John Roberts - Saturnalia

I knew it could not be simply the anticipation of Saturnalia, which was to commence in a few days. As much as Romans love the revelry of Saturnalia, there is something glum about the holiday, for it is the time when we have to pay our debts. No, this was something else, another intriguing little mystery to plumb.

I plunged into the crowd and began greeting old friends and making dinner appointments. For all its awesome power and glory, Rome is just an overgrown farm town and I could not look in any direction without seeing someone I knew. With Hermes dogging my heels, I slowly made my way through the Forum and up the Capitol, where I made a sacrifice in thanks for my safe return.

With the commencement of afternoon, I sent Hermes to my house for my bath things and relaxed amid steam and hot water while friends and acquaintances gossiped about charioteers, gladiators, scandalous women, and so forth. Nobody seemed to want to talk much about politics, and I found that strange. It was not as if they were fearful, as might be the case when a lunatic tyrant or a ruthless dictator held power, as it was during the last year of Marius or the proscriptions of Sulla. Rather, it was as if they were confused. The last thing a Roman wants to admit is that he doesn’t know what is going on.

So I made my next call the Egyptian embassy. Lisas, the ambassador, had been in Rome forever and collected all the gossip in the world, since he spent almost all his time entertaining and bribing the Roman government and all the other embassies. The fat old pervert received me hospitably as always. I noted with some dismay that beneath his heavy cosmetics, his face was spotted with a number of tiny lesions. Perhaps we would soon need a new Egyptian ambassador. That would sadden me, for the man, to use the term loosely, was an invaluable resource.

“Welcome, Senator, welcome,” the old man enthused. He clapped his hands and slaves came running to wash my hands and feet, even though I had just come from the bath. One took my toga, another thrust a beaker into my hand. Others fanned us vigorously. It wasn’t hot and there were no flies, but maybe the slaves just needed the exercise. We went into a small, circular dining room that was one of the many eccentric features of the Egyptian embassy, which followed no architectural convention I was ever able to discern.

“His Majesty informs me that you performed some signal favors for him last year. He is most grateful.” Even as he spoke, as if by magic, viands appeared on the table between us. It always amazed me that, no matter what hour I called upon Lisas, it was always dinnertime. Romans are punctilious about mealtimes, but not Lisas. Even for an impromptu courtesy call, he had not just the usual fruit and cheese and olives ready, but fresh-baked bread still hot from the oven and whole roast fowl with its skin still crisp.

While we ate we spoke of inconsequential things. I inquired about the health of Ptolemy’s latest son, who had been just a bump in his mother’s belly when I left Alexandria, and Lisas asked about my stay in Rhodes, hoping that I had been on some sort of secret mission. Alas, it was just one of my many unofficial exiles.

“I’m a little puzzled about Rome’s political state,” I admitted, as a slave poured a sweet dessert wine. “I’ve been out of touch for a long time and my friends are unenlightening.”

“Hardly surprising,” Lisas said. “The events of recent months have been unprecedented. Caesar’s has been a most productive consulship.”

“Most consuls just sit out their term and hope for a rich province to govern afterward,” I said.

“Exactly. Not Caesar, though. Almost immediately he rammed through the settlement for Pompey’s veterans. Then he remitted a third of the contracts to Crassus’s friends, the tax farmers for Asia.”

I shrugged. “Campaign debts. The three of them are as tight as my maiden aunts. Caesar would never have been made consul without the help of the other two.”

“Quite possibly. Of course, it helps that he is acting as if he were sole consul.”

“How did that come about?” I asked. “Granted, Bibulus has the spine of a squid, but couldn’t he even try to overrule his colleague?”

“Indeed, he did try.” Lisas spread his hands in an Egyptian gesture of futility. “But he was driven from the Forum by open threat of violence and took refuge in his house. There he announced that he was watching for omens.”

At this one I laughed aloud. “That one’s been tried before!” By ancient law all public business had to be suspended while an augur watched for auspicious omens. It was a common way for connivers to delay legislation, but it was rarely good for more than a day or two, certainly not for the duration of a consulship.

“Caesar ignored him and proceeded to act unilaterally. You have noticed that by now everyone has dropped the Caius and Julius and refer to him merely as Caesar? It disturbs some people.”

“As it should,” I said. “Only kings and slaves are called by a single name. Somehow I don’t see Caesar fancying himself a slave.”

“Just so. Most graciously, Caesar has also persuaded the Senate to ratify His Majesty’s position as king of Egypt and as friend and ally of the Roman people.” Lisas oozed contentment.

I forebore to ask what sort of bribe Ptolemy must have offered, knowing it had to be immense. But it was worth whatever he paid. From now on no foreigner could invade Egypt without going to war with Rome, and no usurper could do away with Ptolemy without giving Rome an excuse to annex Egypt. I went back to an earlier point.

“You say Bibulus was driven from the Forum by violence. Was Clodius by any chance involved?”

“Who else? His mob supports Caesar and the popular party.”

“What about Milo?”

“They brawl, but for the moment Clodius is in the ascendant. Milo is allied with Cicero, and Cicero is probably packing his belongings right now. When Clodius takes office as tribune, he will make it his first order of business to drive Cicero into exile, using the executions of the Catilinarian conspirators as an excuse.”

“It was necessary,” I said uncomfortably. I hadn’t liked the idea of the executions myself, but for once Cato and I were in agreement: It was folly to accord constitutional protection to men who were in the very act of the violent overthrow of the Constitution.

“You needn’t convince me,” Lisas said. “It is only an excuse. Cicero fought Clodius’s transfer to the plebs with all the legal and political skill at his disposal, and that was considerable. Clodius does not forget.” He took a sip of his wine and set the cup aside. “But Caesar’s term of office draws to a close. Events in Gaul beckon.”

“I was there on an embassy with Creticus just before we went on our mission to Alexandria. The people there are very unhappy with us.”

“They are unenlightened barbarians. The allies of Rome are falling away and joining those who would resist Roman expansion into free Gallic territory.”

“Can’t really blame them for that. The free ones, I mean. We are sometimes a little nonchalant about helping ourselves to other people’s territory. That’s no reason for our allies to desert us though.”

“There is a new factor, however,” Lisas said, spinning it out for the sheer delight of keeping me after him for details.

“New factor? Not an invasion from that island up north, Britannia or whatever it’s called?”

“Oh, no. The eastern Gauls have been fighting among themselves for several years now.”

“I knew about that. One faction is led by the Aedui and the other by the Averni, I believe. The situation changes so fast there that it’s hard to keep track.”

“That is still the lineup. Anyway, word has it that the Averni were losing and so they decided, foolishly, that they needed, well … allies.”