Marcius
Tribune
Virgins and Virgae
Lucius Valerius Livianus stifled yet another yawn as the meeting of the College of Pontiffs in the Regia was drawing to a close. All matters had met with quick and unanimous assent – the senators were keen on lengthening the recess and returning to Tibur or Tarracina or Baiae to enjoy the early June sun – but minor pontiffs kept droning on, with one thing coming up after another. And then Julius Servianus, who was presiding over the meeting in the absence of the Pontifex Maximus, launched on a rather rambling disquisition into the subject of Celtic goddesses...
‘Are we done yet?’
Cornelius Palma, who obviously did not appreciate the fine details of Gallic and British cults, voiced the question as soon as one of the minor pontiffs registered the pontifical approval for two sets of ashes to be moved from a Via Salaria columbarium to a Via Appia mausoleum. Livianus, a fellow military man who had commanded a legion against the Dacians, looked at the conqueror of Arabia with gratitude. Julius Servianus pursed his lips.
‘Just one more thing, dear Palma,’ the old courtier intoned with hint of mild disapproval. ‘There’s a most delicate matter concerning a Celtic virgin–’
‘A what virgin?’ Palma blinked.
‘Vestal! A Vestal virgin!’
A little later, Palma was guffawing openly as the rest of Pontiffs struggled to conceal their smiles.
‘So who’s doing the honours, Servianus?’ the general asked.
‘As a matter of tradition this duty falls upon the most recent entrant to the College. You’ll have to tarry a while, Livianus,’ Servianus said evenly.
Livianus swallowed as the laughing Palma slapped him on the shoulder.
‘Patron?’ Livianus’ pontifical assistant, Epaphroditus the kalator, stood behind him holding a bunch of long elm-rods.
‘Always ready, Epaphroditus, aren’t you?’ Livianus got up and accepted the proffered virgae. ‘Well, let’s go.’
⁄⁄⁄
‘Ave, Livianus! Do shut the door, I don’t need a stray gust of wind blowing in!’ Tadia called out from her chair, her clear voice reverberating from the walls of the Temple of Vesta.
Livianus greeted the Vestal virgin on duty and slammed the temple door shut, then approached the keeper of sacred hearth-fire.
‘By Castor, Vicellia is in trouble!’ Tadia glanced at the rods. ‘At the very least her tight little – forgive me, O Vesta! Do sit down, Livianus,’ she pointed at the now vacant chair next to hers. The Vestal was his wife’s aunt and spoke to him rather freely.
‘Er, could you tell me what’s happened?’ Livianus took the seat usually occupied by the second Vestal.
‘Certainly, Livianus,’ Tadia leant to pick several broken oak branches out of an ornately decorated box, then threw them into the sacred fire. ‘It’s all Pliny’s fault.’
‘How is that Pliny’s fault?’
‘So yesterday Pliny was having a feast for us Vestals. He’s going to depart to govern Pontus soon, and he’s so ridiculously sentimental about that. Well, he was going on and on about auguries and Asia and I don’t know what else, then the Virgo Maxima got Cornelius Tacitus started on the days of Agricola and the necessity to conquer the rest of Britain. I look at Vicellia, and I could see she’s bored out of her skull, so she’s swilling Pliny’s wines – Chian, Lesbian, Clazomenian, you name it – unmixed, as if she’s Ethiopian!’
‘You should’ve stopped her, Tadia,’ Livianus reproved the Vestal.
‘And then have her here, sulking all day long? Look, I didn’t know the girl couldn’t hold her drink. I’m punished enough as I am, sitting here all alone,’ Tadia sighed. ‘Well, Praetextata is supposed to drop by soon.’
‘What happened then?’
‘Ah, Vicellia didn’t really want to leave so her slave-girls walked her to her litter after the feast. She should’ve asked the Virgo Maxima to remove her from temple duty for today...’
‘But she didn’t.’
‘No, she didn’t. In the morning she’s here at the temple, stumbling around and looking like a shade. I have her sitting in the chair while I go about my duties. Then I come back to sit next to her and she sort of appears better-looking to me. I try to make small talk, and her eyes look totally sober. But then she sort of sways to and fro and leans to the side and then...’
‘And then she throws up all over the temple floor,’ Livianus finished for Tadia.
‘She does. I tell her – forgive your servant, O Vesta, for what I tell her! – and call for a slave-girl to fetch the Virgo Maxima while she keeps gasping and heaving. Then the Virgo Maxima comes and her eyes grow round at the sight. She grasps Vicellia by the ear and drags her away, leaving me here alone to mop her vomit up! I’m so tired now,’ Tadia slumped in the chair.
‘I see. By the way, you missed a spot here,’ Livianus pointed at the floor.
‘Thank you very much,’ Tadia’s voice dripped acid.
(TBC)
Lucius Valerius Livianus stifled yet another yawn as the meeting of the College of Pontiffs in the Regia was drawing to a close. All matters had met with quick and unanimous assent – the senators were keen on lengthening the recess and returning to Tibur or Tarracina or Baiae to enjoy the early June sun – but minor pontiffs kept droning on, with one thing coming up after another. And then Julius Servianus, who was presiding over the meeting in the absence of the Pontifex Maximus, launched on a rather rambling disquisition into the subject of Celtic goddesses...
‘Are we done yet?’
Cornelius Palma, who obviously did not appreciate the fine details of Gallic and British cults, voiced the question as soon as one of the minor pontiffs registered the pontifical approval for two sets of ashes to be moved from a Via Salaria columbarium to a Via Appia mausoleum. Livianus, a fellow military man who had commanded a legion against the Dacians, looked at the conqueror of Arabia with gratitude. Julius Servianus pursed his lips.
‘Just one more thing, dear Palma,’ the old courtier intoned with hint of mild disapproval. ‘There’s a most delicate matter concerning a Celtic virgin–’
‘A what virgin?’ Palma blinked.
‘Vestal! A Vestal virgin!’
A little later, Palma was guffawing openly as the rest of Pontiffs struggled to conceal their smiles.
‘So who’s doing the honours, Servianus?’ the general asked.
‘As a matter of tradition this duty falls upon the most recent entrant to the College. You’ll have to tarry a while, Livianus,’ Servianus said evenly.
Livianus swallowed as the laughing Palma slapped him on the shoulder.
‘Patron?’ Livianus’ pontifical assistant, Epaphroditus the kalator, stood behind him holding a bunch of long elm-rods.
‘Always ready, Epaphroditus, aren’t you?’ Livianus got up and accepted the proffered virgae. ‘Well, let’s go.’
⁄⁄⁄
‘Ave, Livianus! Do shut the door, I don’t need a stray gust of wind blowing in!’ Tadia called out from her chair, her clear voice reverberating from the walls of the Temple of Vesta.
Livianus greeted the Vestal virgin on duty and slammed the temple door shut, then approached the keeper of sacred hearth-fire.
‘By Castor, Vicellia is in trouble!’ Tadia glanced at the rods. ‘At the very least her tight little – forgive me, O Vesta! Do sit down, Livianus,’ she pointed at the now vacant chair next to hers. The Vestal was his wife’s aunt and spoke to him rather freely.
‘Er, could you tell me what’s happened?’ Livianus took the seat usually occupied by the second Vestal.
‘Certainly, Livianus,’ Tadia leant to pick several broken oak branches out of an ornately decorated box, then threw them into the sacred fire. ‘It’s all Pliny’s fault.’
‘How is that Pliny’s fault?’
‘So yesterday Pliny was having a feast for us Vestals. He’s going to depart to govern Pontus soon, and he’s so ridiculously sentimental about that. Well, he was going on and on about auguries and Asia and I don’t know what else, then the Virgo Maxima got Cornelius Tacitus started on the days of Agricola and the necessity to conquer the rest of Britain. I look at Vicellia, and I could see she’s bored out of her skull, so she’s swilling Pliny’s wines – Chian, Lesbian, Clazomenian, you name it – unmixed, as if she’s Ethiopian!’
‘You should’ve stopped her, Tadia,’ Livianus reproved the Vestal.
‘And then have her here, sulking all day long? Look, I didn’t know the girl couldn’t hold her drink. I’m punished enough as I am, sitting here all alone,’ Tadia sighed. ‘Well, Praetextata is supposed to drop by soon.’
‘What happened then?’
‘Ah, Vicellia didn’t really want to leave so her slave-girls walked her to her litter after the feast. She should’ve asked the Virgo Maxima to remove her from temple duty for today...’
‘But she didn’t.’
‘No, she didn’t. In the morning she’s here at the temple, stumbling around and looking like a shade. I have her sitting in the chair while I go about my duties. Then I come back to sit next to her and she sort of appears better-looking to me. I try to make small talk, and her eyes look totally sober. But then she sort of sways to and fro and leans to the side and then...’
‘And then she throws up all over the temple floor,’ Livianus finished for Tadia.
‘She does. I tell her – forgive your servant, O Vesta, for what I tell her! – and call for a slave-girl to fetch the Virgo Maxima while she keeps gasping and heaving. Then the Virgo Maxima comes and her eyes grow round at the sight. She grasps Vicellia by the ear and drags her away, leaving me here alone to mop her vomit up! I’m so tired now,’ Tadia slumped in the chair.
‘I see. By the way, you missed a spot here,’ Livianus pointed at the floor.
‘Thank you very much,’ Tadia’s voice dripped acid.
(TBC)
