The Sacrilege

"As to his birth, he has been from birth a Roman citizen, and there is no higher birth than that."

Lucullus clapped his hands. "Bravo. If this were one of the popular assemblies, I should rise to my feet and cheer."

"If his activities lack a certain gentility, is it more respectable to slaughter foreigners than to brawl in the streets of Rome? Besides, once he has come to great prominence in the state, his youthful excesses will be forgotten, as is always the case. Look at Crassus. At Sulla, even. Both of them were abhorred as degenerate young reprobates, but the highest elements in Rome were kissing their backsides soon enough. Just wait. Soon all Rome will be puckering up for Titus Milo."

"I'll admit he couldn't have sent a better man to press his suit. I almost want to marry the rogue myself now."

"Then you will allow him to pay court to Fausta?" I said.

"There is a small but significant difficulty," he said.

"What might that be?"

"A frog croaking in my fishpond has as much influence with her as I have. I am the executor of her father's will, but she doesn't think that extends to her person, whatever the law might say. She is a Cornelia, and a daughter of Sulla, and she is not about to submit herself to a mere Licinius like me. We get along well enough, but that's about all. She gets on better with Claudia, and that's a bad sign. But if Milo is willing to risk his future happiness with a haughty demigoddess of a Cornelia, he has my permission to chance it."

"Might I speak with her?" I asked.

"I'll send for her, but I can promise you nothing beyond that." He raised a hand so slightly that it might have been mistaken for an involuntary twitch. But his slaves were sensitive enough to detect his slightest wish. One came ru

Lucullus rose. "I wish you the best of fortune, Decius. The woman is self-willed, but not without a certain intelligence. She regards the sort of men I favor as too dull to hold her interest. If any man could strike her fancy, I suppose it would have to be someone like Milo."

He left me in the garden, leaving likewise the golden pitcher. I helped myself to another cup. Caecuban like that didn't come my way every day. While I waited for Fausta I lazed back in my chair, trying to imagine what it would be like living as Lucullus did. Without turning my head very far, I could see at least fifty slaves working in the garden. This, I knew, was only a fraction of his household staff. The table was fine porphyry, and the pitcher that sat on it was solid gold. It looked as if it would weigh more empty than a common pitcher when full. I determined to empty it and find out.

What must it be like, I thought, to pass a particularly lovely spot when traveling between, say, Rome and Brundisium, decide that you fancy the place, turn to your steward and say: "Buy all the land for ten miles around and build me a villa there." And then pass by a year later and see a mansion the size of a middling town, fully landscaped, decorated with the pick of the loot of Greece and Asia, and ready for you to move in if you should feel like resting from your trip. I thought this seemed like an extremely pleasant way to live. The problem was that the only way to amass such wealth was to conquer some extremely rich kings, as Lucullus had.

By the time Fausta arrived, a warm, fuzzy mantle had settled over the world. It was truly excellent Caecuban.

"I am terribly sorry to have kept you waiting so long, Decius Caecilius." She was no less beautiful than when I had seen her before, dressed in a gown of saffron linen over which she had thrown a brief pallium of fine white wool.

"I came una

"Thank you," she said, taking the cup but not drinking. "Word is spreading that you are investigating the profanation of the rites. Is that why you are here?"

"I am hurt," I said. "Everyone thinks that all I do is snoop. Actually, nothing could be further from my thoughts at this moment." This was not strictly true. "Actually, I come in the guise of Cupid."

"A marriage proposal?" she said coolly. "I had heard that you were not married." The idea seemed to interest her about as much as looking for toads under rocks.

"Not at all. If that had been the case, my father would have called upon your guardian. No, I come on behalf of my good friend, Titus A

Instantly, she grew more animated. "Milo! He is no ordinary man, to be sure. I found him fascinating. But his family is unknown to me. He has an adoptive name. How did that come about?"

"His father was Caius Papius Celsus, a landholder from the south. When he came to Rome he had himself adopted by his maternal grandfather, Titus A

"But the rural tribes are more respectable," she pointed out. "All the best families belong to rural tribes."

"That was the old days, my lady. Power in Rome now resides in the urban mob, which Milo intends to lead. Forget names and lineages. Milo intends to make his own name and he is well on his way. Many men with fine old patrician names live in near-beggary. Marry respectability and that is all you get. With Milo you would lead what can only be described as an interesting life."

"That does sound intriguing. I suppose he has a city house of suitable magnificence?"

"One of the largest and best-staffed in Rome," I assured her. I suppose I should have told her that it was a fortress and its staff consisted of thugs, arena-bait and cutthroats such as one rarely encounters, but why deprive her of a unique surprise?

"I get so many suitors," she said, "and they are all so boring. I am twenty-seven years old, you know. I had all but decided to remain unmarried, even if that meant remaining a legal child under the care of Lucullus. This is the first interesting offer to come my way. You may inform Milo that I am willing to entertain his suit. He may call upon me informally, but he is to understand that any agreement must be between the two of us. I have sworn to open my veins rather than submit to an arranged marriage."

"Perfectly understandable. You could end up married to Cato otherwise. I am sure that this news will give Milo the greatest joy. Would you care for some more of this excellent Caecuban?" She shook her head. I do not believe she had so much as sipped at her own cup. I refilled mine. "Now that that is settled, I don't suppose you would like to enlighten me concerning the scandalous evening that has become the delight of all Rome?"

"I'm afraid that I can't," she said.

"Ah. Forbidden by ritual law, like everyone else?"

"Not a bit of it. I didn't go to Caesar's house that night."

The cup stopped halfway to my mouth. "You did not? But you were seen there."

Her eyes didn't flicker. "Then someone was mistaken or else lying. Only married women take part, and I wasn't about to waste an evening gossiping with a pack of wellborn girls half my age."

"Then I must have been misinformed," I said. "Please forgive me."

"Why? I haven't been offended. Tell Milo I shall look forward to hearing from him." She rose and extended her hand, which I took. "Good day, Decius Caecilius." I watched her walk away. That was pleasant, but it told me nothing of her truthfulness. Either she was lying, or Julia, was. I knew which one I preferred to believe.