Roma.The novel of ancient Rome - Saylor Steven - Страница 129
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A burly man with a broad, hairy chest and powerful limbs came swaggering up to him. Some men, by the age of thirty-six, begin to soften and turn fat, but not Marcus Antonius. He carried himself with immense confidence; he appeared completely comfortable, even pleased, to be seen naked in public. Lucius still had a boy’s body, slender and smooth, and felt envious of Antonius’s athletic physique; Lucius thought the man looked quite magnificent. Lucius was also fascinated by the consul’s reputation for high living; nobody could out-gamble, out-drink, out-brawl, or out-whore Antonius. But Antonius was such a friendly fellow that Lucius never felt self-conscious or shy around him, as he often did with his uncle.
“What’s that?” Antonius tapped the pendant that hung from a chain around Lucius’s neck.
“A good-luck charm, Consul,” said Lucius.
Antonius snorted. “Call me Marcus, please. If I ever become so puffed up that my friends must call me by a title, stick a pin in me.”
Lucius smiled. “Very well, Marcus.”
“Where did you get it?” said Antonius, referring to the pendant. “A gift from Caesar?”
“Oh, no, it’s an heirloom from my father’s side of the family. He gave it to me on my toga day last year.”
Antonius peered at the amulet. His eyes were a bit bloodshot from carousing the night before. “I can’t make out the shape.”
“Nobody can. We’re not quite sure what it was. Father says it’s been worn away by time. He says it’s very, very old, maybe from the time of the kings, or even before.”
Antonius nodded. “‘From the time of the kings’-that’s what people say when they mean something is so far in the past it’s beyond imagining. As if a time of kings could never come again.” He looked up at the Rostra and nodded to Caesar. Caesar nodded back, then stood to address the crowd.
“Citizens!” cried Caesar. The single utterance hushed the crowd and gained him everyone’s attention. Among his other accomplishments, Caesar was one of the best orators in Roma, able to project his voice a great distance and to speak extemporaneously and with great eloquence on any subject. On this occasion his speech was short and to the point.
“Citizens, we are gathered to observe one of the most ancient and revered of all rituals, the running of the Lupercalia. The highest servants of the state and the youths of our most ancient families will take part. The Lupercalia returns us to the pastoral days of our ancestors, when Romans lived close to the earth, close to their flocks, and close to the gods, who gave to Roma the gifts of fertility and abundance.
“Citizens, in recent years, because of the interruptions of war, many rituals have been neglected or performed in a perfunctory manner. The Lupercalia has been run with a very scant contingent and with little joy. But to neglect our religious obligations is to neglect our ancestors. To perform our vital rituals with bare adequacy is to give merely adequate worship to the gods. Today, I am pleased to say, we have a very full and very robust gathering to run the Lupercalia. Our beloved city has been depopulated by the misfortunes of war; many fine men have been lost. But with the snapping of their sacred thongs, let these runners set in motion the repopulation of Roma! Let every woman of childbearing age offer her wrist! Let there be rejoicing and abundance!
“Citizens, the priests have observed the auspices for this day. The auspices are good. Therefore, with the raising of my hand, I, Gaius Julius Caesar, your dictator, declare that the Lupercalia may begin!”
To a burst of applause from the crowd, the runners set off. Their course would take them to various points all over the city, and they would run the circuit three times in all.
Lucius stayed close to Antonius. He liked the familiar way the man treated him, as if they were old drinking companions or fellow warriors, leaning in close to crack a joke about the sagging backside of one of the participating magistrates or to make lewd comments about the women gathered along the way. At the sight of Antonius, women whispered and giggled, teasing one another to step forward and present their wrists to be slapped. How effortless it was for Antonius to flirt with them!
When Antonius saw that Lucius hung back, he encouraged him to put himself forward. “Growl at them-they love that! Run a circle around them. Don’t be afraid to look them straight in the eye, and up and down. Imagine you’re a wolf picking out the plumpest of the sheep.”
“But Marcus, I’m not sure I have the-”
“Nonsense! You heard your uncle, young man-this is your religious duty! Just follow me and do as I do. Call for some courage from that amulet you wear!”
Lucius took a deep breath and did as he was told. With Antonius leading the way, it was easy. He felt the power of his legs as they carried him forward, and the rush of breath in his lungs. He saw the grinning faces of the girls gathered along the course, and he grinned back at them. He snapped his thong in the air, threw back his head, and howled.
A sense of euphoria came over him, and the sacred nature of the ritual became manifest to him. When he had run the Lupercalia before, he had performed his duty by rote, without abandoning himself to the spirit of the occasion. What was different about this day? He was a man, for one thing, and Antonius was beside him, and his great-uncle Gaius was the undisputed ruler of Roma, presiding over the world’s rebirth. The great fountainhead of the earth’s fecundity, which found expression in the Lupercalia, surged through Lucius. When he slapped the wrist of a giddy, laughing girl with his thong, he felt a connection to something divine such as he had never experienced before. The sensation manifested itself physically, as well. From time to time he felt a pleasant stirring and a heaviness between his legs. He stole a glance at Antonius’s sex, and saw that his friend was mildly excited as well.
Antonius saw the change in Lucius and laughed. “There you go, young man! That’s the spirit!”
They finished the first circuit and ran back through the Forum, where an even larger crowd had gathered before the Rostra. People wanted to be present for the end of the run, and the public feast that would follow. As the runners passed the Rostra, Caesar remained seated on his throne but raised his arm in salute.
“Wait here for me,” said Antonius to Lucius. He broke from the pack and mounted the Rostra, taking giant steps. From somewhere-he had not been carrying it before-he produced a diadem made of gold and wrapped with laurel leaves. He held the diadem aloft so that everyone in the crowd could see. He knelt before Caesar, then rose and held the crown above Caesar’s head.
The crowd reacted with surprise. This was not a part of the ritual of Lupercalia. Some laughed, some cheered. A few dared to jeer and groan with disapproval. Caesar suppressed a smile. Managing to look very grave, he raised his hand and prevented Antonius from placing the crown on his head.
The crowd applauded and cheered. Caesar sat motionless. Only his eyes moved, scanning the crowd, closely observing their reaction. With his upraised hand, he made a dismissive gesture, indicating that Antonius should continue the run.
“What was that about?” said Lucius, when Antonius rejoined the pack.
In one hand Antonius still held the diadem, in the other his goat-hide thong. He shrugged. “The glare off your great-uncle’s bald spot was blinding me. I thought it needed something to cover it.”
“Marcus, be serious.”
“To a man of Caesar’s years, there is nothing more serious than a bald spot.”
“Marcus!”
But Antonius would say no more. He growled and howled and leaped toward a group of young women who screamed with excitement. Lucius followed him, anxious to regain the euphoria he had experienced during the first circuit.
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