I bade him farewell as ceremoniously as I could manage.
He silkily said: "I have a bit of parting advice for you, Andivius.

The climate of Bruttium is far better than that of Rome or Sabinum in promoting a recovery from any sort of illness; it is also far more conducive to long life.

If you are wise Rome will not see you linger here, nor will either Sabinum or Rome see you return; a word to the wise is enough." Somehow I reached my litter.

I understood his implied threat and saw endless difficulties and perils confronting me.
At the Satronian mansion the lackeys were insolent and it needed all Agathemer's tact and self-control, and all mine to browbeat them into admitting me.
As much as possible in contrast with the Vedian atrium was the Satronian atrium, a hall decorated as gorgeously, floridly and opulently as any in Rome; fairly walled with statues almost jostling in their niches, so closely were the niches set; and all behind, between and above them ablaze with crimson and glittering with gilding; every inch of walls and ceiling carved, colored, gilded and glowing.
Satronius was similarly in contrast with Vedius, a man tall, bulky, swarthy, rubicund and overbearing.
No finesse about Satronius, not a trace.
From amid his bevy of sycophants and toadies, over the heads of his fashionably garbed guests, he towered, his face red as a beacon, his big bullet head wagging, his great mouth open.
He roared at me: "What brings you here, with your hands red with the blood of three of my henchmen?
No Greek can outdo you in effrontery, Andivius.

You are the shame of our nobility.