“Vulpius,” began Addisonius Furius Camillus, eyeing the short, foxy-faced aspiring lawyer who sat before him with some scroll in his hand, “I’ve been having the most dreadful string of rotten luck over these last few days. I’ve always thought that the Furii were always popular with Fortune. I don’t know what the matter is these days. Strange omens…”

“Oh?” asked Marcus Vulpius in his shrill voice. “What is it that proves so irksome to you?”

“Well, ever since the Temulentus case…”

“A marvelous affair. It is rather unfortunate that you lost it. I cannot think why this was, anyway. I suppose that the magistrate was asleep.”

“Yes,” said Addisonius. “Well, actually, I think he was swatting flies and thus could not focus his concentration on my closing argument entirely. Sadly, this produced disaster for my client and I think as a result I shall never be employed by a snail peddler ever again.”

“That is too bad,” said Vulpius, thoughtfully. He nibbled on a grape, bringing it to his mouth with a small finger that was adorned by a remarkably large and unwieldy ring. His small eyes darted about the room, his nostrils flaring at the smells of food emerging from the kitchens. His stomach growled in expectation of some dinner.

“Those are just two of the problems that have arisen,” said Addisonius, wearily. “There have been other omens of misfortune.”

“Oh? Really? Sorry to hear it.”

“I offered a chicken in sacrifice to the goddess yesterday, you see,” said Addisonius. “I always offer a chicken… Never before, however, have I seen something like this. The priest cut it open and found that it was all green and rotten inside.”

“Oh dear. How dreadful.” Vulpius felt exceedingly hungry. The aroma that wafted into the room suggested a very tasty meal was to be expected. Why did minutes always seem like hours when he was waiting to eat?

“Then…Apelles, you know, my Greek slave…well, he walked into the study yesterday and…clearly saw beads of sweat appearing on the brow of my bust of Fortune!” exclaimed Addisonius. “I thought there must be a logical explanation, but I couldn’t easily arrive at one.”

“Utterly astonishing,” said Vulpius.

“Yes…and then, this morning, I awoke to the sounds of dogs barking outside my door.”

“Oh. Yes. That happens. Dogs have been known to bark.”

“Yes, but there were none there,” retorted Addisonius. “We never allow dogs in the house. Mother can’t stand them. She sneezes whenever they are around. She would probably have to get up and start burning incense again at the very presence of a dog, knowing her…to ‘air out’ the place…”

“Ah.”

“And there are lesser things. I tore my toga on a nail the other day, and received a paper cut from a scroll, and I’ve been biting my tongue a lot by accident…”

“Oh dear.”

“And now…”

But he was then interrupted by the opening of the door. Apelles appeared in the doorway, his stylus tucked firmly behind one ear. He bore a message in his outstretched hand. “Pardon me, master, but a message has arrived…from your sister.”

“My sister?” said Addisonius. “Oh, well, hand it over to me, then.” Apelles offered him the message, and he snatched it up for a quick perusal. His face visibly blanched as he read it through. Twice.

“Oh Hades. This shall become a many-headed hydra.”

“What is it, Furius?” asked Vulpius, wondering if it was something that would delay his dinner. “Disaster? Tragedy? Misfortune?”

“The lot.”

“Oh dear.”

“Yes, quite,” said Addisonius. “My sister – Dionysia – writes to inform me of the death of her husband – her second husband – who left her quite penniless, it seems. After chucking him on the funeral pyre, she’s returning to the city.”

“How tragic.”

“Yes…for me! Have you any idea how little I actually make as a barrister these days? I mean to say that it is usually the riff-raff I get to work for, after all. I haven’t had a decent murder or a case with political connotations for some time now. I hardly make enough to support one woman with expensive tastes…and Dionysia is even more expert at running up a bill than mother!”

“Oh well. My heart bleeds for you… Is dinner almost ready?”

Addisonius was too lost in his own thoughts to hear or understand Vulpius’s comments (as pitiful as they were anyway). “She has very little sense concerning my financial situation, I am sure. And she’ll be expecting me to find another husband for her to replace the two she’s lost now. Well, I’ve had to go through this sort of thing twice over, and after a few years of living with her they’ve both dropped dead… I spent a good deal of time and effort making the last match, and at much personal cost to myself.”

“Oh, right.”

But Addisonius was too concerned with his own thoughts to comprehend.