The banquet began.
Besides the principal banquet hall, two smaller dining rooms had been prepared for the festivities. One was for female guests; the other for the younger relatives and subordinates of distinguished visitors.
Alfidia and her son and daughter made their way toward the main banquet hall.
At the entrance, their mother stopped to smooth the creases in Livia's dress and check whether Gaius's hair was untidy. Only when she was satisfied that everything was perfect did she lead the twins through the doorway.
“Why worry about details no one cares about?” Before they entered, Livia stopped and turned to ask her mother.
“At important occasions, you must carry yourself gracefully and dress with propriety. Not the slightest fault is permitted,” Alfidia admonished her.
“Then who is going to care about a wrinkle at the edge of my skirt?” Livia asked again.
“Certain important people,” her mother explained.
“Why don't you straighten the wrinkles in Gaius's clothes?” Livia persisted. “We're both Father's children. Am I the only one people will notice, while Gaius is overlooked?”
“You're a girl. Of course you're different from your brother!” Alfidia grew impatient.
“Different in what way, exactly?” Livia pressed.
“Livia!” Her mother's face darkened. “You should ask your father these questions directly! Is that what you're hoping for—that he'll discipline you himself?”
“Do men really care about these little details?”
“Fine. You're very clever. I'm not arguing with you…” Alfidia sneered. “But you'd better behave yourself and not disgrace your father.”
“I'm doing this for your own good,” she added.
“I understand, Mother.” Livia smiled faintly, said nothing more, and entered the hall.
Night had fallen completely, yet the hall shone as brightly as day. More than twenty bronze oil lamps, each taller than a person, had been imported from Corinth in Greece. Merely transporting them to Rome had cost a fortune.
A window occupied half the length of one wall and was surrounded by paintings of grapevines and laurel branches. Looking outside, one could see the edge of a peach tree, its ripe fruit close enough to pluck by reaching out.
If their host held a luncheon in spring, guests could recline upon their couches and admire the garden's blossoms.
Nine wooden couches, thickly padded with cushions and woolen blankets, were arranged around three round tables.
Men reclined on the couches discussing warfare and politics. At the arrival of Alfidia and her two children, they immediately stopped talking.
Livia looked toward the couch beside Drusus. In the place of honor reclined a middle-aged man. Her father was all smiles as he introduced his family to the distinguished guest.
She could almost swear he had smiled more times tonight than he had bestowed upon either twin in their entire lives.
The guest put down the oyster and glass he was holding and looked up at his host's wife and children.
Livia offered the proper greeting, then studied the man in the place of honor.
He wore a dark-red toga, its folds sliding over the soft cushions as he moved, revealing an arm that struck a remarkable balance between strength and elegance.
He had fair skin, a rather high nose, a broad jaw, a full forehead, and thinning hair at his crown. Under the lamplight, his scalp gleamed like a gold medal on an officer's chest.
This was Julius Caesar.
To be frank, there was nothing especially beautiful about the middle-aged man's features from nose to chin. His appearance was entirely unremarkable except for his eyes, which were as black and compelling as magnets. Whenever he spoke, everyone was inexplicably drawn to him and found themselves gazing straight into them.
Caesar suggested that Livia and her brother dine in the main hall as well. Drusus immediately ordered two chairs to be brought to the round table.
To Caesar's left reclined Decimus, his most trusted general. Beside Decimus sat Lepidus, the consul for the year.
Drusus sat at Caesar's right, with Cicero on his other side.
Gaius curled up in his chair holding his stomach and ate nothing.
“Child, won't you have something to eat?” Caesar asked with concern.
Her brother shook his head and thanked him politely.
Livia, however, was a little hungry. After washing her hands, she picked up a roasted snail from the table, dug out the meat with the pointed end of an iron spoon, and took a sip of wine diluted with honey and water. Then she sat listening to the adults' conversation.
Cicero was about sixty. An extremely conspicuous cleft marked his nose, resembling a chickpea.
The old man was a former “Father of the Fatherland,” the most authoritative figure in the Senate. His prestige had once been second only to Caesar's and Pompey's, but he had sided with Pompey during the civil war.
Now, at the victor's insistence, he had been forced to withdraw from political life. Nevertheless, Cicero appeared to be on good personal terms with Caesar and praised him loudly throughout their conversation.
He set down his wineglass and suddenly told Caesar that he wished to return to his villa in Tusculum for the next two years, to rest and pursue his scholarship.
Then the old man with the cleft nose made a joke, amiably mocking the great dictator for the barbarity of killing a million people in Gaul.
Drusus's smile froze on his face. He cautiously glanced at Caesar to gauge his reaction.
Caesar burst into hearty laughter. His appetite apparently improved, he swallowed another three oysters in succession and dropped the shells onto the floor for a slave to sweep away.
He did not take offense at the barbed remarks, much less retaliate, as though Cicero had been accusing someone else altogether.
Only when the honored guest failed to explode in fury did Drusus relax and resume his ingratiating laughter.
Was this the “tyrant” the senators spoke of? Livia was filled with curiosity.
She had heard that Caesar had forgiven nearly all his political enemies, including men who had betrayed him. Not only that, he had given suitable offices to most members of the aristocratic faction, seeming to harbor no resentment whatsoever.
Perhaps this was what clemency meant: the clemency that belonged to a ruler alone.
Only after hearing the ladies' conversation earlier had Livia learned that Caesar, as victor of the civil war, had pardoned Cato.
Cato, however, had been unwilling to live in a world where he owed his life to a ruler's mercy.
In his final moments, he told his followers to join Caesar and avoid a futile struggle. Then he plunged a sharp blade into his abdomen, refused treatment from a doctor, tore out his own intestines with his hands, and swore to die for the republic.
Compared with Cato's stubborn fortitude, Drusus was as weak as a blade of grass.
Her father had invited Caesar to dine today because he wanted to secure an appointment to Alexandria.
Rome had conquered Egypt and stationed four legions there. Alexandria, Egypt's capital, was prosperous and magnificent.
Rome had long observed a particular custom.
Elections cost a great deal of money. Anyone hoping to win high office had to pay out of his own pocket to canvass voters and organize festivities to please the citizens. Many men amassed enormous debts and ruined themselves in the process.
Each year, Rome elected a number of senior magistrates—consuls and praetors—equal to the number of its provinces. When their one-year term ended, the Senate assigned them to govern the provinces for a year.
A province was territory Rome had conquered outside Italy. Under the tax-farming system, its governor merely needed to remit a fixed amount of tax revenue to Rome.
Governors were thus driven to squeeze money from their provinces to recover their losses from the preceding year's elections and public duties.
A portion of the taxes they extracted went to Rome. The remainder naturally went into the pockets of the governors and tax-farming companies.
Drusus's circumstances were somewhat unusual.
A few years earlier, he had spent a fortune to secure election as praetor, only to be accused of misconduct in office by a political rival.
The lawsuit dragged on for ages. He was forced out of office and did not receive a governorship the following year. He was not short of money, but he loved it dearly. Missing his opportunity to plunder a province had rankled ever since.
He waited and waited, until this year the number of senior magistrates once again filled every available provincial governorship. Drusus had no choice but to turn his attention to Alexandria. If he could be appointed to the Egyptian capital, he was certain he could return with astonishing wealth.
After considering his words carefully, he ventured his request to Caesar.
“My dear friend…” Caesar patted Drusus on the shoulder, smiling warmly as though greeting a companion of many years. “I'm still considering the appointments overseas. I've already made the military assignments, though. Your nephew Tiberius Claudius Nero will be sent to Gaul.”
Drusus could not begin to fathom what Caesar was thinking. He offered a few polite remarks and decided to repeat his request later.
He signaled to the steward, who understood at once and ordered the opening dish to be served.
Two slaves entered the hall carrying a silver platter. On it lay a peacock stuffed with meat, its blue-green head and waterfall-like tail still intact, brilliantly beautiful under the lamps.
Livia regarded the peacock on the marble table without much surprise.
She had heard that her father had spent a great deal of money importing the bird from India. Because Caesar liked strongly flavored food, he had specifically ordered many costly spices added to the stuffing.
Long ago, Zeus had created a peacock with gold-and-silver feathers to please Leto and afterward entrusted it to Asteria. To her surprise, Apollo had roasted it. She had even tried a piece of its flesh: it was tough and stringy, and not at all good…
At Drusus's enthusiastic urging, Caesar reached out and pulled the peacock's wing apart.
The brown stuffing was exposed to the air. He asked a servant for a spoon, scooped out some of the minced meat, and sniffed it. Satisfied by the strong aroma of spices, he prepared to taste it.
“By Jupiter!” A guest's shocked cry interrupted Caesar.
The sour reek of vomit and excrement hung heavily in the air before everyone. The men scrambled up from their couches and stared in horror at the boy beside the table.
Gaius lay on the floor, his cheeks and hair smeared with a yellowish-brown mess. His limbs convulsed, and urine and feces leaked out beneath him.
He vomited until his stomach was empty, then brought up a pool of brownish fluid.
Livia's heart turned to ice. A dreadful premonition wrapped around her like a wave of bitter cold.
“Go get a doctor, quickly!” Crouching on the floor, she cradled her brother's upper body and shouted at the steward.
The guests fled the banquet hall, carefully stepping around the filth beside the boy.
“Poor child, what's wrong with him? I remember he hadn't eaten a single bite. He must have felt ill from the beginning, and I didn't even notice…” Caesar did not leave. He stood nearby waiting for a doctor. “What illness does he suffer from? Has this happened before?”
Drusus's plan to ingratiate himself with Caesar seemed to have collapsed. He wished he had never had such a useless son.
“He's been in poor health since childhood… He's having another attack! Let me escort you outside. We can continue talking there. Gods, the smell is unbearable!” he said, turning to Caesar.
Livia slowly raised her head. Had her gaze been a sword, the back of her father's skull would already have been riddled with holes.
Gaius lay on the floor, every breath seeming to require all his remaining strength, as though he had vomited up his internal organs and they had become lodged in his throat.
“Your son is this ill, and you, his father, still feel like going outside to chat with Caesar?” Cicero had not left either. Hearing Drusus's words, he could not resist a biting remark. “Truly appalling.”
“Gaius!” Alfidia rushed in through the doorway, clutched her son, and burst into anguished sobs.
No physician had arrived. Their father cared nothing for his son, while their mother seemed almost out of her mind with grief. In desperation, Livia rushed out of the hall to find someone who could tell her where the doctors were.
Men and women hurried through the atrium and out the front gate, climbed into their litters, and departed. The mansion was in as much chaos as a pot of boiling porridge. Several times, Livia was nearly knocked over by the departing guests.
At last she managed to grab a passing slave and ordered him to go out and summon another doctor immediately.
“My lady! My lady!” Someone seemed to be calling her from a distance. Livia stopped short and looked around.
A tall man appeared before her, with black hair and eyes as green as pondweed.
His voice was familiar, as were the outlines of his face. She felt she had seen him somewhere before.
“It's me, Licinus…” He pointed to his clean-shaven chin. “My master brought me to the banquet, and I shaved my beard especially for the occasion.”
“What do you want?” Livia came straight to the point, unwilling to waste time.
“Just now, I accompanied my master to the hall to find Caesar, and I saw your brother lying on the floor. I think he accidentally ate a rare poisonous mushroom. I've seen people suffer from that poison before. I know a way to save him.”
As if afraid Livia would suspect him, he immediately swore by the gods. “If my master or I had anything to do with your brother being poisoned, may I bleed to death within three days in the most agonizing way possible!”
“Never mind that…” Livia frowned. “If you can save Gaius, I won't investigate whether you're innocent.”
She recalled her brother's movements before he fell ill. He had bought no food while they were at the market. He had eaten nothing at the banquet. How could he have been poisoned?
Food… No! He had eaten something else!
Her memories surged back like a tide. She instantly remembered the bundle of meat stuffing her brother had stolen from the kitchen while she was dressing.
The stuffing intended for the peacock's belly. The banquet's opening dish… prepared especially for the most honored guest.
The honored guest… Julius Caesar! Was someone planning to poison Caesar at the banquet and then frame their family for the murder?
Caesar had not eaten the poisoned meat, but her brother had.
Nothing mattered more now than Gaius's life.
What if the doctors were powerless to save him? If there was even one method that might keep him alive, she would not let the opportunity pass.
“How exactly can he be saved?”
“Grind up the root of another plant and have him swallow it, and he won't die. Your brother is a good man. His seven hundred sesterces gave me my freedom back. I'm willing to find that plant for him!”
“What plant?”
“I don't know its name…” Afraid the girl would not believe him, he added, “You can rest assured. If I have any intention of harming him, may Jupiter strike me dead with lightning.”
Livia swiftly removed the priceless amethyst necklace from around her neck and handed it to Licinus.
“Whether you have to buy it or pick it, please find that plant and bring it to me as quickly as possible. This is your reward…” The situation was too urgent to waste time deciding whether to trust him. “You can pry out the gems or cut the gold apart to exchange for money.”
Licinus hurried away, and Livia raced back into the banquet hall.
Drusus had just seen Caesar and Cicero off. Covering his nose, he stood beside the window, his face full of impatience.
“What illness has he come down with this time?”
Two Greek physicians stood helplessly around Gaius. They had never encountered such a “strange illness.”
“I've said for years that I ought to adopt a son. One of the Libo boys would do nicely.”
“Your son is dying, and you can say something like that?” Kneeling beside Gaius, Alfidia shook with rage like a leaf in an autumn wind.
“I have no son as worthless as this! I'd be glad if he died so I could adopt another!” Drusus's tone was vicious, and he showed his wife no mercy. “How could I leave the property of the Claudii and Livii to such an imbecile? He can't learn Greek, he'll never be fit to fight a war, and he's sick all year long!”
“I finally managed to invite Caesar, and spent so much money holding this banquet, and he suddenly falls ill in front of everyone!”
“Caesar! That was Caesar! Couldn't your son have fallen ill in his own room? Why did he have to come out? Why didn't you lock him away instead of letting him make a spectacle of himself?” His fury grew with every word.
“You bastard, you're stupider than a pig!” Alfidia had endured more than ten years of this treatment. Today she had finally had enough.
She lunged at her husband and seized his collar. “Where do you get this ridiculous confidence that Caesar will agree to send you to Alexandria?”
“Without your Claudian blood and the reputation of the Livian family, what do you imagine you'd be worth?” She ground out every word between her teeth and spat it into his face.
Tiro, Gaius's young slave, rushed into the banquet hall. The sight of his master near death filled his green eyes with disbelief.
“Carry my brother back to his room.” Livia instructed Tiro to help the doctors lift Gaius and followed them into his bedroom.
“Hurry and change him into clean clothes.”
Once Gaius was settled, she prepared to return to the banquet hall, worried something might happen to her mother.
“Tiro, why is your hair such a mess? It looks worse than straw.” Just before leaving, Livia suddenly turned to examine the slave boy's unevenly cropped hair. “Has someone been bullying you?”
“No one has bullied me…” He lowered his head and prostrated himself, his voice heavy with sorrow like a cold wind squeezing through a crack. “My master's suffering is all because I failed in my duties. Please punish me! I'd willingly die in his place!”
“Don't say things like that again…” The girl gestured for him to stand. “No one knew an accident like this would happen tonight. The greatest amends you can make are to care for him well.”
Livia returned to the banquet hall. Hila was struggling to help Alfidia, who had collapsed on the floor. Drusus was already gone.
“Mother… your face.”
The entire left side of Alfidia's face was swollen and red. A thread of blood ran from the corner of her mouth, staining her splendid underdress.
“I curse that bastard in the name of all the gods! May Orcus drag him into the underworld!” With that, Alfidia fainted in her daughter's arms.
“I'll call another doctor. Have someone carry her to bed,” Livia told Hila.
History had a way of repeating itself. Having settled her brother, she was now forced to take responsibility for settling her mother as well.
Alfidia lay delirious in bed. When Livia returned once more to her brother's chamber, however, the doctors were gone—or rather, they were all lying unconscious on the floor, with shards of broken pottery scattered beside their heads.
At the bedside, the young slave Tiro was putting something into Gaius's mouth.
“What are you feeding him?”
Livia's rebuke cracked like thunder. The spoon fell from Tiro's hand onto the floor.
