Empire - Saylor Steven - Страница 47

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When the herald spoke, the crowd’s hopes were dashed. “The Senate has debated the issue which concerns you. The Senate has reached it judgement. The law will be upheld. The sentence will be carried out. Caesar admonishes you for this unseemly and threatening behaviour. This gathering is declared unlawful. You are hereby ordered to disperse at once!”

The mob reacted with howls of protest. More stones were hurled. Some landed near the herald, who quickly retreated.

More torches were passed though the crowd and set alight. The sight of so many flames was alarming. What were these people thinking, to use fire as a threat? An open flame was a force no man could control; fire could sweep anywhere, destroy anything if its power was unchecked. In the last years of the Republic, the Senate House itself had been incinerated by an angry mob. The Divine Augustus had rebuilt it in greater splendour. Was it now to be burned again?

Scanning the crowd, Titus suddenly spotted a familiar face. Hackles rose on the back of his neck. It was Kaeso. His brother was part of the mob. No, not a mere participant, but some sort of ringleader! Kaeso was brandishing a torch in the very faces of the Praetorians protecting the Senate steps, waving with his other arm and yelling encouragement to those around him.

Titus shook his head. Just as he had harboured the false hope of receiving the accolades of his fellow senators for making a fine speech, so he had been looking forward to telling Kaeso what he had done, to let his brother know that he was not such an unfeeling fellow after all, in fact that he had done something rather courageous, especially considering his position in society. What a change that would have been, to receive some approval, even praise from Kaeso! But here was Kaeso, spoiling things, as always, not just taking part in the demonstration but yelling louder than anyone else and making a spectacle of himself. Titus cringed; what if one of his fellow senators noticed Kaeso in the crowd, took a good look at him, and despite the shaggy beard and wild-eyed expression noted his resemblance to Titus and realized who he was? If the other senators knew that his brother was one of the leaders of the mob, Titus would be mortified.

Suddenly his brother looked back at him. Kaeso’s reaction at seeing him exactly matched that of Titus on seeing Kaeso. He blanched, looked shocked and appalled, then disgusted and angry. The twins stared at each other for a long moment, as if looking into a distorting mirror. Then, as neither could bear to look at the other a moment longer, at the same instant they turned their gazes elsewhere.

Soon the tramp of marching feet echoed through the Forum. Having failed to quell the mob with his edict, Nero had summoned more Praetorians from their garrison outside the city. As the ranks of grim-faced soldiers converged with swords drawn, many in the crowd panicked and fled at once. Others pulled back reluctantly, throwing rocks as they withdrew. A few dared to stand up to the Praetorians, wielding their bludgeons and torches.

Titus looked for Kaeso, but he had disappeared in the surging crowd.

To reinforce the Praetorians, Nero also called up the vigiles, the troop of trained firefighters first organized by Augustus. The vigiles also acted as night watchmen and sometimes apprehended runaway slaves. They wore leather helmets instead of armour and carried firefighter’s pickaxes, not swords, but their discipline made them more than a match for the shopkeepers and labourers in the crowd.

A few heads were broken and some blood was spilled, but soon the mob dispersed. While the vigiles extinguished the abandoned torches scattered around the Forum, the Praetorians regrouped and headed for the house of Pedanius, where the slaves were being kept under guard.

Within the hour, the slaves were driven to the place of execution outside the city, with Praetorians lining the entire route to forestall any interference. Normally the crucifixions would have been a public event – the larger the crowd, the better, for the purpose of moral instruction – but once the slaves were outside the walls, the Praetorians closed the Appian Gate and diverted all traffic from the Appian Way.

The crucifixions were carried out with no spectators. The work went on through the day and into the night.

The next morning, with Praetorians still patrolling the area, the Appian Gate and the Appian Way were reopened for traffic. For travellers arriving from the south, their first view of the city’s outskirts was the grisly display of Roman justice that lined the road. From within the city a steady stream of citizens came to witness the fate of the 400 slaves of Pedanius. Some gawked, speechless. Some muttered angry words. Some wept.

The crucified bodies remained on display for many days. Most of the senators found time to go and take a look at their handiwork, including Gaius Cassius Longinus, who cursed the failing eyesight that prevented him from beholding the full splendour of Roman justice.

Titus Pinarius did not go to see the crucifixions. He tried to forget everything that had happened that terrible day in the Senate House.

Before dawn on a warm morning in the month of the Divine Julius, in his house on the Aventine Hill, Titus Pinarius awoke with the smell of smoke in his nostrils.

“Hilarion!” he called.

Chrysanthe stirred beside him. “What’s happening?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, my dear. Go back to sleep.”

Young Hilarion appeared at the door. The former doorkeeper had become one of Titus’s favourite slaves; that was why Titus called for Hilarion by name, rather than simply clapping his hands to summon whichever slave was nearest.

Over the last three years or so – since the Pedanius affair – Titus had made a point of actually looking at his slaves, learning to tell them apart, paying attention to their idiosyncrasies, and even learning all their names. Every slave owner in Roma had taken a closer look at his human possessions in the aftermath of Pedanius’s murder, and Titus had made a conscious decision to treat his slaves with more care. He told himself this was not a sign that he was growing soft with age (he was only forty-six, after all); he was simply being prudent. Did not a well-treated horse or dog return the investment of its master’s kindness with better and longer service? Why should it not be so with the people one owned?

Among his slaves, Titus had taken special notice of Hilarion. The young man was not only presentable, being easy to look at and always well groomed, but was quick-witted and uncannily deft at anticipating his master’s needs. Titus had taken to calling on Hilarion for almost everything, and so, waking with the smell of smoke in his nostrils, it was Hilarion’s name that sprang to his lips.

“Yes, Master?” Hilarion spoke softly, in deference to his dozing mistress.

“Do you smell it, too?” Titus whispered

“Yes, Master. Smoke. It’s not coming from inside the house. I woke some of the other slaves and we checked everywhere. It’s not from close-by, either. I sent two of the messenger boys to circle the neighbourhood, and they saw no signs of fire.”

“That’s a relief. Good for you, Hilarion. That was very responsible of you.

“Thank you, Master.”

“Still, there’s definitely smoke in the air. I think the smell is getting stronger.”

“I think you’re right, Master.”

“Did you go on the roof?”

“Not yet, Master.” Hilarion averted his eyes. The young man seemed to have a fear of heights. Ah well, no slave was perfect.

“Bring the ladder to the garden.” Titus rose from his bed, groaning as he stretched his limbs. “I shall climb up myself.”

Chrysanthe, keeping her eyes shut, murmured, “Make one of the slave boys do it.”

“I think not, my dear. If there’s something to be seen, I want to see it with my own eyes. But I’m sure I’ll see nothing. Go back to sleep.”

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