“I noticed it in the courtyard,” Brinnaria replied, “and it is thicker than usual. But we often have morning fogs and I have seen several almost as dense as this.”
“Nothing unusual in a fog d-d-down hereabouts and along the river,” Flexinna admitted. “B-B-But this fog is most unusual. It is all over the whole city. I have lived on the Esquiline ever since I was b-b-born and I never saw a fog up there except p-p-perhaps a whiff just about sunrise and then only in wisps. This fog is high up on the Esquiline, as d-d-dense as along the river. I know the fog is all over the city b-b-because I sent two slaves to the P-P-Pincian and two to the Aventine, and they reported that it is just as b-b-bad everywhere as here and at home. And I met Satronius Satro, just b-b-back from B-B-Baiae. He slept at B-B-Bovillae last night and he says the fog is just as b-b-bad all the way from B-B-Bovillae. He says it is heavy over the whole c-c-country for miles. It amounts to a portent.”
“Flexinna,” said Brinnaria, “you never came here and at this time of day, to talk about the weather.”
“I d-d-didn’t know how to b-b-begin,” Flexinna admitted.
“What has Almo done now?” Brinnaria queried.
“He left Velitrae day before yesterday,” said Flexinna, “and went to Aricia. Yesterday he challenged the K-K-King of the G-G-Grove.”
“Just as Celsianus conjectured,” Brinnaria groaned. “Some unthinkable method of suicide. Is he dead?”
“No,” Flexinna replied. “He’s very much alive.”
“Then he is the King of the Grove!” Brinnaria cried.
“They haven’t fought yet,” Flexinna informed her.