Roma - Saylor Steven (книги полностью .TXT) 📗
To a visitor, it might have appeared that the two magistrates on the porch of the temple were co-rulers, little different from kings. Their dress set them apart from and above the rest, and like kings they were guarded by lictors armed with rods and axes. Even the fact that they had been elected to office did not differentiate them from kings, for all the kings of Roma, except Tarquinius, had been elected to the post, even if some had been more freely chosen than others. But the two consuls, ruling side by side so that one might serve as a check on the other, were to serve for only a year, and then to relinquish their office to the next two consuls to win election. By dividing the powers of the consuls and holding annual elections, it was hoped that the state could be made to serve the people, and that Roma would never again fall under the sway of a tyrant like Tarquinius.
The public ceremony came to an end. The great doors of the temple were opened. The consuls entered, followed by a very select group of citizens, for the sanctuary could accommodate only a small portion of the crowd. Titus’s grandfather was among them, as was the great-grandfather of Publius, who ascended the steps with difficulty, leaning upon the arm of his fellow senior priest of Hercules. Titus was not permitted to attend the more exclusive ceremony within the sanctuary, but, thanks to Vulca, he had already seen the finished chambers, which housed the statues of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, and been allowed to gaze upon the gods at his leisure.
The milling throng began to disperse. There was a joyous mood in the air. Men greeted one another with embraces and laughter. Titus felt inspired and uplifted.
When he saw Gnaeus nearby, his spirits rose even more, until Publius muttered into his ear, “Look there! It’s your plebeian friend, Gnaeus Marcius. How did he get so near the front of the crowd? He must be posing as a Veturius today, pretending his mother’s blood makes him one of us.”
“Shut up, Publius! Say nothing to insult him. Deliberately causing dissension on such a day shows disrespect to Jupiter.”
Publius laughed. “By all the gods, I should hate to offend your religious sensibilities, Titus! I’ll simply move along, then. Greet the pompous little pleb in whatever fashion you imagine would please Jupiter.”
After Publius disappeared, Titus called to Gnaeus, who returned his smile.
“You were right all along about Vulca and the temple,” said Gnaeus. “Foreigner or not, he’s given us a truly magnificent building, something all Roma can be proud of. I look forward to seeing the statues inside.”
Titus merely nodded. To Publius, he proudly would have boasted that he had seen the statues already, but Gnaeus might think he was acting superior and take offense.
Gnaeus’s smile faded. “You were standing closer to the consuls than I was. Did Brutus look rather haggard?”
“Perhaps. My grandfather says there’s a rumor that he’s unwell.”
“If it were only that!”
“What do you mean?”
Gnaeus took Titus’s arm and pulled him away from the crowd. He spoke in a low voice. “Have you not heard the rumors about Brutus’s sons?”
The consul’s two sons were a few years older than Titus, who knew them just well enough to greet them by name when he saw them in the Forum. “Rumors?”
Gnaeus shook his head. “Just because your grandfather still treats you like a boy doesn’t mean you have to think like a boy, Titus. We’re too old for that. The times are too dangerous. You need to take a greater interest in what’s going on around you.”
Titus smiled crookedly and fingered the talisman of Fascinus at his throat. “All I really care about is learning to be a builder, like Vulca.”
“You should leave such matters to hired artisans. Men like us were born to be warriors.”
“But temples bring us closer to the gods. Building a temple is as important as winning a battle.”
Gnaeus snorted. “I won’t even reply to that! But we were talking about Brutus and his sons. Since you seem unaware of the situation, I’ll inform you. This precarious state of affairs—this so-called republic—is hanging by a thread. Our neighbors are making alliances to wage war against us. Without a king, they think we’re weak, and they’re right. All this strife and bickering has sapped our strength. The worthless rabble of the city was placated for a while, after the usurpers allowed them to plunder the Tarquinius family estates—shame on Brutus and Collatinus for permitting such an outrage!—but now the mob is growing suspicious of the new magistrates, and they think their own assembly should take the place of the Senate. May the gods help Roma if that should happen! And now…” He lowered his voice even further. “Now there’s a plot to restore the king to the throne. Some of the most respected men in Roma are involved.”
Titus drew a sharp breath. “Is such a thing possible?”
“Not without a great deal of bloodshed. But yes, it’s possible. As long as Tarquinius and his sons are alive, they’ll never stop scheming to take back the throne. I know I wouldn’t!”
“But who would help them to do such a thing? After what Sextus Tarquinius did to Lucretia—”
“What of it? A man raped another man’s wife, not for the first time, and not for the last. It was a crime, to be sure—but not a reason to abolish the whole system of kingship that made Roma a strong city. Don’t forget, it was a king who gave us that temple you’re so proud of. The enemies of Tarquinius merely used the rape as a means to stir up anger against the king, so that they could take his place.”
Titus felt a prickle of dread. “Gnaeus, you’re not involved in this plot to bring back the king, are you? Gnaeus, answer me!”
Gnaeus affected an aloof, mysterious expression, and Titus could see that his friend was enjoying his consternation. “No, I am not,” he finally said. “But nor am I completely unsympathetic to those who think Roma was better with a king.”
“But, Gnaeus, even for one such as you…” Titus realized he must speak carefully, so as not to offend his friend; at the same time, he wanted to show that he was not as ignorant of politics as Gnaeus seemed to think. “Collatinus is a patrician, but Brutus isn’t; his mother was the king’s sister, but his father was a plebeian. By winning election to the consulship, these two have set a precedent for the future. In the republic, any man of worth—patrician or plebeian—will have a chance to rule the state.”
Gnaeus snorted. “For a year! What good is that?”
Titus pressed on. “New men have been added to the Senate, as well. Tarquinius killed off so many senators that Brutus and Collatinus are nominating new members every day, to bring the number back to three hundred. Not only patricians, but plebeians, as well.”
“Even worse! Is that the best a man can hope for? To become one of three hundred?”
Titus frowned, genuinely puzzled. “Gnaeus, I think you miss the point.” He could not help but imagine how bluntly Publius would have stated the case: There may be a place for you yet in the new republic, Gnaeus, even though you’re just a lowly plebeian!
“No, Titus, you miss the point. This republic, this government by the people—what can it offer a man except the chance to become a mere senator, one of three hundred, or at best a consul, the first among equals, and one of a pair at that, elected for only a year? So long as Roma had a king, there was hope; there was something a man could strive for.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Hope, Titus! An ambitious man, a great man, a fierce warrior—a man head and shoulders above all other men—such a man, in the old days, might hope someday to occupy the throne, to become a true ruler of men, to be king of Roma. But now, with the monarchy gone, replaced by this pathetic republic, what hope remains for such a man?”
Titus gazed at his friend, fascinated and appalled. Had Gnaeus truly imagined that he might someday be king of Roma? Where had such unbridled ambition come from? Was it to be feared or admired? He almost wished that Publius were present, to deflate Gnaeus’s fantastical notions with a snide comment.
