"And the dessert--how far have you got there?" asked Cethegus, "already
at the apples? are these they?" and he looked, screwing up his eyes, at
two heaped-up fruit-baskets, which stood upon a bronze table with ivory
legs.
"Ha, victory!" laughed Marcus Licinius, Lucius's younger brother, who
amused himself with the then fashionable pastime of modelling in wax.
"There! you see my art, Kallistratos! The Prefect thinks that my waxen
apples, which I gave you yesterday, are real."
"Ah, indeed!" cried Cethegus, as if astonished, although he had long
since noticed the smell of the wax with dislike. "Yes, art deceives the
most acute. With whom did you learn? I should like to put similar
ornaments in my Kyzikenian hall."
"I am an autodidact," said Marcus proudly, "and to-morrow I will send
you my new Persian apples--for you honour art."
"But is the sitting at an end?" asked the Prefect, resting his left arm
on the cushions of the triclinium.
"No," cried the host, "I will confess the truth. As I could not reckon
upon the king of our feast until the dessert, I have prepared a little
after-feast to be taken with the wine."
"Oh, you sinner!" cried Balbus, wiping his greasy lips upon the rough
purple Turkish table-cover, "and I have eaten such a terrible quantity
of your _becca-ficchi_!"
"It is against the agreement!" cried Marcus Licinius.
"It will spoil my manners," said the merry Piso gravely.
"Say, is that Hellenic simplicity?" asked Lucius Licinius.
"Peace, friends!" and Cethegus comforted them with a quotation: "'E'en
unexpected hurt, a Roman bears unmoved.'"
"The Hellenic host must adjust himself according to his guests," said
Kallistratos, excusing himself. "I feared you would not come again if I
offered you Marathonian fare."
"Well, at least confess with what you menace us," cried Cethegus.
"Thou, Nomenclator! read the bill of fare. I will then decide upon the
suitable wines."
The slave--a handsome Lydian boy, dressed in a garment of blue Pelusian
linen, slit up to the knee--came close to Cethegus at the cypress-wood
table, and read from a little tablet which he carried fastened to a
golden chain about his neck:
"Fresh oysters from Britannia, in tunny-sauce, with lettuce."
"With this dish, Falernian from Fundi," said Cethegus at once. "But
where is the sideboard with the cups? Good wine deserves handsome
goblets."
"There is the sideboard!" And at a sign from the host, a curtain, which
had concealed a corner of the room opposite the guests, dropped.
A cry of astonishment ran round the table.
The richness of the service displayed, and the taste with which it was
arranged, surprised even these fastidious feasters.
Upon the marble slab of a side-table stood a roomy silver carriage,
with golden wheels and bronze horses. It was a model of a booty-wagon,
such as were used in Roman triumphal processions, and, like a costly
booty, within it was piled, in seeming disorder, but with an artistic
hand, a quantity of goblets, glasses, and salvers, of every shape and
material.
"By Mars the Victor!" laughed the Prefect, "the first Roman triumph for
two hundred years! A rare sight! Dare I destroy it?"
"You are the man to set it up again," said Lucius, with fire.
"Do you think so? Let us try! First, we will have that goblet of
pistachio-wood for the Falernian."
"Wind-thrushes from the Tagus, with asparagus from Tarento," continued
the Lydian, reading the bill of fare.
"With that, red Massikian from Sinuessa, to be drunk out of that
amethyst goblet."
"Young lobsters from Trapezunt, with flamingo-tongues."
"Stop! By holy Bacchus!" cried Balbus, "it is the torture of
Tantalus. It is all the same to me out of what I drink, whether from
pistachio-wood or amethyst; but to listen to this list of divine
dainties with a dry throat, is more than I can stand. Down with
Cethegus, the tyrant! Let him die, if he lets us thirst!"
"I feel as if I were Emperor, and heard the roar of the faithful Roman
populace! I will save my life and yield. Serve the dishes, slaves."
At this the sound of flutes was heard from an outer room, and six
slaves entered, marching in time to the music, with ivy in their
shining, anointed locks, and dressed in red mantles and white tunics.
They gave to each guest a snowy cloth of finest Sidonian linen, with
purple fringes.
"Oh," cried Massurius, a young merchant who traded principally with
beautiful slaves of both sexes, and enjoyed the rather doubtful
reputation of being a great critic in such wares, "the best cloth is
beautiful hair," and he passed his hands through the locks of a
Ganymede who was kneeling near him.
"But, Kallistratos, I hope those flutes are of the female sex. Up with
the curtain; let the girls in."
"Not yet," ordered Cethegus. "First drink, then kiss. Without Bacchus
and Ceres, you know----"
"Venus freezes, but not Massurius!"
All at once lyres and citharas sounded from the side room, and there
entered a procession of eight youths in shining silken garments of a
gold-green colour. Foremost the "dresser" and the "carver." The other
six bore dishes upon their heads. They passed the guests with measured
steps, and halted at the sideboard of citron-wood. While they were busy
there, castanets and cymbals were heard from another part of the house;
the large double doors turned upon their shining bronze hinges, and a
swarm of slaves in the becoming costume of Corinthian youths streamed
into the room.
Some handed bread in ornamentally-perforated baskets; others whisked
the flies away with fans of ostrich feathers and palm-leaves; some
gracefully poured oil into the wall-lamps from double-handled vases;
whilst others swept the crumbs from the mosaic pavement with besoms of
Egyptian reeds, or helped Ganymede to fill the cups, which now were
circling merrily.
The conversation grew more rapid and animated, and Cethegus, who,
although he remained cool and collected, seemed to be quite lost in the
enjoyment of the moment, charmed the young guests by his youthful
gaiety.
"What do you say?" asked the host, "shall we play dice between the
dishes? There stands the dice-box, near Piso."
"Well, Massurius," observed Cethegus, with a sarcastic look at the
slave-dealer, "will you try your luck with me once more? Will you bet
against me? Give him the dice-box, Syphax," he said to the Moor.
"Mercury forbid!" answered Massurius, with comical fright. "Have
nothing to do with the Prefect he has inherited the luck of his
ancestor, Julius Caesar."
"Omen accipio!" laughed Cethegus. "I accept the omen, with the dagger
of Brutus into the bargain."
"I tell you, he is a magician! Only lately he won an unwinnable bet
against me about this black demon," and the speaker threw a cactus-fig
at the slave's face, but Syphax caught it cleverly with his shining
white teeth, and quietly ate it up.
"Well done, Syphax!" said Cethegus. "Roses from the thorns of the
enemy! Thou canst become a conjurer as soon as I let thee free."
"Syphax does not wish to be free: he will always be your Syphax, and
save your life as you saved his."
"What is that--thy life?" asked Lucius Licinius.
"Did you pardon him?" asked Marcus.
"More than that, I bought him off."
"Yes, with my money!" grumbled Massurius.
"You know that I immediately gave him the money I won from you as his
private possession," answered Cethegus.
"What about this bet? Let us hear. Perhaps it will afford a subject for
my epigrams," said Piso.
"Retire, Syphax. There! the cook is bringing us his masterpiece, it
seems."