Camillus rose and stood beside the haruspex. “Tell my guests what you have discovered, Artile. How our consular generals have failed in religious matters.”
Medullinus sat up so that the three guests now reminded Pinna of crows perched on a fence. “What nonsense is this?”
Genucius raised his palm. “Let the priest speak. I don’t think we should dismiss him.”
To Pinna’s surprise, Scipio agreed with the plebeian instead of Medullinus. “I’d also like to hear what the seer has to say.”
Artile adjusted his crescent fibula on his cloak. “The rising of Lake Albanus was not just because the sacred rites of Mater Matuta were neglected. The current consular generals omitted including the Votive Games of Latium in the religious calendar this year. It is no wonder your allies are prepared to break the Latin Pact. You have disrespected their gods more than once. Then you refused to drain the floodwaters that have destroyed their farmlands.”
Scipio frowned, glancing across to Medullinus before returning to the priest. “More expiation rites are required?”
Artile fixed his dark oval eyes on the senator. “The error of those currently in office must be rectified. A duly consecrated date for the Votive Games must now be declared by new leaders.”
Medullinus stood, pushing the serving table aside. He ignored Artile and stepped in front of Camillus. “Are you saying there need to be fresh elections?”
“Precisely. You’re the consular general who drew the lot to govern Rome while the others wage war. Declare an interregnum. Vacate all offices. Conduct new elections that observe due formalities, and renew the auspices so the correct date for the games can be set.”
Medullinus spluttered, “This is outrageous! What makes you think I’d listen to this priest? What is his authority for such a declaration?”
Artile was unconcerned at being challenged. “I have scrutinized your religious practices while living here. I have also consulted our Holy Books. Mater Matuta’s temple lies in ruins in Rome. Your allies need to be placated.”
Medullinus refused to respond to the priest; instead he sneered at Camillus. “Tell me, Brother, has this traitor cast a spell over you as has your concubine? You are becoming feebleminded.”
Camillus bristled. “Your hubris will cause Rome to suffer. Admit that you’ve failed in your duty to interpret the sacred calendar.”
“I’m going to wait for the delegation from Delphi. Once the oracle has spoken, we’ll know what needs to be done.”
Scipio was pensive as he studied the Etruscan. “Let’s not be rash. Perhaps the priest speaks the truth. It could take months for the envoys to return. I think we should act now.”
Medullinus rounded on him. “So you can be elected instead of me, Scipio? You missed out this time.”
The senator also stood, hackles raised. “I only think of the good of all Romans!”
Camillus kept cool in the face of rising tempers. “Listen to me. The Latin tribes are obliged to provide us with troops under the pact. But they’re distracted by the damage caused by the floods. If we alleviate the Latin crisis, the soldiers of Latium will be freed to supplement our forces in the south, and we can concentrate on Veii.”
Genucius smiled. “Ah, now I see. There’ll be no need to raise a levy. The concerns about Calvus would be solved.”
Medullinus stopped glowering at Scipio and swiveled around to face Camillus. “‘Crisis’? Oh, so that’s what you want, Brother, to exaggerate calamity by using this fraudulent priest, then claim the means to avert it. You don’t want to be appointed an interrex. You want to be made dictator!”
Genucius spoke before Camillus could respond. “Perhaps six months under your brother’s direction might help Rome to victory. He is our most accomplished general—”
Medullinus erupted. “I’m not listening to any more of this!”
Camillus’s tone remained reasonable. “At least let me travel to Satricum where the great sanctuary of Mater Matuta stands. That city is no longer in Volscian hands. I’ll assure Latium that Rome is aware of its plight. Measures can start to be put in place. Time will not be wasted.”
“No!” Medullinus sat down on the couch and pointed to his bare feet. “Call that woman of yours and tell her to bring me my sandals!”
Pinna retreated, anxious not to be discovered listening. She’d only gone a few steps, though, when her Wolf stepped into the corridor. “Eavesdropping as usual. You heard him; he wants to leave.”
She stooped and picked up the sandals from the row beside the doorway. Medullinus snatched the pair from her, his spite turning to her as he slipped on the thongs. “You do yourself no favors, Brother, by consorting with this peasant girl.”
Pinna tensed, uncomfortable at becoming the center of attention.
Camillus tensed. “She’s the daughter of a veteran who was sold into bondage due to this city’s failure to support its soldiers.”
The consular general rolled his eyes. “Don’t say you’ve become a bleeding heart as well. At least promise me you have no plans to wed her. You’ll be a laughing stock if you do. And threaten your sons’ inheritance if she bears more children.”
Pinna flushed scarlet. She felt trapped, paralyzed by humiliation.
“There’s no law forbidding a senator marrying his concubine. And Pinna is unable to bear children.”
Medullinus’s gaze raked over her again. “Whether you’re plowing a fertile or barren field, you’re still seen as weak to fall for a pretty face and some juicy cunni.”
The consular general headed for the doorway. Camillus grabbed his shoulder and wrenched him around. “I could always best you in a fight when we were young. I’ll do so again if you insult her.”
Medullinus shrugged him away, then gestured toward the Veientane. “You’re bringing our House into disrepute. People are already questioning your judgment.” Not waiting for a response, he stormed into the corridor.
Embarrassed by the siblings’ argument, Scipio followed, his head down. Pinna heard the clip-clop of his sandals on the tiled floor as he hurried toward the atrium.
Artile smoothed one eyebrow as he observed the descent of the dinner party into disaster. He seemed vexed rather than amused, though. Once again, his counsel had been ignored. He flinched but said nothing when Camillus barked at him to go to his room.
Genucius glared at Pinna, lips pursed. She turned her head, unable to deal with his silent censure.
Her Wolf placed his hand on the plebeian’s back. “I will not forget your loyalty, Genucius. Together we reduced Mastarna’s army at the Battle of Blood and Hail. I believe there’ll come a time when I’ll be dictator. And when I am, I’ll ensure you’re made a knight.”
Genucius was taken aback. “A knight?”
Camillus smiled. “A dictator can bypass Senate and Assembly. I see no reason why wealthy plebeians who provide their own horses can’t be equestrians. I’ll make sure you lead a regiment.”
The men grasped each other’s forearms. Genucius nodded. “Patrician and plebeian, shoulder to shoulder.”