It wasn't about the countless dishes, always perfectly presented and solemnly feted by dozens of scantily - if any - clad slaves of both sexes, or asexuals.
Nor was it the conversation, boringly polite, sporadic, and humorless; nor entertainment, reduced to repetitive series of boats in the emperor's favorite style, both in Greek and Latin, recited by a horribly smug lyre, self-confident in his own talent and, above all, certain imperial considerations. Even the vulgarity of the scale of the feast - thirty three-seater sofas and as many low tables arranged in a horseshoe around the artist - would be forgivable (since it had already become the norm during Nero's reign).
None of these things made Titus Flavius Sabinus find it hard to endure every moment in this swarm and pray to Mithra that it would finally be over. There was a completely different kind of factor involved:fear.
The emperor is terrifying
Fear covered the room like an invisible gladiator's web , pressed to the floor with lead weights; the retiarius who had dropped her was already pulling the strings and the trap was keeping everyone in reach, giving them no chance to escape. Most of the guests caught it, though none wanted to show it; recently, after four and a half years of Nero's rule, Rome's elite began to understand that the signs of fear were only an incentive for the emperor to worsen excesses.
It wasn't always like that. At the beginning of his reign, the ruler knew how to restrain himself - at least in public - although had already raped and poisoned his foster brother Britain, the rightful successor of Emperor Claudius who was omitted from the succession because of his too young age. This crime - at least its fratricidal part - could nevertheless be justified by political necessity:a living Briton could become a symbol of opposition and potential conflict. It was argued that his death prevented another civil war, so it was a sacrifice for the public good - so the people eagerly turned a blind eye to the boy's murder just before his fourteenth birthday and entering manhood.
The article is an excerpt from the novel Vespasian. Roman Furies , which has just been released on the market by Rebis
Having killed his only serious rival - and a few minor ones - Nero devoted himself to a life of luxury the rule of the empire is left mainly to the former teacher and now advisers, Lucius Anneus Seneca, and the prefect of the Praetorian Guard, Sextus Afranius Burrus. Sam preferred to devote his time to two of his passions:chariot racing and chanting - with all discretion, of course.
It was inconceivable for a patrician, much less a ruler, to engage in public with any of these common hobbies, good at best for a liberator and a slave. Nero was aware of the dignity of the royal position and did not reveal such primitive taste to anyone except the strictest circle of trustees on the Palatine. To Roman citizens, the Golden Emperor, as they liked to call their princeps, first among equals, with a hair the color of dawn, was a just and generous ruler - as evidenced by the wonderful games and public feasts he provided for them. He was officially married to Claudia Octavia, the daughter of Claudius, and led himself as befits a dignified Roman devoted to tradition - the fact that the marriage was incestuous was quickly forgotten, also pro publico bono - under this respectable facade, however, something completely different was hidden.
People from the emperor's close circle already knew that he alone could control his behavior; but if he did not, it was his law. Seneca and Burrus, who together undertook the task of forming the young princeps into a moderate and just monarch, were unable to curb the lusts that had grown in him for twenty-one years .
And they were huge.
Too great to be satisfied by a young, patrician stiff wife, now resting on his left with an expressionless gaze that has not been animated for the past four years - that is, since her husband humiliated her by taking the liberator to bed and her without giving him a chance to give birth to a heir. However, even the charms of that Acte were not enough to satisfy the young man who understood that he could do whatever he pleased with whomever he chose.
It was becoming clear, however, that his preferences were varied. Summoning the cream of Rome to sumptuous feasts almost without warning, though troublesome for many, was one of the innocent games; however, there were also darker pastimes that Nero liked even more. One of them, Sabinus guessed, seeing Tigellinus, the Prefect of the Christmas Eve approaching, the emperor intends to give up later. Once again.
The dark-eyed, sharp-faced prefect leaned close to his ear.
"Quirky, from four o'clock," he whispered, and with a smile similar to the grinning teeth of a mad dog, patted him on the cheek before walking away.
Nero went down in history as a cruel emperor
Titus sighed, reached for the goblet, tilted it down in one gulp, and held it out to a naked boy, smeared with silver lacquer, behind the sofa. The slave obligingly filled the vessel. Titus turned to his plump neighbor and softly said:
"You should rush home, Uncle, as soon as the feast is over ... if we ever get to see it." He wants to go out tonight again. Tigellin has just informed me that the Christmas Eve will not patrol the Quirinal after the fourth hour of the night ... except of course one that will protect Nero.
Sabinus' uncle, Gaius Vespasius Pollo, pushed a carefully curled lock from his blackened eyebrow and looked at his nephew, clearly concerned about the removal of the night watch from his neighborhood.
- Quirinal again, my boy? He groaned. - We haven't recovered from his madness a month ago there yet!
Titus nodded, thoughtfully lifting the cup to his lips.
–Two houses and a tenement house burned to the ground, several rapes, countless injuries and fractures, several murders and Julius Montanus' forced suicide for daring to defend himself, attacked, he thought, by a slave in an idiotic wig.
- Exactly! Gaius' pendulous cheeks and chin rippled in an agitated grimace as he reached for another anchovy patty. - The Senator is ordered to take his own life, though he hurried to apologize when he realized that the thug he had overpowered was indeed the Emperor. That's too much. She has been doing that for a year. How much longer are we going to put up with such things?
The patty completely disappeared in his mouth.
-You know the answer:as long as Nero forces us to do so. This is how he imagines entertainment, and with his friends, Oton and other bulls, getting him on to a hike, it can only get worse.
Sabinus glanced at the tall, well-built, and very handsome man sprawled on the sofa at the Emperor's right hand. Three years older than Nero, Marcus Salvius Oton was his lover since the future ruler was ten years old.
- And in this situation it is you, my boy, as the city prefect responsible for law and order in Rome, you look like a fool - Gaius noticed and joined the stormy applause started by Nero, who cried with emotion after hearing the last declamation.
-You know perfectly well that I can't help it! Sabinus raised his voice over the applauding clamor. "Tigellin warns me from where he will withdraw the patrols, so that I may in turn set up a centuria of the city cohort there, in case the emperor needs to be quickly removed from there or his exploits have led to a riot." This is called trying to minimize violence.
-What! Gaius snorted contemptuously and reached for the patty again. - The more a row develops from it, the more he is happy, because it is more fear for us. And Nero the safer he feels, the more we fear him, and so does Tigellin. Fortunately, I have the four Tigran boys wait, they will escort me home. Another thing is that since he took over command of the Southern Quirinal Brotherhood from Magnus, this favor costs me more ... and all because you are not doing your duty.
Outrageous private life
The confusion at the far end of the room saved Titus from an impetuous retort; to the outrage of most of those present - not very successfully concealed - entered the imperial concubine Acte, dressed, curled and covered with jewels in fair taste (nothing surprising in someone who had recently gained money and position). She paused for a moment, letting her servants - also exaggerated, nouveau riche-numerous - unnecessarily straighten her dress, the piled up elaborate blonde bun, and decidedly too gaudy makeup. She looked haughtily around the room, stopped her gaze at Nero and, having slapped a few slaps from the slaves, sailed towards him.
The feasters fell silent in tension. All eyes turned to the empress.
"I feel it's time for me, my dearest husband," said Klaudia Oktawia, gracefully getting up from the sofa. - I got a smell of something that is harmful to me. I'd better go to bed until the stomach sensation is over.
Without waiting for her husband's consent (Nero did not even hear her, absorbed in the transparency of Acte's robe, under which she did not put anything else), Claudia, stiffly upright, exuding patrician dignity, left the feast hall.
Neron as Apollo
"Many are on her side," Gaius whispered to his nephew. - For example, Calpurnius Piso, Trazea Petus, the greatest gloomy among the Roman Stoics, or Fenius Rufus.
While Nero ostentatiously greeted his lover, and she made sure that everyone saw what favors he was enjoying, Sabinus looked at the three middle-aged senators seating the sofa opposite. They looked at this evidence of disapproval of the daughter of the former emperor by such a tasteless, crude sexual acrobat with gloomy disapproval. Their wives, occupying an adjoining sofa, were demonstratively averted from such an affront to female pride.
"I was looking at Fenius's annual report," he said. "Looks like he didn't get rich as a food prefect." Oh, a few bribes here and there.
"He always had a reputation for being painfully honest," Gaius muttered. - Morality and views as in the old republic. It's more of Cato, not Crassus. As for Piso and Trazei, the gods only know what these two must make of the Emperor's treatment of Claudius' daughter, even if her father was a drooling fool. And their opinions about Nero's nocturnal escapades I would not even try to imagine ... in your place.
Titus said nothing, focusing his attention on the wine cup. Mars on his forehead he listened to another ode, depressed that he was unable to maintain security in the better quarters of Rome. Since he was dismissed - almost two years ago - from the function of governor of the provinces of Moesia, Macedonia and Thrace, and unexpectedly entrusted with the prefecture of Rome and oversight of the city's daily affairs, he tried unsuccessfully to determine whose protection he owed this office. Neither uncle nor brother Vespasian were able to help him. The benefactor remained anonymous. Naturally, Sabinus felt uncomfortable not knowing whose debtor he was and when he had to pay out
, but he did enjoy the nomination and the prestige it gave him:he was one of the five most influential people in the city, after the emperor, has understand - at least officially.
Unofficially, several others had better access to the ruler's ear than he, especially Seneca, Burrus and the consuls, but the most important in this group were Oton and Tigellin. Technically, Sabinus was the superior of the latter - the eve, like the city cohorts, were subordinate to the prefect of the city - but he had virtually no control over him.
Tigellinus, shameless and depraved, easily crept into the favors of the emperor, in whom he immediately recognized a kindred soul ; it was he who held Britain down when Nero penetrated him during that unfortunate, last boy's feast. The impossibility of disciplining a subordinate deprived the dignity of a prefect in all its splendor. Titus felt it looked to the Romans as if he was permitting acts of violence, more frequent lately, as more and more youths took the Emperor's street frenzy to encourage such excesses.
"After this recent conversation, I assume ..." a voice from behind broke in Sabinus's mind, "... I suppose you can call it that?" No, you can't, you didn't say a word to Tigellinus, did you, Prefect? So let's assume it was an order. Yes, your subordinate gave you the order. So I assume Nero is leaving again today.
"Watch it, Seneko," Titus replied without even looking back.
–That is another triumph of Roman law and public order. I wonder if I was right to accept a very serious bribe to approve your nomination. Perhaps, for the common good, it was necessary to settle for a smaller amount and choose someone more competent.
Sabinus didn't budge.
-When did you do anything for the common good? He muttered.
- Harsh words, Sabinus. And who has been holding back the emperor's actions for the past few years?
-You can barely do it. You probably enjoy making fun of me as the city prefect. And if you did, who bribed you on my behalf?
“I have already told you that, as a man of strict morals, I could not reveal such confidential information, at least without adequate… what is the best way to call it… encouragement. Oh right. Incentives. Anyway, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. It's about your query.
- Ah yes? The Prefect was still sitting motionless, not looking at the interlocutor.
- Yes. Consul posts are already occupied…
–Buyed, you want to say.
- Do not be funny. The emperor does not have to buy offices.
–What a pity for your purse.
-I'll let it go on deaf ears. Your son-in-law can expect this feature in three years at the earliest and the price is non-negotiable:two million sesterces.
- Two million! This is twice the threshold to enter the Senate!
Nero organized huge feasts.
Now Sabinus turned, but all he could see was the back of Seneca walking away. He watched Nero's chief advisor move closer to Marcus Valerius Messala Corvinus, his and Vespasian's sworn enemy, since he had kidnapped Sabinus' wife, Clementine, and handed her over to Caligula, who had repeatedly and brutally raped her . His agitation at the height of Seneca's request was overwhelmed at once, pushed out by his curiosity.
-What Korwin wants to get from Seneca, uncle? He asked.
–Uhm… what?
Titus repeated the question.
–Lucrative province under management. Apparently he is trying to get Lusitania, and this is for the gains from the garum taxation. You can imagine the money you make with fish sauce.
–Where is he taking the money for the bribe then?
- No problem. If Korwin is willing to pay usury interest, Seneca will credit it to him. Provided, of course, that Korwin finds a suitable guarantor. It costs money too, but it will pay off if he gets Lusitania.
Internal games
And that's how it works, thought Titus:The only thing Seneca wants to do is make a fortune in his position, which must be quietly amusing the few who have read his philosophical treatises. But that's nothing special, after all. His predecessor Pallas, a major supporter of the Flavian family during the reign of Claudius and in the first years of Nero's reign, made a huge fortune as the imperial most trusted adviser, before falling out of favor simultaneously with his mistress, Nero's mother, Agrippina . The exiled man was now in his country estates; his time of influence in imperial politics is over. Pallas fared better than Narcissus, whom he had maneuvered out of office - this one was executed, despite his wealth, or perhaps because of it, as you might guess.
Seeing no other way to collect the sum required for arranging the consulate for his son-in-law, Lucius Cesennius Petus, than to borrow from Seneca himself (which was not an option at all), Sabinus thought back to the point from which he was distracted that afternoon by the summons to the feast to the emperor. . Some of the city prefect's duties required less effort than others. One of the nicer ones was the interrogation of prisoners who posed a threat to the security of the empire ; and when the person in question was no longer a Roman citizen, which meant more freedom for the prefect, the thing turned into a real pleasure. In this case, the matter was so much sweeter that it was not necessarily a matter of national importance:the man had been sent by Vespasian for imprisonment and questioning; in this way he reciprocated some favor, though which and to whom, Titus had no idea.
Nero's hoarse voice broke him out of his reverie, breaking through the storm of applause as the song finally ended.
- Friends! I wish we had more time to savor this special gift of the gods. The ruler raised his hand to the sky and looked at her for a moment with an expression of deep gratitude. Then he shifted his gaze to the lyre, closed his eyes and took a long breath as if he were savoring the sweetest fragrances. - Our Terpnus Apollo blessed with a voice like honey and with how efficient fingers.
The gathered people nodded eagerly, although many of the more sensitive to music considered the Emperor's judgment exaggerated.
Nero nodded to the musician and took a deep breath. Terpnus stroked the string and then - to the astonishment of all the guests, some more pronounced - the emperor made a long, vibrating sound, almost in line with the tone of the lyre, but much fainter and not so constant. The audience, however, preferred this to be an expression of infinitely perfect harmony and genius rather than a regrettable falsehood (which would be closer to the truth). As soon as the voice broke and died away, enthusiastic applause shook the room. Ladies who have already experienced the brutal rape of the Emperor, as well as those full of fear that it will soon be their turn, meekly clapped their hands ; their husbands did not spare praise for the man who desecrated their women, robbed them of their property or their lives. Sabinus and Gaius joined the choir eagerly, avoiding exchanging glances.
- Friends! Nero croaked. - For three years Terpnus was my teacher, he brought out your innate talent in your emperor. I trained lying with lead weights on my chest, took enemas and emesis, threw apples and other products harmful to the voice from my diet. I have been doing all this with persistence under the tutelage of the greatest artist of our time ... and soon I will be ready to perform in front of you!
There was silence for a moment. The dreadful prospect of breaking the taboo against meaningful persons - much less rulers! - public appearances were still reaching those present, when the audience exploded into deafening frenzy, as if Nero had just announced that their greatest desire in life would be fulfilled, the fulfillment of which, however, so far no one had expected.
The emperor stood half-faced towards the guests, his right hand stretched out towards them and his left over his heart; tears ran down his pale cheeks and stuck in a thin golden beard that rose most densely on his chin, despite his young age, already sagging under the weight of a comfortable life. It was as if he was letting himself be overcome by these manifestations of adoration.
- Friends! He finally choked out, his voice swollen with emotion. - I understand your joy. Finally, you will be able to share with me the gift of my voice… the most beautiful thing I know.
The file, spread out in the place freed by Claudia Octavia, did not seem convinced.
-As beautiful like my new wife, princepsie? Oton asked with a hint of drunken laughter; he and Nero had been friends for so long that he was the only person in Rome who had the right to banter with the emperor in such a way.
The ruler, by no means offended by this remark, turned with a smile to his friend, with whom they were also lovers.
“You bragged about Poppaea Sabina's charms all evening, Mark,” he replied. - When you finally bring her to Rome, I will sing for her and you can judge what is more beautiful, she or my voice.
Oton raised his cup in a toast.
-Yes I will, princepsie, and whoever wins I will fuck! Poppaea will be leaving here in four days.
This sparked a burst of laughter and coarse shouts; the young revelers, who considered themselves close friends of the emperor, quickly fell silent under his burning gaze. As it quieted again, Nero took on an expression of sheer humility.
–Soon, my friends, I will be ready for you. I still have to work out for now. Goodbye.
Nero was undoubtedly among the most hated emperors of Rome
Nodding to Acte, Terpnus, Otto, and the rest of his companions to follow him, the emperor left the hall. The feast was over, to everyone else's relief. The fear drifted away with him.
"I'll be fine, my boy," Gaius insisted as they reached the Forum with Sabinus. The stone slabs of the square, wet from the drizzle, glistened with the reflected light of torches in the hands of their numerous bodyguards and other similar retinue. - It's only half a mile up the hill. Besides, the boys from Tigran will protect me.
Titus looked at his uncle doubtfully.
–Anyway, move quickly. He tapped the shoulder of the largest, beefiest of the four thugs following them. - Don't get into any brawls, Sextus, and stick to better-lit streets.
"No brawls and stick to the better lit streets," the security guard repeated, absorbing the command he had been given. - Please give all the boys greetings from all the boys to Senator Vespasian and Magnus when you meet them.
–I will not fail. Sabinus squeezed his relative's arm. - We are leaving for Aquae Cutiliae at two o'clock in the day, Uncle.
- I will be waiting with the carriage at the Kollińska Gate. Hopefully my sister will last two more days before we get there.
-I have a lot of determination. Titus smiled, but his round face looked sad in the light of the torch. - He won't cross the Styx until he sees us.
–Vespasia has always liked to rule men. I wouldn't be surprised if she died on purpose before our arrival, if only to make us feel guilty for delaying our departure by overnight.
“We couldn't help it, Uncle. Rome's affairs are more important than personal.
–And it has never been otherwise, my dear. I'll see you tomorrow.
Sabinus watched his uncle enter through the colonnade of the Forum of Caesar at the foot of the Quirinal and out of sight, surrounded by four colossi with torches to protect him from the dangers of a night city.
Praying to Mithra to keep his mother for at least these two days, Titus turned and headed for the nearby Tullianum at the foot of the Capitol.
Cruelty on the agenda
–And how is he, Bezus? He asked as the iron gates of the prison opened in front of him and a heavily built bald man in a stained leather tunic apron peered out from behind them.
–I didn't touch him, Prefect. The overseer shrugged. You can hear moans from downstairs, but he is generally silent. Well, it sure isn't eager to speak if that's what you meant.
–I probably had. Titus sighed, settling himself on the only comfortable chair in the low vaulted room, and stared at the trapdoor in the floor, barely visible in the dim light of the oil lamp on the table. "Well, then let's get him upstairs and keep going." I think we will try a stronger incentive this time. I need an answer today as I'm going out of town for a few days in the morning.
Blazus nodded to someone hidden in the shaded corner of the room. The hairy giant, wearing only a loincloth, got up from his bed. In his hand he held a bone, the origin of which Sabinus preferred not to guess.
"Down with you, Belle," said the overseer, and he pulled the rope to open the hatch. - Bring it here and don't bite it more than once along the way.
The beauty muttered something incomprehensible and released the bone. His face, as flat as if someone had beaten her with a spade, cracked in a lascivious smile as he nodded vigorously to acknowledge that he understood the order. The Prefect watched with disgust as the monster disappeared into the underworld - the only cell of the Roman public prison ; he wondered for a moment what his real name might sound, but quickly decided that to ask such a question would be an offense to his dignity.
From below came a scream of pain, echoing dully off the stone walls. A guttural growl followed him, which the prefect took as the guard's command. A moment later a prisoner's head popped out of the hole. The man pulled himself up on his hands, frantically trying to get upstairs, away from the beast growling at him. A few more convulsive movements, and the guy stood in front of them safe and sound, but naked, with long hair and stubble matted with dirt.
"Good evening, Venutius," Sabinus cooed, as if he had seen the most pleasant thing in the world. "Glad you managed to avoid being eaten by the Cutie for dinner." Perhaps now we will return to the conversation started in the morning.
The man called Venutius straightened up proudly. The muscles in his chest, thighs, and arms were firmly defined; even stripped of his clothes, he exuded dignity as he stared at his pursuer.
“I have nothing to say to you, Titus Flavius Sabinus. I am a Roman citizen and there is nothing you can do to me until I have exercised my right of appeal to the Emperor.
Sabinus smiled grimly.
-You betrayed Rome when you led the Brigades to revolt against us. Your citizenship has been taken away from you, and I doubt you will find anyone who would oppose the outlawing of the traitor. The Emperor doesn't know you're in town, which you should actually be happy about as I think he would order your immediate execution. So I am asking you again politely, but for the last:who financed your rebellion in Britain?
Venutius twitched and moved away from the opening from which the shaggy head and hairy torso of the Beauty emerged. Mashkara made soft murmurs, which could be taken as a form of humming someone satisfied with the work they were doing. Only when she picked up a bone and curled up on a pallet began to chew on it that the prisoner spoke again.
- I am protected by someone from the emperor's closest circle. You can't even touch me.
- Yes? And I was asked by someone from the same group to find out where you got so much cash. Sabinus knew it was a lie, but it was close enough to the truth to be credible. - And this person is very anxious to explain as soon as possible. Today, strictly speaking. - Having said that, he signaled to Blazus.
-Cute! The overseer thundered commandingly. - Put that gun down.
The monster growled for a long time. He obeyed, albeit with obvious reluctance.
"He'll get hungry quickly if you forbid him to do so," Sabinus explained to the prisoner.
Venutius glanced at the bearish colossus. He looked miserable.
The beauty, clearly moved, purred ominously. The prisoner looked at the prefect, but could not help but glance in that direction.
"Nobody financed my creation," he said finally. - I arranged it on my own. When this female dog, my wife Kartymandua, started sleeping with this upstart Wellokatus, I decided to get my revenge and remove her. And I did it with pleasure.
– Ale wystawienie i utrzymanie takiej sfory wojowników kosztuje majątek. Tym większy, że wcieliłeś potem do swoich szeregów niedobitki z armii Kartymandui.
Ślicznotce zaburczało w brzuchu. Głośno wypuścił gazy; wstał i śliniąc się, nie spuszczał oczu z więźnia.
– Znalazłem jej skarbiec – rzekł szybko Wenucjusz. – Był pełny. Same świeżo bite srebrne denary, dziesiątki tysięcy, do tego setki, jeśli nie tysiące złotych aureusów.
– Rzymskie monety, które wykorzystałeś w buncie przeciwko Rzymowi – podsumował Sabinus.
Włochata bestia ruszyła w stronę więźnia.
Artykuł stanowi fragment powieści Wespazjan. Rzymskie Furie , która właśnie ukazała się na rynku nakładem wydawnictwa Rebis
Na twarzy Wenucjusza odmalował się wyraz niezwykły u brytańskiego wodza:strach.
– Gdy już pokonałem Kartymanduę, nie mogłem się zatrzymać. Moich ludzi podburzali druidzi. Przybył do nas Myrddin, naczelny kapłan całej Brytanii. Żeby utrzymać się na pozycji, musiałem poprowadzić rebelię przeciwko rzymskiemu panowaniu.
Bryt odruchowo się cofnął, chcąc utrzymać dystans; Ślicznotka spojrzał na swego pana, jakby chcąc się upewnić, że robi to, czego się od niego oczekuje.
Blezus się uśmiechnął i zachęcił go skinieniem głowy.
Więzień znalazł się pod samą ścianą. Potwór z bulgocącym w gardle warkotem był już prawie przy nim.
– Nie miałem wyjścia!
– Owszem, miałeś. Trzeba było uciec tutaj, do Rzymu, i zdać się na łaskę cesarza. Ty jednak użyłeś tych nowiutkich monet przeciwko niemu, a teraz próbujesz zrzucić winę na druidów.
Ślicznotka z zaskakującą zwinnością skoczył na brytańskiego wodza. Warkot przerodził się w głodny ryk. Wenucjusz zdążył tylko krzyknąć; w następnej chwili leżał na plecach, przygnieciony przez siedzące na nim okrakiem ludzkie monstrum.
Sabinus podniósł się z krzesła, spoglądając niewzruszony na potężniejącą grozę tej sceny.
– No więc skąd wziąłeś pieniądze?
– Pożyczyłem! – wrzasnął Bryt, gdy tuż nad nim rozwarła się gęba pełna krzywych kłów, spiłowanych od gryzienia kości.
– A żona?
– Tak samo! Każ tej bestii, by mnie puściła!
Ślicznotka z łakomym pomrukiem zatopił zęby w jego mięśniu piersiowym i rwał go, jak drapieżnik miotając głową na boki.
Wrzaski ofiary zakłóciłyby spokój Hadesu. Wenucjusz błagał o litość, szlochając z niewypowiedzianej zgrozy:był pożerany żywcem. Im silniej potwór go szarpał, tym głośniej nieszczęśnik krzyczał, bezskutecznie tłukąc go pięściami po głowie i ramionach, i rzucał prefektowi błagalne spojrzenia. Tytus zmarszczył czoło.
– Kto wam dwojgu udzielił tej pożyczki?
Ślicznotka poderwał łeb. W powietrze trysnęła krew, smuga dużych, czarnych w słabym świetle kropli.
Wenucjusz oniemiały patrzył na skrwawiony kawałek mięsa – jego własnego ciała! – wystający z okropnych, miarowo żujących szczęk. Oczy na chwilę uciekły mu pod powieki. Pojedyncze słowo, które wykrzyknął, zabrzmiało głośniej niż poprzednie:
– Seneka!
Artykuł jest fragmentem powieści Wespazjan. Rzymskie Furie, która właśnie ukazała się na rynku nakładem wydawnictwa Rebis