I, Claudius - Robert Graves [56]
And what was their offspring? Giraffe? Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha!"
"The play doesn't get that far. Iris comes on the stage for the messenger speech and reports another refuge of animals on Mount Atlas. Iris breaks off the nuptials just in time."
"Was the Camel disappointed?"
"Oh, most bitterly."
"And the Elephant?"
"The Elephant just scowled."
"Did they kiss on parting?'*
"Aristophanes does not tell. But I'm sure they did.
Come on, Beasts. Kiss!"
I smiled foolishly, Urgulanilla scowled.
"Kiss, I say," Livia insisted in a voice that meant that we had to obey.
So we kissed, and started the old women on their hys'• terics again. When we were outside the room again I whispered to Urgulanilla: "I'm sorry. It's not my fault." But she did not answer except to scowl more deeply than before.
There was still a year before we were actually to marry, for the family had decided that I should not come of age until I was fifteen and a half, and much might happen in that time. If only Iris would come!
But she didn'tPostumus had his troubles too: he had already come of age now and it was only a few months before Domitia would be of marriageable age. My poor Postumus, he was still in love with Livilla, though she was married. But before I continue with the story of Postumus I must tell of my meeting with the "Last of the Romans".
IX
HIS NAME WAS POLLIO AND I WILL RECALL THE EXACT circumstances of our meeting, which took place just a week after my betrothal to Urgulanilla. I was reading in the Apollo Library when along came Livy and a little brisk old man in the robe of a senatoi. Livy was saying: "It seems then, that we may as well abandon all hope of finding it, unless perhaps.... Why, there's Sulpiciusl He'll know if anyone does. Good morning, Sulpicius. I want you to do a favour for Asinius Polho and myself. There's a book we want to look at, a commentary by a Greek called Polemocles on Polybius' Military Tactics. I seem to remember coming across it here once, but the catalogue does not mention it and the librarians, here are perfectly useless." Sulpicius gnawed his beard for awhile and then said: "You've got the name wrong. Polemocrates was the name and he wasn't a Greek, in spite of his name, but a Jew.
Fifteen years ago I remember seeing it on that top shelf, the fourth from the window, right at the back, and the title tag had just 'A Dissertation on Tactics' on it. Let me get it for you. I don't expect it's been moved since then."
Then Livy saw me. "Hullo, my friend, how goes it? Do you know the famous Asinius Pollio?"
I saluted them and Pollio said: "What's that you're reading, boy? Trash, I'll be bound, by the shamefaced way you hide it. Young fellows nowadays read only trash." He turned to Livy: "I bet you ten gold pieces that it's some wretched 'Art of Love', or Arcadian pastoral nonsense, or something of that sort."
"I'll take the bet," said Livy. "Young Claudius is not that sort of young man at all. Well, Claudius, which of us wins?"
I said, stammering, to Pollio: "I'm glad to say, sir, that you lose."
Pollio frowned angrily at me; "What's that you say?
Glad that I lose, eh? Is that a proper way to speak to an old man like me, and a senator too?"
I said: "I said it in all respect, sir. I am glad that you lose. I should not like to hear this book called trash. It's your own history of the Civil Wars and, if I may venture to praise it, a very fine book indeed."
Pollio's face changed. He beamed and chuckled and pulled out his purse, pressing the coins on Livy. Livy, with whom he seemed on terms of friendly animosity—if you know what I mean—refused them with mock-serious insistence. "My dear Pollio, I couldn't possibly take the money. You were quite right: these young fellows nowadays read the most wretched stuff. Not another word, please: I agree that I've lost the bet. Here are ten gold pieces of my own and I'm glad to pay them."
Pollio appealed to me. "Now, sir—I don't know who you are but you seem to be a lad of sense—have you read our friend Livy's