The Princess and the Pirates(10)
“My military days are over, I’m afraid,” he said, with equal modesty. “I’m content to spend whatever days are left to me in retirement. Perhaps I’ll write my memoirs, like Sulla and Lucullus.”
Lying old bugger. No man who has sought supreme power ever really gives up his ambition, as witness Crassus and Pompey, who tried to be field generals long after they were too old for the job. It was clear that Silvanus trusted him. If the position to the right of the host is the place of honor, allowing the host to serve the guest with his own hands, then the position to his left is the place of trust. This is because, in Roman-style dining arrangements, you present your back to the weapon hand of the man on your left.
Cleopatra was to my right, at the next table and couch, which were at right angles, as was the one opposite hers. This, at least, was in accordance with Roman custom. Next to the princess reclined a lady of great beauty and expensive tastes, the latter evidenced by her many jewels and her attention-grabbing gown, woven of the costly Coan fabric, which is light, soft, and all but transparent. The censors rail against it for its extravagance and immodesty, but I have always rather liked it. Assuming, of course, that the lady thus draped has a body worth viewing. This one did. Next to her was her far less prepossessing husband.
“Since you already know our royal guest,” Silvanus said, “allow me to introduce Sergius Nobilior, chief of the Banker’s Association of Ostia, now charged with putting the deplorable finances of this island in order. With him is his wife, Flavia.”
They declared themselves honored to make my acquaintance, and I replied with equal insincerity. The custom of having women recline at table with the men was still rather new, and it was one of which I heartily approved. On the couch to my right, at least, beautiful women outnumbered ugly men two to one, and that is an improvement by anyone’s standards, except perhaps for Cato’s.
The remaining table was a different story. Two of the places were occupied by a pair of Cleopatra’s tedious scholars, whose names I no longer recall. The final guest was a roguish-looking young man with a homely face and an engaging grin. Silvanus introduced him as Alpheus, a poet from Lesbos. He looked like more interesting company than any of the Romans present.
“What occasion are we celebrating?” I asked, waving an arm to indicate the many statues, which were draped with garlands.
“Just dinner,” Silvanus said.
“I can’t wait to see what the real banquets are like around here.” The first course was served. It was the traditional hard-boiled eggs, but these were from a vast variety of birds, lightly tinted in different colors and sprinkled with rare spices. The courses that followed were far more lavish as to ingredients, with items such as peacock brains, flamingo tongues, camel toes, honeyed ibex ears, and so forth, prized for their exotic origins rather than their savor. Others were both more substantial and delicious: Danube sturgeon, brought to the island in freshwater tanks; roast gazelle from Judea; and Egyptian geese baked in pastry stand out in my memory. All of this was served with numerous wines, each chosen to complement the course being served. Soon the wreaths and garlands were being put to the test.
“Commodore,” Alpheus said, using my semiofficial title, “when do you propose to begin your pirate hunting?”
“Immediately,” I said, then thought it over. “Actually, I need to receive word of their next depredation. That will give me a starting point and a locale to investigate. I also intend to recruit a few ex-pirates for their expertise.”
“A wise move,” Gabinius affirmed. “You may wish to begin by examining your own crew. If they’re like other naval crews of my experience, half of them will have been pirates at one time or another.”
“I suspect so, but none will admit it. They all claim they were part of Pompey’s pirate-conquering navy, even the ones who were infants at the time.”
“I recommend a tavern called Andromeda,” Alpheus said. “The wine is passable, and the company is the lowest imaginable. If ever there was a pirate hangout, that is the one. I’m there most nights.” Alpheus definitely sounded like my sort of man.
“I’ll give it a try as soon as possible,” I said.
“I’ll go along with you,” Cleopatra said. “Respectable ladies do not frequent such places!” cried banker Nobilior, scandalized.
“I’m not respectable,” Cleopatra told him, “I’m royal. Royalty do not have to observe these tedious little social rules. We are above them.”
Gabinius chuckled. “Still, Princess, those places can be very dangerous. I advise against it.” Silvanus nodded agreement.