now, Manius,' cautioned Claudia, smiling apprehensively.
I took a deep breath. ‘Friend is an exalted word, Manius Claudius, not to be bestowed lightly. I was a friend of your late cousin Lucius, and of that I'm very proud. By his will, you and I are now neighbours, if not friends; yet it seems to me that neighbours can at least strive for harmony and the common good. And since we are neighbours—'
'Only through a legal accident and a lapse in my late cousin Lucius's good judgment, not to say good taste,' said Manius sourly.
I bit my tongue for several heartbeats. 'Claudia, I thought you said—'
'Yes, I did, Gordianus, and I don't understand,' said Claudia through gritted teeth. 'Manius, before we left the house this morning I thought it was agreed—'
'All that I agreed to, Claudia, was that I would come to this house, behave in a civil manner, and see for myself whether or not I found the family of Gordianus to be respectable, charming and, to use your words, "entirely the sort of people one would desire for neighbours". Well, I have come, Claudia. I have behaved with the same decorum as if I were in my own home. And I have failed to be charmed. Indeed, quite the opposite; my very worst suspicions of these people have been confirmed.'
'Oh, dear,' said Claudia quiedy, putting her fingers to her lips.
'I have been conversing with some of the other guests,' Manius went on. "There are far too many people here of the radical, populist, rabble-rousing sort. But then, there are too many people of that sort everywhere in Rome, for my taste. I won't deny that there are a handful of respectable people here, even some fellow patricians, though what they should be doing in such a house and at such a gathering escapes me. The standards of those with whom one does and does not mix have fallen considerably since I was young. Collapsed altogether, I should say.'
'Manius, stop!' gasped Claudia.
But Manius did not stop. 'As I was saying, I have conversed with others here, and discovered just what sort of family inhabits this house and now resides on Lucius's farm. Last year I took no particular interest in investigating the nature of our opposition when Lucius's estate was being settled. I didn't care what sort of person this Gordianus was, only that he be stopped from absconding with a share of the family's inheritance. I did know that he was a plebeian with no ancestors to speak of and engaged in some sort of shady enterprise or other, but I had no idea what sort of family he had spawned. A most irregular family indeed! Of his own parentage, no one seems to know a thing, which says a great deal in itself. His wife is not Roman at all, but half Egyptian and half Jew, and was once upon a time his slave and concubine! Their elder son, the one who now lives in this house, was born Roman, apparently, but not to Gordianus and his slave woman; this Eco — such a preposterous and uncouth name! — was an abandoned beggar boy adopted off the streets. As for the lad whose birthday and corning of age is being celebrated today, it appears he was born a slave down in Baiae, probably of Greek origin. A slave! And now look at him, standing over there in his toga. In the days of our grandparents, the great days of the Republic, such a desecration would have been utterly unthinkable. No wonder the boy can't seem to make the toga sit correctly on his shoulders!'
I listened to this tirade at first speechless, then with burning ears, then with my fists tightly clenched to keep them from flying through the air. At some point Claudia, her gaze nervously flitting from Manius to me, timidly laid her hand on my elbow. Her gentle restraint was unnecessary, for I had no intention of resorting to violence in my own home and spoiling the harmony of Meto's celebration. Instead I kept my hands at my sides and let the fury boil inside me while Manius continued.
'Last and least there is a daughter, I understand, born free and apparently of both parents. A Roman girl, legally, and no doubt she will someday marry into a Roman house — bringing the Egyptian and Jewish blood of her slave-born mother with her. Is it any wonder the Republic is collapsing into chaos at such a swift rate? Who stands up for me Roman family and the values it once aspired to? Even a fine Claudian like our cousin Lucius was apparently taken in — to use your word, Claudia, "charmed" — by all this barnyard decadence, but then, Lucius was always eccentric. I suppose that's your excuse as well, Claudia — eccentricity. If you find such an association congenial, then you're welcome to it, but please keep it to yourself. I came here today as an act of goodwill, and as a favour to you, Claudia, but I see now that I was gravely mistaken. I allowed soft words from a woman to weaken my resolve and taint my judgment. My time here has been completely wasted.'
An instant later he would have turned on his heel and departed in smug triumph, leaving me gasping with anger and facing no choice but to swallow my fury or run after him and make a spectacle of myself before our guests. But sometimes, in such moments, Nemesis takes a hand and makes fools of those who deserve it.
'Oh, your visit hasn't been a complete waste, surely,' I said, not even knowing yet what I meant. The menace in my voice must have alerted Manius, for he stepped back, but not quickly enough. From the comer of his eye he must have glimpsed the upward flicking movement of my hand; he raised his arms to deflect a blow that never landed, for I made no attempt to strike his face or his vulnerable middle. Instead, without conscious intention, I aimed for that place where earlier I had seen his hand disappear into his toga while he pilfered delicacies from the tables. I slapped at a hard, bulging spot hidden within the hanging folds. Manius grunted in alarm Claudia's hands went to her mouth and she uttered a little shriek, just loud enough to turn the heads of a small circle around us. An instant later, the little cloth bag that had been hidden beneath Manius's toga, tied to his waist, fell at his feet and burst open at the seams. Honeyed dates, stuffed grape leaves, roasted nuts, and sesame cakes spilled onto the ground as if from a cornucopia.
Claudia, who before had shrieked with alarm, now shrieked with laughter, as did not a few of the women gathered around, and there was plentiful laughter in the lower registers as well. Manius Claudius turned so red that I thought he might burst open like the sack at his feet, and his whole body seemed to twitch, as if he desperately wanted to bolt from the garden but was rooted to the spot. He fixed me with a smouldering stare and at last managed to raise his arm and make an inchoate gesture in the air, accompanied by a sputtering, incoherent curse. He spun around and might have exited with some of his dignity intact had not his stamping foot landed on a honeyed date. The slippery misstep sent him sprawling quite as effectively as if I had planted the kick I longed to deliver on his backside. He did not fall — not quite — but his awkward, bumbling withdrawal left him without a foot to stand on, metaphorically at least. He did not grace us with another look at his face, but I could see that his ears were bright scarlet. I could easily imagine streams of smoke pouring from his nostrils.
I began to laugh, so hard that when Eco and Meto rushed to my side, thinking I was choking, it was impossible for me to explain what had transpired. I laughed so hard I wept, and all the bitterness and anger than Manius had stirred up inside me became as sweet as honey.
When at last I managed to catch my breath and wipe the tears from my eyes, I saw that Claudia had vanished, with less fanfare than her cousin but probably with no less embarrassment. Poor Claudia, I thought, you meant well, but all your efforts to make peace between our families have come to naught.
XVIII
I was not allowed either to brood or gloat over the incident with Manius Claudius, for the party continued and the demands on the paterfamilias went on. I greeted, charmed, said farewells. Eventually, after a few embarrassing lapses, I insisted that Eco stay close by my side, as if I were a politician in the Forum and he were my nomenclator, whispering in my ear the names I couldn't quite remember. The number of people one has met after living continuously for more than twenty years in a city like Rome is staggering. A profession such as mine had brought me into intimate contact with an ever-expanding circle of well-connected clients, and Eco had carried on my work. The remarkable thing was how respectable we seemed to have become. I could remember a time when orators and advocates would never deign to enter my house or invite me into theirs; they dealt with me through their slaves instead. But perseverance and prosperity lend credibility, and over the years I suppose any line of endeavour can become respectable so long as it succeeds and survives, and especially if it brings profit to the right class of people.
My feet began to ache from so much standing. I ate far too much for the middle of a hot summer day, and I drank too much wine (because my throat was dry from so much talking — at least that was my excuse). And yet, altogether, I was elated. I felt light as a feather. I was at the party, and yet I also observed the party, detached and amused, like a visitor from Olympus. It was the wine, I told myself or the succession of flattering accolades bestowed on myself and on Meto, or the lingering glow of Manius Claudius's humiliation — it was these things, I told myself, that accounted for my mood, which became happier and happier as the day progressed. It had nothing to do with the simple fact of being back in Rome, of feeling myself at the very centre of the greatest concentration of humanity in the world, of sensing all around me the power and passion of those who live, love, connive, suffer, triumph, and the every day in such a mad place. I no longer loved Rome, I told myself; we had been lovers once, but that was over now, once and for all. I might return to her from time to time, but merely as a visitor, free of the torrid, squalid, jubilant memory of our tumultuous marriage. I loved Rome no longer, I told myself, and almost believed it.
No moment of all the moments in that day was more purely joyous than the one in which a certain booming laugh struck my ears and stirred my memory to instant recognition. I looked up from whatever superficial conversation I was engaged in and searched for the source of the laughter, but in the crowd I could not discern the face I looked for. Then I heard the same laugh close at hand and turned to see Meto being squeezed in the bearish grip of a broadly smiling, stoutly muscled man with a thick beard all black and white like variegated marble. Behind the bearish man stood another figure in a toga, a strikingly handsome younger man with an enigmatic smile on his lips, like a Greek statue in Roman dress.
At last the man released Meto, who caught his breath and dazedly tried to straighten the folds of his toga. Meto felt my gaze and returned it with a strange expression on his face. 'Papa,' he called, with an odd quaver in his voice, 'look who's here!'
'As usual, I heard you before I saw you!' I said, laughing and striding towards the newcomer. I braced myself for the ironlike hug of my old friend Marcus Mummius.
It was Mummius who had defied the will of Marcus Crassus, sought out Meto in Sicily and saved him from a life of slavery chasing after crows in a dusty field. Mummius had delivered Meto to this house on the very day that Diana was born. In my heart he would always have a special place.
Meto had not been the only one of Crassus's slaves whom Mummius had made a special endeavour to save. Behind him now stood Apollonius, whom Crassus had sold to a cruel Egyptian master. Mummius had sailed across the inland sea to rescue the slave, had brought him back to Rome and had ultimately set him free. Apollonius remained in Mummius's household as his freedman and constant companion. How Crassus had despised the passion that had driven his lieutenant to care so deeply for the fate of a mere slave! That discord had been the wedge that drove Crassus and Mummius further and further apart until Mummius at last switched his allegiance to Pompey — which was just as well, for only in the service of Pompey, scourge of the sea pirates and conqueror of the East, could a military man like Mummius exercise his true genius.
'Marcus!' I cried. 'And Apollonius! How good to see you both, especially on this of all days. But what a surprise! I should have thought you were still in the East with Pompey.'
'What, with no more fighting to be done?' said Mummius. 'Mithridates is finished, the lesser kingdoms have been brought under Roman control — there's nothing left to do but make political settlements. Playing Jupiter, I call it, moving petty princes about like knucklebones on a playing board. Pompey loves that sort of work, but you know I haven't the patience for it. It's taking an army into battle that I'm good at, though I think I must be getting too old and slow to be a soldier much longer, unless that's how I want to die. Here, just look at this!'
Without hesitation he hoisted up his purple-bordered senator's toga to show his burly thighs. Since the wearing of a toga entails the absence of any sort of underclothes that might constrict the private parts — a man could hardly tend to the call of nature with his left arm draped, all the folds of a toga to contend with, and a loincloth as well — Mummius was dangerously near to exposing himself. As I recalled, there was quite a bit of him to be exposed. I looked about a little nervously and gestured with my hands as if I were putting out a fire, but one might as well try to stop a bear from scratching its stomach as try to stop Marcus Mummius from showing off a war wound. Fortunately the only woman who happened to be passing by was Bethesda, heading towards the kitchen with an officious air. At the spectacle of Mummius showing off his burly legs, she paused, cocked her head, and cast a cool, calculating stare as if she were passing judgment on a purchase at the butcher's market.
'Here, see this one!' Mummius pointed to a long, thin scar that ran from the pale flesh of his upper thigh down to the region of his knee, where the skin was tanned as dark as an Egyptian's. Amid the furlike covering of hair, the pink, denuded strip of flesh stood out vividly. Mummius flexed the muscles beneath and made the long scar writhe like a snake. He seemed to find this uproariously amusing, to judge by his raucous laughter. I glanced over his shoulder at Apollonius, who rolled his eyes but smiled indulgently. No doubt he had witnessed the scene many times before.
'Battle of the Abas River!' Muroinius declared, dropping the hem of his toga. 'And I was a fool to let it happen. I was on horseback and the Albanian was on foot, wearing nothing but a bearskin and rushing at me with his sword drawn, screaming at the top of his lungs. I saw him coming — had plenty of time to knock him flat with the blunt end of my spear, or else impale him on the point, or draw my sword and parry his blows, r osimply give my horse a good kick to get out of his way. The problem was, I had too much time to think — couldn't settle on one choice or the other. Should have been pure reflex, but on that day I found out that my reflexes are as dead as Carthage. Found out the hard way. Oh, the burning when that blade broke the flesh and then tore straight down! I was the one screaming then.'
'What did you do?' said Meto, who had always loved soldiers' tales.
'Where before I had done nothing, now I did everything at once! Banged the fellow's helmet with the blunt end of my spear, whipped it around and stabbed him in the chest with the point, unsheathed my sword with my other hand and slashed his throat, then gave my horse a hard kick and headed straight into the enemy ranks! It all happened in the blink of an eye.'