"It's of the highest quality," I said, "from a little shop on the Street of the Candlemakers, dyed deep blue and scented with hyacinth. Though perhaps, given your feelings about the holiday, you won't be out tonight with the rest of the throng holding up your burning taper to set the Forum aglow."

"Actually! my brother Quintus is joining me for a small family celebration tonight; I'm sure we'll stay in. But I often stay up late, reading. I shall use your gift to light my way when next I ponder a scroll of law. The scent will remind me of the sweetness of our friendship." Hearing such honey from his lips, who could doubt that young Cicero was well on his way to becoming the best-known orator in Rome?

Eco and I took our leave of Cicero and made our way up the Palatine Hill. Even here, in the city's poshest neighborhood, there was open gambling and drunken revelry in the streets; the only difference was that the gambling was for higher stakes and the revelers wore gowns made of finer stuff. We came to the house of my friend Lucius Claudius, who answered the door himself.

"Reduced to a door slave!" he laughed. "Would you believe, I told the slaves to take the whole day off and they took me quite seriously. Saturn alone knows where they all are or what they're up to!" With his red nose and plump cheeks, Lucius Claudius was the very image of benevolence, especially with his features suffused, as they now were, with a beaming and slightly tipsy smile.

"I don't imagine they'll get very far, unless they have purses to carry them," I said.

"Oh, but they do! I gave each one of them a purse with a few coins and a felt cap. Well, how can they enjoy themselves if they can't join in the gambling?"

I shook my head in mock disdain. "Now I wonder, Eco, what Cicero would make of our friend Lucius's reckless liberality?"

Eco took the cue at once and launched into an uncanny impersonation of Cicero, drawing his holiday gown about him like a toga, throwing back his head and wrinkling his nose. Lucius laughed so hard he began to cough, and his face turned redder than ever. At last he caught his breath and wiped tears from his eyes.

"No doubt Cicero would say that a slave owner with such a lax disposition is shirking his responsibility to maintain peace and order in society-but ask me if I care! Come, let me show you why I'm in such a good mood. The presents arrived only this morning!"

We followed him through the vestibule, through an immaculate garden decorated with a splendid bronze statue of Minerva, down a long hallway and into a small, dark room at the back of the house. There was a thumping noise and a stifled curse as Lucius banged his knee against some sort of low chest set against one wall. "Light, must have light," he muttered, leaning over the chest and fiddling with the latched shutters of one of the tall, narrow windows.

"Here, Master, let me do that," said a hoarse voice from the darkness. Eco gave a little jump beside me. His eyes are quite keen, but even he had not seen the owner of the voice when we entered the room.

The ability to be invisible is a much sought-after trait among household slaves, and appeared to be one of the skills of Lucius's right-hand man, an ancient white-haired Greek named Stephanos who had been in charge of running the house on the Palatine for many years. He walked with a stiff-limbed gait from window to window, unlatching the narrow shutters and pulling them open to admit cold air and bright sunshine.

Lucius muttered a word of thanks to the slave, who muttered some formula in return, but I hardly heard them. Like Eco, I stood transfixed by a sudden blaze of silver. Before our dazzled eyes, the sunlight which poured in through the windows was transformed into a white, liquid fire that shimmered, sparkled, and danced. I glanced at Eco and saw his wondering face lit up by lozenges of reflected light, then returned my gaze to the splendor before us.

The piece of furniture Lucius had bumped his knee against was a thigh-high wooden chest. In itself it was a marvelous piece of work, beautifully crafted and inlaid with bits of shell and obsidian. Spread across the hinged lid was a blood-red cloth. Laid out atop the cloth was the most stunning collection of silver objects I had ever seen.

"Magnificent, aren't they?" said Lucius.

I merely nodded, rendered as mute as Eco by the display.

"Note the ewer," said Lucius enthusiastically. "The shape- so elegant. See how the handle is in the form of a caryatid hiding her face?"

The piece was exquisite, as was the silver comb inlaid with camelian alongside a matching silver brush, upon the back of which was an image in relief of a satyr spying on some bathing nymphs. A necklace of silver and amber was laid beside another of silver and lapis, and yet another of silver and ebony, and each had a pair of matching earrings and matching bracelets. Two silver cups were embossed with hunting scenes around the base, while another pair of cups were decorated with a geometrical Greek design.

Most impressive of all, if only for its size, was a great silver plate as broad as a man's forearm. Its border was a circle of embossed acanthus leaves, while in the center the spirit of mirth, Silenus, ran riot amid a dizzying array of satyrs, fauns and nymphs. When Lucius looked away for a moment, Eco pointed to the face of Silenus and then nodded toward our host. I saw what he meant; while all images of Silenus might be said to bear a family resemblance to Lucius Claudius, sharing as they do a plump, round face atop a plump, round body, this depiction of Silenus was too exactly like Lucius to be anything but a portrait.

"You must have had these pieces made especially for you," I said.

"Yes, I commissioned a shop of artisans down on the Street of the Silversmiths. These pieces are proof, I think, that one can find just as high a quality of workmanship here in Rome as among pieces imported from Alexandria and elsewhere."

"Yes," I agreed, "provided one has the purse to pay for it."

"Well, it was a bit extravagant," Lucius admitted, "but the raw silver comes from Spain, instead of the East, which helps to bring down the price. Anyway, it'll be worth the expense to see the look on their faces when my cousins see what I'm giving them for Saturnalia. Silver is traditionally what one gives, of course-"

"If one can afford it," I muttered.

"-but in the past I'm afraid some of my relatives have proclaimed me a bit of a miser. Well, I have no wife or child, so I suppose I have no training in lavishing my wealth on those around me, and it's sometimes hard to catch the holiday spirit when one is a bachelor. But not this year-this year I've gone all out, as you can see."

"You have indeed," I agreed, thinking that even jaded, wealthy patricians like those of the Claudian clan would have to be impressed with Lucius's generosity.

Lucius stood for a moment gazing upon the various vessels and pieces of jewelry, then turned to the slave who lingered close by. "But Stephanos, what's this? What are you doing skulking about here in the dark on such a splendid day? You should be out cavorting with the others."

"Cavorting, Master?" said the wrinkled slave dryly, as if to indicate that the likelihood of his doing such a thing was quite remote.

"Well, you know what I mean-you should be out enjoying yourself."

"I enjoy myself quite well enough here, Master."

"Well, amusing yourself, then."

"I assure you, I'm just as capable of amusing myself here as anywhere else," said Stephanos. It seemed dubious that he could be amused under any circumstances.

"Very well," laughed Lucius, "have it your way, Stephanos. That is, after all, the point of the holiday."

Lucius paused once again before the chest and lovingly fingered the ewer he had first pointed out, and to which he seemed especially attached. Then he led the way to the atrium and offered each of us a cup of wine.