“Let me see that!” I snatched it from her and tugged at the ribbon.
“Don’t you dare spill any!” She snatched it back. “Let me open it. You’re so clumsy with anything except dice.” She opened the top to reveal a cluster of tear-shaped drops from which a lovely fragrance arose. They were white, almost transparent. “Why, it’s frankincense!”
“Exactly. Governor Silvanus met his end through a surfeit of the common, yellow variety from Arabia Felix. This is the white, Ethiopian frankincense, the purest and finest sort. I’ve become quite an expert on this stuff as you can see. Where is that prince?”
He wasn’t difficult to find, and it was easy to draw him aside, as everyone else was watching a wonderful Syrian magician who could do amazing things with flames, live birds, large serpents, and even more unlikely props.
“Prince,” I said to him, “I am curious about the gift you gave my wife.”
His eyes went wide. “Was this improper? If so I am very sorry and must plead ignorance of your customs.”
“No, no, it was perfectly delightful. But we seldom see white frank-incense in our part of the world. It seems an extremely extravagant gift.”
He gave me that dazzling smile again. “Oh, not at all! We have so much of it this year, since we are not sending it up the coast to Egypt. I thought it would be perfect for small guest gifts. It is easy to carry, and everyone loves it.”
“So they do, so they do. Ah, you said that you are not shipping it to Egypt this year? Might that be because of King Ptolemy’s troubles?”
“Yes, yes.” He smiled and nodded vigorously at the same time.
“Is there trouble between Ethiopia and Egypt?”
“No, no,” now smiling and shaking his head with equal vigor. The sudden changes in direction of those flashing teeth were making me a little dizzy. “No, it was King Ptolemy who asked us to hold back certain things we have always traded directly with the royal house: ivory, feathers, a few other things. And, of course, the frankincense. He said these things would be stolen from him.”
“Stolen? Because of the unrest in his country?”
He looked embarrassed. “Why, please forgive me, Senator, I do not wish to give offense, but he said it was because of you Romans.”
I nodded too, much more slowly and without smiling. “I see.” And indeed I was beginning to see. “Thank you, Prince, both for your gift and for your information.”
“I have not offended?” He seemed genuinely concerned.
“Not at all. And I think that very soon things will be back to normal between ourselves and King Ptolemy and your father’s kingdom.”
This time he really smiled, an ear-to-ear stretch of ivory bright as a bucket of pearls. “Wonderful! My father will be so pleased!”
Flavia, I saw, was now hanging on Milo as eagerly as she had attached herself to Julia. Good luck to her, I thought. No man who had spent years married to Fausta had anything to fear from a social-climbing bacchante like Flavia.
Before long the dice were out, and I pitched in with a will. Things were beginning to come together in my mind, and I was able to give the little cubes the full attention they require.
“You’re doing well,” Flavia noted, looking over my shoulder. She had temporarily lost Milo.
“I usually do. If there are no races or fights going on, I can always rely on the dice. Where is Alpheus tonight? I thought he never missed a party in this town.”
“I’ve no idea. I sent him an invitation, but he probably found another, more profitable party somewhere else. As you can imagine, this is the height of the entertaining season in Paphos.”
“Well, you’ve scored a great success, even without him.” I rolled the dice and won again. Everybody else groaned.
“Oh, yes! Cleopatra, Julia Caesar, and Titus Annius Milo, what a list!” Her voice dripped satisfaction. It wasn’t common to give any woman a cognomen, but I knew that Flavia would refer to her thus when talking about her. She would want to leave nobody in doubt which Julia had come to her event.
In time I packed away my winnings and collected my wife and Milo and made my farewells to all the guests and to my host.
“You must come again, Senator,” said Sergius Nobilior. “I want a chance to win back some of my losses.”
Milo put a hand on my shoulder. “With Decius, never use his dice and always take his tips on horses and gladiators.”
“Don’t worry, Sergius,” I assured him, “you’ll see plenty more of me.”
“How much did you win?” Julia asked, as we rolled into our litter and were lifted to shoulder height.