Ioannes Vatii smoothed his tunic and squared his jaw. He had faced the Sassanid army as first spear in his legion, but somehow that had been less alarming than the thought of this particular banquet hall. Ioannes had always passed Saturnalia either at his father's table or in the house of the legion legate. But a triclinium full of Rome's preeminent patricians, he thought to himself, might be able to accomplish what the Sassanids had not.
Ioannes slipped through the entryway and was met immediately by a frowning Praetorian guard. "What brings you here, medicus?"
"I'm a, uh, guest of Praetor Marcus Horatius Pulvillus, "he said. "Friend of his brother, Crispin Horatius Pulvillus Sciens."
The guard nodded and stepped back. "Enter."
Ioannes strode into the room and scanned the crowd for familiar dark curls. He spotted Crispin by the banquet-table, conversing pleasantly with an elderly Praetor. He drew close and waited for the Praetor to move on before joining his friend.
"Crispin," he whispered. "Are you eating?"
Crispin nodded, swallowing. "Needs must. Sets them on edge when I don't." He sneered. "They remember I am here investigating, and not for my own pleasure."
Ioannes frowned. "So much rich food all at once cannot be good for you."
"No," Crispin conceded. "In fact…." he gestured toward the vomitorium. "I'll be right back."