“Would you believe that she has all of Sappho by heart?” Tigranes said.
“She is famed as a lady of wide accomplishments,” I assured them both. I could well believe that she was something new to him. It had only recently become fashionable for wellborn Roman women to be educated. In the East, women were never educated, and if they were intelligent, they were careful to hide the fact.
“Is this a pleasure visit?” I asked, knowing full well that it was not.
“Of course, it is the greatest pleasure to visit Rome, and one I shall treasure all my life. I do, however, wish to confer with your distinguished Consuls concerning my troublesome neighbor to the northwest.” This could only mean the redoubtable Mithridates, whose name, even if merely implied, seemed to be everywhere lately.
"As I understand it,” I said, “he may not be troublesome much longer. Last I heard, General Lucullus had him on the run.” Something struck me and I turned to Claudia. “Isn’t your sister married to Lucullus?”
“She is,” Claudia affirmed. “Lucullus has promised Publius a staff appointment as soon as Publius can join him in the East.”
“Ah, so Publius is about to enter public life?” I said heartily. The thought of Publius Claudius in a position of military authority made one tremble for the fate of Rome. The only reason I could conceive that he would risk his aristocratic hide in a campaign was to accumulate enough military time to run for office.
“The call to public duty comes to all men in our family,” she said.
“Let’s see,” I mused, “a couple of years in the East, and Publius will be old enough and have the qualifications to stand for a quaestorship, will he not?”
“He wishes to be a tribune of the people,” she answered.
This was a bit of a shock, although it should not have been. “Then he will become a Clodius?” I queried.
“Exactly. And, since my brother and I do everything together, I shall become Clodia.”
“I beg you to reconsider, Claudia,” I said, very gravely. “This is not a step to be taken lightly.”
Tigranes was looking from one to the other of us in great puzzlement. At that moment, a slave ran up to Claudia and told her than an important guest had arrived. She turned to me.
“Decius, the prince is puzzled by all this. Perhaps you can explain some of our quaint old customs to him while I take care of my duties as hostess.”
“I confess,” Tigranes said when she was gone, “that I don’t understand what you meant—about Publius, I mean.”
This was a subject that could be confusing even among Romans, but I did my best to enlighten this foreigner. “You are aware of our distinction between patrician and plebeian?”
He nodded. “At one time, I thought that it meant the same as noble and commons, but I’ve found that is not quite the case.”
“True. The patricians were the founding families, and they still have certain privileges, mostly concerning ritual duties and such. At one time, they had all the high offices, but no longer.” Slaves came by bearing trays of sweetmeats and we helped ourselves. “There were some rather nasty civil wars fought over plebeian rights, long ago, but the fact is, the patrician families have long been dying out and plebeians have had to take over their duties. We now recognize a plebeian nobility. These are families that have had Consuls among their ancestors. Is this clear?”
“I think so,” he said, very doubtfully.
“For instance, my own family, the Caecilii Metelli, has had many Consuls. By far the largest number of the senatorial families these days are plebeian. There are still some patrician families.” I looked over the room. “For instance: Over there is Caius Julius Caesar, a patrician. So is Sergius Catilina. Both of this year’s Consuls, Crassus and Pompey, are plebeians. Cicero over there is not even from Rome, but everybody expects him to be Consul someday. Is this clear?”
“I think so,” he said, nibbling on a sugared fig.
“Good. Because now it gets complicated. Our host and hostess belong to the very ancient Claudian gens. This family is unusual in having both patrician and plebeian branches. The patricians are usually called Claudius, and the plebeians are usually named Clodius. Certain members of this family have chosen, for political reasons, to switch from patrician to plebeian status. To do this, they arrange to have themselves adopted by a member of the plebeian family and then change the spelling of their name.”
Tigranes looked slightly stunned. “But why should anyone want to change from patrician to plebeian?”
“That is a shrewd question,” I admitted. “Partly, it’s to curry favor with the mob, which is entirely plebeian. Partly, it’s constitutional. Only plebeians can hold the office of tribune.”