Empire - Saylor Steven (читать полные книги онлайн бесплатно TXT) 📗
“I have been having second thoughts about that decision,” said Domitian. “It is seldom advisable to abandon the wisdom of our ancestors. It was King Numa, the successor to Romulus, who founded the order of Vestals in Roma. The punishment he decreed for an errant Vestal was death by stoning.”
“Is that a fact?” Catullus chewed an olive and spat the pit into the waiting palm of his cup-bearer. “I never knew that.”
“It was a later king, Tarquinius Priscus, who devised the penalty of death by inhumation. His argument was religious. ‘Let no mortal kill a priestess of Vesta,’ he declared. ‘Let that decision be left to Vesta herself.’ So the Vestal is alive when she’s placed in that little vault underground, and then the vault is sealed and the opening is covered over with dirt. No man commits the act of killing her, and she is given nothing with which she might commit the act herself. Time and the judgement of Vesta take care of her. I have been thinking that Tarquinius Priscus showed great wisdom in this matter, even exceeding that of Numa.”
The first course was taken away. Each of the guests was given a plate of mushrooms and other fungi, all black thanks to the sauce in which they had been simmered. Again, only Catullus showed any signs of appetite. He ate with relish, sucking the sauce from his fingertips.
“As I recall,” he said, “when Caesar judged the men who violated Varronilla and the Oculatae, he showed great leniency.”
“Yes, I allowed them to live. I have been reconsidering the wisdom of that decision, too. It might have been wiser, I think, to enforce the traditional punishment for the seducer of a Vestal, as a deterrent to others who might be tempted to commit such a crime in the future. As Pontifex Maximus, I must do all I can to preserve the sanctity of those who keep Vesta’s fire. Do you not agree, Virgo Maxima?”
For the first time, Domitian acknowledged Cornelia’s presence. In a very faint voice, she replied, “Yes, Dominus.”
“Tonight, you may address me as Pontifex Maximus,” he said.
“Yes, Pontifex Maximus.”
“That’s better. Would you not agree, Virgo Maxima, that the traditional penalty makes for a powerful deterrent? The man is stripped naked, hung on a cross, and publicly beaten with rods, while the violated Vestal watches, until he is dead. I’m told that can take quite a while, depending on the man’s general health. A man with a weak heart might die after the first blow. Others remain alive for hours. The beating can become quite tedious to administer, not to say tiring. Sometimes the lictors charged with the beating become so exhausted that new lictors have to be brought in to continue the punishment.”
It seemed to Lucius that the plate of delicacies held before him by his cup-bearer contained not fungi but a mixture of viscera and organs, swimming in a nameless fluid. He began to feel nauseated.
Black figs were served next, to all except Domitian. The servers brought him a single apple, together with a silver knife. Domitian set about peeling the apple very slowly and methodically, cutting away thin strips of the skin. He handed these to the small-headed attendant, who gobbled them up as a dog might eat scraps from its master’s table. When Domitian bit into the apple, the noise was startling, like the cracking of bones.
Lucius again saw spots before his eyes. He heard a low noise. It was Domitian, whispering to the small-headed creature, who whispered back. The two of them laughed.
“We were wondering how it is, Catullus, that a man who is blind can burn with lust for another. Beauty inspires passion, but how can beauty be perceived without sight?”
Catullus turned his face to Cornelia. “A blind man may possess memories of beauty. A blind man has imagination.”
“Ah, but beauty fades, Catullus; it is as short-lived as it is intoxicating. Your memories are surely out-of-date.” Domitian stared at Cornelia, who lowered her face. “Beauty exists only in the moment. That is why I asked Earinus to entertain us tonight. Although you cannot see him, Catullus, I assure you that he is beautiful.”
The eunuch entered the room, dressed in black. He was small and delicate and moved with such grace that he seemed to float across the floor. His pale hair, the subject of poets, was startlingly bright in the dark room; it seemed to glow with a light of its own. His skin was creamy white.
In the shadowy room, Earinus seemed to be an ethereal being from a realm of dreams. He stood in the centre of the room and began to sing. The notes were pure and sweet, but also unsettling; his voice had an uncanny quality, impossible to categorize. The song, like the singer, seemed to emerge from some realm beyond ordinary experience.
What has death to frighten man,
If souls can die as bodies can?
When mortal frame shall be disbanded,
This lump of flesh from life unhanded,
From grief and pain we shall be free -
We shall not feel, for we shall not be.
But suppose that after meeting Fate
The soul still feels in its divided state.
Whats that to us? For we are only we
While body and soul in one frame agree.
And if our atoms should revolve by chance
And our cast-off matter rejoin the dance
What gain to us would all this bring?
This new-made man would be a new-made thing.
We, dead and gone, would play no part
In all the pleasures, nor feel the smart
Which to that new man shall accrue
Whom of our matter Time moulds anew.
Take heart then, listen and hear:
What is there left in death to fear?
After the pause of life has come between,
All ’s just the same had we never been.
The last note of the song was followed by a long silence. Watching the eunuch and listening to him, Lucius thought of Sporus. A tear ran down his cheek. Before he could wipe it away, he realized that Domitian had risen from his couch and was walking slowly to him.
The emperor’s eyes emerged from the shadows and glittered, reflecting the lamplight. His unblinking gaze was fixed on Lucius’s face. As a hunter, Lucius had often wondered at the tendency of certain prey, such as rabbits, to freeze rather than to flee when observed by the hunter. Now he understood. He felt as the rabbit must feel, unable to move a muscle, frantically willing himself to vanish into the darkness around him. It was as if he had turned to stone. Even his heart seemed to stop beating.
Domitian stepped closer. He stared at Lucius intently, his small mouth compressed in an unreadable expression. He stopped directly in front of Lucius and reached out to him. Frozen as he was, Lucius nevertheless feared that he would cry out if Domitian touched his face. He struggled not to flinch, and only a stifled gasp escaped his lips.
Domitian used his forefinger to wipe the moisture from Lucius’s cheek. He furrowed his brow, gazed at his finger, then turned and very gently brushed his finger against the parted lips of Earinus.
“Does it taste of salt?” he whispered.
Earinus touched his tongue to his lips. “Yes, Dominus.”
“A tear!” said Domitian. “Was it the words of the poet Lucretius that made you weep, Lucius Pinarius?”
Lucius open his mouth, afraid he had forgotten how to speak, then found his voice. “I’m not sure I heard the words, Dominus. I only know that I heard Earinus sing, and then I felt the tear on my cheek.”
Domitian slowly nodded. “I, too, wept the first time I heard Earinus sing.” He stared at Lucius for a long time, then turned to Catullus. “The dinner is over,” he said.
The emperor left the room without another word. The small-headed creature followed him, as did Earinus.
Lucius stood. He looked at Cornelia across the room and felt an urge to run to her. She raised one hand, beseeching him to keep his distance. As they stared into each other’s eyes, with all the power of his will he tried to show her what she meant to him. He had never loved her more.
