The Princess and the Pirates(59)

“So I’ve heard,” I said enviously. “I’ve never managed to be there when anything really scandalous was going on.”

“Let me tell you what happened last time I was there,” she said, her voice dripping musk and lasciviousness. She launched into a description of her adventures with several matrons of that free-and-easy resort town during the celebration of the Priapalia, a festival banned from Rome generations ago because of the licentious behavior that always accompanied the worship of that rustic deity, who in Rome is confined to gardens and brothels.

“You are an adventurous lady,” I commended her, when the tale was done.

“On the island of Cythera,” Alpheus said, “which also claims to be the birthplace of Aphrodite, there are very similar practices during their annual festival of the goddess; activity that even the inhabitants acknowledge as intolerable at other times become acts of pious worship during those three days.”

“In Rome,” I pointed out, “we men of the senatorial class have always wondered what our wives get up to during the annual rites of Bona Dea. Clodius once tried to spy on the rites dressed as a woman, but he was caught and expelled before he saw anything interesting.”

“It’s all very tame I am sure,” Flavia said. “Roman women of spirit and imagination have to find their fun outside the City.”

“Speaking of women,” I said, “where is Cleopatra?” I looked around but did not see her.

“Up on the temple porch,” Alpheus said, nodding toward the noble building. I looked and saw a long table where Cleopatra reclined next to Gabinius. The city archon, the high priest of Poseidon, and Photinus were at the same table.

“I would think you would be at the highest table,” Flavia’s tone was that of the devoted troublemaker. I pushed aside my own annoyance in recognition of the fact.

“Gabinius arranged the funeral,” I pointed out, “and I am just a visiting military officer. The dining arrangements seem to be punctilious.” Gabinius was using the practice to put me in my place, but I determined to settle the matter later. For now a united front was called for. “Where are lone and the priestesses of Aphrodite?” I asked, to change the subject.

“With the Aphrodisia only days away,” Alpheus explained, “they may not attend a funeral or enter a house of mourning. They would be ritually unclean, and the festival would have to be canceled for the year. It would be a terrible portent for the whole island.”

“And this island has had all the bad luck it can handle,” I said, “between Roman annexation, the pirates, and the copper trade, which has desolated large parts of it.”

“Ah, you know how the island has been ruined by mining?” Alpheus said.

“I’ve heard something of it,” I hedged.

“But it made the place rich,” Flavia pointed out. “It is the special genius of Rome,” I said, feeling the wine a bit myself and growing expansive, “that we understand the proper path to wealth.”

“What is that?” Alpheus asked. I had the distinct impression that he was humoring me.

“The way to get rich is not by ruining your own land to sell your resources abroad. Instead, you conserve your own land and go plunder somebody else’s wealth.” Flavia laughed like a jackass. Even Gabinius, on the temple porch, heard and glared in our direction. Well, his friend had just died. I tried to keep a straight face while he was looking my way.

When we had all gorged and swilled to repletion, people rose from their tables and began to circulate. Evening was drawing on and torches were brought out to illuminate the central part of the city. It was a great extravagance, but it is with these touches of excess that we hope to be remembered after we die.

Flavia, Alpheus, and I were fast friends by now, at least until the wine wore off; and like many others we began to walk off dinner, trying to make room for the sweets that had been brought out as the last course. At the funeral of Scipio Africanus, sweets were served and the extravagance was remembered for generations. His was a more austere time, and the island of Cyprus had access to such luxuries in abundance.

I met some of Flavia’s friends, a number of whom seemed to be as debauched as she. Alpheus did a bit of business, arranging to compose songs for festivals in other towns. We came to a table set up on a side street off the main plaza and I stopped, my jaw dropping in shock. “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

Ion looked back at me, not at all dismayed. “All the resident foreigners in the city were invited to the banquet, Senator, just like you.” Looking along the table, I saw the crews of my ships, my marines, and the hired mercenaries.