except my sorrow.

“This is some really good stuff!” said Tiberius Gallus half-aloud, his mind wandering as he sat in the shade on a lazy summer’s day. In the distance, he heard the sound of a man shouting commands to his team of oxen, but his mind was in a much more distant place. He remembered learning these passages in Greek from his tutor Pindarus, and thought back on those days. This Latin translation which served as the basis for the play was a good one, he thought as he mentally compared the two versions.

So many Romans had not heard things like this, and the festival would be a perfect venue in which to introduce it to them, in a language they could understand. Still, it would come across poorly if some adolescent boy actor aped the part of the heroine. Surely Vitulus would be able to find a woman to play the role who will not only do the part justice, but make Romans proud of the fact that Troy was their spiritual ancestor…

His musings were interrupted by the arrival of Decius Gorgo with news that the Numidian delegation was again seeking audience with the Senate. Sighing, Gallus gathered up his papers from the table he had set up in this shady, idyllic spot. He had better get back to Rome swiftly, or Hortensius would never let him hear the end of it.