Harry Sidebottom - King of Kings

Ballista handed his cloak to Gillo, who hung it on a peg in the shabby corridor. From peasant stock, the young general Aurelian had never tried to conceal his lack of money. Those who liked him said his continuing impecunious state pointed to his financial probity — no soldier ever became rich honestly on what the Res Publica paid him. For those who did not care for him, it was an ostentatious sham — for sure, no peasant could keep his nose out of the trough. There were dark stories of millions hidden away.

A wave of warmth and noise washed over Ballista as the door to the main room was opened.

'Ah-ha, here he is. Better late than never.' The strong Danubian accent of Aurelian rang out. 'Come in, come in. You know everyone? The esteemed ex-consul Tacitus? My young friends Mucapor and Sandario?' The face visible between the close-cropped hair and beard was flushed. There was a dark-red spot on each of Aurelian's prominent cheekbones. It was hot in the room, and everyone was dressed for hunting, but Ballista noticed the wine cup in his friend's hand.

'Indeed I do, and I am not late.' Ballista stepped forward with his hand out. 'Marcus Claudius Tacitus, it is good to see you again.' The older man turned his heavily lined face to the newcomer, shook his hand, then embraced him. Close up, Tacitus looked all and more of his fifty-five years. The dour, big-nosed face itself was cleanshaven but luxuriant whiskers ran together into a beard underneath the chin.

'It is good to see you, Ballista.' The Danubian accent was less pronounced than Aurelian's. The older man's family had been landowners there, time out of mind. The two men in their twenties, both again from the lands around the Danube, greeted Ballista with wide smiles. Sandario's made him look even more dashing. Unfortunately, Mucapor's did not have the same effect; it made him look even more of a simpleton.

'Drink!' Aurelian bellowed. 'Eros! Where in Hades has that little Greek bugger got to? Eros, bring drinks for our guests.' Aurelian's slave secretary kept his eyes down as he gave Ballista a cup of wine and topped up all the others, except Tacitus, who quietly put his hand over his cup.

'Food!' Aurelian was in tearing form. 'Ballista, I know how you northern barbarians eat. I told Gillo to buy more food than one could imagine. Help yourself.' The young general gestured with his cup to a table at the back of the room, which did indeed appear to be laden with food. Aurelian grinned at Ballista. Everyone in the room got the irony that, for most of the inhabitants of the imperium, the men from the Danube were almost as much barbarians as the Angle from the far north beyond the frontiers.

'My dear Tacitus,' Aurelian said in a slightly more respectful voice, 'you are eating nothing. And I specifically told Gillo to buy all the lettuce he could get his hands on, knowing it was your favourite vegetable.'

Tacitus, who was actually solemnly eating a piece of dry bread, which he dipped now and then in some olive oil, took his time in replying. 'Only in the evenings. Lettuce helps you sleep, cools the desires of the flesh. Last night, I admit, I ate a great deal of it. Usually I read myself to sleep but, obviously, not yesterday, it being the night after the day of the kalends — any fool knows that would bring terrible bad luck.'

To hide his smile, Ballista busied himself filling a plate with food: some cold pheasant, ham, cheese, bread, a little of the lettuce. Aurelian was no fool, but he ought to be careful teasing Tacitus, for the older man was no fool either. They made an odd couple. The elder was a circumspect, kindly man, abstemious, almost ascetic, in his habits, much given to superstition, while the younger, 'hand-to-steel', was impetuous, even hot-headed and — possibly Julia was right — altogether too keen on drink and food. It said a lot that they got along well. The very presence of the two puppies Sandario and Mucapor showed how the military men from the Danube stuck together. Ballista knew enough Roman history to know that it was only in the last generation that these Danubians had come to the fore in the army. Really, it was only in the last twenty-one years, since Maximinus Thrax had seized the throne.

Ballista had to suppress a shudder at even thinking the name of the long-dead emperor. He could not help picturing the great white face, the terrible grey eyes. Ballista remembered the final threat — 'I will see you again' — as the emperor died at his hand. All that was long ago. And it was a long time since Ballista's sleep had been disturbed by the unquiet daemon of the late and unlamented Maximinus Thrax.

Ballista sipped his wine. It was red, as was to be expected from Aurelian, made into conditum, warmed and spiced, just the thing for a cold morning following hounds.

Aurelian reverted to a topic that he had clearly been pursuing before Ballista's arrival. 'So the legionary, having seduced the wife of the man in whose house he was billeted, gets away with it. No discipline at all, and another bloody provincial who hates the army. If it had been down to me, I would have made an example of the bastard. Followed the lead of Alexander the Great. Find two saplings. Bend them down to the ground. Tie one of the legionary's legs to each. And let the trees go. Rip the bastard in half. A very public warning of what the men can expect if they flout discipline. Let them see what they are going to get before they do it.' Aurelian grinned. Ballista often found it hard to tell when his friend was being serious or was playing up to his nickname. 'Why the fucker could not just use one of the brothels like everyone else, I do not know,' Aurelian continued. 'It is not as if there is a shortage of brothels in this town.'

'They should all be closed,' said Tacitus. The other men looked at him. Was he joking? He had a reputation for strong self-discipline, but the brothels were so much a part of daily life that only the most radical of philosophers would consider getting rid of them. Even stern Cato had thought that a young man should use them in moderation. 'And the baths, the theatre, the hippodrome, and the amphitheatre — they should all be closed. After the disgraceful riot in the hippodrome, the Antiochenes should be punished. Take away their pleasures for a time; that would teach those shifty little easterners a lesson.' Tacitus' audience were spared further ways of instilling backbone into untrustworthy orientals by the arrival of Antistius, the other manservant of Aurelian, dressed in the embroidered coat of a huntsman, who announced that the horses were ready.

Outside, the night had grown worse. The wind still tore down the alley, and it had started to rain again. Before they had cleared the potters' quarter, let alone crossed the Kerateion, the Jewish quarter near the Daphne Gate, the little party was thoroughly bedraggled and wet. It was as well that torches carried by the servants Gillo and Antistius stayed lit, though they flared and guttered wildly, for the wind had blown out many of the lanterns that hung outside the shops. 'I will tell you what would happen if I were in charge.' Aurelian pushed back his hood to bellow at Ballista. 'I would liven up those bloody Superintendents of the Tribes. On a night like this, you would not find a single one of the epimeletai warming his arse by the fire or ramming his wife in bed. Oh no, the buggers would be out here getting soaked to the skin doing their job, making sure these storekeepers obeyed the law and kept their lanterns alight.'

'You could make an example of a couple of them,' Ballista shouted back over the storm. 'Something fitting the crime. Maybe burn one or two alive.'

'Hmm.' Aurelian grinned and pulled his hood back up.

The streets got wider but steeper as they entered the expensive part of the Epiphania district known as the Rhodion, the rose garden. The houses here were bigger, with wide grounds, often encompassing a whole block. There were fewer shops. There were even fewer lanterns. But the rain was letting up. The gatekeeper at the south-east postern was expecting them. Even at this hour he was civil, and in violation of the law he opened the gate. Obviously he had been bribed in advance. They dismounted and, one by one, led their horses through.