Empire - Saylor Steven - Страница 23
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As the bearers made their way up the slope of the Palatine, Chrysanthe tried to lighten Titus’s mood with inconsequential speculations. Would the emperor be accompanied by his wife, Caesonia? What would she be wearing? Would their young daughter make an appearance? Titus occasionally grunted in response, but was not listening. The argument with Kaeso had unsettled his nerves. He fell prey to unwelcome thoughts. For days, ever since the summons had arrived, Titus had been telling himself that an imperial audience was a singular honour and a golden opportunity, something to longed for, not feared. Suddenly he felt nervous and uncertain about what to expect. He had heard a great many strange rumours about the emperor.
Caligula had once set sail for Britannia on a mission of conquest, then suddenly turned back and ordered his troops to collect seashells instead, which he paraded before the people and the Senate of Roma as spoils of war, claiming he had conquered the ocean itself; a tavern keeper in the Subura had told Titus this tale, and every man in the tavern had backed him up. An architect’s wife at the market told Chrysanthe that her husband had helped to build a magnificent marble stall and an ivory manger for the emperor’s favourite horse, which Caligula decked out in purple blankets and a collar of precious stones, invited to dinner parties, and addressed as “Consul.”
These stories could almost be laughed at, but others were more disturbing. Caligula had once arranged an oratory competition, and made the losers erase their wax tablets with their tongues. When Caligula fell ill, a man declared that he would gladly sacrifice his own life to save the emperor’s; when Caligula recovered, he reminded the man of his pledge and forced him to commit suicide. At a gladiator show, the number of condemned men to be slain by wild beasts fell short of expectations, and to make up the number Caligula ordered some of the spectators to be thrown into the arena. All these tales were widely told and attested to be true.
Equally widespread was the rumour that Caligula had slept with all three of his sisters, openly practising incest and proudly claiming that he himself was the product of incest between his grandmother Julia and her father, the Divine Augustus.
Titus did not know what to think. Claudius might have helped him make sense of such stories, but Titus and Kaeso had not seen their cousin for over a month. As Messalina’s delivery drew nearer, Claudius had become increasingly reticent and withdrawn, finally confining himself to the imperial residence and accepting no visitors, not even over the Saturnalia holidays. When the twins had received the summons to an audience with Caligula, Titus had dispatched a message to Claudius at once, telling him the news and asking to meet, hoping to receive his cousin’s advice. In response, Claudius sent only a cryptic message: “May Fortune be with you!”
The litters arrived in the gravel forecourt of the imperial house, where numerous other litters had been parked. The courtyard was crowded with idle bearers as well as messengers and slaves whose masters had business within. Though the palace had been greatly expanded since the time of Augustus, the entry for guests was still the doorway flanked by laurel trees, and the courtyard still displayed the armour of the Divine Augustus. As they walked by, Titus dared to touch his fingers to the bronze breastplate. The thrill of excitement at being in this place was so great that it almost dispelled his anxieties.
They had to present themselves to a great many retainers and pass through a great many doors on their way to being received by the emperor. Titus soon lost all sense of direction and had no idea where they were inside the sprawling complex. At last they were shown into a small but exquisitely decorated room with a black marble floor, red drapes, and gilded furniture. The mood was informal. A servant announced the two couples, then invited them to relax on couches opposite that of the emperor, who reclined on his own couch with his wife Caesonia.
As all the stories had indicated, Caesonia was of middle age, but with her large breasts and sumptuous hips she exuded a certain overripe appeal. Her henna-stained hair was coiffed to frame her face like a peacock’s fan. With a forefinger she idly toyed with her necklace of amber and lapis. Her unblinking gaze made Titus nervous.
The sight of the emperor was reassuring, at least at first. At twenty-nine, Caligula was only seven years older than Titus and Kaeso, but his fair hair was already beginning to thin a bit. His features were plain but regular, and his expression was mild, almost vacant. He looked quite normal, Titus thought, except for his eccentric dress. Caligula appeared to be wearing not the boots for which he was named but a woman’s slippers, and the feminine gown called a cyclas embroidered with purple and gold and made of silk. In the days of the Divine Augustus, legislation had been passed outlawing the wearing of silk by men. Yet here was the emperor himself wrapped in the stuff.
“You will address him as Dominus,” the retainer had instructed them in a whisper before they entered the room. This was another way Caligula differed from his predecessors. Both Augustus and Tiberius had explicitly rejected using as a title the word by which slaves addressed their master.
The conversation began well. The twins thanked the emperor for lifting their father’s banishment. Caligula accepted their thanks and demonstrated his acquaintance with their family history and their current circumstances, noting their success in the Alexandrian grain trade despite the unfortunate treatment of their father by Tiberius.
“And so the wheel of time rolls on,” said Caligula, “and here you both are, visitors to the imperial presence as was your father before you. Welcome.”
Titus began to relax. The emperor himself was treating them with friendship and respect. What could be better? He glanced sidelong and caught his brother’s eye. Kaeso looked tense and anxious. His brother needed to learn to relax and to enjoy the benefits that Fortune had bestowed on them.
The audience was interrupted by the appearance of the emperor’s daughter. Little Julia Drusilla was followed by a harried-looking nurse who wore the vestments of a priestess of Minerva. The girl ran shrieking to her father. Titus wondered if something was wrong with the child, but Caligula seemed unperturbed. He opened his mouth and shrieked back at her, then took her in his arms as the two of them screamed with laughter. Father and daughter seemed to be playing a noisy, familiar game. Titus saw his wife and his sister-in-law smile and take an interest, as they tended to do in the presence of any child.
Little Julia Drusilla was thoroughly disheveled, with her golden hair mussed and her gown askew, and once her laughter subsided her petulant mood returned. With a look of alarm, Caligula noted a spot of blood on her tunic.
“What’s this?” he cried.
“It’s another child’s blood,” the priestess quickly explained. “She was playing with some other children -”
“And what happened?” asked Caesonia sharply.
“They looked at me funny, so I scratched their faces!” The little girl made a fearsome face and mimicked the clawing of a cat.
“I was afraid she might blind one of them,” whispered the priestess.
Caligula examined the girl’s hands. “Look at that – she has blood under her tiny fingernails!” He sat back on the couch and clapped his hands. “Good girl! A little she-lion, you are! Well, if ever there was any need for proof that the child is mine – as was doubted by certain gossips now deceased – there’s your proof. Like father, like daughter! By all means, if the other children should offend you, don’t stand for it. Scratch their eyes out! There’s quite a thrill in drawing blood, isn’t there, little one?”
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