Roma.The novel of ancient Rome - Saylor Steven (книги онлайн полные версии бесплатно .TXT) 📗
“No!” cried Pinaria. “Can’t you see their faces? It’s just as Dorso predicted. The Gauls are in awe of him. See how they hang back? See how they whisper among themselves and jostle one another, trying to get a better look at him? He’s put a kind of spell on them. If you fire on them, you’ll break the spell. Lower your bows! Do nothing! Say nothing!”
The men on the barricade unnotched their arrows and fell silent.
Following the winding path, Dorso and Pennatus drew closer and closer. The Gauls followed doggedly behind them. Pinaria’s heart pounded in her chest. The wait was excruciating. Why did they walk so slowly? She caught a glimpse of Dorso’s face as he rounded the final bend; she saw the serene expression of a man at peace with himself and his fate, ready to live or die, as the gods saw fit. Then she saw Pennatus. Her heart leaped as his eyes met hers. He smiled-and then winked at her!
The two men reached the barricade. Hands stretched down to take the vessels and help them climb up. Dorso clambered atop the barricade and looked over his shoulder. “Stupid Gauls,” he muttered. “Archers! Here’s your chance to kill a few of those fools. Take aim and fire at once, before they can run!”
Arrows whistled though the air, followed by screams and the chaotic sounds of the Gauls retreating in a sudden panic.
Dorso quickly escorted Pinaria away from the barricade, out of harm’s way. “It was your blessing, Vestal, that did the trick,” he whispered. “I felt the goddess of the hearth looking over us every step of the way.”
“Did you? Did you truly feel Vesta’s presence?” Pinaria looked from Dorso to Pennatus.
“Something must have protected us,” said Pennatus. “It was amazing! The Gauls were dumbfounded. They fell back on all sides, like grain cut by a scythe. Not one of them dared to approach us. Not one of them even raised his voice.”
Dorso and Pennatus looked at each other and spontaneously embraced, laughing like two boys after a great adventure. Pinaria longed to join their embrace. Especially she longed to hold Pennatus and to be held by him, to reassure herself that he still lived and breathed, to feel the warmth of his body, to touch his hairy chest, where the black pendant hung between the firm muscles. Such thoughts made her feel weak and flushed, but she could not control them.
Could it be as Dorso said? Could it be that Vesta had watched over and protected both men, despite Pinaria’s impure feelings? Or had Pennatus survived only because-or precisely because-the goddess was absent, no longer present to punish an erring Vestal and the object of her desire?
Either Vesta knew of Pinaria’s passion for the slave, and approved of it-mad thought! — or Vesta was gone, perhaps forever, and no longer held sway over her devoted virgin-another mad thought! In either case, Pinaria knew, in a blinding flash, that no impediment remained to hold her feelings in check. The realization dazzled her. The ground gave way beneath her and the sky cracked open.
She looked at Pennatus. He looked back at her. Their eyes spoke a secret language. She knew he felt the same.
In that moment, Pinaria was lost, and she knew it. She burst into tears. Those who had gathered to welcome Dorso assumed they were tears of joy and relief, and men bowed their heads at the sight of a sacred virgin so deeply moved by the evidence of the gods’ continuing favor for the people of Roma.
There was little privacy to be had among the defenders atop the Capitoline, but such privacy as could be arranged was given to the Vestal who dwelled among them. While others slept in the open, or crowded together inside the temples and public buildings, a small chamber in the foundations of the Temple of Jupiter was given to Pinaria for her sole use.
The entrance to Pinaria’s room was at the back of the temple, out of sight. It was Pennatus who suggested to Dorso that it would be proper to install a simple lock on the inside of the door, so that no one could possibly walk in on the Vestal unannounced or by accident. As Pennatus knew how to fashion such a lock, he was given the job of making it himself. “What a clever fellow you are!” remarked Dorso, after the lock was installed.
One night, there came a soft knocking on Pinaria’s door.
The hour was late, but Pinaria was not asleep. She rose from her bed and went to the door at once. She did not bother to ask who was knocking.
She opened the door and saw his head and shoulders silhouetted by moonlight. Her first thought was that he was mad to come to her on a night when the moon was so bright and might cast such a glaring light on his movements. What if he had been observed?
In the next instant he was inside, shutting the door behind him. Then his arms were around her and his body was pressed against hers. It was Pinaria who initiated the kiss, pressing her mouth to his. She had never kissed a man before. It seemed to her that they drew the same breath and shared the same heartbeat.
She was not accustomed to being naked, even among the other Vestals, but that was the way he wanted her. She allowed him to disrobe her, then helped him to take off his own tunic; she wanted no pretense that anything was being done solely at his behest, or against her will. Whatever might happen, it would not occur because she merely allowed it, but because she made it happen.
She knew a little about the basic act of sex, but she could not have imagined the sensations that accompanied it. The touch of his flesh against her own was thrilling, but nothing compared to the feeling when a part of his body actually entered her own and began to move inside her. There was a sharp pain at first, but it seemed a small thing to bear, compared to the pleasure that followed. The rhythm of the act was like a complicated dance, or a song of unearthly beauty, sometimes slow and languid, sometimes rushed and breathless. His rhythm inspired her to find a rhythm inside herself; she struggled to match his movements, cried out in frustration at the sudden awkwardness of it, and then, laughing breathlessly, clutching his hips, she demanded that his rhythm match her own. He submitted, resisted, submitted again. They seemed to be in competition for a while, and then almost at odds, and then, without warning, in perfect, ecstatic harmony.
They reached the pinnacle in the same instant. She felt him shudder and convulse inside her, and at the same time a wave of exquisite pleasure washed over her entire body.
The thing was done. There could be no turning back.
The occupation of the Gauls continued throughout the hot summer and into the autumn. Cooler days brought some relief to the defenders atop the Capitoline, but their hunger increased. Rations were reduced to a handful of bread and a cup of wine a day.
House by house, the Gauls continued to pillage and burn the city below, poisoning the air with smoke. After the failure of their initial attempts, the Gauls stopped laying siege to the Capitoline, but sentries still kept constant watch around the perimeter.
On an autumn night when the air was cool but acrid with smoke, Pinaria and Pennatus lay naked upon her bed. A shaft of moonlight from a high, small window illuminated their sweat-glazed bodies. The hour was midnight, but neither of the lovers slept; there was still too much pleasure to be had from each other’s bodies to think of sleep.
Pinaria had been delighted but not surprised to discover that Pennatus was such an insatiable lover. What had surprised her was the depth of her own craving, which was as great as his, if not greater. The devotion she had once given to tending the sacred hearthfire she now gave to the tending the fire that flared up inside them each time their bodies met. When she joined with Pennatus, it seemed to her that she was taken to a place beyond the mortal world, to a mystical realm such as that where the gods must dwell. She worshiped his body, the vehicle that transported her to that divine place; she adored his sex, that part of him, so potent yet so exposed and vulnerable, which he eagerly placed into her safekeeping. Such thoughts were blasphemous, surely; but the gods were gone, and the Vestal was no longer a virgin, and a slave had become her master. The world was a mad, broken place, but Pinaria had never before felt so alive and complete.
