The Mystery Megapack

may add a further new proverb to my short collection, let me say that the man who strives so hard to impress may ultimately give an impression other than the one he intended.
    More than once Pudens shot me a glance as if to say how he suffered for the good of Rome, doing his duty, putting up with all this. Arpocras gazed into space, stonily, but remained, I am sure, completely alert. The oddest thing about the whole evening was that at times you might think that Pudens was the object of our host’s hospitality, and I, the legatus propraetore consulari poteste was almost forgotten. But I bided my time, as did Arpocras, waiting for Licinius Aper to get to the point.
    He finally did.
    The dancers and mimes were long gone. The dinner had proceeded, literally from eggs to apples, and as we lingered into the late hours over dessert, our host said suddenly, “The men of Juliopolis are my enemies.”
    I already knew of the rivalry between the two cities, a common enough phenomenon between Greek cities in the East. With the might of Rome to prevent them from actually going to war, they often expressed their enmity in sporting competitions, street riots, and more often than not in ridiculous vanities, each striving to build the grander theatre or aqueduct or temple, which were often unsound, over-budget, and the cause of the very evils which I had come into the province to correct.
    I sighed, and thought, At last.
    I will not repeat everything he said, for, even when he was getting to the point Licinius Aper could be long-winded. The gist of it was—as I understood the undertext of his discourse—that certain wealthy men like himself, Romans, as he made sure we were all quite clear about, some of whose families had dwelt in the East since the affairs of the region were settled by Pompey over a hundred and fifty years ago, controlled the local economy, the grain markets, the small manufactures, even the religious pilgrimage trade. He being, of course, a gentleman, a member of the local senate, did not sully his hands with actual commerce, but worked through agents and freedmen, as did everyone. He and the senators held the city for Rome, and therefore deserved such rewards as they had reaped (although I was determined that there would be a clear accounting during my stay here), etc. etc. But they had incurred the wrath of the men of Juliopolis, their rivals for exactly the same avenues of commerce. The god of Juliopolis had an enormous member, Aper told us, snickering like a schoolboy, and was therefore identified with Priapus and the subject of “disgusting” rites.
    What precisely did L. Licinius Aper want from me which he was (even yet) not quite willing to state plainly?
    It became clear enough: He wanted me to contrive some sort of criminal charge and remove, or even have put to death, one Clodius Carus, his opposite number in Juliopolis.
    “A mere Greek,” Aper spat out in genuine repugnance—the first sincere utterance I had heard from him, the rest being like the recital of a bad actor. Arpocras drew breath sharply. Our host had obviously forgotten him entirely.
    “Not a Roman at all, despite his Latin name, which he surely stole,” Licinius Aper went on, “a wretched provincial scoundrel who desires to destroy my wealth, discredit me in the eyes of the emperor … I am certain, Sirs, that he means to commit some outrage very soon. I thank the gods for your fortunate arrival so that you might thwart his evil schemes.…”
    * * * *
    Eventually we escaped Aper’s hospitality and retired.
    “But of course, of course, you have had a long journey,” he babbled on and might have spoken volumes more if our own slaves hadn’t closed protectively around us to attend to our needs.
    I was able to confer briefly with Pudens and Arpocras.
    “What do you think?” I said.
    Pudens rolled his eyes heavenward as if he were about to faint, then laughed softly.
    Arpocras said, “Did you mark how he said ‘ my enemies ’ and ‘ my wealth ?”
    “I did. This is some selfish, petty matter, then, not of larger political import—”
    “It could be both, Sir.”
    Verily possibly he, too, spoke prophetically.
    I had barely gotten to sleep when the cries of the “outrage” were upon us. There was a great commotion outside in the street. Someone was pounding on the front door. Our host’s slaves were up and about, and then so were Arpocras, Pudens, and myself. We had barely emerged from our rooms when an obviously