Empire - Saylor Steven (книги без сокращений TXT) 📗
Titus shuddered. “He’s like a monstrous child.”
“Caligula was twenty-four when he was made emperor, only a little older than you are now. His youth seemed quite attractive, after enduring Tiberius’s unseemly d-d-decrepitude. Now it seems a curse. Caligula could rule for the rest of our lifetimes. He could still be emperor when your grandchildren are grown.” Claudius shook his head. “Augustus and Tiberius left us no mechanism for the removal of an emperor. They ruled for life, and we must assume Caligula will do the same. In retrospect, perhaps such a young person should never have been made emperor. For someone so young to be given so much power-”
“You’re not talking about me, are you, my dear?” Messalina stepped into the room. Her pregnancy was now in the eighth month. Her sheer gown, more suitable for the bed chamber than the street, showed off not only her round belly but also her greatly enlarged breasts. Titus tried not to stare at her, but she swayed as she circled the room, seeming deliberately to flaunt herself.
“Messalina, you should be in b-bed.”
She sighed. “I can’t spend every hour of every day lying down. And I’m as hungry as a horse. I thought Caligula was hosting some sort of banquet today.”
Claudius nodded and explained to Titus. “My nephew is hosting a private festival. Here, step onto the balcony with me.” Below them was a colonnaded walkway that led to a nearby courtyard surrounded by a portico and high shrubs. “It’s being held in that courtyard over there. You can see a b-b-bit of the stage that’s been assembled for the occasion. The festivities should commence at any moment. Boys from the best families of Greece and Ionia will be singing a hymn which the emperor composed to his own divinity. You can hear them practising.” He turned to Messalina. “But, darling, you know why we’re not g-g-going. I was told that the emperor is out of sorts, suffering from indigestion, and wants to be attended only by his wife and daughter. A good thing we’re not going, if you ask me. When Augustus had indigestion, we worried for his health; when Caligula suffers, it’s our own lives we have to worry about! The shame of it, that once-proud Romans should quake in fear when another man passes wind!”
“Who told you the emperor didn’t want us to come?” Messalina put her hands on her hips, causing her breasts to project before her.
“Didn’t I say? It was Cassius Chaerea, the Praetorian t-t-tribune.”
Messalina grinned. “That prude whom the emperor teases so mercilessly?” She looked at Titus archly. “Caligula thinks it’s quite hilarious to give Chaerea naughty pet names, as if he were some old man’s spintria – ‘honey-mouth,’ ‘pleasure-bottom,’ that sort of thing.” She laughed. “Well, if you could see iron-jawed, grizzled old Chaerea, you’d understand how absurd it is. And, knowing how Chaerea is so squeamish about words, for the daily password Caligula deliberately comes up with the most obscene phrases he can think of, so Chaerea has to say naughty words over and over, all day long. And funniest of all is when Caligula passes by and offers Chaerea his ring to kiss, and then at the last instant, sticks up his middle finger and makes Chaerea-”
“Messalina, d-d-darling, enough of that!” Claudius shook his head. “The child is so innocent, she has no idea what she’s saying. Now go back to your rooms, my dear, and rest. If you’re hungry, tell Narcissus to send for something.”
Messalina made a show of pouting but did as her husband had told her, flashing a last, lingering look at Titus and brushing her fingertips over her swollen breasts as she departed.
Titus tore his eyes from Messalina and returned his gaze to the view from the balcony. He pricked up his ears and frowned. “Did you hear that, Claudius?”
“My ears are not what they were. I don’t hear anything.”
“Exactly. The singing stopped. Someone’s shouting. Are they sacrificing an animal?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I thought I heard the formula that precedes a sacrifice. You know, when one priest says, ‘Shall I do the deed?’ and the other says, ‘Strike now!’ But this sounded odd, somehow, not like priests at all…”
From the distant courtyard they heard a sudden uproar – shouts, the clanging of metal, and then shrill cries. Claudius frowned. “What’s going on over there?”
A servant ran headlong from the courtyard, followed by more servants and then a group of screaming young boys. They rushed past on the walkway beneath the balcony, some of them tripping and falling and getting up again.
Claudius leaned over the balustrade. “What’s g-g-going on?” he shouted.
They all ignored him except a little boy who paused for a moment and looked up. His eyes were wide with terror. Another boy bumped into him, almost knocking him down, and he hurried on.
“What in Hades?” muttered Claudius. He suddenly stiffened.
The servants and boy singers had all vanished. A group of armed men came striding out of the courtyard. Their swords were drawn. Their faces were grim. Leading them was a Praetorian tribune.
“Cassius Chaerea!” whispered Claudius.
Titus sucked in a breath. “Look at his sword.”
The blade was covered with blood. Spatters of blood glistened on Chaerea’s breastplate.
Another tribune appeared, walking quickly to catch up with Chaerea. “Cornelius Sabinus,” whispered Claudius. His voice cracked.
“Carrying another bloody sword,” whispered Titus. He glanced at Claudius, who had gone pale and was gripping the balustrade with white knuckles. Titus’s heart pounded.
Chaerea saw them looking down from the balcony. He came to a halt. Sabinus caught up with him. The tribunes exchanged hushed words, then together looked up at Claudius and raised their bloody swords.
“Today we have a new password!” Chaerea shouted. “The password is Jupiter. God of the thunderbolt! God of sudden death!”
More Praetorians emerged from the courtyard. They were in two groups. Each group carried a makeshift litter. At first, Titus could make no sense of the lumpy, shapeless forms on the litters. Then, with a start, he realized that they were corpses. One of the bodies, from the mass of disarranged hair and the elegant stola covered with bloodstains, appeared to be that of a woman. As the men drew nearer, Titus was able to see her face. Caesonia’s eyes were wide open. Her lips were drawn back and her teeth were clenched.
The other body was much smaller. It was a little girl. Her golden hair was clotted with blood. Her face was unrecognizable; her head had been crushed. Even at such a distance, Titus could smell the gore. The sight made him nauseated.
“Caesonia – and l-l-little Julia!” Claudius swayed and steadied himself against the balustrade, then pushed himself back and staggered from the balcony. “By Hercules, they intend to kill us all! Help me, Titus, I b-b-beg you. Hide me!”
“But they saluted you, Claudius. They gave you the password-”
“They brandished their swords and m-m-mocked me! Didn’t you see the look in their eyes? Cold-blooded assassins! Woman-killers! Child-killers! Once upon a time, men like those murdered the Divine Julius, and now they’ve dared to m-m-murder Caligula. If they mean to restore the Republic, they’ll slaughter my whole family. Not just me, but Messalina and the unborn baby! I’m a dead man, Titus!”
Titus did his best to calm him, but Claudius only became more hysterical. He ran back and forth across the room, unable to decide whether to stay or to leave. His head began to twitch uncontrollably and he made no effort to wipe away the drool that ran from the corner of his mouth. At last he ran to the door, determined to flee, then froze at the sound of stamping feet in the hallway. Claudius grabbed Titus by the arm and pulled him back to the balcony. He huddled behind the drapes at one end, pulling Titus close, trying to conceal them both.
