The Sacrilege(16)

At the table facing mine reclined Lucius Afranius, a man of some dignity and little importance, like Capito himself. He had served as praetor some years before. The other two at that table I no longer recall, so they could not have amounted to much. My companions on the third couch were an unusual pair. To my right, on the side of the head couch, was the poet Catullus, not to be confused with the great Catulus, who spelled his name with a single l. The poet had been mooning around Rome for a couple of years, cadging free meals and writing his verses. Friends of a literary bent assure me that these poems are rather good. Many of those he indited at this time were addressed to a hard-hearted woman of mystery called Lesbia. It was the opinion of most that Lesbia was actually Clodia, who had the requisite cruelty and love of poetry. He had lived in the house of Celer, but I rather doubt that he had been her lover, because he survived.

My neighbor on the other side, at the foot of the couch, was the greatest surprise. It was young Appius Claudius Nero.

“Twice in one day, young Nero,” I said. “If I believed that Oriental nonsense about astrology, I would believe that our stars are intertwined.”

“The stars had nothing to do with it, Decius,” Capito said. “I invited Clodius, but when he learned you were to be here, he sent young Appius Claudius in his stead.” Everyone found this uproariously funny, and Nero’s face flushed as scarlet as Sulla’s. It was always considered witty to pick on the very young, half-witted or deformed, and I felt a bit sorry for him.

“No offense, Nero,” I said. “I know you have no control over who your relatives are. I have a good many I’d just as soon not associate with.”

“Nepos, for instance?” Afranius needled. My cousin Metellus Nepos was Pompey’s firm supporter, unlike most of our family. The year before, Nepos had served as tribune and had been a most inflammatory one. With Caesar’s backing, he had tried to have Pompey recalled from Asia to fight Catilina, had even demanded that Pompey be elected Consul in absentia. There had been some rioting and the Senate suspended both of them from office. Nepos fled to Pompey with an aristocratic mob at his heels, and Caesar, ever the adroit politician, patched up things with the Senate and continued his praetorship.

Now that I thought of it, there were no friends of Caesar’s here, even though he sought friends everywhere. Catulus hated him because Caesar had tried to rob him of the credit for restoring the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus and give it to Pompey. Catullus the poet suspected Caesar of having an affair with Clodia. Few prominent women escaped that particular honor. Afranius was of the aristocratic party and opposed Caesar as a matter of policy. The same was true of Piso. It was odd, but seemed no more than coincidence.

As the first course arrived, the conversation turned to the main subject of the day: Pompey’s triumph. There was to be a meeting of the Senate the next day and the matter was once more to be discussed.

“This will be your first meeting as Senator, will it not, Decius?” Capito asked.

“It will,” I concurred.

“And what will be the subject of your maiden speech?” the great Catulus asked. It was common for new-minted Senators to make a speech on first taking a seat in the Curia. Some made a great splash that way, but more earned ridicule.

“I have been firmly instructed to say nothing until I’ve attained some sort of prestige in office, with the unspoken implication that several years might elapse before any such event.”

“Not a bad idea,” Capito said. “I made my first speech back when Decula and Dollabella held the Consulship. I spoke in praise of Sulla’s reform of the courts, taking them from the equites and giving them back to the Senators. Seemed a safe enough speech at the time. Sulla was dictator, after all. When I left the Curia a mob of equites chased me through the streets until I got to my house and barred the gate; then they burned my house down. I escaped over the back wall and fled to Capua until things died down.” This, I thought, was before he had reached his present girth.

“Those were exciting times,” said Catulus nostalgically. There followed some vintage gossip about the proscriptions and who had whom killed for what advantage. The wine flowed and tongues grew loose.

“What’s to be done about Antonius Hibrida, Consul?” Afranius asked. Hibrida was Proconsul in Macedonia, where he had suffered some shattering defeats.

“I intend to press for his prosecution upon his return to Rome,” Calpurnianus said.

“Odd, Pompey doesn’t have his tame tribunes agitating for him to be given Hibrida’s command,” Catulus said.