The Raven and the Rose by Doreen Owens Malek Read Free Book Online Page B

diploidion draped over one shoulder and fastened with a pearl studded brooch was of a lighter peach color, complementing her fair complexion. Her hair was elaborately dressed, pulled back from her face into a heavy braid around the crown of her head and then falling in a sweep of curls onto her neck. She extended her hand to Marcus graciously as he approached her.
    “For you,” he said, handing her the amphora of Pompeiian garum.
    “Oh, how nice! Thank you, Marcus, you are always so thoughtful. I’ve taken charge of the seating arrangements myself, my steward always disappoints me with his plans,” she said, tucking his arm through hers. “I’ve tried to put you with amusing people, but of course one never knows. I hope the dinner won’t be too interminable, but we’ll have a chance to chat together afterwards. You can tell me what my son has been up to, it’s the only way I have of finding out his doings. He never talks to me.”
    She led the way to the more sumptuous of the mansion’s two dining rooms; the one at the front of the house, off the atrium, was for entertaining large groups, and the smaller one at the back near the kitchen was for family dining. As Marcus entered the formal dining room, called the triclinium , or ‘room with three couches’, he saw that everyone else was already reclining on the silk trimmed settees, awaiting the first course. The usual dining room seated nine, with three diners on each couch using a central table, but as this was designed for large parties there were at least fifteen couches in the hall and close to fifty guests. The hall itself was marble floored, with Doric columns supporting the roof at regular intervals. The walls were hung with embroidered tapestries and lit by flaring torches. Slaves in the blue livery of the house of Gracchus bustled about filling cups, as the guests were already indulging and at such gatherings the wine was frequently of more interest than the food.
    Marcus was placed with Septimus and another of his friends, Caelius, while one Cytheris, an actress, and Terentia, the older sister of Septimus, were seated at either end of the couch. Only the men reclined during dinner; the women remained seated. As the first course, cold boar with pickled vegetables, was handed round, it became clear to Marcus that Septimus and his mother had engaged in some not too subtle matchmaking. Septimus spent the whole time talking to his sister and his friend, forcing Marcus to make polite conversation with Cytheris on his left. Several times Marcus saw Septimus glancing over to see how things were going.  
    To outward appearances, they were going well enough. Cytheris was a henna rinsed, sloe eyed beauty who had made a name for herself performing the old comedies of Plautus. Smiling congenially, Marcus listened to accounts of the woman’s recent stage triumphs while he passed up a stew of oysters and turbot and shrimp, served with a vinegar and white pepper relish. The main dish, a peacock roasted in its feathers, was followed by wild fowl stuffed with corn and garnished with goose liver, shoulder of hare, and broiled blackbirds with wood pigeons. The parade of food, carried to the tables on platters by a stream of servants, seemed endless, and Marcus finally rose, made his excuses to his companion, and strolled around to the extensive gardens at the back of the house.
    This pleasant retreat was walled off from neighbors by a dense cane hedge and overhung by large portico. The park was filled with marble statues, splashing fountains and topiary trees, its rows of flowers and evergreen shrubs bordered by paved walking paths. It was a restful place and Marcus lingered there, thinking, until he heard a step behind him and turned to see Septimus.
    “What are you doing hiding out here?” his friend demanded.
    “Dessert is being served, honey glazed pastry filled with crushed mulberries. My mother’s cook is very proud of it.”
    “I’m not hiding. I just wanted