“It was an accident.” I am certain I said this more thanonce as she criticized Caesar, but to my disgust, this was one timenone of the others took my side.
In fact, it was Gaius who said, “Whether itwas an accident or not, he destroyed centuries of wisdom!”
I was amused because I knew why he wastaking Bronwen’s side, who had scoffed at the very idea that itbeing an accident mattered, but I was also slightly irritated.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Gaius, I didn’trealize how much of a scholar you are and how much you love toread,” I retorted sarcastically.
His face reddened, and I felt a bitfoolish; fortunately, it was quickly forgotten as we moved on. Thestreets were now full of people, and it was an exotic mixture, andthis time, it was Demeter who would point one out and say casually,“That man is a merchant from Parthia,” and “Those men work for theMacedonians who still occupy the lower offices who run the city.”Naturally, there were a fair number of Romans, most of them incivilians’ tunics, although we spotted at least a few men togate.There were also men wearing the soldier’s tunic andbaltea, but while we got a couple ofcurious glances, it was nothing unusual, for me, or for Bronwen,for that matter, but fortunately, all it took was a glare from meto make the leers vanish. We made essentially a big circle,starting at the theater, then walking by the royal palace that isnow the Praetorium of anImperial province of Rome, where we understandably saw most of thetogate Romans, all of them scurrying about in a great hurry andalways carrying at least one scroll and followed by at least oneslave. Passing through the agora, we broke our fast, buying meat pies fromone vendor, some honey cakes from another, then finishing it offwith a flask of wine that we passed around as we followed Demeter,and this was where his knowledge of the world showed itself toadvantage. We were naturally drawn by the smells of the section ofthe agora where the spicemerchants sold their wares, and as we walked past them, he pointedto a basket of what he said were peppercorns, which he told us camefrom India.
“It is a shame,” he commented in amanner that seemed offhand but later I was not so sure, “because ifwe had time, I would strongly suggest you buy as much of these asyou can.”
“Why?” I asked. “What makes them sovaluable?”
“They are used to flavor food,master.” We should not have been surprised when the merchant whowas standing behind the long stall that was loaded with a varietyof spices spoke to us in Greek. “This is perhaps the most valuablespice in the known world today!”
If I had been blindfolded and this manbrought before me, the instant the blindfold was removed, I wouldhave said, “This man is a merchant.” His robes were cut in aconventional style, but it was the sheen of the fabric itself thatI knew from experience was silk, my mother possessing astola made of the material that isone of her most prized possessions. He was portly, almost obese,appearing to be in his early forties, with a closely cropped beardthat was neatly trimmed, while his black hair was oiled and pulledback tightly against his skull, with gold earrings in both ears,and he smelled of some sort of exotic perfume, but more thananything, he exuded wealth.
“What makes it so valuable?” I askedskeptically, and he beamed at me in a manner that practicallyproclaimed that he had hooked a large fish, so to speak.
“Why, the taste of it, master…” Hisvoice trailed off, and while I hesitated, I could see no harm insupplying my name. He immediately continued, “It has a…bite to it,Master Pullus. But,” he held up a pudgy hand, every finger of whichhad at least one ring on it, “it is not a painful bite, oh no! Itis most pleasant! It is,” he offered a lascivious grin, “like thebite of a lover in the throes of passion!”
“Maybe we should have a taste,” Gaiussuggested.
I shrugged, then nodded to Alex, sincehe was the only one with a purse, but when he extracted asilver sestertius, themerchant only laughed.
“That will buy you one peppercorn,hardly enough for all of you!”
“One?” Iglanced over at Demeter, but he did not seem surprised atall.
“As I said, it is very expensive,” hereplied blandly.
I was certain that this merchant wastrying to cheat us, but when I told him flatly I was not going tospend a whole sestertius forwhat looks in some ways like a rat turd, being roughly the samesize, black and wrinkled, although they are perfectly round, hesimply shrugged.
“As you wish,” he said indifferently,then waved a hand at the other baskets. “Perhaps some of theseother spices will interest you. They are not as expensive, but theywill help make your meals be more memorable and pleasing. Not,” heassured me, “like peppercorns will.”
Oh, you slimy bastard, I thought, becausedespite being sure he was manipulating me, I was still turning toAlex and snapping, “Pay the man for a peppercorn for each ofus.”
Fortunately for him, and for us, themerchant did not gloat or give any indication that he had beatenme, instead just reaching down and picking up six peppercorns oneat a time, and I did not miss the fact that he did not extend thehand with the peppercorns until Alex had disgustedly dropped sixcoins in his hand. But he did so, and we each picked one up, and asI examined it, my initial impression of it resembling a rat turdwas reinforced. I took a cautious sniff and experienced a slighttickling
