The King's Gambit by John Maddox Roberts Page B

lately he has been keeping company with the enemies of Lucullus here in Rome. I suspect that they have persuaded him to join Lucullus in order to undermine his command. Publius has no real interest in serving, but he wants to enter politics. I believe he is tarrying favor with a number of highly placed men by undertaking this."
    Carbo's eyes narrowed. "I will tell him, never fear. And I thank you for taking me into your confidence."
    "I don't know whether it is all a part of this or a mere coincidence, but Publius is now entertaining as his house-guest none other than Prince Tigranes, son of the King of Armenia. Do you know anything of him?"
    "Young Tigranes? Just that he and the old man are on the outs. The boy felt he wasn't being given enough power or some such and tried to raise a rebellion. He failed, naturally, and had to run for his life. That was last year. So he's in Rome now? I'll never understand why those eastern kings always want to breed so many sons, the way they always turn into rivals. No family loyalty over there--among the royalty, at any rate."
    This was a very true observation. A few years before, the King of Bithynia, Nicomedes III, had been so disappointed with his possible heirs that he actually
willed
his kingdom to Rome, as a bequest. It was the only province we ever acquired in so unorthodox a fashion. It was not totally bloodless, however. To nobody's surprise, Mithridates found a supposed son of Nicomedes whose claim he could champion and tried to annex Bithynia to Pontus. He allied himself with Sertorius, who had made himself sort of independent king in Spain and provided Mithridates with ships and officers. For a while he was successful, even defeating an army under Cotta, but that was when Lucullus took the field against him. Lucullus defeated Mithridates in a sea battle that time, and recovered Bithynia for us. All because an eastern king had no use for his family. The world is truly a strange place, and Asia is stranger than most parts of it.
    I did not know what sort of trouble it might lead to, but I felt better for having passed on my warning. My only alternative would have been to write a letter to Lucullus, and such written documents are always dangerous things. They can fall into the wrong hands; they can resurface years later when political realities have been utterly transformed, only to be used as evidence in a trial for treason or conspiracy. He who would keep his head in Roman politics must be extremely careful of all such documents.
    Well-fed and somewhat somnolent from the wine, we decided to walk around the city to clear our heads. Carbo, who had never been in Rome on a holiday, wanted to go to the great Temple of Jupiter to watch the ceremonies, which were famed for their elaborate spectacle. We went to my house so that I could lend him a toga and we climbed the long way to the old temple. He was not disappointed, despite the throngs of garlanded celebrants that crowded the Capitol. Romans never need much excuse to celebrate, and they throw themselves into it with a will. Coming back in the dim light of evening, we wandered in the streets awhile, accepting wine from the jars and skins that were passed promiscuously about. At that time, public officials were still expected to mingle with the people during holidays, without regard to rank or status. Aristocrat and bath attendant, patrician, plebeian, public official and common guildsman were all equal on a holiday. Today even Crassus and Pompey should be out in the temples or in the streets, pretending that they were just ordinary citizens like the rest of us. Well, perhaps not quite like the rest. They would have their bodyguards handy. Being good Roman citizens did not make them fools.
    As darkness came, we wended our way to my house. Cato and Cassandra had prepared a room for Carbo. They were delighted to have a guest to fuss over, and I had brought them a bag of pastries and a jar of wine to keep them cheerful during his