taking them from the equites and giving them back to the Senators. Seemed a safe enough speech at the time. Sulla was dictator, after all. When I left the Curia a mob of equites chased me through the streets until I got to my house and barred the gate; then they burned my house down. I escaped over the back wall and fled to Capua until things died down." This, I thought, was before he had reached his present girth.
"Those were exciting times," said Catulus nostalgically. There followed some vintage gossip about the proscriptions and who had whom killed for what advantage. The wine flowed and tongues grew loose.
"What's to be done about Antonius Hibrida, Consul?" Afranius asked. Hibrida was Proconsul in Macedonia, where he had suffered some shattering defeats.
"I intend to press for his prosecution upon his return to Rome," Calpurnianus said.
"Odd, Pompey doesn't have his tame tribunes agitating for him to be given Hibrida's command," Catulus said.
"That isn't Pompey's style," I interjected. "Pompey waits until the war is almost over and then demands the command after someone else has done all the fighting. He did it in Spain, and in Asia and Africa. He's not about to go salvage a situation where Romans have been repeatedly defeated."
"Well, I think that Pompey is a great man!" said Catullus the poet.
"You poets are always enthralled by adventurers who pose as gods," said Afranius. "They're all just men, and Pompey's not as much a man as some I know."
"Mucia didn't think so, anyway," said Capito. Now Catullus's face grew as red as Nero's had been. This was an indirect gibe at his infatuation with Clodia. It was widely known that Pompey had divorced Mucia because she had slept with Caesar. This did not prevent Pompey and Caesar from being allies. Politics is politics, and marriage, well, marriage is politics, too.
"I think you are all jealous of his fame," said the poet with some acuity.
"Deserving or not," said Calpurnianus, "it will be a show such as Rome has never seen before. I've been out to visit his camp and he's got a hundred elephants out there, with mahouts drilling them to perform tricks throughout the procession. He has a legion fully armed just to guard his treasure."
This got my attention. "I thought he disbanded his troops when he reached Italy."
"He petitioned to keep this lot under arms until his triumph," Calpurnianus said. "They've been out there practicing for so long that they'll be ready to celebrate the triumph within a few days of the Senate's granting permission."
"I hear that he's celebrating three triumphs at once," said young Nero. "The war with the pirates, the war in Africa and the one in Asia."
A slave came in and whispered something to Capito, and our host rose from the couch. "I must go and speak with someone in the atrium. Please continue to enjoy yourselves. I shall return within a few minutes." He left as his slaves began to set plates of sweet pastries before us.
"Pontifex," said young Nero very respectfully, "everyone is talking about the rites of Bona Dea, to take place tomorrow night. I am a bit confused. Just who is Bona Dea?" By "everyone" I presumed he meant Clodius. We all turned to hear Catulus.
"That is a touchy question," Catulus admitted. "We pontifexes are supposed to know all about our native religious practice, but the Good Goddess is rather mysterious. Some identify her with our old Italian goddess Ceres, whom the Greeks call Demeter; others say she is of Asian origin."
"We've always expelled foreign mystery cults," Afranius said.
"That's what makes it touchy," said Catulus. "The college of pontifexes has always been hostile to such practice, but since men are forbidden to ask about this rite, and women are forbidden to speak of it, we don't even know if it's foreign or native."
In the midst of this learned discourse, Hermes leaned forward to fill my cup. As he did, he whispered in my ear: "Don't eat the pastry." I was long experienced at intrigue and
"Those were exciting times," said Catulus nostalgically. There followed some vintage gossip about the proscriptions and who had whom killed for what advantage. The wine flowed and tongues grew loose.
"What's to be done about Antonius Hibrida, Consul?" Afranius asked. Hibrida was Proconsul in Macedonia, where he had suffered some shattering defeats.
"I intend to press for his prosecution upon his return to Rome," Calpurnianus said.
"Odd, Pompey doesn't have his tame tribunes agitating for him to be given Hibrida's command," Catulus said.
"That isn't Pompey's style," I interjected. "Pompey waits until the war is almost over and then demands the command after someone else has done all the fighting. He did it in Spain, and in Asia and Africa. He's not about to go salvage a situation where Romans have been repeatedly defeated."
"Well, I think that Pompey is a great man!" said Catullus the poet.
"You poets are always enthralled by adventurers who pose as gods," said Afranius. "They're all just men, and Pompey's not as much a man as some I know."
"Mucia didn't think so, anyway," said Capito. Now Catullus's face grew as red as Nero's had been. This was an indirect gibe at his infatuation with Clodia. It was widely known that Pompey had divorced Mucia because she had slept with Caesar. This did not prevent Pompey and Caesar from being allies. Politics is politics, and marriage, well, marriage is politics, too.
"I think you are all jealous of his fame," said the poet with some acuity.
"Deserving or not," said Calpurnianus, "it will be a show such as Rome has never seen before. I've been out to visit his camp and he's got a hundred elephants out there, with mahouts drilling them to perform tricks throughout the procession. He has a legion fully armed just to guard his treasure."
This got my attention. "I thought he disbanded his troops when he reached Italy."
"He petitioned to keep this lot under arms until his triumph," Calpurnianus said. "They've been out there practicing for so long that they'll be ready to celebrate the triumph within a few days of the Senate's granting permission."
"I hear that he's celebrating three triumphs at once," said young Nero. "The war with the pirates, the war in Africa and the one in Asia."
A slave came in and whispered something to Capito, and our host rose from the couch. "I must go and speak with someone in the atrium. Please continue to enjoy yourselves. I shall return within a few minutes." He left as his slaves began to set plates of sweet pastries before us.
"Pontifex," said young Nero very respectfully, "everyone is talking about the rites of Bona Dea, to take place tomorrow night. I am a bit confused. Just who is Bona Dea?" By "everyone" I presumed he meant Clodius. We all turned to hear Catulus.
"That is a touchy question," Catulus admitted. "We pontifexes are supposed to know all about our native religious practice, but the Good Goddess is rather mysterious. Some identify her with our old Italian goddess Ceres, whom the Greeks call Demeter; others say she is of Asian origin."
"We've always expelled foreign mystery cults," Afranius said.
"That's what makes it touchy," said Catulus. "The college of pontifexes has always been hostile to such practice, but since men are forbidden to ask about this rite, and women are forbidden to speak of it, we don't even know if it's foreign or native."
In the midst of this learned discourse, Hermes leaned forward to fill my cup. As he did, he whispered in my ear: "Don't eat the pastry." I was long experienced at intrigue and
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