Roma - Saylor Steven - Страница 58

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Postumia nodded gravely. “Who was the last Vestal to receive this punishment?”

Pinaria furrowed her brow.

“Come, come, Pinaria! Foslia would answer in a heartbeat.”

“I remember now. It was almost a hundred years ago—”

“It was exactly seventy-nine years ago,” said Postumia harshly, “in the days of my grandmother.”

“As you say, Virgo Maxima.”

“What were the circumstances? What was the Vestal’s name?”

“She was called Urbinia. The women of Roma had fallen prey to a pestilence, especially women who were pregnant; there was one miscarriage after another. The Pontifex Maximus suspected impurity. It was found that Urbinia had given herself not to one man, but two, and yet she still dared to tend the sacred flame. Urbinia was tried and found guilty. After she was punished, the pestilence ceased, and the women once again bore healthy babies.”

Postumia nodded. “Urbinia was the most recent Vestal to be found guilty of impurity and punished. But she was not the first. You come from a very old family, do you not, Pinaria?”

“Yes, Virgo Maxima.”

“A family older than the republic, older than the kings; a family that has given Roma many consuls and magistrates, many warriors and priests, and not a few Vestals. But even the most respectable families have stains on their history. It was King Tarquinius the Elder who initiated the method by which Vestals are punished. And what was the name of the very first Vestal to be punished according to that practice?”

“Her name…” Pinaria’s heart skipped a beat.

“Come, child! You know the answer.”

“Her name was the same as my own: Pinaria. An ancestress of mine was the first Vestal to be…”

“Buried alive!” whispered Postumia. She drew a deep breath. “Buried alive—that’s what they did to Pinaria, and to Urbinia. That’s what they wanted to do to me. Even now, I can’t speak of it with a steady voice.”

“But surely you were innocent.”

“Of course I was, you stupid girl! Had I been less than innocent, I wouldn’t be here today! In the end, thank the goddess, I was able to convince the Pontifex Maximus of that fact. But the investigation itself…the fear I felt…the humiliation…the terror…the nightmares I still experience, after all these years!” Postumia cleared her throat. “When I became Virgo Maxima, I promised myself that no Vestal in my charge would ever suffer such an ordeal. To keep your vow is not enough. Innocence is not enough! A Vestal must be above temptation, yes—but she must also be above suspicion. Do you understand, Pinaria?”

“Yes, Virgo Maxima. I understand.” Pinaria shivered and began to weep.

Postumia embraced her, holding her tightly and stroking her closely shorn hair. “There, there! I’ve frightened you, child. But I do it for your own good. I do it for the good of us all.”

Though the door was shut, a sudden draft passed through the chamber, as if the temple itself drew a breath. The sacred hearthfire leaped this way and that, wavered, and for an instant appeared to vanish altogether.

390 B.C.

“Of course, the ban on intermarriage between plebeians and patricians should never have been repealed,” said Postumia.

Foslia laughed out loud. “But Virgo Maxima, what can that possibly have to do with the so-called Veii Question?”

Postumia, who was about to take a bite from a stuffed grape leaf held delicately between her forefinger and thumb, put down the delicacy and cleared her throat. She was slightly flustered by Foslia’s disrespectful laughter. “All questions of right and wrong impinge on one another. In matters of religion—and there are no matters unrelated to religion—every subject is relevant to every other.”

Foslia was skeptical. “A ban on marriage between the classes—wasn’t that in force only briefly, because it was so unpopular? And it was all so very long ago. People my age are hardly aware that such a ban ever existed!”

The occasion was dinner in the House of the Vestals. The weather was mild. The priestesses dined in the garden under the open sky, reclining on couches. The couch of the Virgo Maxima was at the head of the group. Dining on a couch opposite the Virgo Maxima was the youngest—still Pinaria, for in the three years since the triumph of Camillus, no Vestal had retired or died, and so no new novices had been inducted.

Female servants moved silently among them, delivering fresh dishes and taking away empty ones. “The eyes and ears of the Pontifex Maximus,” Foslia called their servants. “They watch us like hawks,” she had once remarked to Pinaria. “They listen to every word we say. If ever a Vestal should stray, the Pontifex Maximus will know about it even before the goddess does, thanks to his vigilant spies!” Foslia said such things in jest, but Pinaria was not amused.

Nor was the Virgo Maxima amused by Foslia’s dismissal of her comment on marriage.

“May I remind you, Foslia, that a marriage between two patricians requires a religious rite, while any marriage involving a plebeian is purely a civil matter. In the time of the Decemvirs, this fact was one of the strongest arguments against intermarriage. In any mixed union, the patrician partner is deprived of religious ceremony—a state of affairs that must surely offend the gods. A patrician should marry only another patrician, and do so in accordance with the sacred rites. Yes, the ban was rescinded—but that doesn’t mean it won’t come back.”

Postumia took a bite of the stuffed grape leaf, then returned the remainder to a small silver plate and waved for a servant to remove it. She was finished eating and ready to pontificate for the benefit of the younger Vestals. “Times of piety and of impiety occur in cycles. I grew up in a permissive era, but we now live in an age not so very different from that of the Decemvirs. In recent years, due to the press of constant warfare, the election of consuls has been suspended, and Roma is ruled instead by six military tribunes. As for the conflict between the classes, if anything, it may be worse than in the days of the Decemvirs, because the patricians continually retreat and the plebeians continually demand more concessions—more land to settle, more debt-relief, more voting rights. If our leaders would use their power to reinstate the intermarriage ban, in that sphere at least Roma would again be in harmony with the will of the gods, and the classes might resume their rightful roles in the state. Such an idea did not originate with me; it comes from our sacred father, the Pontifex Maximus, who told me only yesterday that he intends to petition the military tribunes for a return of the intermarriage ban. And in this house, we do not contradict the Pontifex Maximus. If you have a conflicting opinion, Foslia, keep it to yourself.”

“Of course, Virgo Maxima.” Foslia’s sardonic tone seemed to indicate that, while she might keep her opinions private, she would keep them, nonetheless. “And of course you’re right to say marriage, at least any marriage involving a patrician, is a religious matter. But we were discussing the Veii Question, and surely that is about only two things: money and politics.”

Postumia shook her head. “To the contrary, Foslia, can you not see that the Veii Question is very much a religious matter? Pinaria, you’re very quiet this evening. You may still be the youngest, but you’re no longer a novice. Speak up.”

Pinaria swallowed an olive stuffed with goat cheese. “Very well, Virgo Maxima. It seems to me, more than ever, that Roma’s conquest of Veii is a mirror of the Greeks’ conquest of Troy. First, it took ten years. Second, it came about by a clever stratagem rather than by brute strength. Third, while it seemed to solve all our problems at the time, instead, like the Greeks after Troy, we discovered that the conquest merely led to more dissention at home.”

Postumia nodded thoughtfully. “Continue.”

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