“Marcus Livius!” exclaimed Addisonius Furius Camillus as he made for the direction of his sister’s poisoner, for at the moment her presence hardly even registered in his mind. All he knew was that his client was at hand, and that his money was likewise at hand, and that it would be best to shake hands with him. At this time, one of his hands was still firmly clutching a moderately large pile of scrolls while the other seemed entwined in his hair. Swiftly removing it from the boughs of his mane, he used it in order to shake Sulla’s outstretched paw. “Good evening! How goes it in Gaul?”

“All is well in Gaul, Addisonius Furius,” responded Sulla in a friendly (though admittedly rather loud and scratchy) voice. “The natives have learned to respect their masters, I am pleased to say. Roman law is establishing itself very nicely in the region, thanks to the iron fist of our legions. But the courts are still not as firmly established as they should be. A man such as you would be a very welcome addition to the province, I have no doubt!”

“Yes,” said Addisonius, “but I have no desire to abandon our glorious capital for the still-largely barbarous provinces…though I am sure your presence in the region has certainly proven to be a civilizing influence, Marcus Livius!”

“Hah! Yes, yes, I am sure, Furius, my good man…” responded Sulla, looking about in various directions in an energetic fashion, all the while twiddling his fingers in a fashion that Addisonius could only think he had adopted during his stay in Gaul. “But by the gods, my ears are ringing from the noises from my fellow traveler produced relentlessly on the way into port. And, to be frank, I feel slightly soiled and sweaty from standing out there on the deck after a long sea-voyage. Perhaps we could withdraw to a bathhouse, Addisonius Furius…”

“Yes, certainly, Marcus Livius,” responded the lawyer, “a bath is most certainly in order. Um, oh, forgive my lack of manners, sir, but if I might have my slave Apelles lead you and your servant to the baths as I conclude some unfinished business here…well…that would suit me, at any rate, and I trust would not inconvenience you…much.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, Addisonius Furius, you finish what you need to do and I shall have a bath,” responded Sulla jovially. “I fear that if I stand out here too much longer, the vultures shall mistake me by my scent for a dying fish on the shore.”

“Very good, splendid, actually,” responded the lawyer. “I shall join you momentarily.”

“Good, we shall speak of business then,” said Sulla. “I shall see you presently.”

Addisonius made a polite little bow of the head and nodded at Apelles, who was laden with yet more scrolls. A profusion of paper seemed to emerge like a floral arrangement from his hands. “You shall lead Marcus Livius Sulla Atrebas to the bath-house, Apelles, and wait for my arrival.”

“Yes, master, I understand entirely,” replied the slave, matter-of-factly. “I only hope that I shall not get these precious documents wet. It would be a terrible shame were they to become unfortunately unreadable when contact is made with water. This has happened in the past when we have attempted to settle business negotiations in bathhouses…”

“Yes, yes, yes, Apelles,” said Addisonius. “And what are they? Are they pertinent? Is there the deed in that pile somewhere?”

“No, master, you have the deed.”

“Very well, that’s all I need,” said Addisonius. “Right, I’ll take the scrolls and dump them in a convenient spot. And…and I’ll join you momentarily.”

“Yes, master.” Apelles obediently dumped all of his scrolls into his master’s arms. This produced a frenzy of activity as the barrister attempted to secure them all in a safe hold so as not to lose a single one. As he did so, the Greek slave led Sulla and his servant onward to the bathhouse, which was conveniently situated so as to be in constant access to those who desired its use. The lawyer cursed silently as papers began to fall out of his hand, forcing him to bend over to pick them up, invariably causing another to fall.

After what felt like about three years of picking up the scrolls and securing them, Addisonius made for the sedan chair he had thoughtfully provided for his sister. Noting Dionysia’s presence, he flashed a quick smile and waddled forth.

“Dearest sister,” he said, ignoring her scowl, “I must settle a business deal in the bathhouse before joining you at home.” He ignored the widening of her eyes in anger as she listened while taking her seat. “Therefore, I cannot make use of the other chair. And, at the same time, I cannot very well lug all of these scripts about on my person…they are too important. Therefore, I shall deliver them over to you.” Ignoring his sister’s protests, he dumped the pile of scrolls into her lap. “But I shall take this one with me.” He reached for the deed and stuffed it into his sleeve. “Fair thee well, Dionysia,” he said, kissing her on the forehead and ignoring her angry demands for explanation. “I shall join you in about two hours.” He then stepped back and watched as the sedan chair was carried away, his sister furiously shaking while scrunching up some scrolls between her clenched fists.
++++

“This is one of the finer thermae in this area, Marcus Livius,” commented Addisonius Furius as he relaxed himself by slipping down into the warm waters of the tepidarium. He looked upwards through the thin veil of steam at Sulla. His client stood above him, leaning against a column while scraping his skin clean with the strigil. “But I think it best that you sign the deed now that you are drying off before entering the water again. To sign it while wet could only dampen the situation.”

“Hah! That is so, Addisonius Furius, and that is what I like about you,” said Sulla, stretching his hand out in the direction of Apelles. “You have fine business sense, but also a sense of humor…strange, but present all the same. If there is anything at all that I can’t stand, it is a man without a sense of humor. Especially when he’s a lawyer. Gods, humorless lawyers are awful…” He looked at Apelles, who was studiously avoiding contact with Sulla’s slave, whom he evidently considered to be inferior. “The paper, slave.”

“Oh. Yes, here it is,” responded the Greek. He handed it over at once.

“I don’t even have the benefit of a stylus at the moment, slave. Hand me your own.”

“Right, here we are,” mumbled Apelles, handing over the stylus with all due respect. Sulla quickly wrote his name in the appropriate spot.

“And there we are. The deal is concluded, and I thank you, Addisonius Furius,” he said. “I could have hardly had a better overseer.”

“All went very well, I must confess. And now you have an estate in Tusculum.”

“That pleases me. I see it as a reward for my faithful service in Gaul,” commented Sulla. “I couldn’t be more pleased. Now all I have to locate is a decent wife, I say!”

“Yes, Marcus Livius,” said Addisonius, “and, if you will forgive me for saying so, I may be of use to you in that regard also.”

“What? Have you an eye for the ladies, Furius? I thought you found legal texts preferable!” laughed Sulla. “And what do you think? How can you be of assistance? Do you fancy yourself a match-maker, my good man?”

“It is just that I have a sister to think about, Marcus Livius,” commented Addisonius. “Do not think me rude for saying so, but I do believe you would make an admirable husband for her if you chose to marry her. It would make for a fine agreement, I am sure.”

“Ah! You do always think of legality, it seems! Hah! Well, it depends, Furius. I don’t want to marry a fool… No offense intended, of course. I would want a wife with some sense. A good woman for raising sons to follow in my stead, if you will. What have you to say of this sister?”

“That I think, from your description, she is exactly what you would want. And I think, from how well I know her, that you are exactly what she needs,” Addisonius said. “And she’s such a sweet girl. She was beaming when I met her at the port, and ever so obliging when I sent her on home with those scrolls…well… I think she would make the idea matrona, if given the chance to prove herself. You see, she has been married twice now, and unfortunately neither match has lasted very long at all.”

“Ah! Something of a harpy?” commented Sulla, settling down into the waters near the lawyer.

“No, no, not at all,” said the barrister. “Her husbands both died after a very brief time. In the last case, they were scarcely wed a year.”

“Bad luck?”

“No, no… Are you a man who believes in such things?” asked Addisonius.

“What? Aren’t you?” Sulla commented, in all seriousness.

The lawyer evaded the question. (He was good at evasion. Superb, actually.) “I believe you two would make an excellent match, Marcus Livius. But soon, I trust, you shall have the opportunity to judge her yourself.”

“Hmmm…well…I can’t say that the offer does not intrigue me, Furius. As it is, I could use a good lawyer like you as a brother-in-law…”

“And I could use a rising star like you as one. Besides, you would make a strong husband for her, and a wealthy one.”

Sulla laughed. “I like the way you work, lawyer! Continue on this path, and you shall go far! But come; tell me, what does the dear woman in question look like? Not like a donkey, I trust. I could never spend my life with a donkey-faced female.”

“No, no, never. She is quite attractive in her own way, I would say. But you have already had a chance to see her… You were on the same vessel with her on the way back from Massilia!”

“What? Does she have a Gallic slave who follows her about, per chance?”

“Yes, quite. A tall, strong, grunting piece of property with very few brains. So you do know her?”

A smile formed across Sulla’s mug. He seemed on the verge of roaring with laughter. “Yes…Furius…yes… We’ve met!”