Roma.The novel of ancient Rome - Saylor Steven (книги онлайн полные версии бесплатно .TXT) 📗

“But you don’t even speak their language!”

“They will see that I carry sacred vessels. From my face they will know that my purpose is a holy one. The god Quirinus will protect me.”

Pinaria shook her head. She glanced at Pennatus, and swallowed a lump in her throat. “Must you take Pennatus with you?”

“A slave customarily accompanies the Fabius who performs the ritual, to help carry the vessels.”

“But Pennatus is not your slave.”

“No, he is not, and I am not compelling him to go with me. I asked him to go, and he agreed.”

“Pennatus, is this true?”

The slave shrugged and flashed a crooked smile. “It seemed reasonable at the time. I’m getting bored, trapped up here day after day. I think it may be a great adventure.”

Pinaria shook her head. “No, this isn’t right. Pennatus…Pennatus is impious! He can’t be part of such a ritual. He has no more respect for the gods than the Gauls do.”

“All the better!” declared Dorso. “If I fail to overawe them, perhaps the Gauls will see in Pennatus a kindred spirit, and leave us alone for his sake.” He smiled at Pennatus, who smiled back at him.

The unlikely friendship that had developed between the two young men was a great puzzlement to Pinaria. Two mortals could hardly be more different. Gaius Fabius Dorso was a pious, upright patrician warrior; he was oddly likeable, despite being more than a little vain and self-important. Pennatus was an impious slave who seemed to respect nothing and no one. And yet, thrown together atop the Capitoline, in a situation where the normal constraints of society were undone, the two men had discovered a pleasure in each other’s company that grew deeper every day. Now, to Pinaria’s amazement and dismay, they were about to set out together on a mad venture that would surely put an end to both of them.

Pinaria stepped forward and laid her hand on Dorso’s arm. “Please, I implore you, don’t do this thing! Forgo the ritual. The gods-if they still have any love for us-will understand and forgive.”

Her touch humbled Dorso. He lowered his eyes. “Please, Vestal, I need your blessing, not words of discouragement. The truth is this: I returned to the city from the battle at the River Allia and I remained here, despite the coming of the Gauls, for the express purpose of performing this ritual. I am…” He drew a deep breath and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I am all too aware of the role played by my kinsmen in drawing the wrath of the Gauls, and perhaps the wrath of the gods, upon Roma. I cannot turn back time and reverse the damage that was done by my impetuous, impious cousin, Quintus. For his crime, Quintus should have been punished-the Pontifex Maximus himself said so-but instead he was commended by the people of Roma and made a commander of the legions. Now disaster has overwhelmed us, and it falls to me to honor the gods and my ancestors by performing this ancient ritual. If…” Again he drew a deep breath. “If I should die in attempting to do so, perhaps my blood will assuage the gods. Perhaps they will accept my sacrifice in place of my cousin Quintus, and return their favor to Roma.”

Pinaria was so moved that for a long moment she could not speak. She fought back tears, and finally said, “If the Virgo Maxima were here, she would bless you-but the Virgo Maxima is gone, and so are the other Vestals. I’m the only one left in Roma, so I will bless you, Gaius Fabius Dorso. Go and make the sacrifice-and come back safely!”

Dorso bowed his head to her, then turned and strode toward the barricade, carrying the vessels of wine and oil.

Pennatus lingered behind for a moment. He gave Pinaria an odd look; his eyes seemed to smile even though his lips did not. He looked down at the vessels of millet and salt, frowned and furrowed his brow, then puffed out his cheeks and seemed to reach a decision. “Well, then! I told him I would go with him, and so I shall.”

“Come back safely, Pennatus!” she whispered. She very nearly touched his arm, as she had touched the arm of Dorso, but at the last moment she drew back her hand. It would hardly be pleasing to the goddess, for a Vestal to touch a slave.

Pennatus squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. “Of course I’ll come back. Will your gods not protect me? If the Gauls menace us, I shall simply sprout wings and come flying back to you!”

With Dorso leading and Pennatus walking behind him, the two men strode across the Capitoline. Word of Dorso’s intentions had spread, and a crowd gathered to watch them depart. Soldiers rushed forward to help the two men keep their balance as they climbed over the barricade, holding the ritual vessels aloft. Not a grain of salt or millet or a drop of wine or oil was spilled, and this was seen to be a good omen. The soldiers crowded together along the top of the barricade to watch Dorso and Pennatus descend the winding path.

Heads turned and a hush fell over the spectators as Pinaria climbed up to join the soldiers. They drew aside to make room for the Vestal. She gazed at the receding procession of two and began to move her lips without making a sound. Thinking to join her in prayer, men muttered pleas to the god Quirinus for the safekeeping of his worshippers, but the words shaped by Pinaria’s lips were not addressed to any god.

“Come back!” she begged silently. “Come back to me, Pennatus!”

The hours passed slowly. The afternoon sun suffused the smoky sky with a lurid glow, and began to descend toward the distant hills beyond the Tiber. On the barricade, sharp-eyed lookouts kept a watch on the Quirinal, but saw nothing to indicate the fate of Dorso and Pennatus.

Pinaria paced back and forth across the open spaces of the Capitoline. Reflexively, she muttered prayers to Vesta, but in her heart she felt she was speaking to empty air. The hearthfire of the goddess was gone from Roma and her temple had been desecrated by godless savages. Vesta must be far, far away, thought Pinaria, beyond the reach of even the most devoted Vestal. Even if the goddess was still present, and could hear her, would she not see into Pinaria’s heart and know that her prayer was profane? For a Vestal to pray for the safe passage of Dorso was one thing; he was a Roman citizen on a holy mission. But the prayer that came unbidden to Pinaria’s lips was not for Dorso, and had nothing to do with the fulfillment of sacred rites. What would the goddess think, to hear one of her virgins plead so desperately for the return of a slave? It was better that the goddess was absent, unable to hear Pinaria’s prayer, than that Vesta should hear it and perceive the longing in Pinaria’s heart.

She was shaken from her gloomy reverie by a shout from one of the lookouts.

“There! At the foot of the Capitoline! I see them! Dorso and the slave-and Gauls, hundreds of Gauls…”

The words gave Pinaria a momentary flash of hope, then plunged her into despair. She imagined Dorso and Pennatus running at top speed, pursued by warriors; she pictured their severed heads borne aloft on stakes by taunting Gauls. She ran to the barricade, climbed to the top, and peered down the steep hillside.

“There!” said the lookout. “On the path, coming toward us.”

What she saw was the last thing she expected. Walking proudly erect, bearing in their upturned hands the now empty sacrificial vessels, Dorso and Pennatus were ascending the winding path at a steady, unhurried pace. A huge crowd of Gauls followed them, bearing swords and spears but keeping at a distance and doing nothing to impede their progress.

The officer in charge of the barricade shook his head. “These Gauls and their cruel games! They’ll wait until Dorso is almost to the barricade, then strike him down while we watch. Vile creatures! We should fire upon them now, while Dorso still has a chance to break and run. Archers! Raise your bows!”