Meanwhile, at Civis' villa...
Incontinentia popped another piece of sugar cane in Big Tusky's mouth and stroked his trunk. "Who's my big, fluffy, wonderful, grandchild-producing babeee then?" she cooed.
Tusky chewed the cane and grinned. Anything to keep his mistress happy...
"I mean," Incon said, "you couldn't help it if all these tarty lady pachaderms were throwing their trunks at you. You're mummy's good boy. You were deceived by their feminine wiles..."
"Actually, Incon," Bob the Lethargic informed her, "Tusky did most of the 'wooing'...if you catch my drift, heh heh..."
"Eh?" Incon cocked an eyebrow at him. "My Tusky's a good boy!"
"Oh, I'm sure he's a good boy with you...but in the 'elephantine sack', he's a dynamo! He was beating them off with a stick!" Bob grinned at her amiably. MRed diplomatically kicked his ankle to be quiet.
"OOOOWWW!! What'd you do that for???" Bob glared at MRed.
"What's this about Tusky?" Incon asked.
"I only meant that..." Bob started back-pedalling, "your big fella instigated most of the rendez-vous's...if ya know what I mean, heh heh (wink-wink, nudge-nudge)..."
"Big Tusky is a well-raised elephant!" Incon insisted. "He doesn't go looking for a good thing...it just came to him in this instance! (And the several hundred instances after!!) He's a good, well-bred boy!!"
"And a love-machine to the *ladies*!" Flavius couldn't help burting out, laughing himself silly. Incon glared daggers at him.
"It's true, Incon," Bob placed a hand on her shoulder. "Much as you think of him as your big, boozhee-woozhee boy, Tusky's sowed his oats. In spades."
Incon looked at Tusky. Tusky looked back at her apologetically. Then he burped.
The Londinium governor turned to her friends. "How much do any of you know about elephant breeding, hm?" she asked.
She was answered with a bunch of blank expressions.
"Tusky's far too young to start breeding," she explained patiently. "He's only ten years old. In the wild, the pachaderm youngling stays in the family unit for a minimum of five years...which means he only reaches emotional maturity at eleven years...which means..."
Everyone groaned loudly as Incon went into one of her RSPCE fund-raising speeches. Some of them started making snoring noises for added effect.
"Oh, come on, I'm serious here!!" she flounced.
"We appreciate that," Civis broke in, "but, your good breeding intentions aside, the reality is there's a large herd of your 'baby's' offspring raising havok in the Eastern Empire, and it's up the the Roman Empire to do something about it. Don't blame Lethargicus, Incon. Or your Big Fella. Let's just try to find a solution to this, okay?"
Incon looked at him logically. Then she cracked, turned to Tusky, and pleaded "Tell me they were all tarts, big fella. Tell me you were led astray. You're too young to breed! You were led into a brief life of wanton abandon, weren't you? Weren't you???"
Tusky looked at the others pleadingly for help.
Just then, a carpet delivery turned up at the front door of Civis' villa...