No finesse about Satronius, not a trace.
From amid his bevy of sycophants and toadies, over the heads of his fashionably garbed guests, he towered, his face red as a beacon, his big bullet head wagging, his great mouth open.
He roared at me:
"What brings you here, with your hands red with the blood of three of my henchmen? No Greek can outdo you in effrontery, Andivius. You are the shame of our nobility. To force your way into my morning reception after having killed three of my men in an unprovoked assault on them on the open road on my own land!"
I kept my temper and somehow kept my head clear, though it buzzed, and I kept my feet though I seemed to myself to reel. I spoke up for myself boldly and, I thought, expounded the circumstances and my version of the brawls even better than I had to Vedius.
To my amazement Satronius, in more brutal language, all but duplicated what Vedius had said to me, only reversing the clan names. He was convinced that I had assaulted his men by prearrangement with the Vedians, after a mock fight with them at Vediamnum.
I saw I was accomplishing nothing and endeavored to escape after a formal farewell.
Satronius roared after me:
"You left three corpses on the roadway below my villa. I'll not forget them nor will any man of my name. If you have sense you'll keep away from Sabinum, you'll get out of Rome, you'll hide yourself far away. My men have long memories and keen eyes. There'll be another corpse found somewhere by and by and the score paid off."
I laughed mirthlessly to myself as I climbed into my litter. I had, in fact, embroiled myself hopelessly with both sides of the feud.