Chapter One Rome brawled around Publius Quinctilius Varus. Half a dozen stalwart lectiarii bore his sedan chair through the streets towards Augustus' house on the Palatine hill. The slaves wore matching red tunics. Their smooth, skillful broken step kept him from feeling the bumps in the cobblestoned roadway.
Varus could have lowered the sedan chair's curtains. That would have given him privacy in the midst of untold tens of thousands. But he didn't mind being seen, not today. Anyone could tell at a glance that he was someone important.
A wagon full of sacks of grain drawn by two plodding oxen blocked his path. The ungreased axles squealed and groaned. A man could die of old age stuck behind something like that.
His slaves weren't about to put up with it. One of the pedisequi who accompanied the litter—a Roman aristocrat was too special to carry what ever he might need, but had underlings to do it for him—called out in Greek-accented Latin: "Make way, there! Make way for the litter of Publius Quinctilius Varus!"
In na ...
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