Work Text:
Pēdīcābō ego vōs et irrumābō
Aurēlī pathice et cinaede Fūrī.
quī mē ex versiculīs meīs putāstīs
quod sunt molliculī parum pudīcum.
nam castum esse decet pium poētam
ipsum, versiculōs nihil necesse est
quī tum dēnique habent salem ac lepōrem
Sī sint molliculī ac parum pudīcī
et quod prūriat incitāre possint
nōn dīcō puerīs sed hīs pilōsīs
quī dūrōs nequeunt movēre lumbōs
Vōs quod mīlia multa bāsiōrum
lēgistis male mē marem putātis.
Pēdīcābō ego vōs et irrumābō
The final line of the poem echoed off the vault’s walls, harsh and angry and a little bit triumphant. Miss Giddy didn’t raise her voice often, but she could make the room shout when she did. The women sat with mouths agape or grinning as the sound died away.
“That’s swearing if I’ve ever heard it.” Dag said, grinning.
“No way.” said Capable. “Catullus wasn’t that crude.”
“Someone sure pissed him off.” Toast said.
Miss Giddy waved at the chalkboard where she’d written out the poem in neat lines. “Translate what you can, girls. Then we’ll fill in the rest.”
As usual, Cheedo had the best handwriting and the most enthusiasm for the task, so she was the first to pick up chalk and start writing. The other women started suggesting translations for words and phrases as they could.
“Nihil necesse est” is “nothing is necessary.” Toast offered.
“Or it’s a negation of the first part of the line.” Angharad said.
“Could versiculos be verses, or does it just sound like it?”
“So it’s something about not being necessary for poetry?”
“I think that twelfth line was in the poem we were translating last week.”
Toast already had their only Latin dictionary open and was scanning pages rapidly. “Pedico and irrumo aren’t in here. I think you’re right, Dag, it’s something unprintable.”
Miss Giddy let them work until the chatter died away and Cheedo’s writing slowed. Where the women had been sitting in five chairs in a neat line, now they were scattered around the chalkboard in the ways they each found comfortable. The Dag was chewing on the end of one pale braid, and Capable sprawled on the floor, kicking her feet idly. The chalkboard contained a few dozen directly translated words and a multitude of suggestions and notes. They’d gotten enough to tell it was a poem about poetry, and what it should contain, and a line about ‘thousands of kisses’ that Catullus had repeated from a previous poem. And he was probably swearing at Aurēlī and Fūrī.
“All right, girls.” Miss Giddy said. “I’m only going to teach you this once, so listen closely. Pedico means inserting one’s penis in an anus, and irrumo is putting one’s penis in someone’s mouth. Now, what is the conjugation?”
She turned to the board to write, ignoring the Dag’s crowing laughter.
“Told you!” Toast said.
“Catullus really wrote that!?” Capable asked.
Cheedo began valiantly working her way through the conjugation of the obscene verbs. Future, active, first-person, indicative… Catullus was definitely announcing what he intended to do to the unfortunate Aurēlī and Fūrī.
I'll fuck you up the ass and down the throat,
Anal Aurelius and facial Furius,
For deeming me indecent and effete,
A pansy author writing small soft verses.
A goodly poet's life must needs be pious,
But it's unnecessary in his verses.
Lines lie unspiced, unwanton and unwitty
Until they get indecent, with small, soft
Ticklings enough to stoke the nether needs
Not in young boys, but aged and bushy-backed
Men with arthritis of the crotch. You read
The thousand kisses from one woman packed
In my tight lines, and call me girl? Take note:
I'll fuck you up the ass and down the throat.
The Dag was rolling on the floor, still laughing like a crow. Angharad frowned.
“So Catullus is angry because Aurēlī and Fūrī thought his poetry was effeminate. So his answer is to threaten to rape them?” She asked.
“We don’t know how literal a threat it was. It may have been a common phrase for them.” Miss Giddy said.
“It’s a contrast to the ‘effeminate’ way he usually writes.” Capable said. “That’s why it’s funny.”
“So in their culture violence and masculinity went together too.” Angharad said.
“To some extent.” Miss Giddy said. “Being the one doing the penetrating was masculine, and receiving was feminine.”
“You just taught us to swear in Latin.” The Dag snorted.
“Catullus’ point is that what you say and what you do may be very different things. And that soft doesn’t exclude hard, nor does it exclude a scathing wit.” Miss Giddy continued. “Now. Wash the board and then wash yourselves. It’s music night tonight.”
Immortan Joe blessed the vault with his presence that night. They’d fallen into the habit of rotating their nightly entertainment, and tonight featured singing. Miss Giddy played the piano and the girls rotated through singing as a group and individually. Angharad and Capable sang duets, the Dag had a high soprano, and Cheedo’s voice was clear if unpolished. Toast mostly tried to hide in the group and sing quietly.
The Immortan seemed to be enjoying their music, a rare change from his usually grouchy presence. If he was in a good mood, their evening would be that much less gruesome. Harboring thoughts of obscene Latin defiance, Capable thought she could almost tolerate his attention. Provided nothing went wrong.
As Miss Giddy played the opening for her solo piece, the Dag shot a grin over at her sisters. Toast went pale.
“There’s no way she memorized it.” She hissed to Capable.
“I think she might have.” Capable hissed back. Angharad sat very, very still.
The Dag took a deep breath and began. “Pēdīcābō ego vōs…”