Call to Juno (Tales of Ancient Rome #3)(55)

The ugly way he spoke was galling. Her Wolf was curt. “I haven’t brought you here to talk about my domestic life. Let’s go into the dining room. Pinna, bring Caius Genucius through when he arrives.”

The door knocker clanged not long after. Pinna noticed the fineness of Genucius’s clothes as he entered. They were of better quality than the senators’, despite the absence of purple stripes. The half-blind plebeian was not restricted to being a landowner as members of the Curia were. He could line his pockets with bronze earned in trade.

He removed his brown boots and placed them beside the senatorial red ones. The difference in footwear no doubt rankled. He then pushed his swollen feet into his thong sandals. Thick veins snaked under the skin of his legs, and the inside of his ankles were blue from tiny burst blood vessels. Pinna knew how his feet ached and was glad she did not have to rub them anymore.

“Good evening, my lord. I’ll show you through to the others.”

“Still here, Lollia? Still thinking of yourself?” He leaned closer. “Let’s hope he doesn’t ask you to marry him. I’ll have to speak up then. No matter the consequences.”

She was determined not to feel ashamed at her selfishness. She said pointedly, “My name is Pinna, my lord.”

He sniffed and headed to the dining room.

Pinna hastened to the griddle to check the pork and directed the maid to carry the tray of eggs through to the guests. It was the first of the courses she planned to serve that night.

By the time she entered the dining chamber, the majordomo had lined up the men’s sandals along one wall. The four diners now reclined on three couches set at right angles to each other. Medullinus lay in the place of honor, Scipio in the middle, while Genucius and Camillus shared the third divan. The serving table sat in front of them, plates stacked ready for use.

Every time Pinna delivered a new dish and removed the scraps, she was aware of Scipio’s furtive glances and Medullinus’s judgmental stare. Only Genucius ignored her.

Despite the liberal helpings of honeyed wine, the mood was far from jovial. The apples and dates served for dessert didn’t sweeten the atmosphere either.

By the time of the drinking session, the air was stuffy from the heat and hazy from the smoke of the braziers and torchlights. Pinna served olives stuffed with goat’s cheese. Given the guests’ moroseness, she wondered if it was wise to encourage their thirst with the salty food.

She chose to stay and pour the wine herself rather than ask the majordomo. She was keen to listen to the conversation, hoping the men would forget her if she stood in the corner. She was pleased Camillus didn’t dismiss her until it struck her that he might consider her just a servant after all.

The alcohol increased the tension between the brothers. Her Wolf rarely mentioned Medullinus when he was in camp. It was almost as though he wished to deny his sibling’s existence. There was envy, too. The elder Furian had twice been a consul, while Camillus had yet to gain such power. Nevertheless, the newly elected consular general could not match her Wolf’s fame as a warrior.

“There are still five war fronts.” Camillus counted them on his fingers. “Veii, Capena, and Falerii in the north. The Volscians and Aequians in the south and east. And we need to maintain home defense. The Wolf and Boar Legions are stretched thin.”

Medullinus belched before responding. “And your point, Brother? We have faced such resistance before. That’s why Rome elects six consular generals to lead its armies instead of two consuls.”

Genucius spluttered, “You know that’s only half true, Medullinus. Splitting the legions into six regiments wasn’t the only reason why consular generals were introduced. As soon as the law enabled commoners to progress on the Honored Way, another bill was passed to elect consular generals instead of consuls. It’s no wonder Calvus and the other people’s tribunes are resentful.”

Scipio and Medullinus glared at Camillus in silent admonishment that he’d invited the commoner to dine with them. The host ignored them, signaling to Pinna to pour them all another drink.

Medullinus was not prepared to be distracted. “So you admit Calvus is willing to encourage mutiny, Genucius?”

With the conversation growing heated, Camillus kept his voice even. “Let’s all calm down. The fact of the matter is that all our fine patrician generals have their work cut out for them. Aemilius and Titinius face bolstered forces at Falerii and Capena. And Postumius has neither the brains nor mettle to make headway at Veii. In the south, the Volscians have attacked the garrison at Anxur again, while the Aequians harry our colony at Labicum in the east. Our two legions are splintered and are making no gains. We need more men to fight.”

Scipio scoffed. “Calvus will veto any levy to raise more troops. He doesn’t care if Romans are dying at our enemies’ hands. I, for one, would shed no tears if some accident should mysteriously befall him.”

There was a heavy pause. Scipio picked up a toothpick and fiddled with it, aware he should not have spoken his thoughts. Pinna was shocked. The body of a people’s tribune was sacrosanct. A death penalty awaited those who harmed such a representative.

Genucius sat up and glowered at the skinny senator. “So you’d think of murder now, Scipio? To use a sword in the back to counter resistance?”

The senator also sat up. “How dare you accuse me of conspiracy.”