“Those are the Etruscan soothsayers I told you about. He claims they bring him good fortune.”
These were hard-faced, fanatical-looking men. But then, I thought, men who spent their days cutting open sacrificial animals and delving among their viscera for omens had not chosen the pleasantest of professions.
We stopped before the dais and stood there looking noble while Pompey tried to look regal. Hortalus stepped forward and spoke sonorously.
“Cnaeus Pompeius Magnus, we, the Senate of Rome, in exercise of our ancient right, do hereby grant you the honor of a triumph!” His grandiloquence was somewhat marred by the trumpeting of an elephant nearby.
Pompey stood. “Honorable conscript fathers,” he began; then several more elephants blasted away. He waited for them to quiet down, then went on. “I accept this honor, to the glory of the gods of Rome and the ancestors of my house.”
“What ancestors?” said some wag. “That flute-player four generations ago?” This raised some guffaws. Like many others, his family had been raised to prominence by Sulla. They had amounted to nothing before that.
“Io triumphe!” shouted the honor guard, drowning out all the sly remarks being passed at Pompey’s expense.
I heard Crassus say, in a low voice, “What an opportunity!” Something in his tone made me uneasy.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean, here we are, the whole Senate. And there he is, and all around us are his armed troops. He could massacre the lot of us right now and not a thing we could do about it.”
“It would certainly be the crowning achievement of an extraordinary career,” I said. I spoke flippantly, but the sweat began to spring out on my scalp. Surely, I thought, not even Pompey would be so bold. I would not feel safe until I was back within the walls of Rome. It taught me something else: that Crassus might very well seize such an opportunity, should it ever come his way. I determined that, should he ever be encamped outside the city awaiting a triumph, and should the Senate be summoned to go deliver him the good news, I would beg off on account of a sudden illness.
“The augurs,” Hortalus went on when the soldiers were quiet, “will take the omens and determine the will of the gods concerning a propitious day for the triumph.”
“No need,” Pompey said. He gestured toward his Etruscans. “My haruspices have already worked their art, and they have proclaimed the third day from today to be most pleasing to the gods.”
I could see that Hortalus was furious, but he was a man of great experience and knew that he would cut a ridiculous figure trying to argue points of ritual in such a setting, where Pompey had arranged things to emphasize his own majesty. There was no dignified way to argue with such high-handedness, so Hortalus acceded gracefully.
“So shall it be proclaimed in the Forum,” he said.
Now Pompey rose. “I give you all freedom of my camp, and I invite you to partake of some refreshment with me.”
And so we ended up being Pompey’s guests for lunch. He had laid out tables under an immense tent-roof, which also sheltered some of the more fragile items destined to grace his triumph: paintings and other works of art, fine furnishings, fabrics, brocades, even models of the besieged cities and forts carved from ivory and shell.
The food wasn’t bad either. I got pleasantly tipsy since I saw no good reason not to. Happily stuffed, I got up from the table and wandered among the treasures, admiring as always our wonderful Roman talent for acquiring other people’s property. Pompey had acquired a good many of the people as well. In one tent were enemy princes and nobles, tastefully fettered in golden chains. Another vast marquee sheltered some of the most beautiful women I had ever seen.
“Scandalous,” clucked another senatorial inspector. It was Cato, naturally. “A triumph should not be made into a brothel.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “These look like good stock. Who wants to be surrounded by ugly slaves?”
“Nonsense!” he retorted. “Within ten years half of them will be freed, living in the slums and spawning babies to be a further burden on the state.” There was some justice to that. Reluctantly, I left the entrance of the tent. Several Senators were crowding in behind me.
“Come on,” I said, “let’s go see the elephants.” Grumbling, Cato accompanied me. I disliked Cato greatly, but he was fun to have around on such occasions. He had no sense of humor whatever, and that made it easy to insult him without his noticing.
In a nearby field we found score upon score of the immense beasts, with their drivers putting them through their paces. Some were being trained to carry various trophies in procession. Others had platforms erected on their backs, bearing images of the gods. Still others carried small forts, and these were manned with slaves dressed to resemble the enemies Pompey had conquered.