Under Vesuvius(60)
“Couches,” she murmured, “pillows. Yet in spite of these menaces you are still conquering away like drunken Macedonians following their golden-haired boy.”
“Personally, I think these fears of decadence are overstated. I truly enjoy luxury and so do most other Romans. Yet Caesar’s legions are the toughest we have ever fielded. But we have never felt—I suppose we’ve never felt really comfortable with the easy, abundant life. We feel that we should be out sleeping on the ground, wrapped in a thin cloak, eating coarse barley bread and goat cheese, washing it down with sour wine that’s half vinegar.”
“Perhaps that’s why you are so belligerent, so that people won’t get the wrong idea.”
“We do emphasize public image,” I agreed.
“And how closely does public image conform to private reality?” she asked. “You Romans hold ruthlessness to be a virtue and female un-chastity to be a great evil, but which causes more misery?”
“I didn’t say we were logical. Logic is for Greeks. We value two things above all: military strength and our traditions. If the traditions are somewhat outdated, we love them anyway. As for wifely chastity, it was the attribute of our ancestral village women. These days, only the Vestals and Caesar’s wife are above suspicion. The reigning queens of society are the likes of Clodia, Fulvia, Sempronia, and a score of others who are as scandalous as they are entertaining.”
“What hypocrites you all are!” she cried.
“That’s the advantage of being the greatest power in the world. You can be a hypocrite, take any pose, say what you like, and everyone has to smile and accept it.”
“Power is a wonderful thing. Without it, what are we?”
“It strikes me that you are in a powerless position now, Jocasta. You are a widow; your husband’s heir, your stepson, plans to abandon the business here and return to Numidia, where a woman’s lot is not a desirable one, and I imagine that of a supernumerary widow is even less felicitous. Gelon may treat his mother with honor, but how will he, and she, treat you?”
“I have no intention of going to Numidia,” she asserted, apparently quite unperturbed. “Gelon fancies a life there of living in tents, raiding the neighbors, endless riding and lion hunting, living on the flesh of gazelles, and trapping elephants and so forth. I’m sure it’s all quite exciting, all something out of Homer. But while it may be a fine life for a man, it has few attractions for a woman, especially a woman of refinement like myself. I am quite capable of making my own way in the world. When Gelon leaves, I shall wave to him from the dock. Assuming, of course, that he is not executed for the murder of poor Gorgo.”
“Speaking of which, that trial is coming up soon. At our last interview you speculated that your husband might forbid you to testify. That is no longer a factor. I shall summon you to speak.”
She inclined her head. “As the praetor wishes, of course.”
“And will your testimony serve to clear Gelon of the charge?”
“As I told you before, I saw him that evening and again the next morning. I shall testify to that.”
“Most conscientious,” I told her. “Expect my lictors to call upon you soon.”
With a few more formal, meaningless politenesses, I left her and returned to the town house.
“You mean she is not even going to lie in court to save her stepson?” Antonia said, aghast. We were dawdling over lunch and I had given a somewhat abbreviated account of my interview with Jocasta.
“She will be under oath,” Marcus said archly. “Perhaps she fears the anger of the gods.”
Circe snorted. “She’s a Greek. The Greeks think the gods admire a good liar. No, there must be a coolness between stepmother and stepson. Either she doesn’t care if he’s executed, or she actually wants him to die.”
“If Gelon is executed,” Julia said, “where does that leave his father’s estate? If it passes to his local widow, that might be reason enough for her to want him to be executed.”
“I’ve been considering that,” I said. “My legal advisers tell me that the executor of a resident foreigner’s will must be his citizen partner. I will have to summon this Gratius Glabrio all the way from Verona. By the time he reaches here, I will be in Bruttium or Tarentum. Then I will have to come back here to hear the case.”
“If this Glabrio exists at all,” Julia said. “And by then Gelon will be either executed or let go. I don’t think much of his chances at the moment.”
“What is her motive to lie about the partner?” Hermes wanted to know.