Roma.The novel of ancient Rome - Saylor Steven (книги онлайн полные версии бесплатно .TXT) 📗
“And utterly out of character!” Gaius smiled, but his eyes were sad. “The Furies themselves must have unleashed your rage-who knew you carried so much inside you? Well, Quintus Antyllius is no great loss to the world. Of course, Opimius blames me for the murder. Even now he’s haranguing his fellow senators with all sorts of wild allegations, claiming that I intend to murder every one of them. ‘The Gracchans are planning a bloodbath!’ he cries. Curious, how his sort accuses the opposition of the very crimes which they themselves are plotting.”
“Will it come to that, Gaius? A bloodbath?”
“Ask Opimius. He’s doing his best to whip the senators into a frenzy. He’s proposed a measure he calls the Ultimate Decree. Sounds menacing, doesn’t it? It will allow the consuls ‘to take all necessary measures to defend the state.’ In other words, they’ll be empowered to kill any citizen on the spot, without a trial.”
“Gaius, this can’t be happening.”
“And yet, the gods have allowed it. A simpleminded fellow like Opimius doesn’t realize that something like this so-called Ultimate Decree will never be used only once. They’re opening Pandora’s box. Allow the state to murder its citizens once, and the same thing will happen again and again and again.” Gaius’s glib tone suddenly gave way and his voice cracked. “Alas, Lucius! What’s to become of our beloved Republic? Our wretched, tattered, hopelessly lost Republic?”
He took Lucius by the hands for a moment, then pulled back and turned to address the reapers and the others nearby. “All of you, gather whatever weapons you have! Philocrates, bring me my sword! I’m not going to wait for them to attack me in my home. I shall go to the Forum and say a prayer before the statue of my father.”
Licinia came running. She clutched his toga. “No, husband! You’re safe in this house, where your supporters can protect you.”
“Only the gods can protect me now.”
“Go unarmed, then! If you go out armed, with armed men around you, there’ll surely be violence, and they’ll put the blame on you.”
“I’d rather die in battle than like a sheep offered for sacrifice.” He flashed a crooked smile.
“Gaius, this is no joke! The same men who killed Tiberius are determined to murder you, as well.”
“While I breathe, I’m still a free citizen of Roma. I won’t be a prisoner in my home.” Gaius pulled away from her and moved toward the door.
Licinia was wracked with sobs. Lucius attempted to put his arm around her, but she shook him off, refusing to be consoled. As the last of Gaius’s entourage disappeared from the vestibule, Lucius went running after them.
As Gaius proceeded through the streets of the Subura, shutters flew opened. Men cheered him, but few of them joined the entourage. Lucius looked about nervously. Where were the vast throngs who once had promised to defend Gaius to the death? They seemed to have melted away. As the small band entered the Forum, idlers and bystanders gawked with curiosity, then scattered, sensing trouble and fleeing from it.
Before the statue of his father, Gaius paused for a long time, gazing up at the face of the elder Tiberius. His loyal young slave Philocrates stood to his left. Lucius stood to his right. Gaius spoke in a dreamy voice.
“My grandfather cast a long shadow; men know me as the grandson of Scipio Africanus, not the son of Tiberius Gracchus. But my father was also a great Roman. His victories in Spain established a peace that lasted twenty-five years. His embassies to Asia made him the confidante of kings. He was twice elected consul, twice awarded triumphs, and served as censor. My brother would have been as great, if he had lived. I had hoped that I might-” His voice broke. Tears fell from his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. “Did we live and die for nothing?”
Lucius heard shouting from the direction of the Senate House, followed by the sounds of a street fight. The noise came nearer. “Gaius, we must get back to your house. There aren’t enough of us to take them on.”
Gaius gave a start. He pricked up his ears, then shook his head. “The fighting has moved between us and the Subura. We can’t go back. This is where I’ll make my stand. This is where I’ll fall.”
Lucius’s heart sank, but he took a deep breath. “I won’t desert you, Gaius.”
“You’re a true friend, Lucius.”
Armed men appeared in the distance. They spotted Gaius, gave a shout, and ran toward him. The entourage was vastly outnumbered. Men looked to Gaius for orders, but he stood as stiff and silent as his father’s statue. Some of his supporters panicked and began to flee in all directions.
At last, Gaius cried out in despair. “Lucius! Philocrates! All of you, follow me!” He cast off his toga, as did Lucius and the others who were wearing them, the better to run in his under-tunic.
With the mob at their heels, they raced from the Forum. They skirted the slope of the Palatine and sprinted across the Circus Maximus. In the narrow streets of the Aventine, they lost their pursuers. Near the crest of the hill, they came to the Temple of Diana.
Gaius ran into the temple. The handful of supporters who followed watched him fall to his knees before the statue of the goddess. “Queen of the hunt!” he cried, gasping for breath. “Daughter of Jupiter, sister of Apollo! Accept this sacrifice!” He placed the pommel of his sword on the floor and pointed the blade toward his chest. Before he could fall on it, two of his followers rushed to stop him. One of them gripped his shoulders and pulled him back. The other snatched the sword and handed it to Philocrates.
Gaius wept. He beat his fists against the floor. “Ungrateful, treacherous Romans, I put a curse on you!” he shouted. “I pointed the way to freedom, and you turned against me. I risked everything for you, and now you abandon me. Be slaves forever, then, to the murderers in the Senate!”
It seemed to Lucius that a madness had come over his friend. Gaius had always been a brave man and a fighter, yet now he seemed determined to die by his own hand, without a struggle. Gaius had been utterly sure of his cause, yet now he renounced it; he had been utterly devoted to the common citizens of Roma, yet now he cursed them. Lucius was appalled, but he could not judge Gaius. He himself had been seized by a madness the previous day, when he struck Antyllius dead without thinking.
A straggler ran into the temple. “They’re close behind me!” he shouted. “They’re coming this way!”
Lucius and Philocrates pulled Gaius to his feet. They turned him toward the entrance. In a daze, he ran out into the street. His pursuers saw him and shouted. The chase resumed.
For Lucius, the headlong flight was like a nightmare. The winding streets of the Aventine, the old fountain at the mouth of the Appian Aqueduct, the salt warehouses along the Tiber, and the bustling markets of the Forum Boarium, all these places were utterly familiar yet utterly strange. Seeing them pass by, men laughed and cheered them on, like spectators watching a footrace. Others jeered at the desperate little entourage, and pelted them with radishes and turnips and bits of bones and hooves from the market.
At the bridge across the Tiber, some of the men stopped and turned about, determined to make a stand. They begged Gaius to keep running, vowing to hold the bridge as long as they could. Accompanied only by Philocrates and Lucius, Gaius reached the far side of the Tiber just as his pursuers arrived at the bridge. The sounds of battle echoed across the river.
The west bank of the Tiber was largely wild and undeveloped. The three of them left the road, thinking to disappear amid the dense foliage. A narrow pathway led them to a stand of tall trees. The soft earth seemed to swallow the sound of their footsteps. Amid the leafy shadows, a beam of sunlight fell upon a stone altar in a small clearing. Lucius felt more than ever that he was moving through a dream.
