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

And so it went, with Kaeso falling asleep with details of long-ago murders in his head. Such reading matter provided an escape from the pressing problems of the day. His last conscious thought was less likely to be about some vexing technical puzzle posed by the aqueduct than about the patrician matron Cornelia, who killed her husband while they were copulating by inserting her middle finger, covered with the white powder aconitum, into his fundament-a method of stimulation he demanded of her and which she found distasteful. The poison killed the victim within minutes, but not, according to Cornelia, before he had attained a peculiarly violent orgasm. The dossier was full of such extraordinary details.

No amount of reading would banish the dreams that arose from Kaeso’s anxieties regarding his origins. These nightmares recurred from time to time, usually set off by some chance remark made to him during the day that had nothing to do with his ancestry but that nonetheless made him feel exposed and vulnerable-an outsider, an interloper, an imposter within one of Roma’s most ancient and distinguished families.

Thus, for a while, Kaeso’s life settled into a comfortable pattern. Then there came a day that he knew was to change his life forever, but not for the reason he thought.

The obvious event of the day was his betrothal to a girl named Galeria. The betrothal was the culmination of intense negotiations between the two patrician families involved. On the Fabius side, it was Quintus who pushed for Kaeso to marry. The young man had shown himself to be bright and ambitious, but also stubborn and contrary; the responsibilities of marriage might be just the thing to tame his reckless energy.

Kaeso had mixed feelings about the prospect of marriage, but Galeria was a pretty girl with the figure of a Venus, and in his chaperoned conversations with her, she was charmingly shy and sweet.

The betrothal was finalized one afternoon at the house of Quintus Fabius. Kaeso, his father, and Galeria’s father drank several toasts with Quintus’s best wine. As soon as he could, Kaeso, feeling a bit tipsy, stole away and headed for the house of Appius Claudius, eager to share the news with his mentor.

The door slave, explaining that the censor was meeting with a visitor on official state business, asked him to wait in the antechamber next to Claudius’s library. It was a warm day and the doors were open. Kaeso could hear quite clearly the conversation that was taking place in the adjoining room.

“Admittedly,” Claudius was saying, “there is some precedent for what you’re asking to do. The state religion has grown so large and complex, with so many rituals that must be performed every day, all over the city, that in recent years more and more duties have been delegated to temple slaves, who are owned by the state and receive special training from the priesthoods. Nonetheless, Titus Potitius, what you propose is a bit different, and sure to be controversial.”

The name Potitius meant little to Kaeso. He knew the Potitii to be a patrician family-one of the oldest-but they figured little in the politics of the day and were seldom seen in the exalted social circles of the Fabii. If pressed, he might have recalled that they had something to do with the Ara Maxima, and in fact, it was that ancient hereditary duty that Titus Potitius had come to discuss with Claudius.

“Please understand, Censor.” The man sounded old, and his voice was weary and downtrodden. “If I saw any other solution to the family’s ills, I would never have come to you with this request. The sad fact is, the Potitii can no longer afford to maintain the altar, or to put on the annual feast in Hercules’s honor. The altar itself is woefully in need of restoration. Have you looked at the site lately? It’s an embarrassment to us all! The feast has become a pauper’s banquet; it causes me great embarrassment to admit this, but it’s the simple truth. Our inability to properly fulfill these duties does not reflect in an honorable way upon Roma, or upon the god, or upon the Potitii. Our continuing attempts to do so are only driving the family into greater poverty. Alas, in the days of our ancestors, an altar could be nothing more than a flat stone, and a feast could be a handful of beans! But Roma is no longer like that. As the city’s power and wealth have grown, so have the standards of religious observance. The state can afford to restore and maintain the Ara Maxima and to honor Hercules with a feast that will make all Roma proud. The Potitii cannot.”

“Your point is well taken, Titus Potitius. In return for ceding this privilege to the state, I presume you will expect a substantial payment.”

“It would be proper.”

“A payment large enough to get you and your kin out of the financial hole you find yourselves in.”

“The state’s generous recompense will be put to good use, Censor.”

“So, an exclusive, hereditary religious duty, jealously guarded for centuries, is merely a commodity to be bought and sold? You realize that this is what some people will say.”

“As censor, I believe you have the authority to approve this transaction.”

“And if I do, what will people say of me? ‘There goes Appius Claudius, abusing his office again! It’s not enough that he packs the Senate with his low-born friends and fixes the elections; now he’s tinkering with the most ancient religious rites in the city!’”

Potitius sighed. “I realize that the decision would be a difficult one for you-”

“On the contrary! I wholeheartedly approve of your idea.”

“You do?”

“Absolutely. The old-fashioned notion that certain priesthoods and religious rites should remain under the exclusive control of a particular family is obnoxious to me. Any religious function that affects the entire state should be in the hands of the state. The people’s religion should be controlled by the people. For that reason, which has nothing to do with your family’s financial woes, I entirely approve of your offer to cede authority over the Ara Maxima and the Feast of Hercules to the state. Toward that end, I’m sure I can arrange for just compensation to be paid to your family.”

“Censor, I can hardly express my gratitude-”

“Then don’t, at least not yet. As I warned you, there will be some who rabidly oppose this change. They’ll accuse me of impiety and abuse of my authority. They’ll defame you and your kin. You must be prepared for their aspersions.”

“I understand, Censor.”

“Very well. Before we can proceed, I must ask if you truly represent the will of the entire family. From the census rolls…” Kaeso heard a rustling of scrolls. Claudius grunted. “I see that your numbers are smaller than I supposed. Can this be right? There are only twelve separate households of Potitii remaining in Roma, comprising some thirty males who carry the name?”

“That is correct. Our numbers have dwindled along with our fortunes.”

“And you have authority to speak for them all?”

“I am the paterfamilias senior to all others. The matter has been thoroughly discussed within the family and decided.”

“Very well.”

Claudius called for a secretary, to whom he issued some instructions. He exchanged some parting pleasantries with Titus Potitius and escorted him from the room. As the two of them stepped into the antechamber, Claudius saw Kaeso and smiled broadly. Kaeso saw that Potitius had gray hair and a gray beard to match his elderly voice, and was wearing a toga that had seen better days. The old man gave Kaeso a passing glance, then stopped short and stared at him.

“Do I know you, young man?” he said.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” said Kaeso.

“Allow me to introduce Kaeso Fabius Dorso,” said Claudius, “a young fellow with a wonderful head on his shoulders. He’s helping me build the new road and the aqueduct. And this, Kaeso, is the venerable Titus Potitius, paterfamilias of the Potitii.”