Roma.The novel of ancient Rome - Saylor Steven - Страница 85
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“If you have something to say, say it!”
“Very well. You and I are kinsmen, Kaeso. You are a descendent of the Potitii.”
Kaeso’s mouth was suddenly parched. “How do you know this?”
“First of all, I could tell simply by looking at you. You favor my cousin Marcus more than anyone else, but with those eyes, that chin, and the shape of your mouth, you could pass as a son or brother to any number of my cousins. At first, I thought perhaps old Marcus had spilled his seed outside his marriage bed, but as I began to track down the truth, I realized that the connection was far more complicated and went much further back in time. Just now, as he was leaving, I took a good look at your father. He, too, has the look of a Potitius, but his features are less distinctive. For some reason, the gods decreed that the family traits should resurface full-blown in you.
“It was your precious fascinum that provided the key. Somewhere in the family chronicles, I knew I had seen a reference to a winged fascinum made of gold. It was worn by an ancestor of mine, also named Titus, who lived in the days of the Decemvirs. After that Titus, there is no further reference to the golden, winged fascinum, which disappears from the family history. However, according to family legend, Titus sired a child out of wedlock, and that child became a slave. As you can imagine, this is seldom talked about. But slaves are property, and Romans keep very thorough records of property, as thorough as their genealogical records! Through diligence, and a lot of pestering, and a bit of guesswork, I was able to trace the descent of that bastard child down to a slave called Pennatus. Have you heard of him?”
Kaeso swallowed a hard lump in his throat. “It was a slave called Pennatus who found my grandfather among the ruins left by the Gauls.”
“So it was! Did you know that this same Pennatus was trapped for several months atop the Capitoline with the Vestal Pinaria, who somehow came into possession of the golden fascinum, and, for reasons never explained, felt obliged to pass it on to your grandfather when he came of age? Now you wear the fascinum, Kaeso-and you are the very image of a Potitius! Do you begin to see how all these things connect?”
“Guesswork! Innuendo! You slander the memory of a pious Vestal! You have no proof of anything!”
“The gods know the truth about you, Kaeso. And now, so do you.”
Kaeso felt faint. The room seemed to pitch and sway around him. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Isn’t it always better to know the truth?”
“No!”
“What was it I heard you say, as you looked out the window? Something about being the architect of your own fortune? How can you build a lasting monument, a life of virtue and accomplishment, unless you begin with a firm foundation of self-knowledge?”
“You’re a stupid old man, Titus Potitius! You and your third-rate family have squandered whatever good fortune ever accrued to you. You’ve offended the gods by selling your birthright to the Ara Maxima. How dare you come to me with such a lie, suggesting my grandfather was the bastard of a Vestal and a slave!”
Potitius sighed. “This has gone badly. I never intended to offend you. Don’t worry, Kaeso. I’ll be discreet. What I’ve discovered is for your ears only. I haven’t even told any other members of the family.”
“Shout your lies from the rooftops, if you dare to! You’ll only make yourself a greater laughingstock than you already are.”
Titus Potitius shuffled toward the door and disappeared. Kaeso violently kicked at the floor and sent a loose tile flying against the wall.
That night, sleep was slow to come. When it did, Kaeso was haunted by nightmares more vivid and disturbing than any he had previously experienced.
One dream jarringly led into the next. In each of them he felt heartwrenchingly alone and bereft, the object of other men’s ridicule and disdain. At one point, naked and covered with sweat, he sat bolt upright in his bed and reached up to discover that he was wearing the fascinum, though he had no memory of having put it on. Angry and distraught, in tears, he tore the chain from his neck and cast the amulet into the darkness, only to see it come flying back at him! He shrieked in terror-and only then awoke, realizing that he had still been dreaming.
His mother and father stood at his door, staring at him; his screams had awakened them. He felt embarrassed to be naked before his mother, but there was nothing with which to cover himself. He looked again, and in his father’s place he saw Titus Potitius, clucking his tongue. “There, there, my child,” said the old man, “don’t be afraid of the truth…”
Kaeso was still dreaming.
When at last he did awake, he felt utterly exhausted. He squinted suspiciously at the sunlight that leaked around the shutters, afraid he might yet be asleep, trapped in another nightmare.
He rose from the bed. On trembling legs he shambled across the room and opened the box where he kept the fascinum. The sight of it repelled him. He should throw the awful thing away! But his father would expect him to wear it on his wedding day. To get rid of it now would only call attention to its absence. He slammed the box shut.
On the day before his wedding, Kaeso went to the house on the Aventine to make sure that all was ready to receive him and his bride the next day. In preparation for the ceremony, an altar had been erected before the front door for the sacrifice of the sheep and the taking of the auspices. Inside the house were the ceremonial chairs for the bride and groom, ready to be taken into the street for the open-air celebration. Both chairs were stacked high with dried garlands that would be used to decorate the doorway. Between them was the sheepskin rug upon which he would set Galeria after he carried her across the threshold, as if she were his captive Sabine. Kaeso’s heart sped up as he considered the momentousness of the looming event. By this time tomorrow, he would be a married man.
The house was sparsely furnished, but the floor tiles had been fixed and the whole house had been scrubbed clean. The little garden had been planted with new shrubberies and flowers, and the kitchen had been stocked with pots and pans. He saw the bed that had been placed against the wall, near the window-a new bed, larger than the one in which he was used to sleeping alone-and he felt a quiver of erotic anticipation. Galeria grew more beautiful every time he saw her; soon he would see her naked, and would be naked with her, and would possess her. Any hesitation he felt about the ceremony faded when his thoughts turned to the carnal pleasures that awaited him. He crossed the room, wanting to take a closer look at the bed.
A voice that was almost a whisper said: “The house looks very nice.”
Kaeso spun around. “What are you doing here? Get out!”
Titus Potitius stood in the doorway. “Can a kinsman not visit a kinsman on the day before his wedding, to wish him well?”
“You’re a madman. The gods have made you mad, as a punishment for selling your birthright.”
“Then we sold it for too little.”
“Appius Claudius should have thrown you out when you came begging. He shouldn’t have given you so much as a copper coin.”
“It’s curious that you should mention money. Along with paying my respects, that’s one of the reasons I’ve come to see you.” Potitius stood with his hands clasped before him and his eyes downcast. “Galeria’s family is wealthy. I presume she comes to you with a substantial dowry. As well, I think the censor must have arranged a very generous salary for you. You even own your own house! You are a most fortunate young man, to be of independent means at such an early age.”
“And you are an old fool, to have squandered everything at your age.”
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