FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER
HOMECOMINGS, 647 AVC
Lucius Cornelius Sulla pushed past the stunned doorboy and shouted, "What does a man have to do to get some wine around here?" He stomped loudly into the Atrium and it only took a moment for a smooth, oily Greek--Sulla presumed it was the new steward, Trophimus, bought after his dear old steward's death a month ago--to skitter into the room.
Both men stopped, staring at each other. Sulla stood relaxed, stunning eyes half-lidded and arms akimbo, in impressive military trappings; Trophimus's arms were tense at his sides, and he stood on the balls of his feet, eyes wide. Who was this stunning, fair, godlike man? Oh, so beautiful! Trophimus had his answer when the mistress brushed past him and launched herself at the man.
"Lucius Cornelius, you're home!" Caecilia Metella Sullana squealed, and lifted her feet clear off the ground. His athletic frame clearly belied his strength, as her weight didn't even cause his neck to bend.
"It's great to be home,
wife!" he growled lustily, and grabbed her waist, kneading her soft, healthy body. "My, aren't you positively glowing!"
"Because you're home, Lucius Cornelius!" she piped in a very high voice. Oh, so cute! What would he do? Her feet met the floor again and she jumped up and down, up and down, and the effect of her body on his, even through her thick, modest
stola and his leather
pteryges [military skirt] and cuirass, soon became apparent. She stopped jumping and her eyes went wide; not surprising, as she hadn't seen anything of an erection for some ten months.
"You're so energetic! Well, I'll soon fix
that," he snarled. He picked her, shrieking with laughter, up and, with a wink and grin for Trophimus, ran to the bedroom. For some hours they laughed and moaned and banged on the walls of the regal bedroom that Sulla, Clitumna, and Nicopolis had once shared; they took breaks, calling for wine and honey cakes; and they muttered intimately of the past few months and events in Rome in between bouts.
After that stunning and long-awaited sex marathon--for Sulla had been traveling for some fifteen days with his peers and thus without any relief--Caecilia Sullana promptly fell asleep, loving dark eyes closing inevitably with tiredness until she began to breath lightly with the vision of her beloved in her head. Sulla watched her for a few minutes before uncoiling lithely and striding naked out of the bedroom. "Trophimus!" he called.
The steward entered, eyes boggling at the snow-white skin of this man, and the twin golden halos surrounding head and groin. How handsome, how well-built. Sulla, typical of him, fancied making the Greek flustered; he put on his most winning smile and used his eyes to great effect. "Come here."
"Yes D-dominus," Trophimus stuttered, and shuffled over to where Sulla stood. Sulla took his shoulder and pulled him close, stroking his arms and then his sides.
"Fine muscles you have, Trophimus. You'll be an excellent steward if you have such a mind; how old are you?"
"T-twenty-six, Lucius C-cornelius."
"Tsk," said Sulla, stroking the back of his neck. "We can't have you butchering my name." He turned abruptly to walk back into the bedroom. At the door he turned his upper body and head back, leaving pure white buttocks exposed to Trophimus's hungry gaze. "Have water for my bath heated, will you?" He entered the room and shut the door, then shook with silent laughter. Ah, he'd been doing it since his youth, and he would never tire of doing it; confounding men and women with his beauty never stopped amusing him.
He sat next to Caecilia Sullana on the bed and thought. His servants were sufficiently afraid of him to not gossip about anything very serious; could he possibly have Metrobius hired as his steward? How old would the boy be now? No, he would be a man; fully nineteen years old, grown into his full beauty, and Sulla hadn't seen him in all those years! No...sadly, it was impossible. The young man's life was the theater, and the role of steward didn't suit him; unfortunately, respectable Senators typically had no need for actors. Sulla, to attain the Consulship which was his birthright, definitely needed to remain respectable.
"Fate does play tricks on me," he muttered to himself. Then the soft knock came at the door and he exited to lead Trophimus into the bathing room. Sulla enjoyed the feeling of the hot, hot water against his skin, and spent some minutes sitting under water, holding his breath. It was an hour before he tired of that old bronze tub in which he had had much fun with Clitumna and Nicopolis, and their slaves; he called the body servant, ready with a towel, perfumed oil,
strigilis, and robe, to him.
"Fetch me Trophimus," he said. When the boy couldn't help himself from smirking as he turned, Sulla called him back and, with a vise-like hold on the boy's wrist, dealt a cracking backhand slap to the face. "I've been gone for months, and must see to my accounts you ingrate. Display such a dirty mind before myself or the mistress again and I'll have you crucified."
Eyes watering and lip bleeding, the boy nodded and apologized many times before Sulla let his wrist go; the boy stumbled for the room and Trophimus appeared a minute later. Sulla pointed to the cleaning implements the boy had left and said, "You should know how to use those, Greek."
"Yes Dominus, I do."
Sulla stood and stepped out of the tub. He walked over to the comfortable massage table and laid down. "Massage me first, then oil and scrape me. Tell me of my accounts, my lands, and any believable rumors you've heard."
Trophimus began to rub; as Sulla listened, he couldn't help but notice how soft and graceful Trophimus's hands were. Sulla had spent months at war, with only the hard and callused handshakes of military men to experience; he couldn't help but get hard again, despite the morning with his wife. When Trophimus was done massaging him, he turned over and propped himself up on his elbows, displaying fully the proud member.
Trophimus gasped slightly and his eyes widened; he was transfixed by Sulla's beauty. Sulla's steady gaze drew Trophimus's eyes. "I trust you can be discreet? You're my creature now, you know."
"Y-yes Dominus," said Trophimus. Sulla drew Trophimus to him.
Marcus Livius Drusus Junior's homecoming was somewhat different; in fact, it was very different. For one, he was greeted by his father, not his wife--well, he had no wife. Also, he was allowed no relaxation or leisure; he was pushed straight into politics. Not that he didn't enjoy it! Oh no, Marcus Livius Drusus Junior was nothing if not a born politician. Many of his friends came to visit their new war hero, and his father crowed far and wide of his son's achievements; three sets of three golden
phalerae [disks hanging from a cuirass during parade], and three golden armbands! Though Publius Rutilius Rufus was Drusus Junior's commanding officer and uncle, he was also known as being a fair man who tolerated no nepotism; no, Drusus Junior's decorations had merit, and all who knew him believed it instantly.
"It looks like Aurelia's taken, son," said his father after some hours of more important talk. "I know how much you wanted her but...so did half of noble Rome, so you're not the only one."
"Wow, what a comfort that is," said Junior to his father. The father just grinned. "By whom? Who has Marcus Aurelius chosen?"
Marcus Livius Drusus's face twisted. "Ugh, that insufferable mite named Lucius Cassius Longinus Junior."
"
What! That piddling fart Longinus over a war hero like
me?" Drusus was dumbfounded, and his large dark eyes appeared even larger. "Is this true for certain, or just a rumor?"
Drusus, somewhat less intelligent than his son, looked uncomfortable. "Well, it is technically a rumor, but I don't see how Cotta can hope to run for Consul with Lucius Cassius and win if they don't present the most unified front since Metellus Diadematus and Scaevola Augur!"
"Maybe Marcus Aurelius knows he doesn't stand a chance. Maybe he's running for the hell of it," said stubborn Drusus Junior; his father, exasperated and out of his depth, threw his arms up in the air and conceded the point with alacrity.
Soon they departed for the home of Quintus Servilius Caepio, who was holding a banquet in honor of Marcus Livius Drusus Junior, who was his dead wife's brother's wife's nephew; Caepio had been married to a Rutilia Rufa, who had died before bearing him any children. She was the sister of Publius Rutilius Rufus, of course, who was married to a Livia Drusa, the sister of Marcus Livius Drusus Senior. Caepio's current wife was a Domitia Ahenobarba, and mother of young Caepio, who was currently in command at Bylazora in Longinus Ravilla's stead.
Also invited were Drusus's wife Cornelia Scipionis and daughter Livia Drusa; Gaius Julius Caesar Strabo Vopiscus, who had served with Drusus in Gallia Narbonensis, albeit with less decorations; his brothers Lucius Julius Caesar and Quintus Lutatius Catulus Caesar; Quintus Lutatius's son by the dead Domitia Ahenobarba; and Quintus Lutatius's wife Servilia Caepionis, who was Caepio's sister. The family connections made foreigners' heads spin, and gave many a New Man grief; to noble Romans, however, it was mother's milk.
"A shame Publius Cornelius couldn't be here," said Caepio. Publius Cornelius Scipio Nasica, hero of justice that he claimed to be, was busy actually collaborating with Spurius Dellius to find the murderers of Gaius Fulcinius and his merry men; the only difference was that Scipio Nasica, when he found the murderers, planned to thank them heartily and hide them from the Urban Praetor's court until the whole thing blew over. If the conservatives had their way in the elections and a Boni man was elected Urban Praetor next year, which looked very likely, then the whole thing would indeed blow over and be forgotten. Traitors had gotten their just desserts, and the whole matter wouldn't be pursued for long.
Besides, Scipio Nasica was married to a Caecilia Metella; since her whole family had gone over to supporting conviction against Catulus Caesar in the big trial now five months past, inviting them would have been awkward, even though Scipio Nasica had wholeheartedly supported Catulus Caesar during the entire trial.
Drusus Junior had been thinking about this, and so his mind was on the elections, which would be held in eleven days; today was the 3rd of September. "I'm sure he's too busy fuming that Glaucia will manage to beat Marcus Aurelius." Since none of them liked an opportunistic man with no concrete morals like Glaucia, and all knew Scipio Nasica's upright and aristocratic nature, this comment was not at all deemed to be in poor taste.
"The poor boy takes things too seriously," said Catulus Caesar. "He should be calm and collected...cool," he drawled.
"Scipio Aemilianus," said Caepio with a nod to Drusus's wife Cornelia Scipionis, who was the man's daughter, "was cool. But not a Cornelius Scipio by blood, of course."
"If being cool entails being like Quintus Caecilius Metellus Nepos, then I want no part of it!" said Marcus Livius Drusus Senior. Given that one woman present was a Domitia and Quintus Lutatius's dear dead wife was a Domitia, he couldn't well have included Gnaeus Domitius Ahenobarbus in his diatribe.
"Where did that come from, I wonder! Stay cool, Marcus Livius," said Caepio, and the party laughed. "Truly though, I for one am finding it very hard to stay cool. All and well," he said to Drusus Junior, "that your uncle Publius Rutilius is Cotta's friend, but I for one am no friend of
his friend Lucius Cassius! Gaius Servilius Glaucia is at least an
intelligent man; I think I'll vote for him!"
"What's this," asked Drusus Junior, eyes wide. "Something about Macedonia?" Oh, he was shrewd!
"Yes, absolutely! My son writes me that those wretched peasants that make up the legions there refuse to listen to him! A force of Dardani ride by, positively begging to be followed and annihilated--wearing so much gold, young Quintus writes me--and the legions just refuse to follow him."
"Astonishing," said Drusus Senior, eyes rolling in his head at this injustice.
"Go on," said Drusus Junior, who disliked Caepio's tone. Fully indoctrinated before serving in Uncle Publius's legions, experiences there had opened his eyes to the life of a ranker soldier. If they refused to do a job, they had a very good reason. And that aside about gold--well, all knew that a Quintus Servilius Caepio could never resist gold. It honestly sounded like an ambush waiting to happen.
"There's nothing to go on about!" cried Caepio, face red. "They mutinied against my son, and he can't do a thing about it! Oh, they listen to him well enough
now, but they'll not follow him into battle, he says. What a shambles they make of our entire military system."
"Yes," said Drusus Junior, nodding. Privately, he thought it was Caepio Junior who was more likely to make a shambles out of anything.
"Don't worry," said Catulus Caesar sternly. "They'll get their just desserts. Mutiny is an offense punishable by execution." Oh, the irony! The man who lost tens of thousands of men to an ambush, blaming soldiers for not wanting to be led into an ambush. The room seemed suffocating to Drusus Junior; all these people were ones he had always admired as successful bastions of Roman-ness, and now he knew that they were wrong, and stubbornly, stupidly so. He needed to talk with Lucius Cornelius Sulla again.
"We'll see how that plays out," said Drusus Junior, more involved now in political conversations than his father. "I do hope that Quintus Servilius succeeds," he added--a little white lie, for flavor.
"Who do you think," said Catulus Caesar, abruptly changing direction, "will be Urban Praetor next year? We'll need a good one, unlike this year's, if we're to find all the scum who helped Gaius Fulcinius in his madness." He said it as if quite unaware that this year's Urban Praetor was his uncle Gaius Julius Caesar's son-in-law.
Drusus Junior was amused to see Lucius and Gaius Julius wince, and heard his own father answer, "Oh, I'm hoping it'll be Lucius Marcius Philippus. The man is an exquisite orator and has a great legal mind, not to mention the best palate in Rome." Drusus Junior, who didn't care much for expensive foods or for Philippus, grimaced.
"I'm not sure," said Caepio, "what having a good palate has to do with it. Honestly, my mind's set on Publius Licinius Crassus; the man's connected and intelligent, and not quite so venal as Lucius Marcus Philippus."
That's rich! thought Drusus.
A Servilius Caepio deriding somebody for being venal!
Drusus grimaced, "His sister's something of a disgrace though. Going over from Scaevola Pontiff to
Metellus Nepos...what was she thinking?"
"Speaking of Metellus Nepos!" exclaimed Catulus Caesar, interrupting. "His sisters want nothing to do with him, and neither does his elder sister's husband Appius Claudius Pulcher. You know what I heard just yesterday from him?"
"What?" asked the audience, dying of curiosity.
"He's running for Curule Aedile!" A dumbstruck silence followed this exclamation. Appius Claudius Pulcher wasn't exactly the richest of men, and he had his future children to plan for; his wife Caecilia Metella Balearica was newly pregnant, and more children from that notoriously fertile family should be on the way. The Curule Aediles, curators of the city of Rome's buildings, temples, roads, sewers, and the Forum, received coin from the Treasury for their duties--this rate of coin had been set centuries ago, and every Curule Aedile had to pull something from his own purse to do his duty. It was also the most rigidly policed magistracy; any chance of enriching one's self would be out of the question. Curule Aediles also staged and hosted the many public holidays; Appius Claudius Pulcher would ruin himself.
"Poor man," said Drusus Junior, shaking his head. "I suppose he wants to make a splash and become Praetor--there at least he can enrich himself! But he'll have to borrow extravagantly to be a successful Curule Aedile."
"That is Rome," said Quintus Servilius Caepio, who had never contemplated spending so much gold on amusing the scum of the lower classes. "That is Rome."
So...if the first part of this update is too vulgar, I'll gladly edit it.