heads of his enemies?'
'I remember it well.'
'It was an ugly process, but unavoidable. The Republic had to be purged. For Sulla to restore order and put an end to years of civil war, the opposition had to be eliminated. Otherwise the conflicts and vendettas would have gone on endlessly.'
'And what does this have to do with your feud with Mummius?'
'The estates of Sulla's enemies were made property of the state and sold at public auction. I need not tell you that the first people in line at these so-called public auctions were usually Sulla's close friends and associates. How else could a mere actor like myself end up with a villa on the Cup? But there were others in line ahead of me.'
'Including Mummius?'
'Yes. Crassus was much in favour then, almost as important as Pompey. Eventually he overstepped himself and embarrassed Sulla; you may remember a certain scandal involving an innocent man added to Sulla's lists just so Crassus could obtain the poor man's property.'
'There was more than one such scandal.'
'Yes, but Crassus was a Roman of good birth, a general, the hero of the Colline Gate, thought to be above such grubbiness. Even so, Sulla only slapped his wrists for that offence. But before the scandal, Crassus came first in all things, just behind Pompey. And Crassus's men were to be pampered and coddled, even above many of Sulla's oldest friends and supporters.'
'Like yourself.'
'Yes.'
'I take it Mummius got the best of you in something, and Sulla took his side.'
'There was a certain property we both coveted.' 'Real estate, or a human?' 'A slave.' 'I see.'
'No, you don't. The boy had been the property of a certain senator in Rome. Once I heard him sing at a dinner party. He came from my own hometown in Etruria. He sang in the dialect I learned as a child. To hear him made me weep. When I learned that he was being sold in a lot with the rest of the household slaves, I rushed down to the Forum. The auctioneer happened to be a friend of Crassus's. It turned out that Mummius desired the boy as well, and not for his singing. The auctioneer ignored my bids, and Marcus Mummius was awarded the entire lot of slaves for the price of a used tunic. How smug he was when he passed by me to collect his receipt. We exchanged threats. I drew a knife. The crowd was packed with Crassus's men, and I had to flee for my life while they jeered after me. I went to Sulla, demanding justice, but he refused to intervene. Mummius was too close to Crassus, he said, and at that moment he could not afford to offend Crassus.'
'So Mummius bested you over a boy.'
'That wasn't the end of it. It took him only two years to tire of the slave. Mummius decided to get rid of him, but he refused to sell him to me, purely out of spite. By then, Sulla was dead and I had no influence at Rome. I wrote a letter to Mummius and asked him as humbly as I could to let me buy the boy. Do you know what he did? He passed the letter around at a dinner party and made a joke of it. And then he passed the boy around. He made sure I heard all about it.'
'And the boy?'
'Mummius sold him to a slave trader bound for Alexandria. The boy disappeared forever. Mollio!' he snapped. 'Your hands are useless this morning!'
'Patience, master,' cooed the wizened slave. 'Your spine is as stiff as wood. Your shoulders are like rusty hinges.'
The door opened. A rush of cool air brought with it the high, piping voice of Sergius Orata. 'And more ducts run under this floor and along both of these walls,' he was saying. 'You can see the vents that release the hot air, spaced evenly apart.' Eco followed him, nodding without much enthusiasm. Orata was naked except for a very large towel wrapped around his middle. Clouds of steam rose from his plump pink flesh.
'Gordianus, your son is an apt pupil. A better listener I've never encountered. I do believe the boy may have some talent for engineering.'
'Really?' I glanced over the fat man's shoulder at Eco, who looked quite bored. No doubt his thoughts were in a more briny milieu, floating across the seascape of the women's anteroom with Olympias. 'I've always thought so myself, Sergius Orata.
No doubt he finds it difficult to pose complicated questions, but I seem to remember yesterday that he was most curious about how the waters were disposed of after circulating through the pools. I told him I assumed some system of pipes led down to the bay, but my explanation failed to satisfy him.'
'Oh, yes?' Orata looked pleased. Eco stared at me, perplexed, then perceived the wink I gave him when Orata's back was turned. 'Then I shall have to explain it to him in detail, and leave nothing out. Come along, young man.' Orata disappeared through the door, and Eco trudged after him.
Metrobius laughed, then grunted as the slave Mollio recommenced pinching and pounding his flesh. 'Sergius Orata isn't quite the simple soul he pretends to be,' he said with a wry smile. 'There's quite a head on those shoulders, always calculating and counting his profits. He's certainly rich enough, and rumours allude to a weakness for gambling and dancing girls. Still, in this house he must seem a paragon of virtue — neither as greedy as Crassus nor as wicked as Mummius, not by a long shot.'
'About Crassus I know very little,' I confessed, 'only what they say behind his back in the Forum.'
'Believe every word. Really, I'm surprised he hasn't stolen the coin from the corpse's mouth.'
'As for Mummius-'
'The swine.'
'He seems an odd mix of a man to me. I'll grant you that there's harsh side to him. I saw an example of it on the journey here: for a drill, he ordered the galley slaves driven to the maximum — as frightening a spectacle as I've ever witnessed.'
'That sounds like Mummius, with his stupid military discipline. Discipline is a god he uses to excuse any act of wickedness, no matter how vile, just as Crassus can justify any crime for the sake of acquisition. They're two faces of a coin, opposites in many ways but essentially alike.' Such criticism struck me as odd, coming from a man who had been so closely allied with Sulla. But as the Etruscans say, love turns a blind eye to corruption, while jealousy sees every vice.
'And yet,' I said, 'I think I glimpse in both of them a certain weakness, a softness that shows through their armour. Mummius's armour is of steel, Crassus's is of silver, but why does any man cover himself with armour except to shield his vulnerability?'
Metrobius raised an eyebrow and looked at me shrewdly. 'Well, Gordianus of Rome, you may be more perceptive than I thought. What are these weaknesses evinced by Crassus and his lieutenant?'
I shrugged. 'I don't yet know enough about either of them to say.'
Metrobius nodded. 'Search and you may find, Finder. But enough about those two.' He rolled over and allowed the slave to stretch his arms above his head. 'Let's change the subject.'
'Perhaps you could tell me something about Lucius and Gelina. I understand that you and Gelina are very close friends.'
'We are.'
'And Lucius?'
'Didn't you just come from viewing Iaia's painted room?' 'Yes.'
'Then you must have seen his portrait.' 'Oh?'
'The jellyfish, just above the door.' 'What? Oh, I see, you're joking.'
'I'm not. Have a good look at it the next chance you get. The body is that of a jellyfish, but the face is quite unmistakably Lucius. It's in the eyes. A brilliant piece of satire, all the more satisfying because Lucius himself would never have got the joke. It elevates the whole mural to the level of high art. Iaia was once called the finest portraitist in Rome, and for good reason.'
'Then Lucius was a jellyfish?'
He snorted. 'A more useless man I never met. A mere footrest for Crassus, though a footrest might have had more personality. He's better off dead than alive.'
'Yet Gelina loved him.'
'Did she? Yes, I suppose she did. 'Love turns a blind eye,' as the Etruscans say.'
