Текст книги "Roma.The novel of ancient Rome"

Автор книги: Steven Saylor

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 39 страниц)

“Ah, but if that happens, you say, there will be a wallto keep us safe. What nonsense! Did the twins learn nothing from their victory over Amulius? Did walls keep Amulius safe? Did his mercenary warriors save him? Did all his treasure buy him even a single breath when Romulus cut his throat?”

Potitius shook his head. “All you say would make perfect sense, Father, except for one great difference between Amulius and the twins. Amulius lost the favor of the gods; fortune turned against him. But the gods love Romulus and Remus.”

“You mean to say that youlove them, my son!”

“No, father. I speak not as their friend, but as a priest and a haruspex. The gods love the twins. It is a manifest fact. In every battle, especially a battle to the death, there must be a winner and a loser. Romulus and Remus always win. That could not happen unless the gods willed it to be so. You speak with scorn of the path they’ve chosen, but I tell you that their path is blessed by the gods. How else can you account for their success? That is why I follow them, and why I use all the skills I possess to shed light on the way ahead of them.”

His father, unable to refute these words, fell silent.

The twins agreed that a wall should be built, but they did not agree about its location.

Romulus favored a wall that would encircle the Palatine. Remus thought the wall should be built around the Aventine, further south. Day after day, Potitius listened to them argue.

“Your reasons are purely sentimental, brother” said Remus. “We were raised here on the Palatine, therefore you wish to make it the center of Roma. But no one lives on the Palatine except a few herders and their livestock. Why build a wall around a city of sheep? Or do you intend to drive away the herders and cover the Palatine with buildings? I say, leave this hill wild and open, as it was when we were boys, and build up the city elsewhere. South of the Spinon is the natural place to expand, close to the riverfront. The marketplace, the salt bins, and the slaughtering yards are already pushing against the foot of the Aventine. That is the hill we should encircle with a wall, upon which we should begin to build a proper city.”

“How perfectly reasonable you sound, brother!” Romulus laughed. The two brothers, along with Potitius and Pinarius, were strolling across the Palatine. The sky was dazzling blue with white clouds heaped against the horizon. The hill was covered with green grass and spangled with spring flowers, but there was not a single grazing sheep to be seen; the sheep had all been gathered into their pens, which were adorned with juniper boughs and wreaths of laurel leaves. This was the day of the Palilia, the festival of the goddess Pales. Here and there, streamers of smoke trailed into the sky. Each family had set up its own altar to Pales, and upon these raised stones they were burning various substances: for purification, handfuls of sulfur, which emitted sky-blue smoke, followed by twigs of fragrant rosemary, laurel, and Sabine juniper, then an offering compounded of beanstalks mixed with the ashes of calves already burned, sprinkled with horse blood. With juniper branches, the shepherds wafted the smoke across the penned animals; the sacred smoke of Pales would keep the herd healthy and fertile. Afterward, the shepherds would feast on millet cakes and drink bowls of warm milk sprinkled with purple must.

“Perfectly reasonable,” Romulus said again. “But this is not about reason, brother. It’s about creating a city fit for two kings. You say I favor the Palatine because I’m sentimental. Indeed, I am! How can you walk across this hill on the day of the Palilia and not feel the specialness of this place? There was a reason the gods left our cradle on the slope of the Palatine. Truly, this is the very heart of Roma! It’s around the Palatine that we must build a wall, to honor the home that nurtured us. The gods will bless our enterprise.”

“Ridiculous!” snapped Remus, with a harshness that startled them all. “If you can’t listen to reason, how do you expect to rule a city?”

Romulus strained to keep an even tone. “I’ve done a good enough job so far, brother, building an army and leading them in battle.”

“Running a city will be a different matter. Are you such a fool you can’t see that?”

“ Youdare to call mea fool, Remus? I wasn’t the fool who got himself captured by Amulius and needed rescuing-”

“How dare you throw that in my face! Or do you enjoy reminding me of the hours I spent suffering, needlessly, because you wasted time here in Roma-”

“Unfair, brother! Untrue!”

“And because youstrangled Amulius, youwear the crown every day, even though you promised it would be shared equally between us.”

“Is that what this is about? Take it! Wear it!” Romulus lifted the iron crown from his head, cast it to the ground, and stalked away. Pinarius ran after him.

When they were boys, the twins had never argued. Now they seemed to argue all the time, and their arguments grew more and more heated. From childhood, Romulus had been the more headstrong and impulsive, and Remus had been the one to restrain his brother. But the torture he had received at the hands of Amulius had wrought changes in Remus. His body had never fully recovered; he still walked with a slight limp. More than that, his even temper had deserted him; he had become as quick to anger as his brother. Romulus had changed as well since Alba. He remained as high-spirited as before but was more disciplined and purposeful, and more self-assured and arrogant than ever.

At Alba, Remus had suffered the tortures of Amulius; Romulus had enjoyed the glow of triumph and the satisfaction of rescuing his brother. One had been a victim and the other a hero. This disparity had created a rift between them, small at first but constantly growing. Potitius knew that the argument he had just witnessed was not about the wall, but about something that had gone terribly wrong between the twins, which neither could put a name to or knew how to set right.

The castoff crown had landed at Potitius’s feet. He stooped to lift it from the grass, and was surprised at how heavy it was. He offered it to Remus, who took it but did not place it on his head.

“This matter of the wall must be settled once and for all,” said Remus quietly, staring at the crown. “What do you think, Potitius?” He saw the troubled look on his friend’s face and laughed ruefully. “No, I’m not asking you to take sides. I’m asking your advice as a haruspex. How might we settle this matter by consulting the will of the gods?”

As quick as a blink, a shadow passed over them. Potitius looked up to see a vulture high above. “I think I know a way,” he said.

The contest was held the next day. It was not Potitius who called it a contest, but the twins, for clearly, that was how they thought of it. To Potitius, it was a very solemn rite, calling upon all the wisdom he had learned in Tarquinia.

The rite was conducted simultaneously upon each of the contesting hills. Romulus stood at a high spot on the Palatine, looking north; beside him was Pinarius, in his role as a priest of Hercules. Remus, with Potitius, stood on the Aventine, looking south. At each site, an iron blade had been driven upright into the earth, so that by its shadow the exact moment of midday could be determined. A mark had been made in the ground a set distance from the blade, to mark by the blade’s moving shadow the passing of a precise measure of time. Within that span of time, each brother and his priest would watch the sky for vultures in flight. The priests would keep count of each vulture that was sighted by scraping a furrow in the dirt with a spear.

Why vultures? Potitius had explained his reasoning to the brothers: “The vulture is sacred to Hercules, who was always joyful at the sight of one. Among all creatures, it is the least harmful; it damages neither crops, nor fruit trees, nor cattle. It never kills or hurts any living thing, but preys only upon carrion, and even then it will not prey upon other birds; whereas eagles, hawks, and owls will attack and kill their own kind. Of all birds, it is the most rarely seen, and few men claim ever to have seen its young. Because of this, the Etruscans believe that vultures come from some other world. Therefore, let it be the sighting of vultures that determines the will of heaven in situating the city of Roma.”

Midday arrived. Upon the Aventine, Remus raised his arm and pointed. “There’s one!”

Potitius suppressed a smile. His training as a haruspex had taught him to recognize every sort of bird at a great distance. “I believe that is a hawk, Remus.”

Remus squinted. “So it is.”

They continued to watch. The time seemed to pass very slowly.

“I see one, over there,” said Potitius. Remus followed his gaze and nodded. Potitius pressed his spear to the ground and scraped a furrow.

“And there’s another!” cried Remus. Potitius agreed, and scraped a second furrow.

So it went, until the shadow of the blade reached the mark that signaled the end of the contest. There were six furrows in the ground, to mark the six vultures seen by Remus. He smiled and clapped his hands and seemed pleased. Potitius agreed that it was a considerable number and boded well.

They descended from the Aventine. They were to meet Romulus and Pinarius at the footbridge over the Spinon, but after a long wait, Remus became impatient. He headed for the Stairs of Cacus, with Potitius following him. As Remus ascended, he tripped on some of the steps. Potitius noted that his friend’s limp was very bad that day.

They found Romulus and Pinarius sitting on a fallen tree not far from the spot where they had kept watch on the Palatine. The two of them were laughing and conversing, obviously in high spirits.

“We were to meet at the Spinon,” said Remus. “Why are you still here?”

Romulus rose. He smiled broadly. “Why should the king of Roma leave the very center of his kingdom? I told you that the Palatine is the heart of Roma, and today the gods have made it clear that they agree.”

“What are saying?”

“Go see for yourself.” Romulus pointed to the place where Pinarius had marked furrows in the ground.

When Potitius saw the number of furrows, he drew a sharp breath. “Impossible!” he whispered.

There were so many furrows that they could not be numbered at a glance. Remus counted them aloud. “…ten, eleven, twelve. Twelve!” He turned to confront Romulus. “Are you saying that you saw twelve vultures, brother?”

“Indeed, I did.”

“Not sparrows, not eagles, not hawks?”

“Vultures, my brother. The bird most sacred to Hercules, and most rare. Within the allotted measure of time, I saw and counted twelve vultures in the sky.”

Remus opened his mouth to say something, then shut it, dumbfounded. Potitius stared at Pinarius. “Is this true, cousin? You verified the count with your own eyes? You made each of these furrows in the earth? You performed the ritual openly and honestly before the gods, as befits a priest of Hercules?”

Pinarius stared back at him coldly. “Of course, cousin. All was done in a proper manner. Romulus saw twelve vultures, and I made twelve marks. How many vultures did Remus see?”

If Pinarius was lying, then Romulus was lying as well, deceiving his own brother and smiling as he did so. Potitius looked at Remus; his friend’s jaw quivered and he blinked rapidly. Since his torture by Amulius, Remus’s face was sometimes subject to a violent twitching, but this was something else. Remus was fighting back tears. Shaking his head, unable to speak, he hurriedly walked away, limping badly.

“How many did Remus see?” Pinarius asked again.

“Six,” whispered Potitius.

Pinarius nodded. “Then the will of the gods is clear. Do you not agree, cousin?”

When Romulus later took him aside and asked for his counsel, as a haruspex, regarding the making of the city boundaries, Potitius resisted him. He stopped short of accusing Romulus of lying, but Romulus read his thought. Never admitting deceit, he dismissed Potitius’s doubts about the counting of the vultures. There had been a disagreement, the disagreement had to be settled somehow, it had been settled, and now they must all move on.

By subtle flattery, Romulus convinced Potitius that his participation was essential to the establishment of the city. There was a right way and a wrong way to do such a thing, and surely, for the sake of the people of Roma and their descendents, all should be done in accordance with the will of the gods-and who but Potitius could reliably divine their will? Romulus stated his earnest desire that Remus should perform an equal share of the ritual, and persuaded Potitius to play peacemaker between them.

Thanks to Potitius, when the day arrived to establish the pomerium-the sacred boundary of the new city-all was done properly, and both twins took part.

The ritual was performed in accordance with ancient traditions handed down from the Etruscans. At the place which Potitius determined to be the exact center of the Palatine, and thus the center of the new city, Romulus and Remus broke ground and dug a deep pit, using a spade they passed back and forth. All those who wished to be citizens came forward one by one and cast a handful of dirt into the pit, saying, “Here is a handful of dirt from…” and speaking the name of the place they came from. Those who had lived in Roma for generations performed the ritual as well as those who were newcomers, and the mixing of the soil symbolized the melding of the citizenry. Even the father of Potitius, despite his reservations about the twins, took part in the ceremony, casting into the pit a handful of dirt he had scooped from the ground before the threshold of his family’s hut.

When the pit was filled, a stone altar was placed in the soil. Potitius called upon the sky-god Jupiter, father of Hercules, to look down upon the foundation of the city. Romulus and Remus invited Mavors and Vesta to pay witness-the war god rumored to be their father and the hearth goddess to whom their reputed mother, Rhea Silvia, had been consecrated.

Ahead of time, the twins had circled the Palatine and decided upon the best course for an encircling network of fortifications. Now they descended to the foot of the hill, where a bronze plough had been hitched to a yoke drawn by a white bull and a white cow. Taking turns, the brothers ploughed a continuous furrow to mark the boundary of the new city. While one plowed, the other walked beside him and wore the iron crown. Romulus began the furrow; Remus took the last turn and joined the furrow’s end to its beginning.

The throng that had followed every step of their progress cheered, laughed, and wept with joy. The brothers lifted their weary arms to heaven, then turned to each other and embraced. At that moment, it seemed to Potitius that the twins were truly beloved by the gods, and that no power on earth could lay them low.

On that day, in the month that would later be named Aprilis, in the year that would later be known as 753 B.C., the city of Roma was born.

The building of fortifications commenced at once. Compared to the great walls that had been built elsewhere in the world, such as those of ancient Troy, it was a very modest project. The plan was not to build a wall of stone blocks; that would have been impossible, as there were no quarries to supply the stone, no skilled masons to shape and set the blocks, and no one with the engineering skills to design such a wall. Instead, the new city would be defended by a network of ditches, earthen ramparts, and wooden pickets. In some places, the steep slope of the hillside itself would supply an adequate defense.

As modest, or even primitive, as the project would have appeared to a Greek tyrant or an Egyptian temple builder, the first fortifications of Roma were an undertaking on a scale never previously attempted in the region of the Seven Hills. For manpower, Romulus and Remus called upon the dwellers on Asylum Hill who had gone raiding with them, as well as the local youths with whom they had grown up. Few from either group had much experience at the tasks the twins set them. Frequent mistakes and a great deal of wasted effort led to much squabbling at the work site.

Whenever something went wrong, it was Romulus rather than Remus who gave way to fits of anger. He shouted at the workers, threatened them, and sometimes even struck them. The more the workers protested that they were blameless, the more furious Romulus would become, while Remus stood back and watched his brother’s outbursts with barely veiled amusement. It seemed to Potitius, at first, that things were simply getting back to normal, with Romulus showing himself to be the more hot-tempered of the twins and Remus the more easy-going. But after this scene was repeated numerous times-a failure in the fortifications, expressions of outrage from Romulus, the workers protesting their blamelessness, and Remus silently observing the incident-Potitius began to harbor an uneasy suspicion.

He was not alone. Pinarius was also present each day, and there was little that escaped his notice. One afternoon he drew Potitius aside.

“Cousin, this situation cannot go on. I think you should have a word with Remus-unless, of course, you’re the one who’s putting him up to this.”

“What are you talking about, Pinarius?”

“So far, I’ve said nothing to Romulus about my suspicions. I have no wish to make more trouble between the twins.”

“Speak plainly!” said Potitius.

“Very well. There have been too many problems with the construction of these fortifications. The men may not be skilled builders, but they’re not stupid. Nor are they all such shirkers and cowards that none of them would take responsibility for an honest mistake. Yet mistakes keep happening, with no one to take the blame. Romulus grows more vexed every day, while Remus can barely contain his laughter. A bit of harmless mischief is one thing. Deliberate treachery is another.”

“Are you saying that someone is sabotaging the construction?”

“Perhaps it’s nothing more than a series of practical jokes. The intention may be to infuriate Romulus, but the harm goes beyond that. Romulus is being made to look foolish. His authority is being undermined. The morale of the men is being damaged. Someone very clever is behind this. Is it you, cousin?”

“Of course not!”

“Who, then? Someone close to Remus-someone who can speak to him freely-needs to discuss this matter very seriously with him. Not I; he thinks I’m Romulus’s man. Perhaps you should talk to him, cousin?”

“And accuse him of treachery?”

“Use whatever words you think best. Just make sure that Remus understands that this situation must not continue.”

But when Potitius spoke to Remus-in a very careful and roundabout way, accusing him of nothing but suggesting that someone was hampering the progress of the fortifications-Remus shrugged off the idea. “Who would do such a thing? Certainly no one that I can think of. But have you considered, good Potitius, that the whole project is cursed? If there’s a will at work to thwart construction, might it not be a will other than human?”

Potitius shook his head. “Everything was done to appease the numina and appeal to the gods for their blessing. You yourself invoked Mavors and Vesta-”

“Yes, but was the original divination properly conducted?”

Potitius felt personally affronted. “The contest for sighting the vultures was soundly conceived. I called upon every principle of divination I learned in Tarquinia-”

“I find no fault with you, Potitius, or with your skills as a haruspex. But were the vultures properly-and honestly-counted? If not, then the selection of the Palatine was based upon a falsehood, and the city conceived by my brother Romulus is an offense to the gods-who have ways of making their will known.”

Potitius shook his head. “But if you believe this, Remus-”

“I didn’t say I believe it. I only suggest it as a possibility. It’s at least as credible as your suggestion that someone is maliciously causing damage. Again I ask you, Potitius: Who would do such a thing? Who would wish to stir up so much trouble, and have the daring and the guile to do so?”

Remus raised an eyebrow and gave him an indulgent smile to show that, as far as he was concerned, his friend’s idea had been put to rest. But Potitius, more uneasy than ever, found himself harboring a new suspicion. He now was certain that Remus had done nothing to hinder the construction, no matter that he showed bitter amusement at his brother’s vexation. If there was a troublemaker among them, a person who said one thing and meant another, who seemed always to have his own ulterior motives, was that person not his cousin Pinarius?

Of this new suspicion, Potitius said nothing. He decided to watch and to wait, and meanwhile to keep silent. Later he would wish that he had spoken out, not only to Remus but to Romulus as well; but perhaps nothing he might have done could have altered the course of events.

Summer came, and with it long, sweltering days. Work on the fortifications proceeded, but slowly and with repeated setbacks. The men grew tired of so much hard work and restless; they wanted to go raiding again. It was on a particularly hot, humid day, when tempers were already short, that the worst of all mishaps occurred.

The men were working along a section of the perimeter where the terrain was largely flat, and therefore required considerable fortification. First a picket wall was constructed in sections. Each section was made of sharpened stakes laid side by side, then lashed together with leather thongs. A narrow trench was dug, into which the picket sections were set upright and secured together, so that when the trench was filled with tightly packed earth the picket wall was steadfast. But Romulus was dissatisfied with the height of the completed wall. Many of the tree trunks and branches that had been used for the pickets were hardly taller than a man, and once they had been buried in the trench they were shorter still; if enough debris-or dead bodies-were to be piled before the wall, an attacker with long legs and strong nerves might dare to leap over the pickets. Along that section, Romulus decided that another layer of defense was called for, so he ordered the men to dig an outer trench, knee-deep, which would be lined with spikes.

Digging was the job the men despised most, especially in the hard, sun-baked earth. They dripped sweat, grumbled under their breaths, and spoke of how much sweeter it would be to mount a horse and go riding with the warm wind in their faces, looking for booty and bloodshed and women.

Suddenly, first in a few places and then along the whole length of the ditch, the bank of earth between the wall and the trench began to crumble. The men had dug too close to the pickets. The packed earth that anchored the wall gave way. All at once, the entire wall tumbled forward, directly on top of the men digging the trench.

Romulus was nearby, discussing the next stretch of fortifications with Remus, Potitius, and Pinarius. At the sound of men screaming, they all came running, and witnessed a scene of despair. The fallen wall was too heavy to be shifted. The men trapped beneath it had to be dragged clear. Where that was impossible, the rescuers set about disassembling the wall, hacking with knives at the leather bindings and pulling the pickets away. Many of the men had been seriously injured, with crushed fingers, broken bones, and cracked skulls. They clutched their wounds and wailed in pain.

Amid the chaos, Potitius saw that Pinarius had drawn Remus aside and was speaking in his ear. Potitius had never seen a look of such fury on Remus’s face. What was Pinarius saying to him?

Potitius drew nearer and overheard Pinarius, who spoke in a hoarse whisper: “It was never my idea, I swear to you! Romulus insisted, and I was afraid to refuse him-”

“I knew it!” cried Remus. “I suspected it, but until now I never knew for sure. The liar!” His knife in his hand, he pushed Pinarius aside and strode toward his brother. Romulus rose from assisting a wounded worker and saw him coming. He blanched at the look on Remus’s face and jumped back.

Remus did not attack him. Instead he pointed to the fallen wall with his knife. “There, brother, do you see what your scheming and your lies have accomplished? Are you happy now?”

Romulus stared back at him, dumbfounded.

“You complained that the wall wasn’t high enough,” said Remus. “Look at it now! Any man could jump over it, even a man with a limp.” He took a running start and bounded over the fallen wall, then turned to taunt Romulus further. “What good is a wall, if it won’t stand up? And why won’t it stand? Because the gods are having a joke on you, brother. You’ve angered them. You can lie to me, you can lie to everyone in Roma, but you can’t deceive the gods. They’re laughing at you, brother, just as I’m laughingatyou!”

“The gods are on my side!” shouted Romulus. “You’re the one who’s been wrecking all my hard work. How dare you commit treachery behind my back, then blame it on the gods? How dare you laugh at me?” Romulus cried out in fury, picked up an iron shovel, and rushed at his brother.

The twins were too evenly matched for the fight to quickly go one way or the other. Since his torture, Remus had become the weaker, but he wielded a superior weapon. Romulus’s anger made him clumsy and he swung the shovel wildly, opening himself to Remus’s knife. The glancing cuts he received made him more furious than before, but also more reckless, and the pain sapped his strength. A few times he managed to strike Remus soundly with his shovel, hitting him across the shoulders and hips hard enough to knock him down, but Remus quickly scrambled up, regained his balance, and deftly wielded his knife. At last Romulus struck a blow to Remus’s hand and the blade went flying through the air.

Romulus raised the shovel and stood poised to strike the defenseless Remus with all his strength. As one, those watching drew a sharp breath. But instead of striking, Romulus cried out and cast the shovel aside. He fell on Remus, reaching for his throat, and the two tumbled to the ground.

Potitius clutched his chest. Until that moment, he had truly feared that one of the brothers might kill the other. But now, locked together and fighting with bare hands, they would surely exhaust their fury and come to their senses. He opened his palms to heaven and whispered a prayer to Hercules. As he mouthed the god’s name, he thought he heard it uttered aloud, and turned to see that Pinarius also stood with open palms, whispering a prayer. But for what outcome did Pinarius pray?

The twins rolled on the ground. The advantage shifted back and forth as they savagely pummeled each other, choked each other, and gouged at one another’s eyes.

That day, it was Remus’s turn to wear the iron crown. It was a tight fit. It stayed on his head throughout the combat, until Romulus suddenly reached for it and wrenched it from his brother’s brow. Remus gave a cry and tried to snatch it back. Each twin gripped the crown with both hands. They twisted this way and that until they struggled to their knees, each pulling with all his might at the circle of iron, which seemed to be suspended motionless in the air between them. Their knuckles turned white. Blood oozed from their fingers’ staining the crown red.

Remus lost his grip. His arms flew up and he fell backward. Romulus likewise recoiled, but scrambled back onto his knees. Before Remus could rise again, Romulus raised the crown high in the air and brought it down with all his strength.

Potitius, who had never ceased his fervent, whispered prayers, heard the shattering of bone beneath the broken flesh. The sound was as sharp and earsplitting as the snapping of a branch on a winter day. The blow to Remus’s head was so powerful that it left a dent the size of a man’s fist in his skull.

Romulus was breathing hard, trembling from exhaustion. He stared at his brother’s ruined face for a moment, then staggered to his feet. He fitted the bloody crown on his head. He circled his brother’s body, stamping and shambling like a drunken man, glaring at the circle of shocked faces around him.

He pointed down at Remus. “There! Do you all see? That is what happens to any man who dares to jump over mywalls!”

Some in the crowd gasped. Some wept. A few, the most ruthless and bloodthirsty of the vagabonds who had come to Roma to seek Asylum, grunted in savage approval. In the background, Potitius heard the wailing of men still trapped beneath the fallen wall.

Potitius saw great oily spots before his eyes and felt light-headed. The moment became unreal. Somehow the waking world had vanished, and this nightmare had taken its place.

Romulus came to an abrupt halt. His shoulders slumped. His gaze followed the line of his own arm down to his bloody, pointing finger, then down to the crushed face of his brother. His chest began to rise and fall convulsively. He threw back his head, dropped to his knees, and let out a wail such as no man present had ever heard before. Men covered their ears to shut it out. Hearing that wail, it seemed to Potitius that his heart ceased to beat and his blood turned to ice.

Romulus collapsed upon his brother’s corpse, weeping uncontrollably.

Potitius averted his face. He found himself looking at Pinarius, who gazed unblinking at the spectacle of Romulus’s grief. More than ever, Potitius knew that he must be in a nightmare, for how could any man look upon the horror of what Romulus had done and react, as did Pinarius, with a faint smile?

Remus was buried at the summit of the Aventine, at the site where he had searched the sky for vultures. Potitius oversaw the funeral rites. Romulus stood among the mourners. He did not weep. Nor did he speak; it was Potitius who delivered the eulogy. Indeed, Romulus would never speak of his brother again, nor, after the funeral, would he ever allow anyone else to speak the name of Remus in his presence.