‘I must do something to reward that man’s eloquence when I return. Cassius Barbinus could find he has a more prominent place in the Senate. Or no place at all!’
‘I shall make slow progress, Titus Cornelius, stopping to rest frequently, I must since the doctors insist. Besides, I must keep abreast of what is happening in the city.’
Lucius arranged for a continual stream of messengers to meet him on the Via Appia; he did not want to be too far south if Quintus proved utterly incapable. It was not just his health that would slow him down.
‘I will need authority to act,’ said Titus.
‘You will have all the authority of my position and my person,’ Lucius replied. He could see Marcellus out of the corner of his eye, hopping from foot to foot in a most uncommon, and to his father’s mind, most unbecoming display of impatience. ‘I fear that I must burden you with my son, Titus Cornelius. If I tie him to the pace of my litter he will drive me to an early grave.’
Marcellus stopped moving and stood erect. ‘I would see it as an honour to stay by your side, father.’
‘A duty, Marcellus.’
‘No!’
Marcellus wanted to go with Titus more than anything in the world, yet he was worried about leaving his father, for what Lucius thought was impatience, was really indecision. The old man felt a tear prick the corner of his eye and it shocked him, since he was not the lachrymose type, but this son of his had pierced the armour that normally surrounded his heart. He rarely touched Marcellus, or showed any sign of affection, but he did now, bidding him come closer for a painful embrace.
‘Go with Titus Cornelius, my son, and behave in a manner to make me even more proud.’
‘I do hope that your departure from Rome is nothing to do with me, Cholon.’
‘Please be assured that it is not, Lady Claudia.’
She gave him a grim smile. ‘Yet I rarely see you these days, even though I have promised not to pose embarrassing questions.’
Cholon could hardly tell her the truth: that on behalf of Titus he had taken an active political role, seeking out those knights who honestly sought reform, rather than the mass, who generally confused such things with the need to advance their personal interests. His efforts had just begun to bear fruit, had indeed advanced to a point that made some form of action imminent, when the attempt was made on the life of Lucius, an event that had brought everything to a halt. Some knights, like their senatorial superiors, had found pressing reasons to be out of the city; others, less cowardly, had counselled delay. To press matters immediately would look suspicious, in some way connected with the assassin’s blow.
Cholon had argued the opposite — that an opportunity existed which might not be repeated for years — but he had been unable to muster enough support. Then, when Quintus had informed Titus of his new task, accompanying the Princeps Senatus to Sicily, the Greek’s nimble mind had made the connection. Despite his best efforts his machinations were known; worse, Quintus and his colleagues were aware of the involvement of Titus. Common sense dictated that he too leave the city for a while. None of these thoughts showed on his face, which held the same look as before: concerned, if slightly amused.
‘What could I possibly say that would convince you? All I seek is a more Greek environment. I feel stifled in Rome and with Titus leaving too…’ Cholon shrugged, but said no more.
‘Where will you go?’
‘I will go as far south as Biaie, Lady, though I admit the temples of Sicily do attract me. Especially Syracuse, which, as you know, was an Athenian colony.’
‘So no plays, Cholon, no comedies lampooning our stiff Roman manners?’
The mocking tone of her voice made him quite brusque. ‘Perhaps, once I’m away from the city, I will be able to see you Romans more clearly.’
‘You may even see some virtue.’ Claudia smiled, and gently touched the back of his hand. ‘And me, who shall I have with both you and Titus gone?’
Cholon thought, if Claudia had any sense, she should have a stream of lovers, but he did not say that. ‘You have your grandchildren.’
‘So I do,’ she said sourly, making him realise how tactless he had been.
To find himself staying in the same city as Lucius Falerius Nerva gave Cholon quite a shock. Only the sheer volume of traffic had allowed them to meet in the first place, for Neapolis was, if anything, busier than Rome. Their litters, caught in the jam, ended up side by side. Lucius, peering through the gap in his curtains, recognised him immediately.
‘Cholon Pyliades!’ he cried. The Greek acknowledged the greeting but declined to reply and the senator’s face took on a mocking frown. ‘Oh dear, Cholon, still harbouring a petty hatred for nasty old Lucius Falerius.’
Cholon did not know the old man all that well but he had been more privy to the thoughts of Aulus Macedonicus than anyone else. To Cholon, Lucius represented the other side of the Roman coin; where Aulus had been kind and generous, he was cruel and mean. He knew they had been childhood friends, that was not unusual, but they had remained committed to each other, which had mystified him, given they seemed to have nothing at all in common. While he could readily see what Lucius gained from such an upright friend as his late master, he had no idea what benefit accrued to Aulus by the connection, and if anyone stood in the way of the family getting justice for what had happened at Thralaxas, it was he.
He had observed Lucius often enough, going about his business in Rome, striding through the crowd, either accompanied by lictors or, when out of office, by a personal slave. The man had always struck him as sour of face and single of purpose. Now he was grinning from ear to ear, something which Cholon had never seen. It was as though the southern heat had thawed his normally icy exterior and Lucius, thin though he was, showed evidence of some strength and a fair degree of charm, in the way he insisted they dine together.
‘Titus Cornelius told me you’d taken to writing plays,’ said Lucius, with a face, and tone of voice, that made it sound like an occupation akin to torturing kittens. Then there was the suspicion that his host was being disingenuous, deliberately not mentioning his political activities.
‘You know what we Greeks are like, Lucius Falerius, forever idling the hours away. As a race, we lack purpose.’
Cholon had intended a degree of irony, but it totally missed his host, who took his words at face value. ‘Plays are bad enough, but at all costs you should avoid philosophy.’
‘I cannot see what harm can come from a study of philosophy. Surely the whole point of the subject is the improvement of that flawed creature, man!’
‘The whole subject does nothing but breed discontent. Stoics are so wedded to virtue that no man could escape their strictures, while Epicureans are devoted to pleasure, which must be funded by blatant corruption.’
‘Lucius Falerius, that is the worst summation of philosophy I’ve ever heard. Mind, I agree with you about the insufferable priggishness of the Stoics…’
Lucius interrupted, a wicked look on his gaunt face. ‘So you don’t see the continual pursuit of pleasure as morally debilitating?’
Cholon realised that the old man only intended to be provocative, a humorous diversion to create conversation, having correctly tagged Cholon as a follower of Epicurus, but as they talked, despite his claims to despise the whole subject, Lucius showed his true colours. Some adherence to the tenets of the philosophers was essential to a man in public life and it was plain that Lucius Falerius was, if anything, a Cynic. They discussed virtue and the pursuit of knowledge, the common threads of Socratic discourse, with Lucius always playing the advocate against whichever view Cholon espoused. It was a great pleasure and extremely taxing, since the older man, with all his experience of pleading in the Roman courts, was a cunning adversary. Course after course came and was consumed; they had evacuated once already, but with the quantity of rich food, Cholon wondered whether he might need a second vomit.
He belched loudly in mid-sentence. ‘At the risk of repeating myself.’
‘A privilege you’ve exercised more than once,’ said the senator with a grin.
‘It would be good manners to let me finish.’ Lucius, still smiling, nodded for the Greek to continue. ‘All I’m
