A Struggle for Rome, v. 1

  CHAPTER IX.

  It was a turbot weighing six pounds, which for years had been fed withgoose-liver in the sea-water fishponds of Kallistratos. The much-prized"Rhombus" was served upon a silver dish, with a little golden crown onits head.

  "All ye gods, and thou, Prophet Jonah!" stammered Balbus, sinking backupon the cushions, "that fish is worth more than I!"

  "Peace, friend," said Piso, "let not Cato hear thee, who said, 'Woe tothat city where a fish is worth more than an ox.'"

  A burst of laughter, and the loud call of "_Euge belle!_" drowned theangry exclamation of the half-drunken Sicilian.

  The fish was carved, and was found delicious.

  "Now, slaves, away with the weak Massikian. A noble fish must swim innoble liquid. Quick, Syphax, the wine which I have contributed to thebanquet will suit exactly. Go, and let the amphora, which the slaveshave set in snow outside, be brought in, and with it the cups of yellowamber."

  "What rare thing have you brought--from what country?" askedKallistratos.

  "Ask this far-travelled Odysseus, from what hemisphere," said Piso.

  "You must guess. And whoever guesses right, or whoever has alreadytasted this wine, shall have an amphora from me as large as this."

  Two slaves, crowned with ivy, dragged in the immense dark-colouredvase; it was of brown-black porphyry and of a singular shape, inscribedwith hieroglyphics and well closed at the neck with plaster.

  "By the Styx! does it come from Tartarus? It is indeed a black fellow!"said Marcus, laughing.

  "But it has a white soul--show, Syphax."

  The Nubian carefully knocked off the plaster with an ebony hammer whichGanymede handed to him, took out the stopper of palm-rind with a bronzehook, poured away the oil which swam at the top of the wine, and filledthe cups. A strong and intoxicating odour arose from the white andsticky fluid.

  Every one drank with an air of examination.

  "A drink fit for the gods!" cried Balbus, setting down his cup.

  "But as strong as liquid fire," said Kallistratos.

  "I do not know it," said Lucius Licinius.

  "Nor I," affirmed Marcus Licinius.

  "And I am happy to make its acquaintance," said Piso, and held hisempty cup to Syphax.

  "Well," said the host, turning to an, until now, almost silent guest athis right hand, "well, Furius, valiant sailor, discoverer andadventurer! you who have sailed round the world, is _your_ wisdom alsoat fault?"

  The guest slightly raised himself from the cushions. He was ahandsome athletic man of about thirty years of age, with a bronzedweather-beaten complexion, coal-black, deep-set eyes, dazzling whiteteeth, and a full beard, trimmed in Oriental fashion. But before hecould speak Kallistratos interposed:

  "By Jupiter Xenios! I believe you do not know each other!"

  Cethegus measured his unknown and attractive companion with a keenlook.

  "I know the Prefect of Rome," said the silent guest.

  "Well, Cethegus," said Kallistratos, "this is my Vulcanic friend,Furius Ahalla, from Corsica, the richest ship-owner of the West; deepas night and hot as fire. He possesses fifty houses, villas and palaceson all the coasts of Europe, Asia, and Africa; twenty galleys; a fewthousand slaves and sailors, and----"

  "And a very talkative friend," concluded the Corsican. "Prefect, I amsorry for you, but the amphora is mine. I know the wine." And he took aKibitz-egg and broke the shell with a silver spoon.

  "Hardly," said Cethegus with a sarcastic smile.

  "Nevertheless I do know it. It is Isis-wine. From Memphis." And theCorsican quietly sipped the golden yolk of his egg.

  Cethegus looked at him in surprise.

  "Well guessed!" he then said. "Where have you tasted it?"

  "Necessarily in the same place as you. It flows only from one source,"said the Corsican, smiling.

  "Enough of your secrets! No riddles under the rose!" cried Piso.

  "Where have you two weasels found the same nest?" asked Kallistratos.

  "Indeed," said Cethegus, "you may as well know it. In Old Egypt, andparticularly in holy Memphis, there remain near the Christian settlersand monks in the deserts, men, and especially women, who still cling totheir old faith; who will not forsake Apis and Osiris, and cherishfaithfully the sweet worship of Isis. They fly from the surface, wherethe Church has victoriously planted the cross of the ascetics, to thesecret bosom of Mother Earth with their holy and beloved religiousceremonies. They still keep, hidden below the pyramids of Cheops, a fewhundred amphoras of the strong wine which intoxicated the initiated atthe orgies of joy and love. The secret is kept from generation togeneration, there is always only one priestess who knows the cellar andkeeps the key. I kissed the priestess and she let me in. She was like awild cat, but her wine was good; and at parting she gave me fiveamphoras to take on board my ship."

  "I did not get as far as that with Smerda," said the Corsican. "She letme drink in the cellar, but at parting she only gave me this." And hebared his brown throat.

  "A dagger-stab of jealousy!" laughed Cethegus. "Well, I am glad thatthe daughter has not degenerated. In my time, that is, when the motherlet me drink, the little Smerda still ran about in baby-frocks. Longlive the Nile and sweet Isis!" And the two men drank to each other. Butyet they were vexed that they shared a secret which each believed hehad possessed alone.

  The others, however, were charmed by the amiable humour of the icyPrefect, who chatted with them as youthfully as the youngest amongstthem, and who now, when the favourite theme of young men at thewine-cup had been introduced--love adventures and stories of lovelywomen--bubbled over with anecdotes of jests and tricks, of most ofwhich he had himself been witness. Every one stormed him withquestions. The Corsican alone remained dumb and cold.

  "Say," cried the host, and signed to the cup-bearer just as a burst ofmirth caused by one of these stories had ceased; "tell us, you man ofvaried experience--Egyptian Isis-girls, Gallic Druidesses, black-haireddaughters of Syria, and my plastic sisters of Hellas--all these youknow and understand how to value; but tell us, have you ever loved aGermanic woman?"

  "No," said Cethegus, "they were always too insipid for me."

  "Oho!" said Kallistratos; "that is saying too much. I tell you, I wasmad all the last calendars for a German girl; she was not at allinsipid."

  "What? you, Kallistratos of Corinth, the countryman of Aspasia andHelena, you could burn for a barbarian woman? Oh, wicked Eros,sense-confuser, man-shamer!"

  "Well, I acknowledge it was an error of the senses. I have never beforeexperienced such."

  "Relate, relate!" cried all the others.