The King's Gambit(17)
Publius was known as a headstrong, violent youth, soon to live up to the worst of his family’s reputation. But that was the future, and on this evening I was interested only in his sister. The guests included a number of the rising young men of the time. Caius Julius was there, never one to pass up a free meal and a chance to establish powerful contacts. The formidable Cicero was there as well, fresh from his celebrated prosecution of Verres. He was one of the “new men,” that is to say, men of non-Roman birth who were beginning to come to prominence at that time, as the old Roman families died out through civil war or lack of interest in procreation.
There was also a plump-faced young man whose beard was trimmed in the Greek fashion and who wore Greek clothing. This, I decided, had to be the mysterious guest. Ever since Alexander squashed them under his heel, all the Asiatics want to be imitation Greeks. I lost interest in him when Claudia entered.
I took a cup from a passing slave and was about to monopolize Claudia when another of the guests made it plain that he wanted to speak with me. I groaned inwardly. It was Quintus Curius, an extraordinarily dissipated young Senator, a man to whom virtually every crime short of treason had been imputed. He was to add that one before his short career was done. We went through the customary greetings.
“Odd gathering here, isn’t it?” he said. With him there, I could not but agree. “That Cicero, for instance. How does an odious little nobody like that come out of nowhere to Rome and make a name for himself in public life?”
“Actually,” I said, “he’s from Arpinum.”
Curius shrugged. “Arpinum is nowhere. Caius Julius, of course, he’s a comer, and almost respectable. Lucius Sergius Catilina, that’s a man to keep your eye on. And this Gree-kling, now. Who do you think he might be?”
It was my turn to shrug. “Eastern princes with Greek tutors are no rarity. Someone young Claudius took hospitality with in his travels, I presume.” Gratefully, I saw that Claudia was coming to my rescue.
“Curius, I must borrow Decius for a while,” she said, taking my arm. When we were safely away, she said, “When I saw you standing there looking so distressed, I just had to do something. Isn’t he a horrid bore? I don’t know why my brother invited him.”
"He doesn’t entirely approve of your guest list,” I told her. “Cicero, for instance.”
“Oh, I rather like Cicero. He’s a brilliant man and afraid of nothing. Married to the most abominable woman, though.”
“So I’ve heard,” I said. “I’ve not had the pleasure of the lady’s acquaintance.”
“We should all be so lucky. Now you must meet our guest of honor.” The young Asiatic turned at our approach. “Decius Caecilius Metellus, I present Tigranes, Prince of Armenia.” So that was it.
“The son of the magnificent King of Armenia does Rome great honor by his presence here.”
“I am dazzled to be in your wondrous city,” he said with a perfect Greek accent. He could not have been terribly dazzled by Rome, coming from his father’s fabulous new royal city, Tigranocerta. But perhaps it was power that dazzled him rather than beauty.
“I only wish,” he continued, “that I could make my visit more public. The state of relations between us, alas, is not the best.” He had reason to be discreet about his presence. Rome was very nearly at war with Armenia. “However, rest assured that, unlike my father, I am a firm friend of Rome.” And running for your life from the old man’s wrath, I thought.
“Rome’s admiration for the ancient kingdom of Armenia is unbounded,” I assured him. “Envy” might have been a better word. Old Tigranes in those days was King of Kings, a title originally held, I believe, by the King of Persia. Since then, the title was held by the Oriental tyrant who had the most subject-kings licking his sandals. Tigranes the Elder was unthinkably wealthy, and every one of our generals was itching to have a go at him. The sack of Tigranocerta was certain to net the richest haul since we took Corinth. Every legionary would be able to retire to a villa in the country with a hundred slaves.
“My generous friend Publius Claudius and his gracious sister have most kindly extended their hospitality to me for the duration of my stay here in the capital of the world.”
“And you could not be in better hands, I assure you.” It seemed to me that he looked at Claudia with more than mere admiration.
“So I believe,” he said. “The Lady Claudia is, I believe, the most remarkable woman I have ever met.”
Claudia smiled at the compliment, bringing out a tiny dimple at the corner of her mouth. “Prince Tigranes and I have discovered a mutual fondness for the Greek Lyric poets.”