The atrium courtyard spread out before them with bright flowering bushes and a long reflecting pool surrounded by columns. Slaves scurried about, serving wine and food to the many guests. At the far end stood a man-sized statue of Zeus gripping a golden lightning bolt.
Valerius made a beeline to one of the slaves mixing wine and ordered himself a cup. He pinched his fingers to show how little water he wanted in his wine, and the slave mixed it with barely a hint. Valerius turned back to Nicholas and lifted his cup, saying, “Don’t be shy.”
Nicholas reluctantly approached the slave. He said, “Two parts water to one part wine, please.”
The slave mixed it up and handed it to him with a smile, saying, “In the name of Zeus.”
Nicholas hesitated. He had just shied away from saying the name of Christus, and here a slave was boldly proclaiming Zeus to everyone he served. He suddenly didn’t want the drink, but neither did he want to call attention to himself, so he took it and held it in his hand.
Valerius prompted, “There’s plenty more. Drink up.”
“Just getting settled in,” said Nicholas, changing the subject by turning his gaze on the crowds. “Seeing who’s here.”
“Ah, the ladies,” said Valerius, misunderstanding. “Many beauties to behold.” He chuckled and nudged him.
Nicholas could see a number of young ladies milling about, looking for eye contact with some handsome official, but his eyes carefully avoided them. They were followers of the gods, so their beauty to him was like that of a flame, best viewed at a distance. He gave Valerius a smirk. “I’m sure, but I meant colleagues. Do you know if Faustinus will be here?”
Valerius shook his head. “I’ve never seen him at any banquet. He’s not very social.”
Nicholas nodded. Maybe Faustinus didn’t have the fortitude to endure worship of the gods at these events. He remarked, “That would explain why we see so little of him at court anymore.” Valerius chuckled. Then Nicholas realized how cutting that had been of his former master. He regretted saying it. He asked, “Where’s the magistrate?”
“I don’t know. But that must be the new proconsul.” He pointed Nicholas toward a group of lictors. Their fasces axes stood out above the heads of the guests. They were gathered beside a balding man in a richly ornamented toga.
To his surprise, Nicholas recognized him to be Silvanus. He said, “I know him.”
Valerius made a beeline to one of the slaves mixing wine and ordered himself a cup. He pinched his fingers to show how little water he wanted in his wine, and the slave mixed it with barely a hint. Valerius turned back to Nicholas and lifted his cup, saying, “Don’t be shy.”
Nicholas reluctantly approached the slave. He said, “Two parts water to one part wine, please.”
The slave mixed it up and handed it to him with a smile, saying, “In the name of Zeus.”
Nicholas hesitated. He had just shied away from saying the name of Christus, and here a slave was boldly proclaiming Zeus to everyone he served. He suddenly didn’t want the drink, but neither did he want to call attention to himself, so he took it and held it in his hand.
Valerius prompted, “There’s plenty more. Drink up.”
“Just getting settled in,” said Nicholas, changing the subject by turning his gaze on the crowds. “Seeing who’s here.”
“Ah, the ladies,” said Valerius, misunderstanding. “Many beauties to behold.” He chuckled and nudged him.
Nicholas could see a number of young ladies milling about, looking for eye contact with some handsome official, but his eyes carefully avoided them. They were followers of the gods, so their beauty to him was like that of a flame, best viewed at a distance. He gave Valerius a smirk. “I’m sure, but I meant colleagues. Do you know if Faustinus will be here?”
Valerius shook his head. “I’ve never seen him at any banquet. He’s not very social.”
Nicholas nodded. Maybe Faustinus didn’t have the fortitude to endure worship of the gods at these events. He remarked, “That would explain why we see so little of him at court anymore.” Valerius chuckled. Then Nicholas realized how cutting that had been of his former master. He regretted saying it. He asked, “Where’s the magistrate?”
“I don’t know. But that must be the new proconsul.” He pointed Nicholas toward a group of lictors. Their fasces axes stood out above the heads of the guests. They were gathered beside a balding man in a richly ornamented toga.
To his surprise, Nicholas recognized him to be Silvanus. He said, “I know him.”
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