The two visitors on the right-hand row, introduced rapidly and rather dismissively as Cyzacus and Norbanus, had had their heads together in close conversation. Although they nodded to us, they were too far from us to start chatting. The nearer pair, those on the best-positioned couches beside Quinctius, had been silent while Laeta spoke to him; they overheard Laeta and the senator trying to outdo one another in urbane unpleasantness, although they hid their curiosity. An introduction to the Emperor's Chief Secretary seemed to impress them more than it had done the first two. Perhaps they thought Vespasian himself might now drop in to see if Laeta had tomorrow's public engagement list to hand.

"Annaeus Maximus and Licinius Rufius." Quinctius Attractus named them brusquely. He might be patron to this group, but his interest in them hardly took a paternal tone. However he did add more graciously, "Two of the most important oil producers from Corduba."

"Annaeus!" Laeta was in there at once. He was addressing the younger of the two, a wide-shouldered, competent-looking man of around fifty. "-Would that make you a relative of Seneca?"

The Baetican assented with a head movement, but did not agree to the connection with enthusiasm. That could be because Seneca, Nero's influential tutor, had ended his famous career with an enforced suicide after Nero grew tired of being influenced. Adolescent ingratitude at its most extreme.

Laeta was too tactful to press the issue. Instead he turned to the other man. "And what brings you to Rome, sir?"

Not oil, apparently. "I am introducing my young grandson to public life," answered Licinius Rufius. He was a generation older than his companion, though still looked sharp as a military nail.

"A tour of the Golden City!" Laeta was at his most insincere now, feigning admiration for this cosmopolitan initiative. I wanted to crawl under a side table and guffaw. "What better start could he have? And is the lucky young man with us this evening?"