The gangway was slung from the ship to the quay; and the master was receiving the port-authorities, to whom he had to show his papers, when two men came hurrying across the gangway, which was hedged in by a guard of sailors to protect it against any intrusion of the gaping populace. One of them was an obvious Latin, the other a dark-skinned Sabæan.
“Well, Vettius!” said Lucius, welcoming the Latin, who was his steward. “I am glad to see you again and I hope that your voyage was as prosperous as ours!”
Vettius the steward bowed low before his young master, bowed ceremoniously before fat Uncle Catullus. He had travelled ahead of his master to seek suitable lodgings at Alexandria and he seemed very well pleased with what he had found, for he pointed joyfully to the dark-skinned Sabæan, who had kept behind and now bobbed down with many salaams and respectful assurances, uttered in a language that fluctuated between Latin, Greek, Phœnician and Arabic.
“This is Master Ghizla, a native of Saba, my lord,” said Vettius, presenting him, “the owner of the largest guest-house in Alexandria; and he has at your disposal a row of three suites, standing in their own gardens, with spacious annexes, near the guest-house proper; and I am convinced that, when we have put in our own furniture, they will afford a fit residence for you and the honourable Catullus. Of course, when travelling, all conveniences are but temporary and not to be compared with your insula at Rome or your villa at Baiæ, now the property of our gracious Emperor Tiberius.”
“It is well, it is well, Vettius,” said Lucius. “We shall not be too hard to please. Are there baths attached to them?”
“There are most comfortable baths attached to them, my lord,” declared Master Ghizla, bobbing down twice and thrice in salaams. “And there are taps with very cold water and taps with very hot water. They are suites which I let only to princely nobles like your lordship; and I have had the honour of lodging in them the Persian Prince Kardusi, whom you surely know, and Baabab, Satrap of Mesopotamia, whom you also surely know, my lords, as princely nobles.”
“Certainly, certainly,” replied Lucius, trying to jest. “Kardusi and Baabab, I know them well.”
“We are even related to them and call them by their names,” Uncle Catullus broke in, airily, with a bow and puffing out his stomach. “But there is something that I want to ask you, Master Ghizla, something that neither his lordship nor Master Vettius will care so much about: are there kitchens to the suites, kitchens where our trusty cook can prepare us this or that simple fare?”
“There are most comfortable kitchens to these princely suites, my lord,” Master Ghizla assured him. “His Highness the Satrap Baabab often gave very sumptuous banquets and would invite his excellency the legate to his table every other day; and near the kitchens there is a well of water clear as crystal.”
“I don’t drink much water,” said Uncle Catullus.