Living in ancient Rome

Chapter 9 A famous...dinner

The next morning, getting up early (it's six o'clock) from the din of the people who were at the market, I start a new day.
After doing the usual routine, I decide to go through the mail.  Among the various letters, there is an invitation from Caesar, written in his own hand;  I must admit that he has a beautiful rounded handwriting and a refined vocabulary, worthy of a man of his social class.
The call is for dinner at his house, for the same evening.
Punctually arrives the diligence from which a boy gets off;  he doesn't say hello to me and doesn't even deserve a glance.
I get into the carriage and we leave.
Dear readers, I am forced to shatter our dream: the vehicle is not Victorian style.  No, but for the time it is very royal.  From the window I see people turning to look at me while others chatter among themselves.
Arriving at Caesar's house, a servant announces me.
Immediately the leader arrives spreading my arms.
"Welcome to my humble abode, I hope you have had a good trip."
He continues: "I want to introduce you to some illustrious poets ...
Would you like to have dinner with us? "
"What questions ..." I think to myself, "of course I want to have dinner with you; when does such an occasion happen to me?", But not to be rude, I reply with a faint:
"Of course, I would be honored."
Sitting on cushions arranged in a circle and with a low table, laden with delicacies in the center and next to Caesar, there are: Virgil, Seneca, Horace, Cicero, Martial, Catullus, Lucretius, Ovid, Catullus, Varro, Petronius and Juvenal, while Cesare is on his way to the triclinium.
Many ways of thinking, eras and different heads, gathered under one roof.  Don't tell me how it was possible, because I don't know either.
But whatever... This is a dream come true!
I've always wanted to be able to interview some of them and finally I have the chance.
As I enter, everyone greets me amicably and is intrigued.
They ask me so many questions and I try to answer vaguely.
"Come on friends, you don't want to scare our diner."
"Absolutely not, God forbid."  they respond in unison.
Almost all of them wear laurel on their heads and ceremonial dresses.
Usually women don't dine with men, but an exception was made for me.
We eat, (I am sitting on a cushion because I am a guest with Virgil), also accompanied by the sweet melody of a harp played by a young man and the dance performed by expert dancers;  the dancers have pants, I call them "genius" because they are wide but have a flannel at the ankle.  They wear a top or a band to cover the breasts and leave the belly uncovered as they move to the rhythm of the music;  their hair is embellished with jewels, they wear large earrings and on the sides of their pants and headbands, they have pendants that, when shaken, make noise.  They are barefoot on the face wearing one a transparent veil.  The men here laugh out loud, maybe the wine is having an effect since they have chubby red cheeks.