“It may be normal for you, Greek,” called out Clemens, “but there’s not usually a couch by the fire of an army camp.”
Apollonius looked slightly embarrassed, but he continued. “You'll be seated according to rank. Caesar has asked that Primus Pilus Pullus sit with his group, on the LectusSummus. Caesar is doing you a great honor, Primus Pilus Pullus.”
If he had hoped that telling me this would somehow soothe me, he was gravely mistaken, but given the nature of our relationship, I think Apollonius was taking perverse pleasure by exacting revenge for all the insults I hurled his way on a daily basis.
“Of course, you'll be sitting in the third position, but it's still a great honor.”
That it was; once I got over the shock my immediate thought was for my sisters, and I hoped that wherever Livia was in the afterlife, she could see her baby brother and how far he had come. I wish I could say that my first thought was for Gisela and Vibi, but sadly, I had not given them much thought since I left her weeping in the apartment in Brundisium. I had received a letter from her; not from her personally, she paid a scribe to write what she dictated, and the letter had arrived with the reinforcements. It was then I learned that she was pregnant again and was hoping for a daughter. Things had not been right between us before I left, but we obviously had moments where we got along, one of them resulting in the news that I was expecting another child. Now here I was, more miles away than I could count, about to have Caesar sitting, or more accurately, lying across from me, but truthfully, I was more worried about Cleopatra than I was about Caesar.
~ ~ ~ ~
Apollonius finished his class about the proper way to behave, leaving us to prepare ourselves, making sure that our decorations and plumes were in good repair and properly polished. Which meant, of course, that there were sweating Gregarii in every Century who performed the actual work of making us presentable. At the appointed third of a watch, we were rowed to the barge, where a combination bodyguard of Nubians and our own men were waiting to help us aboard the barge. One of the perfumed creatures of Cleopatra’s court was awaiting us as well, trying not to wrinkle his heavily made up nose in distaste at the sight of us, causing us to snicker as we followed him. As ornate as the palace of the Pharaohs had been, the barge was at least as much so, if not more heavily bedecked in gold leaf and silver trimming. The columns had every appearance of being made of real marble, with gold capitals wrapped in ivy, and I had to wonder how stable this vessel really was. We marched through the throne room, where we could not help stopping to gape at the throne of the Pharaohs, made of what I was sure was solid gold, with ebony and ivory carvings in the form of twisting serpents wrapped around the legs. Rising up from the back of the throne was what looked like the head of a dog of some sort, again made of solid gold by all appearances, with eyes made of inlaid lapis lazuli, by the look of it. I would have liked to spend more time examining it, but our escort was getting impatient so we continued into the dining hall. There were a series of low, Roman-style tables, around each of which were three couches, with an attendant at each one, armed with wax tablets with the names of the occupants of their particular table. The rest of my party were led to the far end of the dining room, while I was shown to my spot on the couch, the farthest point on the couch opposite Caesar’s spot, with Cleopatra in the place of honor to his left. Neither of them had arrived, but most of the other guests had, and I was distinctly uncomfortable to find myself next to a member of Cleopatra’s court on the couch to my immediate left, though I cannot remember the creature’s name or title. I was just aware that he was of the same nature as the late Pothinus, one of those men called a eunuch, smelling of perfume and oils, and I did not like the way he looked at me. The only relief was that on the opposite side was General Hirtius, who for the most part was a good sort, for a patrician snob anyway, and was at the very least a Roman. Once we sat down, servants appeared to start pouring wine, served unwatered. I immediately signaled for a servant to add water to mine, ignoring the warning hiss and shake of the head I got from Hirtius. I was determined to keep a clear head, and had ordered my Centurions to do likewise, though I had my doubts whether some of them would obey. After we were seated for several moments, long enough for many of the guests to down more than one cup of wine, there was the sound of horns, all of us rising at this signal. Cleopatra and Caesar made their entrance, and I imagine it would have been more impressive if Cleopatra had not been so pregnant and forced to waddle more than walk to their places. To her credit, she did not seem in the least embarrassed by her condition, and while she was very plain as I have said, I must say that the pregnancy gave her something of a glow that made her more attractive. Still, I would not have given her a poke with my stick, if you take my meaning. Nevertheless, Caesar was so obviously taken with her, making no attempt to hide it, something that some men scoffed at but for which I admired him. I was becoming more aware of how important the opinion of others was to me, so I envied his self-assurance and whatever quality it is that allows a man to do as he pleases while not worrying about what others think of him, and this quality Caesar had in abundance. The couple took their seats, our signal to do the same, and immediately the first course was brought out. Normally I am indifferent to food, but I vividly remember most of what was served that evening, especially the first course, which were crocodile eggs. But these were not eggs that I, or any Roman for that matter was accustomed to, for the eggs had been fertilized so that when the shell was broken, half-formed baby crocodiles awaited our consumption. I felt my stomach lurch, taking a quick glance around at the other Roman guests and was pleased to see that they looked as disconcerted as I was. Wise enough to know that a refusal to partake of what the Egyptians obviously considered a delicacy would be a mortal insult I hardened my heart, and stomach, then popped one into my mouth, swallowing it quickly, with a minimum of chewing. Surprisingly, what little I tasted was not that bad, though I decided against chewing the next one more thoroughly. My Egyptian counterpart had no such hesitation; he chewed and smacked away, and I caught a glimpse of a tiny tail protruding from his oily lips before it disappeared with a slurping sound. I leaned back to shoot a glance over to General Hirtius, who caught my eye, rolling his while giving me a sympathetic smile.
“So, Primus Pilus, what do you think of our cuisine so far?”
It took a moment for it to register that I was being addressed, slightly longer to make the connection that it was a woman’s voice, and that Cleopatra was the only woman at our couch. By the time I realized what was happening, every other set of eyes, including Caesar’s, were staring at me and I could feel the heat shooting up from my toes.
“It’s. . it’s very. . interesting, Highness,” I stammered, then I saw Caesar’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, making me even more uncomfortable, but Cleopatra laughed, and it was a very pleasant sound.
“Put like a diplomat, Primus Pilus.” Her eyes became mischievous, and she pressed, “But what exactly does that mean, interesting? Is that good or bad?”
I gulped, trying to choke the mouthful of baby crocodile past the lump in my throat. “Well, Highness. The taste isn't so bad. I guess I’m just not accustomed to the idea of eating something that normally would be eating me.”
I cannot describe the relief and pride I felt at the whoops of laughter this evoked, and Caesar rewarded me with a brilliant smile and a mouthed “well done.”
~ ~ ~ ~
The rest of the evening flew by, as we were treated to what had to have been every animal and bird that inhabited Egypt. I must say that once I got over my initial nervousness, I enjoyed myself immensely. Evening turned to night, then night to day, the conversation and entertainment never seeming to end. There were jugglers, acrobats, dancers, mimes, the latter being the most popular with the Romans, and wrestling matches among huge Nubian champions. Even with watering the wine, I felt myself getting more and more inebriated, but after a few thirds of a watch, I did not worry so much about making a fool of myself, for which I give Cleopatra the credit. She was astonishing, so much so that by the time the banquet was ended in the morning of the next day, I no longer wondered what Caesar saw in her. She had a wit that was both cutting and charming at the same time, while she told some jokes that would have made the saltiest Gregarius on his third enlistment blush, which made them no less funny. In fact, I think that it came from such a tiny, pregnant girl made them even funnier, so that even men like Hirtius, who was not normally susceptible to her charms, was doubled over with laughter, his face turning redder than I had ever seen. I do not believe I have ever eaten as much at one time before or since, and I am known for my prodigious appetite. The men behaved themselves perfectly and we wobbled out of the hall to where our boats waited to take us back to our respective ships, arms around each other as we sang marching songs, reliving all that we had just seen. I needed help being hauled aboard my ship, but it was not due to my leg, which at least for that day was not bothering me at all. Diocles staggered under my weight as he helped me to my quarters, where I collapsed on the bunk and fell asleep immediately, not waking up until sunset later that day.