The Decadent Roman Elite

In The Deadliest Hate, Miriam must sail to Caesarea to track an alchemical manuscript. She sails on the Orion, owned and operated by her distant cousin, Eli. It’s clear at their first onboard dinner that she finds him repulsive:

Eli brandished his fluted goblet, threw back a swallow of pomegranate wine, licked his upper lip, and cleared his throat as if bringing an audience to attention. “Good wine,” he boasted before spraying me with a sour belch. I let a sip flower in my throat as I gazed at the curios in the pair of matching citron cabinets that rose from the tessellated floor to the coffered ceiling and bathed the room with their fruity scent.

Aside from his wolfish manners, she disliked him for his extravagances, his pair of citron cabinets, for example. Ancient Romans collected incredibly expensive furniture made from African citrus wood. Cicero paid a million sesterces for a citron table, enough to purchase a huge estate.

There are so many outrageous examples in Roman history of the elite, for the sake of their image, displaying their wealth: Pompey having a portrait of himself made of pearls for his triumph after defeating Mithridates, ruler of the Kingdom of Pontus; and Cleopatra dissolving pearls worth ten million sesterces in vinegar to win a bet against Marc Anthony that she could spend that much money in a single dinner. Horace, a leading Roman lyric poet and satirist, had a similar story about the son of an actor dissolving a pearl in vinegar and then drinking it. And Caligula later did that as well.

Fortunately, you do not need a fortune to display your good taste. All you need is a copy of The Deadliest Hate, or any other Miriam bat Isaac story. To pick a story, click here.