back to the Palace.”
“I wanted to see more,” she said, “but perhaps we’d better.”
We thanked Amphytrion and returned to our litter. I tried to cover my odd mood with small talk, and soon Julia was chattering away about the stupendous collection of books in the Library, which was sufficient to make the whole city smell of papyrus. I promised to show her the Paneum the next day. I had been there before, and expected no unusual experiences as a result.
“Oh, by the way,” Julia said. “Amphytrion has invited us to a banquet to be given tomorrow evening in the Museum. It is an annual affair, in honor of the founding of the Museum.”
“Oh, no!” I groaned. “Couldn’t you beg off? The last thing I want to do is go to a learned banquet and endure a lot of elevated talk from men who don’t know how to have a good time.”
“Berenice is going,” she said firmly, “and she’ll want me and Fausta to attend. You may do as you like.”
I knew what that tone meant. “Of course I’ll go, my dear. Where is Fausta, by the way?”
“She went to see all those bulls sacrificed. She likes that sort of thing.”
“She would. Hermes has been asking around about that temple. It seems the bulls are to be castrated and their testicles will
be made into a cloak to drape over the god’s shoulders, like they do for the image of Diana at Ephesus.”
She made a face. “The stories that boy picks up. I don’t know why you tolerate him.”
“He’s amusing, which is more than you can say for most slaves, and he steals very little considering his opportunities.”
When we were back in the Palace, I looked up Creticus, who was conferring with the others in the embassy over some newly arrived papers. When Rufus saw me, he picked up one of the papers and waved it at me.
“These just came in this morning by a fast cutter, Decius. The elections have been held in Rome. Caius Julius Caesar’s to be Consul next year.”
“Well, there was never much doubt,” I said. “Now perhaps his creditors will have some hope of getting repaid. Who’s the other?”
“Bibulus,” Creticus said disgustedly. “They might as well have elected an oyster.”
“It’ll be a one-man Consulship, then,” I said. “Oh, well, at least Julia will be happy.”
We looked over the election results, looking for friends and enemies. As usual, there were plenty of both. Creticus jabbed a finger at a name on the list of new Tribunes.
“Vatinius,” he said. “He’s Caesar’s man. That means Caesar’s laws are likely to make it through the Popular Assemblies.”
“What are the proconsular provinces to be?” I asked. Creticus mumbled his way down a page; then his mouth fell open.
“For both of them it’s to be the supervision of rural roads, cattle-paths and pastures in Italy!” We all rocked with laughter
“That’s a deadly insult!” I said. “It’s war between Caesar and the Senate.”
Creticus waved the thought away. “No, Caius Julius will find a way out of it. He’ll get the Popular Assemblies to vote him a rich province. The Tribunes can override the Senate easily enough these days. Remember, he gave up his right to a triumph to return to
Rome and stand for Consul. That counts for a lot with the commons. They think he’s been cheated and they’ll be on his side.”
The astonishing rise of Caius Julius in Roman politics was the wonder of the age. Rather late in life, he had emerged from obscurity to reveal himself as an accomplished politician, a gifted governor and, recently in Spain, a more than adequate military leader. For one who had been noted only for debauchery and debt, his career was doubly amazing. His tenure in Spain had been profitable enough for him to clear the most crushing of his debts. As Consul he couldn’t be harassed by his remaining creditors, and if he could secure a rich province, he would be among the most redoubtable men in Rome. He was a man whom all thought they knew but whom no man
“I wanted to see more,” she said, “but perhaps we’d better.”
We thanked Amphytrion and returned to our litter. I tried to cover my odd mood with small talk, and soon Julia was chattering away about the stupendous collection of books in the Library, which was sufficient to make the whole city smell of papyrus. I promised to show her the Paneum the next day. I had been there before, and expected no unusual experiences as a result.
“Oh, by the way,” Julia said. “Amphytrion has invited us to a banquet to be given tomorrow evening in the Museum. It is an annual affair, in honor of the founding of the Museum.”
“Oh, no!” I groaned. “Couldn’t you beg off? The last thing I want to do is go to a learned banquet and endure a lot of elevated talk from men who don’t know how to have a good time.”
“Berenice is going,” she said firmly, “and she’ll want me and Fausta to attend. You may do as you like.”
I knew what that tone meant. “Of course I’ll go, my dear. Where is Fausta, by the way?”
“She went to see all those bulls sacrificed. She likes that sort of thing.”
“She would. Hermes has been asking around about that temple. It seems the bulls are to be castrated and their testicles will
be made into a cloak to drape over the god’s shoulders, like they do for the image of Diana at Ephesus.”
She made a face. “The stories that boy picks up. I don’t know why you tolerate him.”
“He’s amusing, which is more than you can say for most slaves, and he steals very little considering his opportunities.”
When we were back in the Palace, I looked up Creticus, who was conferring with the others in the embassy over some newly arrived papers. When Rufus saw me, he picked up one of the papers and waved it at me.
“These just came in this morning by a fast cutter, Decius. The elections have been held in Rome. Caius Julius Caesar’s to be Consul next year.”
“Well, there was never much doubt,” I said. “Now perhaps his creditors will have some hope of getting repaid. Who’s the other?”
“Bibulus,” Creticus said disgustedly. “They might as well have elected an oyster.”
“It’ll be a one-man Consulship, then,” I said. “Oh, well, at least Julia will be happy.”
We looked over the election results, looking for friends and enemies. As usual, there were plenty of both. Creticus jabbed a finger at a name on the list of new Tribunes.
“Vatinius,” he said. “He’s Caesar’s man. That means Caesar’s laws are likely to make it through the Popular Assemblies.”
“What are the proconsular provinces to be?” I asked. Creticus mumbled his way down a page; then his mouth fell open.
“For both of them it’s to be the supervision of rural roads, cattle-paths and pastures in Italy!” We all rocked with laughter
“That’s a deadly insult!” I said. “It’s war between Caesar and the Senate.”
Creticus waved the thought away. “No, Caius Julius will find a way out of it. He’ll get the Popular Assemblies to vote him a rich province. The Tribunes can override the Senate easily enough these days. Remember, he gave up his right to a triumph to return to
Rome and stand for Consul. That counts for a lot with the commons. They think he’s been cheated and they’ll be on his side.”
The astonishing rise of Caius Julius in Roman politics was the wonder of the age. Rather late in life, he had emerged from obscurity to reveal himself as an accomplished politician, a gifted governor and, recently in Spain, a more than adequate military leader. For one who had been noted only for debauchery and debt, his career was doubly amazing. His tenure in Spain had been profitable enough for him to clear the most crushing of his debts. As Consul he couldn’t be harassed by his remaining creditors, and if he could secure a rich province, he would be among the most redoubtable men in Rome. He was a man whom all thought they knew but whom no man
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