Rome by daylight was sprawling and squalid but still seethed with energy. The earliest settlers had been farmers who built their huts on the hills overlooking the Tiber in order to leave the fertile river valley free for grazing and cultivating. With the passage of time the pastoral settlement had gone through several transformations, becoming a market town for local produce, then a regional market involved in both export and import, then finally the headquarters of a fledgling bureaucracy devoted to managing the wealth of Rome. Now ambassadors and trade delegations from friend and foe alike made frequent visits to the city on the seven hills.
Horatrim noticed other kohl-eyed Aegyptians. Khebet even bowed politely to one, acknowledging recognition though nothing was said between them.
Khebet, it appeared, was a man of few words. He and Severus exchanged an occasional remark, but for the most part he was content to pace sedately beside the others. The only obvious interest he showed was in the new Temple of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva that crowned the stony Capitoline Hill.
“I built that,” Severus said proudly. “Completed it within the time allowed and under budget. Observe the Etruscan-style portico. That was to please Tarquinius, of course.”
Rome was a city of wonders to Horatrim. He had never seen so many people in his life, and he was becoming increasingly aware that each person emitted a distinctive musical sound, a barely audible chime or lilt or even percussive beat. Some were pleasant, others discordant. Because he knew no different, Horatrim assumed that everyone else could hear this music, too.
“Listen!” he exclaimed.
Severus and Khebet stopped and looked at him quizzically.
“Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” asked Severus. The Aegyptian said nothing, merely raised one eyebrow.
“That!” Horatrim insisted, turning his head from side to side. He was trying to identify the direction of the martial music he was hearing, a sound as of trumpets in the air. His gaze fell on a side street just as an unusually tall, strikingly handsome man came striding out into the sunlight. The man, who appeared not much older than himself, walked as if the earth was hardly good enough for him. He was followed by a company of ceremonial bodyguards wearing plumed helmets and carrying highly polished spears at a uniform angle. They too moved with arrogance and grace.
The tall man’s eyes met Horatrim’s. They were a clear green with no gentleness in them. Theirs was the look of an eagle. They examined the young man, then flickered across Severus and the Aegyptian … and dismissed them.
He strode past and was gone.
“Who was that, Severus?” Horatrim wanted to know. The force of the tall man’s personality had jolted him across the space between them. “And wasn’t he … splendid!”
“Him? He’s Lars Porsena, a prince of Clusium.”
“Clusium?”
“Hill country in Etruria, which makes him one of your own in a manner of speaking. He’s visiting the king as head of a trade delegation. My brother knows him; Propertius knows everybody.”
“A prince,” murmured Horatrim, “from Etruria.” He turned to watch the bodyguard march away up the street. They were tautly muscled, clean-shaven, well-drilled. He thought them more impressive than the Romax … Romans. “Were you ever a warrior?” he asked Severus.
“Me? I’m not such a fool as to be willing to lay down my life for someone else.”
“But surely to be a warrior is a noble calling.”
“I’m a senator. We do battle in a different way. When it comes to physical combat I prefer to be a spectator. I go to the arena whenever there’s a performance scheduled and wager on my favorite fighter—or the bear—but I have no interest in risking my personal hide.”
Eyes fixed on the fast-disappearing Lars Porsena and his men, Horatrim said, “I think I would like to be a warrior.”
“You’re a bit late. The Etruscans have lost their enthusiasm for warfare.”
The young man smiled almost dreamily. “We might find it again.”
“Better not let the king hear you say that. Our Tarquinius boasts of his noble Etruscan forebears, but he’s really a Roman at heart. He truly believes the accident of having been born here makes him superior to anyone else, be they Hellenes or Carthaginians or even Etruscans. The welcome he gives trade delegations is all on the surface, good business for the city. If Lars Porsena or his warriors so much as waved a spear out of turn they would never see Etruria again.
“And speaking of Tarquinius … since we’ve come to a particularly steep street, why don’t you show us what you mean about laying paving, so I can discuss it with the king?”
They spent the early afternoon wandering around Rome. The Aegyptian, Horatrim eventually learned, held an exalted position in his own country. “I am a priest of Anubis, the Jackal God,” Khebet elaborated, briefly breaking his silence.
Severus took up the conversation. “Aegyptian priests are experts in mathematics, the science of numbers. They build quite remarkable temples by relying upon complex calculations no one here understands. Propertius knows Khebet through his trade connections in Aegypt, so he arranged for him to come and work with me for a time, instructing my men.”
Khebet gave a faint smile, the merest tightening of his lips over his teeth. “In return you pledged sacrifices to Anubis, remember.”
“Yes, yes, of course!” Severus hastily assured him. “Bounteous sacrifices, just as we agreed.”
As they continued their stroll Severus called Horatrim’s attention to the situation of various streets and asked for comment. In responding, the young man displayed a knowledge of construction that led the Roman to remark, “You certainly learned a lot in the cities of Etruria.”
“I’ve never seen the cities of Etruria.”
Severus’s jaw dropped. Then he grinned. “Surely you jest with me.”
“It’s no jest. I was born and raised in the Great Forest. Rome is the only city I’ve ever seen.”
“But that’s simply not possible! How could you concoct such ideas out of nothing?”
“They don’t come out of nothing. I … it’s difficult to explain this, Severus. But I simply know these things. And sometimes I hear voices.”
Khebet turned and gave him a penetrating look.
“Doesn’t everyone hear voices?” Horatrim asked, surprised by the expression on the Aegyptian’s face. “They tell me what to do. Sometimes,” he added ruefully, thinking of the girl Livia.
Severus hardly knew how to react. On rare occasions, perhaps once in a generation, someone produced a totally new idea. He had heard of such god-gifted geniuses, though he had never met one himself. Yet if Horatrim spoke the truth he was one of that number. “If your knowledge originates in your own head,” he told Horatrim, only half-joking, “we must be careful to see that no one chops it off.”
Late afternoon found them approaching an expanse of damp, rat-infested waste ground in the valley between the Palatine and Capitoline Hills. Here was dumped every sort of rubbish from oyster shells and dead dogs to aborted infants. Around the perimeter stood an assortment of makeshift shacks, some little more than rotten planks leaning against each for support like drunkards leaving a tavern.
Horatrim remarked, “If this were drained you could build decent houses here. Or a market square or even some fine public building.”
“How would you suggest draining it?”
The young man squatted on his haunches, picked up a stick from the ground, and began drawing diagrams in the mud. Severus and Khebet leaned over his shoulder, watching. From time to time the Aegyptian gave a murmur of approval.
His first diagram concluded, Horatius went on, “As for the river, I am surprised you have no substantial bridge across it. Surely it would be to the city’s advantage to unite both banks by something wider and more stable than that flimsy wooden structure you have now. Look here. You could span the Tiber like this, starting at this point, using arches for support …”
Lost in his work, he dre
w furiously as the two men watched him in silent amazement.
At last Severus found the voice to say, “I want you to work for me, Horatrim. In fact, I insist upon it.”
“Work for you? Why?”
“I’m the king’s personal builder, his architect. When Tarquinius wants something constructed he commissions me to draw up the plans and contract materials and labor. There’s always a nice profit to be made; he never questions the costs I quote him. No business head at all,” Severus added with a wink. “While you, my young friend, have a quite remarkable head. If you’re willing to come up with ideas exclusively for my firm, I will reward you handsomely. Very handsomely.” He winked again.
“You want to buy my ideas?” Horatrim asked incredulously.
“Something like that, yes. An arrangement rather than a purchase however; one that would benefit us both. You would be apprenticed to me to learn the building trade, and in time you might even have a share of the business. A very small share, of course. What do you think?”
A short time ago Horatrim had been a primitive child living in the Great Forest. Now he was being accepted as a man and offered work of importance in the city of Rome.
For one wild moment he almost laughed, but he was afraid they would misunderstand. With an effort he kept his face serious. “My mother foresaw this, Severus. She said my future was here, though neither of us had ever been here and we did not even know any Romans. But she insisted we come. You know the rest.”
The older man gave a low whistle. “She is obviously a great seer. But for great seers to survive, they must temper their pronouncements with discretion. I wonder what she’ll foresee for our Tarquinius.”
As the day wore on the three men were too preoccupied to think of food. Only when a bank of dark clouds swept in over the river did Severus realize how late it was. “We had better go back to my brother’s now, Horatrim. If I don’t deliver you in time for dinner he’ll suspect I’ve kidnapped his guest or begin charging me for your time.”
When they reached the house, the first person Horatrim saw was Livia. The Roman girl was sitting casually by the door as if she had just paused there for a moment. In truth, she had spent an impatient day awaiting the young man’s return. At sight of her, all of Horatrim’s plans and designs went out of his head. Once more his inner voices failed to guide him, but he was beginning to feel more confident.
I can do this myself, he thought.
But when he attempted to strike up a conversation with the girl over dinner, the presence of so many other people in the room was a serious distraction. Severus was talking to Propertius; Khebet was wandering around the room, thoughtfully stroking his chin and ignoring everyone else; Delphia was instructing the steward; other slaves were preparing the table and couches for the evening meal; Livia’s younger brothers and sisters were scampering back and forth or hovering close, giggling whenever Horatrim paused to talk to the girl, laughing aloud when she tried to open the conversation. There was no such thing as privacy.
“Is there somewhere else where we can talk, Livia?” he finally asked with an air of desperation.
“We could always go outside, but it’s getting dark and the air smells of rain. Rain will ruin my hair.” She patted her carefully arranged curls and smiled disingenuously. “You wouldn’t want to see these disarranged, would you?”
“Ah, no. Of course not. They are … beautiful. But … is there no place else? Inside?”
“Only the sleeping chambers, and I share mine with my two sisters. If we go there they will come after us immediately out of curiosity.”
“This is no way to construct a house.”
Livia’s laughter was gently mocking. “I suppose you know a better one?”
Now they came to him unbidden, singing through his blood.
“A house should be built around an unroofed courtyard so it forms a hollow square,” said Horatrim, echoing his inner voices, hands moving to shape the design. “The exterior wall is blank, but every room opens onto the courtyard which lets light and air into the interior.”
He could see it so clearly; as clear as a personal memory. “The house is two houses, really. The front portion is the public one, with a large reception area rather like your main room now, only much more elegant and comfortable. To provide additional light to this space there is an opening in the center of the ceiling. The tiled roof above slopes down on all four sides, throwing rainwater through spouts into a marble pool set in the center of the floor. This gives a sense of coolness and peace, while the reflection of the sky in the water provides an ever-changing work of art.”
The girl was looking at him wide-eyed. The young man’s voice had deepened, become stronger, more commanding, with the faintest hint of an accent.
“Off the principal reception area are chambers for dining or playing games and dice, whatever entertainments the host wants to provide for his guests. Or in fine weather he may take them into the courtyard, which has a columned portico down either side. Behind this portico are the servants’ quarters, readily accessible to either part of the building. The rear half of the house comprises the private residence, with ample apartments and bathing facilities. Here the women of the family can enjoy themselves while the men conduct business and entertain clients at the front. The entire structure is light, airy, spacious, and affords total privacy within, no matter how busy the streets beyond its walls,” Horatrim concluded.
He was so rapt in his vision he was unaware of Delphia, who had abandoned her task and come to stand slightly behind Livia. She listened to him with fascination. When he stopped speaking she turned and called, “Propertius, come over here at once! This young man has just described the perfect house. Every matron in Rome is going to want one like this. I know I do. You must build it for us, Severus.”
After that Horatrim had no opportunity for a private conversation with Livia. The evening was spent with Severus and Khebet extracting every bit of construction information they could from him, while Propertius insisted on talking about how best to market the design and how much money could be made building the houses.
When everyone was exhausted and a yawning Severus finally announced he was going home, Propertius said abruptly, “We will expect a sixty percent share of the profits of this venture, of course.”
Severus was suddenly wide awake. “What do you mean, we? Horatrim’s going to be working for me. I’m the builder.”
A bland smile spread across Propertius’s face. “So you are. But while you were wandering around the city today, I paid a little visit to the royal palace. The king is delighted with Vesi. He believes having his own personal oracle will enhance his stature enormously; and when I pointed out that I had found her for him, he was in a humor to grant me any reasonable request.”
“And you made a reasonable request?”
“I asked to be allowed to adopt Vesi’s son.”
Horatrim turned to look at Propertius.
“Horatrim is henceforth to be known as Horatius Cocles, and this family is entitled to share in whatever he earns. As paterfamilias, I demand you pay him sixty percent.”
“Fifty.”
“Fifty-five.”
“Done!” cried Propertius. With a grin, he turned to Horatius. “Welcome to my family!”
THIRTY-ONE
The hour was late; the rain had long since blown over.
Horatrim was sharing a stifling cubicle off the main room with Propertius’s sons. Three were much younger boys. The fourth, Quintus, was a sullen fellow of his own age who resented having so suddenly acquired a new brother.
They slept on pallets on the floor in order to be cooled by any stray draught of air, but no air was stirring. Only Horatrim’s thoughts were churningly active. Horatius Cocles, he kept saying to himself. I have become a Roman!
For a while that evening he had feared Propertius and Severus would come to blows, but eventually they had struck upon a mutually acceptable arrangement. Horatrim was certain each man privately thou
ght he had the better deal. No one asked the new Horatius what he wanted.
So much had happened to him so fast, the old patterns were breaking down. Childhood was sloughing away like dead skin. He could not sleep, there was no point in trying. He wanted … he needed … when he ran his hand down the length of his body there was an immediate stirring in his groin.
He arose from the pallet, wearing only the tunic in which he had slept, and went out into the main room of the house. The front door stood invitingly ajar. He stepped outside. And found Livia. As he knew he would.
She was there, leaning her back against the wall beside the door as she gazed up into a star-spangled sky. She was aware of him but did not look around, allowing him the pleasure of looking at her.
She wore a shift of sheer Aegyptian cotton, exposing her arms to the shoulder and her legs almost to her groin. He could smell quince-seed pomade on her hair. He was achingly aware of her, an unsettling experience for one who had so recently been a child.
“You came to us a stranger, yet now you are my brother,” Livia remarked. “You will live here with us. Your fortune is assured, and with that fortune your place in the Senate. Using your ideas, father and uncle plan to bring new glory to Rome. Furthermore, work will soon begin on a new house for us with a private apartment of my own where I can entertain you.” She spiced this last remark with a mischievous grin.
“How? I mean, entertain me how?”
She gave her trilling laugh. “Not with games or dice. Surely we can find something much more pleasurable.” Turning toward him, she ran one speculative fingertip along his arm. A thread of invisible flame sprang up in the wake of her touch. With languid grace she tilted forward to lean on Horatrim instead of the wall. For a moment he staggered, more from surprise than the weight of her body. He could feel the heat of her flesh through the fabric of her shift. Then his arms closed around her and he held her close. When she lifted her face to his, her breath smelled of wine and honey.
Horatrim had never exchanged a kiss with a woman. He only knew how to plant a childish pucker on his mother’s cheek. But Livia allowed him no time to be awkward. She pulled her arms free of his embrace, cupped the back of his head with her hands, and pressed her open mouth to his.
Etruscans Page 18
