Bread and Circuses

The city was unbearably hot that summer. A terrible stench clung to the streets. It wafted its way in between the insulae, those hastily and haphazardly thrown up apartments that sprawled for miles. Augustus and Trajan had tried to restrict their heights over concerns of shoddy work. Imperial glory that had carried Roman rule to the farthest reaches of the world(or approximately a thousand miles shy of Alexander’s trek to the Ganges. Flagstones were hot to the touch. Ill clothed miscreants hopped from stone to stone squealing, their rags failing ridiculously to cover their nakedness. They were always hovering around Lucius Domitius’ house.
It was a modest home by any patrician’s standards. Indeed, a large number of plebes would have found it little more than a hovel. In Lucius’ neighborhood it was a palace. The children of the impoverished loved to play around Lucius’ front doors. He was known as a generous and gentle man. He lived alone and had no wife or children though he was past the proper age for starting a family. There had been days he had dreamed of it when he was young and worked on his father’s farm. The country seemed a better place for such nonsense. Honest work had been easier to come by out there in the old days. Lucius thought that everyone had been kinder then, although it was likely just distortion thrown by the lenses of nostalgia and childhood wonder. It couldn’t have been as good as I remember it. We wouldn’t have left. No matter what.
A portly, young man with an obscenely worn tunic came waltzing to Lucius’ house from across the street. Flavius was a congenial fellow. His wit was sharp when he wasn’t caught up in the haze of a cheap win (which was a rare occasion).
“Lucius, old chap!” he called as he waved wildly. “Great news...horse races. I have an inside man at the Circus. He says The Greek’s chariot is bound to win.” Flavius was gasping when he finally reached the steps of Lucius’ house.
“The same ‘inside man’ who said the Greek would win last week when the Gaul lapped him?”
“Ah yes, I was thinking about that. The Gaul did win, but he was from Massilia, so clearly he was a descendant of the Greek colony there back in the day. I misunderstood him.” Flavius looked quite pleased with the cleverness of his explanation. Lucius laughed.
“So which Greek do I put my money on? The Greek from Greece or the ‘Greek’ from Gaul?”
“Blast! I knew I forgot to ask him that. Oh well, I haven’t the money to drink and gamble. We can settle for just drink. Grab a flagon and we’ll visit our dear friend the winery.”
“No need. I expected you. I sent Adelina for an amphora this morning. We have an hour or two before we have to go. Can I offer you some refreshments inside.”
“It would be rude for me to refuse.” Flavius was delighted. Free wine and free food! What more could a man desire?
Adelina bowed as they entered. Her fair hair was damp with sweat.
“Forgive me, Dominus. I did not expect you to return from your walk so soon.”
“It is fine Adelina. There is no need to be polite with Flavius even if he is a patrician. Adelina means to say that she did not expect you to run out of wine at ten in the morning. I’m not sure why though. This is the third time this month.” Adelina struggled not to laugh.
“What do you desire Dominus?”
“Wine and the venison you got this morning should do nicely. Some figs if we have them.” Adelina bowed and left.
Lucius and Flavius reclined on couches.
“How is your father, Flavius? Is his health still holding strong.” Flavius shrugged.
“Holding up, not holding strong. He is a stubborn old man. Too stubborn for his own good. Maybe too stubborn for death even.”
“He is a good man.”
“There aren’t many of those left in Rome, even Italia for that matter. I suppose that’s what war will do though.”

“We were strong in the past despite always fighting wars. It feels as though we’ve lost the will to fight. They say it’s easier to pay barbarians to do it. Could you imagine what Africanus would say? Relying on foreign soldiers to guard our borders.” Flavius nodded in assent.

“Your father had a nice way of putting it. ‘A people who will not fight for their home will soon have no home. He was a good man also. A great man.” Lucius laughed.

“Two great men with two idle sons. A nice allegory for the Tetrarchy. I wonder how wise it is to trust our defenses to the Goths. A sword for hire is a sword without a sire.”

“They get paid in gold too. Oh, to be a Goth and not have to take the Emperor’s shit!”

“Mind your words, Flavius. I won’t have my house raided.”

“I’m sorry, Lucius. I am just a little sore at how far my denarii go. They’re positively worthless now. More tin than silver I’d wager.”

“You’d wager if you had any denarii, silver or tin.” Adelina had reentered the room. She was dressed in a fine dress of crimson linen. Her figure was erect and shapely. Her blue eyes caught the sunlight gleaming through the open portion of the ceiling.

“Bah, Lucius! Will you allow your property to talk to me this way. You’ve gone soft having a Christian in your house.”
He spoke in jest of course. Flavius loved Adelina’s wit even more than he loved her beauty. She was given a free reign by Lucius, but she was dutiful and obedient nonetheless. Many masters would have treated her as an object for pleasure. Lucius was not one of those masters. He was kind, a trait many found foolish.

“I would not speak so harshly. She controls the flow of wine and food in this house.”

“That is true, Dominus. I would also like to remind Flavius that in his case, it is quite a considerable flow. I’m certain he would be sad if it were to stop right before the races today. However, I have information as well as food. The Greek will not win today, Massalian or actually Greek. The smart money's on a newcomer, a Briton. He has long odds too, so the payout should be good.”

“Ah, why didn’t you tell me you knew this last week,” said Flavius woefully.

“You had food and drink in your larder last week, so I did not see you.” Flavius wanted to respond, but he was occupied with his cup of wine.

“Some days I feel odd...out of place even. Don’t you?”

“What do you mean?” asked Flavius.

“I just feel like we’re some of the last Romans.”

“What are you on about, Lucius? What does that even mean. Rome is one of the largest cities in the world.”

“I just feel like I am the last Roman of Rome as it were. Does that make sense?”

“As it were when? This is a puzzling question. Rome seems much the same as it was in my father’s day.”

“But maybe not so much the same as his father or his father’s father?” Lucius persisted.

“If you follow that logic far back enough, a ‘true’ Roman would be licking Etruscan sandals for mercy. We are not always lesser than our fathers. If that were the case, we would still roam the world like wild beasts. But...I think you are right. I do not feel like my father’s son.”
“I feel like chaff falling from the grain. I am listless in an unkind wind.”
“Poetic, Dominus,” chimed Adelina as she poured more wine. “I’m sure the muses themselves would be jealous.” Lucius blushed. He had a way with words and being overdramatic with them. Flavius laughed.
“I told you, Lucius, you are far too soft on her. You must be strict, rigid. It is the only way to maintain respect.” Adelina scoffed.
“You could be as firm and hard as you like, Master Flavius. I will find it hard to respect you. Besides, who is to say I was not sincere?”
Lucius’s eyes followed his slave to the amphorae.