Empire - Saylor Steven (книги без сокращений TXT) 📗
Hadrian nodded and took back the scroll. “I think those words are quite remarkable, considering the occasion and atmosphere in which they were delivered. Your grandfather spoke of those doomed slaves as if they were human beings, not mere property; as if their suffering mattered. At the time, your grandfather’s sentiments were rebuked and ridiculed; but with the passing of the generations, and the general progress of mankind, I think we are able to see that your grandfather was not only brave and compassionate, but wise. As the Divine Trajan often told me, if the emperor can see a just way to reduce the suffering of those under his care, even the most wretched, he is obligated to do so. In the case at hand, I think we have an opportunity to do exactly that. Therefore, I am proclaiming a number of edicts involving the punishment of slaves.
“First, if a master is murdered in his house, no slaves shall be examined under torture except those who were near enough to have knowledge of the murder. This reform has been a long time coming.”
There was a murmur of approval. A number of people nodded deferentially to Marcus, in honour of his far-sighted grandfather.
“Further,” said Hadrian, “a master may no longer kill a slave at will. Instead, the execution of a slave must be decided by a court. Further, no master may sell a slave, male or female, to a sexual procurer or a trainer of gladiators, unless the master can make a case that the slave is fit for nothing else. Further, I intend to abolish the existing houses of hard labour to which some masters consign their unwanted slaves for a fee, and where even some wretched freedmen end up, so desperate are they to work off their debts. I have visited those workhouses, which are places of unimaginable suffering, and I intend to shut them down.”
The emperor’s pronouncements were met with silence. Hadrian looked around the room. “Does anyone wish to comment on these ideas?”
A white-haired, clean-shaven senator stepped forward. “Caesar, today you have introduced us to a work called The Book of Marvels. But more marvellous than anything in that book are these radical ideas you put before us. I drew a breath when I heard about a tooth from a creature the size of a ship – but my jaw dropped to hear that a Roman citizen shall no longer have the power to discipline his slaves as he sees fit. I fear that Caesar’s new laws are likely to be very unpopular, and not just with the rich, who own many slaves. Consider the common man, who owns only a handful of slaves. Unless his authority over those slaves is absolute – yes, even to the point of death – how can that man possibly feel safe inside his home at night? Our forefathers created these laws for a reason, and the Divine Augustus restated them anew. I fear these pronouncements will stir considerable discontent, and such disorder that the magistrates will be unable to contain it.”
Hadrian raised his hand for silence. “If disorder breaks out, then I will hold the magistrates responsible. It is their duty to contain such outbreaks, whatever the cause, and to see that laws are respected – all laws, including these. If the magistrates cannot do the job, then others who are more capable shall be appointed to take their place.”
The senator bowed his head and stepped back. No one else dared to comment.
“If there’s no other business this morning, then I’m ready for my lunch,” said Hadrian.
As the various courses were served, the emperor called Marcus to his side.
“What do you think of my ideas, Pygmalion?”
“I’m not a statesman, Caesar.”
“Perhaps not, but your grandfather was. Who knew? I had to check twice to be sure that the Pinarius who gave that speech before Nero and the Senate was indeed your grandfather. That took nerve. You can be proud of the blood in your veins, Pinarius.”
“I am, Caesar. Thank you for inviting me here today, to hear the words of my grandfather.”
“Yes, I thought you might enjoy that. How goes work on the statue?”
“It proceeds well, Caesar, and quickly. Very soon I’ll be ready to unveil it for you.”
“Very good!” Hadrian looked at Antinous, who was sitting next to Phlegon, scrolling through The Book of Marvels. “I can hardly wait to see it.”
At last, Marcus was ready for the emperor’s visit to the workshop.
Apollodora was with him, overseeing the slaves as they cleaned and tidied the place and decorated it especially for the occasion. Marcus had assured her that such preparations were unnecessary. “It’s a workshop: it’s supposed to be cluttered and covered in marble dust. The emperor knows that.” But Apollodora had insisted that all must be perfect. If Hadrian was pleased – and of course he would be – this could at last be Marcus’s opportunity to ask for a special favour: the return of his father-in-law from exile.
Apollodora had insisted on bringing along four-year-old Lucius as well, saying that the boy should be there to see his father’s proud moment. No doubt she also thought that the sight of Lucius might move the emperor to be merciful to the boy’s grandfather.
As the hour for the visit drew near, Marcus was increasingly fretful. Not only would Hadrian be judging his work, but Marcus would have to put the delicate matter of his father-in-law to the emperor, with his wife’s happiness hanging on the outcome. Marcus stood before the statue a final time, studying the sensual curves of the naked body, the tilt of the head, the faraway look, and the elusive smile. Without a doubt, this was the finest and most beautiful thing Marcus had ever created. He reached for a sailcloth and threw it over the statue.
There was a sound from the vestibule. Amyntas came running. “Master-”
“Yes, I know, the emperor is here.”
“He’s left his retinue in the street. Only Antinous is with him.”
“Well? Show them in!”
The emperor and Antinous entered. Marcus stood next to the draped statue. Apollodora stood nearby, with little Lucius beside her.
No one said a word. Hadrian smiled and gave a slight gesture with his hand, to indicate that Marcus should proceed.
Marcus pulled aside the sailcloth. The statue was unveiled.
Hadrian approached the statue. He slowly circled it, looking it up and down. His face was expressionless.
Antinous was smiling; he seemed pleased with his image. Of course, the statue offered no surprise to him, since he had seen it at every stage of its creation.
In his mind, Marcus rehearsed the little speech he had prepared: Caesar, you recently saw fit to praise the plea my grandfather made, asking for clemency to be shown to even the lowliest of men. I also have a plea to make, which only Caesar can grant. I ask that you show mercy and forgive ness to -
“A mistake,” said Hadrian. He had concluded his full circuit of the statue and stood in front of it, staring at it. There was no expression on his face.
Marcus blinked. The utterance was so abrupt that he was not sure he had heard it correctly. “A mistake, Caesar? If some tiny flaw remains, an area where I failed to smooth the marble sufficiently…” said Marcus, though he knew every inch of the statue was perfect.
“No. The entire idea was a mistake.” Hadrian’s tone was frigid. He averted his eyes from both Marcus and the statue. “The fault is mine, Marcus Pinarius, not yours. I should never have expected that you, or anyone else, could do the thing I desired. I understand that now.”
“Caesar, if the pose of the statue is not to your liking, or if the tilt of the head-”
“Nothing about the statue is to my liking. By Hercules, look at Antinous! And then look at this… this travesty.”
Trembling, Apollodora stepped forward. “Caesar, it’s a true likeness.”
“What would you know? You might as well be blind. And so might you, Marcus. You possess a certain skill, yes. This is the image you intended to shape, I’m sure. But you have no eyes to see. This… thing
