'Sponges,' said Demetrius at breakfast.

'Sponges, kyrie?' said Telly.

'Sponges. We're in desperate need of them. Bath sponges. Everybody gets one of their own. Also kitchen sponges. You probably need some for the workshop cleanup. Better get a dozen. I'll give you money. After breakfast, go down to the sponge-divers' shop just outside the north gate. If they don't have all we want, put them on back order.'

Telly shrugged. 'Sure thing.'

Radu lifted an eyebrow.

'That shop has the best sponges,' is all Demetrius would say. Then he added, 'Oh, and Telly? Take Argyros. He can help you carry them.'

'Sponges aren't heavy, kyrie.'

'No, but they're bulky. Don't worry: they speak Greek there.'

Cleo overheard this. 'That's fine, Domine. But I want them back as quickly as possible. There are going to be crowds in town today. And they're likely to be rowdy. So, Telly – there and back, no stopping at the wine shops.' Telly acknowledged this.

'Rowdy crowds?' Radu raised both eyebrows. Cleo looked at him in surprise.

'Haven't you looked at the calendar?'

Demetrius had to admit he hadn't: he was still groggy. 'Er, I forgot to. What is today?'

'It's the festival of Fors Fortuna!'

Demetrius blinked. 'Oh, yes,' he said drily. 'The day for celebrating Roman luck.'

'A day of great revelry,' said Telly happily.

'A day of much drinking,' said Cleo, bopping Telly on the back of the head.

'Ah! A day of much irony and amusement,' said Radu. 'Shall we go and appeal to the goddess?'

'Later,' said Demetrius, 'when I'm more awake. I'm not up to blind goddesses just now. Yes – run and get all the sponges, then come back and get the band. I assume music will be made?'

'Oh, yes, kyrie,' said Telly happily. 'Much music. And there will be generous tips. Everyone wants the clink of their coins to please the daughter of Jupiter and attract her favour.'

Cleo's eyeroll was nearly audible as she left the room.

Radu and Demetrius strolled past the temple of Fortuna, a modest little building next to the more imposing temple of Jupiter. On this day, the entrance was behung with garlands of vines and flowers. Crowds of gaily-dressed people were milling about the streets. It wasn't lunchtime yet, but obviously some enthusiastic 'worshippers' had already been hitting the wine heavily. They called cheerful greetings.

Nobody was allowed inside the temple today – secret doings were being prepared by the priests, which would involve the town leaders – but the statue of the goddess had been (carefully) moved to the front portico. From there, she reigned over the festivities.

Radu studied the stately figure, which resembled a dignified Roman matron. 'What in the name of. . . something. . . is she holding?'

'A ship's rudder,' Demetrius said. 'And a cornucopia, or horn of plenty.'

'I get the cornucopia. They're hoping for good things. But. . . a ship's rudder? You want your ship steered by chance? Besides, isn't she blind?'

Indeed, the statue was blind – no beautiful glass eyes. 'Fortuna caeca est,' intoned Demetrius. A passerby heard this and murmured assent, taking the statement for the piety that it wasn't. He handed Demetrius a garland, which the bemused alien threw around his neck.

'Now that's the spirit,' said Radu. They continued making the rounds of the downtown area, visiting the vendors' stalls. Vendors always showed up in droves for these things. Radu snapped up a little statuette of the goddess in a chariot, flying to heaven. 'Argyros can add this one to his collection.'

'Oh, great,' said Demetrius. 'Maybe she can cart the gladiator off to Olympus when he loses.'

'The band's here!' Radu pointed to where Cleopas and the gang were setting up the hydraulis and their other instruments on some nearby steps. 'They've got a good place. Sit down somewhere. I'll be right back!' He disappeared into the crowd.

Seeing himself abandoned, Demetrius signalled to a passing vendor and bought an apple. He sat down on a nearby bench to eat it. From where he sat, he could see Radu explaining something to Cleopas, who nodded reassurance as he set up the hydraulis with the help of Argyros, who was there to pump the water organ.

Demetrius was happily taking in the blue sky, cheerful crowds, and general festive activity, when he felt a tug at his sleeve. He turned to see Pertinax, his toga somewhat askew.

His smile of greeting turned to a look of concern. 'What is wrong, friend?' He moved over to make room on the bench.

The old man sat down with a sigh. He looked around, somewhat furtively, and only spoke when it was clear to him that no one was paying them any attention. 'I've had a worrying letter from my son. And I need your advice.'

'I trust Manius isn't injured or ill?'

'Oh, no. He's in the best of health. In fact, he's doing well. But events in his camp are troubling. He wrote in true filial piety to ask me what he should do.'

'Whatever could be the matter in Dalmatia?'

Pertinax looked around again, obviously fearful of being overheard. 'I'd like to talk to you about it, but not here. I'm afraid to discuss the matter, even in my own house, lest the servants hear.'

This sounds serious. Demetrius suggested, 'Why don't you come to us tonight? Most of our people will be here in the square, celebrating the goddess. I'll send the others away.' He didn't add that his people were trustworthy: why should a worried patrician believe that? They knew that slaves could be tortured under questioning.

Pertinax seemed slightly relieved. 'Thank you. That is most kind.'

Demetrius hailed a passing vendor and bought two cups of wine. The cups were made of clay and embossed for the holiday. They were disposable items: you could save them as souvenirs or throw them away. Clay was cheap.

The wine seemed to calm Pertinax down for the moment. They turned their attention to the doings on the temple steps. To entertain the people who weren't allowed into the secret stuff (Demetrius suspected), the priests had set up a stand outside. People seeking to know their own fortunes would drop a small donation (of course) into an urn and take their turn at the stand, where a boy, smaller than Argyros, would reach into a bag and take out a stick with their 'fortune'.

Demetrius suspected the fortunes ranged from 'most definitely' to 'highly doubtful' to 'uncertain'. Personally, he thought it would have been better if they'd baked the fortunes into small cakes. At least, people would have some honest food. He didn't go to ask the 'oracle' any questions – and he was glad Pertinax didn't, either. It sounded like the old patrician had a serious issue on his mind. Demetrius didn't want Fortuna messing with his head.

Meanwhile, Cleopas had got the hydraulis going. Radu joined Demetrius and Pertinax. He'd probably have loved to play along, but Demetrius would have been very displeased: Roman patricians did not make music in public. Radu greeted Pertinax, fetched wine refills and one for himself, and settled in to enjoy the concert.

'You're going to like this,' he said. 'I taught it to them last night.'

'Friends, Romans, countrymen,' announced Cleopas. 'A hymn to the goddess Fortuna.'

The hydraulis got as loud as it possibly could, due to Cleopas's having placed it strategically in front of the open side of a copper tub that amplified the sound. What came out was almost as awful a noise as anyone in the town had ever heard. The backup group sang loudly:

O Fortuna, velut luna, statu variabilis. . .

'Oh, my ears!' exclaimed Pertinax. 'I'm not sure I like this new music! What do you call it?'

'Cleopas calls them 'power chords'!' shouted Radu over the din. 'Isn't it glorious?' He winked at Demetrius, who scowled at him. Music is supposed to stay in its own time zone.

Several veterans in the audience experienced flashbacks to the Celtic front. The loud noise reminded them unpleasantly of the blast of the carnyx. But the kids loved it. They started dancing in the street – which probably saved Cleopas and the others from the wrath of the outraged priests – they couldn't get to them through the crowd.

'Play it again!' they demanded. People threw coins. Argyros pumped like mad. O Fortuna was a hit.

They escorted Pertinax back to his villa, agreeing to meet at Villa Georgenius in the evening.

'One of these days, Radu, you'll go too far,' groused Demetrius as they headed for the cool of the peristylium and a midsummer nap.

'Yes, but not today,' grinned Radu.

DG

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