Roma.The novel of ancient Rome - Saylor Steven. Страница 50

Titus entered her. He moved inside her. His breath was hot in her ear. A fire was ignited at the very core of her being and radiated outward, building toward an ecstatic release. The rapture reached its pinnacle; the pleasure was so intense, so perfect, how she could doubt the rightness of their union? That she should love Titus must be the will of the gods, which superseded the objections of all petty mortals, including her father.

Afterward, as he was gasping for breath, Titus whispered in her ear. “We must try again. We must go to our fathers and beg them to let us marry. There must be a way to convince them.”

“No! My father will never…” Icilia left the sentence unfinished and shook her head. The sensation of ecstasy quickly waned and was replaced by hopelessness and despair. “Even if he did approve, it wouldn’t matter. The new laws…such a terrible rumor…”

“What are you saying?”

“My brother heard it from his tutor. The new laws from the Decemvirs-they want to outlaw marriage between patricians and plebeians. If that happens, there’s no hope at all!”

Titus clenched his jaw. “I’ve heard the rumor, as well. The whole world conspires against us!” He sighed and kissed her lips.

Icilia stiffened. “Titus, I have to go.”

“Now? Are you afraid Verginia will tell on you?”

“No, but our mothers are with us. They’re probably missing me right now. If-”

Titus silenced her by pressing his mouth over hers and drawing her breath away. But when she pushed against him, he released her. She slipped away from him. Her final touch was a fingertip pressed to the talisman at his breast, and then she was gone.

“Go away, you horrible man!”

Back in the market, Verginia found herself accosted, not for the first time, by the wheedling little man who called himself Marcus Claudius. The creature certainly hadn’t been born a Claudius, she thought; he must have been a slave who took his master’s family name when he was manumitted, as was the custom. Marcus Claudius had the cringing, ingratiating manner of a slave, continuously titling his head to one side as if to duck a blow, licking his lips, and giving her a sidelong leer.

“But why won’t you come, dear girl? He merely wishes to talk to you.”

“I have nothing to say to Appius Claudius.”

“But there’s so much he wants to say to you.”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

“It will take only a moment. He’s just over there.” The man pointed to a building on the far side of the market.

“In the spice shop?”

“He owns it. There’s a cozy little apartment in the upper story. Do you see that window with the shutters ajar? He’s watching you even now.”

Verginia gazed above the awnings of the market, at the building across the way. Bright sunlight made her squint and shield her eyes. Not much of the dark interior of the room could be seen, but she thought she could discern, just barely, a shadowy figure standing at the window.

“Please, go away!” she said. “I shall tell my father-”

“That would be unwise. The Decemvir would not wish it,” said Marcus, emphasizing Appius’s Claudius title. “The Decemvir is a powerful man.”

Verginia was suddenly short of breath. “Do you threaten my father?”

“Not I, young lady, not I! Who is lowly Marcus Claudius, to think he could ever do harm to a great warrior like Verginius? Oh, no, it would take a powerful man to bring about your father’s ruin, a very powerful man, indeed; a Decemvir, perhaps.”

Verginia looked at the window. She could definitely see the shadowy figure of a bearded man.

“Look, do you see?” said Marcus. “He has a gift for you!”

The figure drew closer to the window; its outlines became clearer. The man was holding something. When he extended his hand, a bit of sunlight glittered on the object.

Marcus whispered in her ear. “Do you see it? A pretty gift for a pretty girl-a silver necklace with baubles of lapis lazuli. How pretty those blue jewels would look against your white throat!” The man giggled. “I think he has another gift for you, in his other hand!”

While the figure at the window held up the necklace, his other hand appeared to be pressing and kneading something beneath his tunic, near the middle of his body.

Verginia stifled a cry and tore herself away from Marcus. She ran headlong into Icilia.

“Where have you been?” she cried. “I looked and looked for you, and then that horrible man-”

“Ah, there they are!” Icilia’s mother, standing on tiptoe, called out and waved to them from across the crowd.

“What man?” whispered Icilia.

Verginia looked behind her. Marcus had melted into the crowd. She looked at the window above the spice shop. The shutters were closed.

Then their mothers were upon them, and even if the two girls had wanted to confide in each other, they could not.

A few days later, scrolls containing the first portion of the Twelve Tables were nailed to the posting wall in the Forum.

A great crowd gathered, made up of both patricians and plebeians. A man with good eyes and a clear voice volunteered to read the scrolls aloud so that the rest could hear, including the great majority who could not read. He was frequently interrupted by exclamations and questions, and when he was done, the crowd engaged in a lively discussion in which many voices were raised:

“Clearly, the new laws affirm the traditional rights of the paterfamilias. Very good! For as long as there’s a breath in his body, a man should have control over his wife and his offspring, and over their wives and offspring as well.”

“But what of this right for the head of a household to sell his sons and grandsons into bondage, and later buy them back?”

“It’s already being done, every day. A man falls into debt, so he barters his son for a period of servitude. The new law merely codifies the common practice-and sets a limit on how many times a man can do it, which is a good thing for the sons and grandsons.”

“And what about the law giving freed slaves full rights of citizenship?”

“Why not? As often as not, a slave is the bastard child of his master, the offspring of a slave girl in the household; if the master sees fit to free the bastard, then the fellow ought to become a citizen just like the rest of the man’s sons.”

“Perhaps the Decemvirs haven’t done such a bad job, after all.”

“Now, if only they would see fit to lay down their offices, call back the Senate, and let us elect new consuls!”

“And don’t forget the tribunes of the plebs, the people’s protectors!”

“The people’s bullies, you mean.”

“Please, citizens, please! Let us not be drawn into that old argument! The very purpose of the Twelve Tables is to heal the rifts within the city and allow us to move forward…”

Standing a little away from the crowd, Icilia strained to hear what the men were saying. It would not do for a young woman to stride into their midst or shout a question, yet she was desperate to know if the rumored ban on intermarriage was among the posted laws. She and Verginia had been on their way to the Temple of Fortuna to consult an auspex who would pick a new date for Verginia’s nuptials. Verginius had abruptly been called away on military duty, and the wedding would have to be postponed for at least a month. Their mothers, chattering away, had gotten a little ahead of them, and when Icilia saw the crowd and realized what they were talking about, she begged Verginia to tarry with her for a moment.

“It’s no good,” she finally muttered, shaking her head. “None of them is discussing marriage; it’s all about slavery and powers of the paterfamilias. We can go, now, Verginia. Verginia?”

She looked about. Verginia was nowhere to be seen.

The two mothers had missed them, and were heading back, looking displeased. “Icilia!” cried her mother. “You must keep up. No dawdling! We have too much to do today. Where is Verginia?”