“You can,” the dragon pointed out, as if that explained anything.
Antony thought about it and shrugged. Maybe it did. He reached out tentatively to pat the dragon’s neck. It felt sleek and soft as leather. “What a magnificent creature you are,” he said. “We’ll call you – Vincitatus.”
It turned out that Vincitatus was a female, according to the very nervous master of Antony’s stables, when the man could be dragged in to look at her. She obstinately refused to have her name changed, however, so Vincitatus it was, and Vici for short. She also demanded three goats a day, a side helping of something sweet, and jewelry, which didn’t make her all that different from most of the other women of Antony’s acquaintance. Everyone was terrified of her. Half of Antony’s slaves ran away. Tradesmen wouldn’t come to the house after he had them in to the courtyard, and neither would most of his friends.
It was magnificent.
Vici regarded the latest fleeing tradesman disapprovingly. “I didn’t like that necklace anyway,” she said. “Antony, I want to go flying.”
“I’ve told you, my most darling one, some idiot guard with a bow will shoot you,” he said, peeling an orange; he had to do it for himself, since the house slaves had been bolting in packs until he promised they didn’t have to come to her. “Don’t worry, I’ll have more room for you soon.”
He’d already had most of the statuary cleared out of the courtyard, but it wasn’t going to do for long; she had already tripled in size, after two weeks. Fortunately, he’d already worked out a splendid solution.
“Dominus,” Maracles called nervously, from the house. “Cato is here.”
“Splendid!” Antony called back. “Show him in. Cato, my good neighbor,” he said, rising from the divan as the old man stopped short at the edge of the courtyard. “I thank you so deeply for coming. I would have come myself, but you see, the servants get so anxious when I leave her alone.”
“I did not entirely credit the rumors, but I see you really have debauched yourself out of your mind at last,” Cato said. “No, thank you, I will not come out; the beast can eat you, first, and then it will be so sozzled I can confidently expect to make my escape.”
“I am not going to eat Antony,” Vici said indignantly, and Cato stared at her.
“Maracles, bring Cato a chair, there,” Antony said, sprawling back on the divan, and he stroked Vici’s neck.
“I didn’t know they could speak,” Cato said.
“You should hear her recite the Priapea, there’s a real ring to it,” Antony said. “Now, why I asked you—”
“That poem is not very good,” Vici said, interrupting. “I liked that one you were reading at your house better, about all the fighting.”
“What?” Cato said.
“What?” Antony said.
“I heard it over the wall, yesterday,” Vici said. “It was much more exciting, and,” she added, “the language is more interesting. The other one is all just about fornicating and buggering, over and over, and I cannot tell any of the people in it apart.”
Antony stared at her, feeling vaguely betrayed.
Cato snorted. “Well, Antony, if you are mad enough to keep a dragon, at least you have found one that has better taste than you do.”
“Yes, she is most remarkable,” Antony said, with gritted teeth. “But as you can see, we are getting a little cramped, so I’m afraid—”
“Do you know any others like that?” Vici asked Cato.
“What, I suppose you want me to recite Ennius’s Annals for you here and now?” Cato said.
“Yes, please,” she said, and settled herself comfortably.
“Er,” Antony said. “Dearest heart—”
“Shh, I want to hear the poem,” she said.
Cato looked rather taken aback, but then he looked at Antony – and smiled. And then the bastard started in on the whole damned thing.
Antony fell asleep somewhere after the first half-hour and woke up again to find them discussing the meter or the symbolism or whatnot. Cato had even somehow talked the house servants into bringing him out a table and wine and bread and oil, which was more than they’d had the guts to bring out for him the last two weeks.
Antony stood up. “If we might resume our business,” he said pointedly, with a glare in her direction.
Vincitatus did not take the hint. “Cato could stay to dinner.”
“No, he could not,” Antony said.
“So what was this proposition of yours, Antony?” Cato said.
“I want to buy your house,” Antony said flatly. He’d meant to come at it roundabout, and enjoy himself leading Cato into a full understanding of the situation, but at this point he was too irritated to be subtle.
“That house was built by my great-grandfather,” Cato said. “I am certainly not going to sell it to you to be used for orgies.”
Antony strolled over to the table and picked up a piece of bread to sop into the oil. Well, he could enjoy this, at least. “You might have difficulty finding any other buyer. Or any guests, for that matter, once word gets out.”
Cato snorted. “On the contrary,” he said. “I imagine the value will shortly be rising, as soon as you have gone.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have plans to go anywhere,” Antony said.
“Oh, never fear,” Cato said. “I think the Senate will make plans for you.”
“Cato says there is a war going on in Gaul,” Vincitatus put in. “Like in the poem. Wouldn’t it be exciting to go see a war?”
“What?” Antony said.
“Well, Antonius,” the magistrate said, “I must congratulate you.”
“For surviving the last sentence?” Antony said.
“No,” the magistrate said. “For originality. I don’t believe I have ever faced this particular offense before.”
“There’s no damned law against keeping a dragon!”
“There is now,” the magistrate said. He looked down at his papers. “There is plainly no question of guilt in this case, it only remains what is to be done with the creature. The priests of the Temple of Jupiter suggest that the beast would be most highly regarded as a sacrifice, if you can arrange the mechanics—”
“They can go bugger a herd of goats,” Antony snarled. “I’ll set her loose in the Forum, first – no. No, wait, I didn’t mean that.” He took a deep breath and summoned up a smile and leaned across the table. “I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.”
“You don’t have enough money for that even now,” the magistrate said.
“Look,” Antony said, “I’ll take her to my villa at Stabiae—” Seeing the eyebrow rising, he amended. “Or I’ll buy an estate near Arminum. Plenty of room, she won’t be a bother to anyone—”
“Until you run out of money or drink yourself to death,” the magistrate said. “You do realize the creatures live a hundred years?”
“They do?” Antony said blankly.
“The evidence also informs me,” the magistrate added, “that she is already longer than the dragon of Brundisium, which killed nearly half the company of the Fourteenth Legion.”
“She’s as quiet as a lamb?” Antony tried.
The magistrate just looked at him.
“Gaul?” Antony said.
“Gaul,” the magistrate said.
“I hope you’re happy,” he said bitterly to Vincitatus as his servants joyfully packed his things, except for the few very unhappy ones he was taking along.
“Yes,” she said, eating another goat.
He’d been ordered to leave at night, under guard, but when the escort showed up, wary soldiers in full armor and holding their spears, they discovered a new difficulty: she couldn’t fit into the street anymore.