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Updated: June 21, 2025
"Shall we hear what Sextus has to say to that?" asked Cornificia, so confidently that there was no doubt Marcia had given her the signal. Marcia moved her melting, lazy, laughing eyes and Cornificia clapped her hands. A slave came. "Bring the astrologer." Sextus must have been listening, he appeared so instantly. He stood with folded arms confronting them, his weathered face in sunlight.
Pertinax strolled to the front of the pavilion and looked out to make sure there were no eavesdroppers, staring for a long time at the revelry that was warming up into an orgy. They were dancing in rings under the moon, their shadowy figures rendered weird by smoky torchlight. Cornificia at last broke on his reverie: "You wish to join them, Pertinax?
Norbanus, setting both hands on his shoulders from behind, obliged him to sit down. "Calm!" Norbanus whispered, "Calm! Your friends are your friends. What has happened?" Pertinax read the letter and passed it to Cornificia, then paced the floor with hands behind him. "Is that fellow to be trusted?" he asked with a jerk of his head toward Scylax. He seemed nearly as upset as Sextus was.
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