The Imperial Banner (33 page)

The boy walked away, shoulders stiff with fear.

‘My guests, later we shall have more entertainment, and we shall drink and toast as never before.’ Scaurus spread his palms towards the tables. ‘But I have had my chefs working on this lot for weeks, and some of it is getting cold. So eat! All of you eat!’

Having lived on simple fare for the past month, Cassius found he had rather lost the taste for rich food but there was no mistaking the quality of what was on offer. Ignoring the endless varieties of seafood, the hams, the sausages and the fatted liver, he settled for a plate of scrambled eggs with some salted cheese. He also took some bread from one of the identical loaves within reach of every guest. On top of each loaf, written in a white glaze, were the words
Unshaken, Unthrown.

‘What’s that about?’ he asked Antonia.

‘The city’s motto. During the reign of Caligula there was a terrible earthquake here. A seer named Deborius created a talisman to protect the city against further disaster – a porphyry column; and written upon the base was that phrase. It was struck by lightning during Domitian’s time. The column was destroyed but the base was left standing.’

‘You’re glad this latest disaster is over with, I presume?’

Antonia – who had hardly eaten a thing – picked at a stork wing and put some of the pale, thready meat on her plate.

‘I remember the Persians. Compared to that, one might not even have known the city was occupied. I will say I enjoyed seeing their arrogant bitch of a queen knocked off her perch, but we should be glad she fled instead of trying to making a stand here.’

The servants began to remove the first course, and others hastily refilled glasses. The wine was hardly watered at all, and Cassius reminded himself to drink slowly; he had to keep a clear head. Before the second course arrived, Scaurus summoned the drummers to the dining room. He arranged them in front of the statue of the Tyche, then addressed his guests once more.

‘As promised, a little more entertainment. Trust me when I tell you that you will not believe your eyes. A word of warning, Quarto: stay in your seat and keep your hands to yourself!’

The magistrate laughed along with the rest of the guests, his rolls of fat undulating under his tunic. Scaurus turned towards an anteroom.

‘I give you – the dancing girls of Cadiz!’

As the drummers struck up a pounding beat, a troupe of dark-skinned, half-naked young women filed into the room. They had clearly been selected for their similarly shapely physiques and were wearing far more jewellery than clothing. Beaming, eyes wide, the girls formed a line in front of the drummers and began to move. Scaurus, clapping along in time, gleefully observed the reactions of his male guests. Ignoring Antonia’s disdainful tutting, Cassius watched, transfixed, as the girls moved in perfect time with the drums, swaying their hips and making shapes in the air with their fingers. Scaurus went over to the nearest girl.

‘My favourite!’ he shouted above the din of the drums. He gazed down at her full, jiggling breasts, then darted forward and licked one of her dark brown nipples. The girl laughed gamely, not that she had a great deal of choice.

A few of the guests cheered or applauded. Many people – Cassius and Antonia included – turned quickly to gauge the governor’s reaction. Gordio took care to make no obvious expression at all. His wife looked appalled.

Scaurus’s display set the tone for the rest of the evening. As Abascantius had suggested, the Antiochenes did indeed seem ready to enjoy themselves. The diners left their seats and mingled; and, as lamps and lanterns were lit, the sound of urgent, light-hearted conversation built gradually to a tumult. The host alternated the drummers with the other musicians and was throwing food to his leopard by the time the fifth and final course was served. It included truffles, the arrival of which triggered the usual discussion about what they actually were. The guest sitting to Cassius’s right was a firm adherent to Plutarch’s theory: that they were made of mud cooked by lightning.

A few moments after a slave announced the third hour of night, Scaurus – now decidedly unsteady on his feet – went and stood by the statue. As he rubbed the Tyche’s leg, then leaned against it, Cassius noted more than a few disapproving looks. The host completed a number of toasts, including a mention for both Marcellinus and Gordio. The governor was now accompanied only by his wife; the twins had left after the third course. Magistrate Quarto then gave a short, slurred speech praising Scaurus which met with rapturous applause.

The final toast was to the Emperor himself. The host had his guests stand and he walked past each of the tables to ensure everyone had a full goblet, then announced they would take a drink for every letter of the Emperor’s name. Lucius Domitius Aurelianus contained no fewer than twenty-four and the more committed drinkers needed refills to complete the task properly. With that, Scaurus announced that the evening’s formalities were over. He summoned a rotund, plainly dressed individual and announced that he was the funniest man he’d ever met.

‘A comedian,’ Cassius said to Antonia behind his hand. ‘How novel.’

‘Consider yourself lucky. I remember the year he read us some of his poetry.’

Scaurus sat down next to Magistrate Quarto and they were joined by General Ulpian, who also seemed to be enjoying himself. Octobrianus, meanwhile, was speaking to another man, still maintaining the neutral expression he had displayed all evening. Governor Gordio was again talking to his wife.

Cassius thought of what Abascantius had asked him to observe. Did the fact that both Quarto and Ulpian seemed so relaxed suggest they couldn’t possibly be involved with the theft of the banner? Gordio and Octobrianus appeared – by comparison at least – more tense and preoccupied. Did that suggest they might be? Or did each man’s behaviour simply reflect his nature? Cassius wondered if anything at all could be learned simply by watching the men. Abascantius clearly thought so.

The comedian began with a few vulgar quips, several of which were at the expense of promiscuous older women, eliciting yet more tuts from Antonia. He then moved on to mocking the Palmyrans, Zenobia and her lackeys in particular, and the guests responded with some zeal. When he ran out of related material and the laughs died down, Scaurus bounded up and whispered in his ear.

The next few jokes were all aimed at Quarto, largely to do with his weight. The comedian seemed wary, but was clearly even more concerned about defying his employer. In any case, the magistrate seemed too drunk to care, and laughed along merrily. Then there was a crack about the governor, centering around the apparent impossibility of removing him from his post. It was tame stuff – almost complimentary in fact – but the guests seemed unsure how to respond. Even the host seemed nonplussed by the awkward silence.

‘Scaurus has gone too far,’ whispered Antonia.

Governor Gordio looked around at the sea of faces, then smiled benignly and raised his goblet. This prompted a cheer, and a long round of applause. Gordio took a drink and put his arm around his wife’s shoulder. She seemed thrilled by the way he’d handled it.

‘He’s popular,’ said Cassius.

‘Very,’ replied Antonia, still clapping. ‘And why not? Everybody loves a survivor.’

Scaurus took the hint and dismissed the comedian. He and his cronies – Quarto and Ulpian included – then began some highly convoluted drinking game. Within a few moments, Gordio and his wife left, only stopping to offer a brief thank you to Scaurus. Many of the older guests took this as their cue to depart. Antonia nudged Cassius and nodded across the room. Octobrianus was already on his way out.

‘A prior arrangement, perhaps,’ she suggested.

Cassius stifled a yawn.

‘I don’t think we’re going to learn much else here tonight,’ Antonia continued.

‘I agree. Shall we?’

‘I’ll go and say goodnight to Scaurus. Meet you at the front door?’

Cassius nodded, bade farewell to his fellow diners, then walked back through the villa. He stopped by a window and looked down at the river. A pair of tribunes had lured the dancing girls outside and they were all splashing around in the water. Had he not been hung over and under orders to keep a low profile, he might have thought of joining them. Antonia caught up with him and took his arm as they walked back in to the reception room.

‘Well?’ he asked.

‘They’re drunk.’

Heading for the door, they passed several couples canoodling in the shadows. One lady sounded like she was enjoying herself greatly.

‘A lively city, Antioch,’ said Cassius.

‘You should see the Maiouma,’ replied Antonia.

‘The what?’

‘Maiouma. Old cult festival. Celebrated every three years. Next one is in the spring. Bascially it’s an orgy.’

‘I must remember to get my leave request in early.’

Antonia smiled as they headed down the steps towards the street. To their right, carriages were lined up in rows. One well-dressed individual was rambling incoherently and having to be manhandled into his litter by his attendants. Antonia waved to her driver and, after a good deal of manoeuvring, he pulled up in front of the steps.

‘Gods, it’s as black as Hades out here,’ she said. ‘I’d have thought Gordio would have had all the street lanterns going again by now.’

‘Ah yes, the famed lights of Antioch.’

‘Olive oil prices apparently,’ Antonia explained. ‘Would you like a lift home?’

‘Much obliged.’

Without Indavara in tow, Cassius had no desire to walk back through the darkened city alone. He helped Antonia up, then took a seat next to her.

‘Your shawl is there, madam, if you need it,’ the driver said over his shoulder.

‘Yes, Vedrix. I have it.’

Though there were several layers of cushions, the combination of the carriage’s iron wheel rims and the uneven city streets made the journey a noisy and uncomfortable one. To Cassius’s amazement, Antonia fell asleep on his shoulder just moments after they crossed Hadrian’s Bridge.

He’d never met a woman quite like her. She was so confident and assured; witty too. These were not typically female attributes, and in truth it was no surprise she wasn’t married. Even so, Cassius admitted to himself that he liked her, and he could see why Abascantius valued her so highly.

Antonia’s villa was close, just a stone’s throw from the eastern bank of the Orontes. She awoke as the driver pulled up.

‘We’re home?’

‘You are,’ said Cassius.

The driver got down and stood beside the horses, subtly remaining out of sight.

Antonia sat up and checked her diadem was still in place.

‘Well, young man. I must admit you do seem quite the gentleman. Evidently not all of Abascantius’s people are as unpleasant as him. Remind the pig to pay me promptly this time, would you?’

‘I shall.’

Antonia put her hand against Cassius’s chin and tilted it up. ‘You have a wonderful profile.’

‘Thank you.’

She squeezed up close to him. ‘If you ever need to relax, get away from whatever awful job he gives you, come and see me. I’ll help take your mind off things.’

The thought of this, which might have seemed rather distasteful to Cassius earlier in the evening, suddenly seemed almost attractive.