‘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What Lucius did not know was that the gift would have had to be withdrawn anyway.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.’
‘Gods in the heavens,’ Barbinus groaned, as soon as Lucius and Marcellus were out of earshot. ‘That was a trial.’
His overseer, Nicos, was a man who was allowed certain liberties, so he replied with an ironic grin and in a sonorous tone of voice. ‘The most noble Lucius Falerius Nerva is famed for his probity, master.’
‘He’s Nerva all right, but he’s also a prick, man, and a damned greedy one at that. Do you know how much the tough old bastard charged me for that Sicilian dustbowl of his?’
‘I fear too much,’ Nicos said.
‘I’ve a good mind to turn the whole price into copper asses and drop it on his head.’
‘Would that kill him, master?’
‘It might.’
‘Can I advance the opinion that might is not good enough.’
‘You’re probably right, Nicos. He’s the power in the land and I, who own dozens of farms, must bow the knee to him. The gall! I had to practically force a gift down his throat.’
‘To think, with those big cats it could have been the reverse.’
‘You paid the sutler off?’
Nicos nodded. ‘Half the agreed fee, master.’
‘That much?’
‘He threatened to go to a praetor and make a case. I reasoned that it was easier to settle for half than suffer the bother.’
‘You’re probably right. Anyway I decided to gift him Sosia to replace them.’
‘Ah!’ Nicos replied, looking away.
‘That’s not a problem?’
‘No, master.’
Barbinus dug him in the ribs. ‘Lining up to take her were you?’
Nicos looked shocked. ‘Would I?’
‘If my back was turned, yes,’ Barbinus insisted. ‘You will steal any of my rights as a slave owner that you can and you know it. If you weren’t so good with money and ranch running I’d have strung you up by the thumbs years ago.’
‘A gift of a virgin is very complimentary, master. A noble sacrifice indeed.’
‘I think she’s safe with old Lucius. He’s so hung up on being snooty I doubt he knows he’s got balls between his legs but the youngster had his eye on her when she was serving, so perhaps he might be the one to do the deflowering.’
‘Two virgins,’ said Nicos.
‘Messy,’ Barbinus replied, his eyes rolling in the fat that surrounded them. ‘Perhaps she should be prepared.’
‘May I humbly offer my services, master,’ Nicos said.
‘Offer away, man, but I do think that I should do the deed. After all, she’s going to be patrician meat, so we should start her out as we mean to finish. Fetch her to the spare guest chamber. I’ll go there as soon as I’m sure old Lucius is asleep.’
‘As you wish, master,’ Nicos replied, turning away, the curse on his lips hidden from Barbinus.
‘By the way, how long have we had that young fellow who tends the sheep?’
‘What young fellow?’
‘The one I saw today. Nearly got in the way of the leopards, funny coloured hair, what I could see of it. Odd, I don’t remember buying him.’
‘We do breed our own occasionally,’ Nicos replied, wondering who in the name of Jupiter his master was talking about. The man who tended the sheep was an addle-brained Celt. Not that he was about to say so; it would never do to show ignorance to someone like Barbinus.
Aquila had penned the sheep and returned after dark, something he had done before when the senator had been entertaining and Sosia had been kept back to serve. He waited, with Minca, sitting with his back to the part of the wicker fence that served as their meeting place, looking up at the star-filled sky and wondering that the heavens could contain so many gods. He was also wondering what it took to call them down to his aid. He would like to have done that today, perhaps a thunderbolt from Vulcan to strike down that scented prick who let loose those leopards, but as the thought came so did the conclusion; the boy was rich and he was not. Master Marcellus, Barbinus had called him. If he wanted the gods to intercede for him, no doubt they would queue up to do so.