The Temple of the Muses Read Online Free PDF Page A

promised. That is something one always says after being thoroughly intimidated. “Bear me to the Palace,” I ordered grandly.
    As we trotted thither, I fantasized punishments for the obdurate officer. He was perfectly within his rights to expel a foreign civilian, but that did not excuse him, in my estimation. After all, I was a Roman official, of a sort, and Egypt was a Roman possession, of a sort. But the man’s insolence was quite driven from my mind by the news that greeted me when I reached the embassy.
    I found Creticus in the atrium of the embassy and he beckoned me to him.
    “Ah, Decius, this is convenient. We have some visitors from Rome. I was going to go greet them myself, but now you’re here, so you can do it.”
    “ You were going to greet them?” I said. “Who’s that important?”
    “A slave just brought this from the royal harbor.” He held up a small scroll. “It seems that two ladies of important family have come to Alexandria for the salubrious climate.”
    “The climate?” I said, arching an eyebrow.
    “This is a letter from Lucullus. He informs me that the climate in Rome is unhealthy, something involving political infighting and blood in the streets. He is sending his ward, the Lady Fausta Cornelia, and her traveling companion, another highborn lady, and asks me to extend all aid and courtesy.”

    “Fausta!” I said. “Sulla’s daughter?”
    He glared impatiently “What other lady has ever borne that name?”
    “I was just making sounds of astonishment,” I assured him. “I’ve met the lady. She is betrothed to my friend Titus Milo.”
    “All the better. Round up some slaves, they’ll have a lot of baggage. And arrange for quarters. I’ll speak to the court eunuchs about a reception for them.” Romans would never make this sort of fuss for visiting ladies, no matter how highborn, but the Egyptian court, dominated by eunuchs and princesses, was different.
    “Who is the other lady?” A horrible thought struck me. “It isn’t Clodia, is it? She and Fausta are rather close.”
    He smiled. “No, you won’t be displeased to see this one. Now go. They’re fretting at the dock.”
    I barked loudly and a gaggle of slaves appeared from nowhere. I ordered litters to be brought and they appeared as if by magic. It was really the most extraordinary place. I climbed into one and we trooped off to the royal harbor. This was a tiny enclosure within the Great Harbor where the royal yachts and barges were kept. It was bounded by a stone breakwater, and the opening in this was further protected by the island bearing the jewellike Island Palace, rendering it proof against the most violent storms.
    Among the royal barges the little Roman merchantman looked humble, indeed, but the ladies who stood at the rail radiated arrogance the way the sun radiates light. These were not only Roman ladies, but patricians to boot, with that special assurance of superiority that comes only of centuries of inbreeding.
    The slaves set down the litters and clambered from mine as they abased themselves before the ladies descending the gangplank. The German-blond hair of Fausta Cornelia was unmistakable. She possessed the golden beauty of the Cornelians to an extent matched only by her twin brother, Faustus. The other lady was smaller and darker, but just as radiant. A good deal more so, to my eyes.
    “Julia,!” I cried, gaping. It was, indeed, Julia Minor, younger
daughter of Lucius Caesar. Not long before this, a meeting of our families had been held and we had been formally betrothed. That we had desired this betrothal was, of course, immaterial as far as the families were concerned, but was regarded as a rather fortunate happenstance. At that time the Metelli were in a frenzy of fence-mending with the contending power blocs. Creticus had married off his daughter to the younger Marcus Crassus. Caius Julius Caesar was the rising star of the Popular Assemblies, and a connection with that ancient but obscure