The object of that remark was smiling, still behind the fence, thinking that as a gift these two cats had taken on an added virtue. They could kill, and perhaps in Rome they would do that to the avaricious bastard who had just stung him for so much money. Perhaps, one night, they would eat Lucius Falerius.
Aquila took his cue from the sutler, staying the same distance as he from the cats gorging on the bloody carcass. Spying him, the man called out. ‘Best get the rest of that flock out of here while you can, lad. And take them by a route that keeps them well away from this pair.’
As he walked across the slope, in an arc that took him round the leopards, Aquila glared at the well-dressed Roman youth with the two useless leads swinging free in his hand. He wanted to kill him now, not fight him. Marcellus, lifting his own eyes, observed a boy of about his own age, poorly dressed, but tall and quite muscular. The colouring intrigued him; golden hair tinged with red and fair light-brown skin. But the eyes did more than that; bright blue, they were fixed on his, and even at a distance he could almost feel the hate.
‘Just some angry peasant,’ he murmured to himself, as his attention went back to the sound of crunching bones and the sight of tearing flesh.
Barbinus, watching Aquila move away, wondered who he was. With so many slaves in his possession he had no idea what they all did, but he visited this place quite often and he could not recall seeing that particular youth. His overseer would know.
‘There nothing about it to do, Aquila,’ Gadoric insisted. ‘You did well get the other sheep back to pens. Besides, they property of Cassius Barbinus. If he want to feed them to pets instead of guests, that his business.’
‘If you or I did it, we would be strung up.’
‘I no deny it, but that way of the world.’
‘It would have been different if Minca had been there.’
The dog raised its huge head at the mention of its name, but dropped it quickly when he heard the harsh tone of Gadoric’s reply, this time talking in his own language, slowly so Aquila could understand.
‘The two cats like you’ve described would have seen to him, a bit slower than a sheep I grant you, but they’d have killed him nevertheless. I know because there are beasts like that in the mountains where I fought, maybe not the same colouring but the same nature. Don’t you ever take chances just for pride, for there’s precious little of that left in a carcass. With odds too great to conquer you withdraw and bide your time. Take your enemy when it suits you, not them. If the men who led us against the Romans had thought that way I wouldn’t be here now.’
Reverting to Latin, he said, ‘Now you best get on way home.’
Dinner with Barbinus proved to be an awkward affair; the fat senator looked even more gross lying on a couch than he did on his feet. Lucius had not enjoyed being told about the episode with the leopards any more than his host had enjoyed being fleeced over the sale of the farms. In reality the two men were so very different that they would have struggled in even better circumstances to agree about anything. It was instructive for Marcellus, who in his own house never met anyone but loyal supporters of both his father and his beliefs. Though Cassius Barbinus was trying to sound like an upright and honourable man, his natural sybaritic nature kept breaking through, made more obvious during the latter part of the dinner than the beginning due to the copious amounts of wine he began to consume.
A slave girl had the task of easing the gorge when guest or host were too full to continue eating, bringing forward the basin she was holding so that the person in distress could vomit. As she entered the circle of lamplight Marcellus examined her closely, recognising her as the same creature who had poured oil on his back that afternoon. She had a good figure and an alluring way of walking. There was something very familiar about her and it took him time, in this setting, to spot that she bore a striking resemblance to Gaius Trebonius’s horrible sister, Valeria. The girl had a more developed figure, but dress her hair and put her in good clothes and the two could be near twins. Watching the submissive way she held the golden bowl, while her master evacuated, he reasoned that the similarity was only physical. Valeria would have emptied the contents over the fat senator’s head.
Lucius waited until Barbinus was finished before continuing a homily on the need for patrician abstinence. Barbinus only half-heard that stricture; his attention was taken up with the way the Falerii boy was watching the slave girl as she exited to empty the bowl. The look in the boy’s eyes, as he gazed at those swaying hips, was one that the host understood only too well. When he did give Lucius full focus he narrowed his deep-set eyes even further, reflecting that a bloodline as long as that of the Falerii did nothing to stop a man from being pompous or a boy from being lecherous. Lucius was reflecting on a set of rules, introduced as far as Barbinus could tell by noble skinflints, mostly impoverished, to stop their wealthier brethren enjoying the fruits of their success. The sumptuary laws had become a code that covered dress, the number of household slaves a man could have, what food he could serve as well as what kind of outward display he could indulge in right down to the decoration on his own litter. It was just as well most senators, while paying lip service, ignored them.
‘I fear your leopards might lead people to fear you have succumbed to imperial pretensions.’ It was the wrong thing to say, a remark brought on by too much wine and Barbinus knew it as soon as he spoke the words. His body went rigid at the look in Lucius’s eyes and he added hastily, ‘No one who knows you would think that, of course.’
‘I was planning to say this privately,’ Lucius replied, ‘but since you have raised it, I find I must do so in front of my son. It is with regret that I have to decline the offer of your beasts.’ Barbinus grunted and Marcellus felt his heart sink as his father continued; he had been looking forward to showing off the cats to his friends. ‘I’m aware of the nature of what I say, but I hope you will not take it as an insult that I cannot accept. It is, I fear, because of that very remark you just made.’
Barbinus protested, but Lucius held up his hand to stop him. ‘I am aware it was a jest, but you will readily see that it is one that others might make with real malice. It is, I know, a gross breach of propriety to refuse your kind offer, but I must.’
What Lucius did not know was that the gift would have had to be withdrawn anyway. The man who had fetched the cats was adamant; there was no way of knowing what they would do after having tasted that sheep so to gift them to a person unused to handling them was to court disaster. The cats could eat Lucius for all Barbinus cared, but they would more than likely take a lump out of a slave, or worse the man’s son which would kill off any right he had to demand a future favour.
‘You must let me give you something with which to replace it,’ Barbinus insisted. Lucius nodded his head, acknowledging that having been rude enough to decline a gift, he had little choice but to accept a substitute.
The fat senator was thinking hard: for all his lard he was no fool; he would never have amassed such wealth if he were and so looking for advantage was something in which he was well versed. Barbinus could think of nothing to give Lucius that would in any way endear him to a man he considered a stuck up streak of piss. But what about the son? Lucius, for all his heavy fathering, clearly doted on the boy. Could Barbinus gain an ally in the Falerii household through a gift that would please Marcellus, one that would do nothing to offend the boy’s father?
‘A slave,’ he said. ‘A household slave.’
‘I do not want for those, Barbinus,’ Lucius replied doubtfully.
‘You cannot decline me twice,’ Barbinus objected. ‘And if I may speak freely, you have been a bachelor these many years. I would guess that your household is well provided with male servants, yet light in the article of females.’
Lucius shrugged to acknowledge the truth of the remark. ‘That is so.’
‘Then I propose a female slave and a valuable one, who is young and will give your house many years of estimable service. I’m sure she will breed well if you wish her to and from that you can certainly profit.’ Barbinus saw Marcellus wriggle in the corner of his eye. ‘What do you say to the one who just attended my evacuation?’
For the sake of appearances, Lucius looked as if he was ruminating but he had no choice in the matter. To decline two gifts would be a terminal breach of good manners. The fact that Barbinus should not have offered him anything, leopards or a slave girl, made no difference. The overture had been made, and he must respond.
‘You are most kind,’ Lucius conceded. ‘Now, since we need to depart at first light, I fear I must get some sleep. You too, Marcellus.’
‘Yes, Father,’ the boy said, before turning to Barbinus. ‘And may I thank you, Senator Barbinus, for such an entertaining day.’
