Etruscans (22 page)
Authors: Morgan Llywelyn
“Look,” said the Aegyptian as he moved aside to make room for Horatius. “This is the blood lore, the tale of life carried in the red liquid of life. See the past through the generosity of Anubis.”
T
he king's death would have far-reaching ramifications for Rome's trading partners and her military alliances. The most immediate effect, however, would be upon the Romans themselves. Although politically conservative, they were emotionally volatile. Without someone strong in charge, they could stampede like cattle in a thunderstorm. The assassination of Tarquinius was tantamount to a major thunderstorm.
he king's death would have far-reaching ramifications for Rome's trading partners and her military alliances. The most immediate effect, however, would be upon the Romans themselves. Although politically conservative, they were emotionally volatile. Without someone strong in charge, they could stampede like cattle in a thunderstorm. The assassination of Tarquinius was tantamount to a major thunderstorm.
The members of the Senate who gathered on the morning following the king's death were aware of the precariousness of the situation. There was always the possibility that the assassination had been carried out by some ambitious
patrician
outside their own circle, who would then attempt to capture the allegiance of the Roman military. It had happened before. If successful, he could be declared king by popular acclamation. And if he was not one of their own, he might abolish the Senate
altogether. That too had been threatened before. The ultimate power rested with the king.
patrician
outside their own circle, who would then attempt to capture the allegiance of the Roman military. It had happened before. If successful, he could be declared king by popular acclamation. And if he was not one of their own, he might abolish the Senate
altogether. That too had been threatened before. The ultimate power rested with the king.
As soon as all the senators had arrived at the palace, an urgent meeting was convened. Propertius and Severus were last to enter the large chamberâwalking on either side of Lars Porsena. His presence excited a buzz of conversation. They went to the head of the room and stood facing their colleagues. While they waited for conversation to die down, Lars Porsena said to the brothers in a low voice, “Remember our deal. You help me, then I help you.”
“Agreed,” Propertius murmured.
“Absolutely,” echoed Severus. “We have your word on this?”
“You have my word. And you know how much I value it.” Lars Porsena smiled.
The room fell silent.
Lifting his arms, Propertius announced, “Today we stand at a crossroads. We can undertake to nominate a new king immediately, knowing that suitable men of sufficiently noble blood are in short supply at present. The best are too old, too young, or simply unwilling to take on the responsibilities and hazards of the office.
“Or we can consider something else.”
His fellow senators stared at him dumbfounded. “But Rome must have a king,” someone said.
Severus pointed out, “The Hellenes have no king.”
“Oh, well, the Hellenes,” came the dismissive reply. Roman contempt for the Greeks was well known.
“I am not suggesting we adopt a democracy,” Propertius went on, his mouth shaping the word with disgust. “However kingship offers many opportunities for abuses. I, as much as any of you, prospered under the reign of Tarquinius Superbius, but ultimately he behaved in a way that could only bring discredit to Rome.”
Turning to Lars Porsena, he said, “Please tell us what happened last night. What really happened.”
The prince from Clusium cleared his throat. “I did not wish to make this public out of respect for the kingship itself,” he said, “but my friend Propertius has persuaded me to do so. The statement I originally made concerning the king's death was not accurate.”
A low murmur ran around the chamber, like surf beating on a distant shore.
“I am Etruscan, as was Tarquinius. As indeed was the prophetess he recently brought into the palace. Last night, while relaxing in my chamber, I heard a woman scream. I ran to the king's chambers only to find him raping the seer. Brutally raping a holy woman!
“I lost my head and attacked him. I have no excuse other than my revulsion at what he was doing. I attacked my fellow Etruscan to prevent him completing an act that would have brought undying shame upon his name, his race, and the kingship of Rome. But even as I was dragging him off her helpless body, the gods of Etruria intervened.
“You have been shown the body, and many of you remarked that nothing human could have wrought such terrible damage upon it. You were right, wise Senators.
“It was the
Ais
who tore Tarquinius to pieces. I was helpless to stop them, though I tried and was wounded in the attempt. Who can prevent the gods doing anything? Thereafter I could only watch in horror as they delivered their terrible punishment.
Ais
who tore Tarquinius to pieces. I was helpless to stop them, though I tried and was wounded in the attempt. Who can prevent the gods doing anything? Thereafter I could only watch in horror as they delivered their terrible punishment.
“When it was over, I did what I could to make it look like an outside assassination. Not out of fear for myself, but to keep from having to reveal the king's wickedness. I did not want the proud line of the Tarquins to suffer humiliation.”
Lars Porsena's speech was met with a stunned silence. After a suitable time, Propertius said humbly, “We are very much in your debt, Lars Porsena. If the king's depraved attack upon a holy woman became public knowledge, it would severely undermine governmental authority.”
“Governmental authority is already undermined,” Lars Porsena replied. “The king of Rome has insulted the gods. The gods know even if the people don't. And now that the gods have turned their eyes to Rome ⦠we must be very careful ⦠.”
Severus was nodding agreement. “Following such an event, whoever replaces Tarquinius must be absolutely above reproach,” he told the other senators. “It could take months, even years to find such a man. To allow us adequate time, the prince of Clusium has offered an alternate suggestion that we feel has great merit.”
“For the immediate future, Rome might be better off with a division of power,” explained Lars Porsena. “While waiting for the right king to manifest himself, appoint two men from your own ranks as joint interim governors. Surely no one is better equipped to rule Rome than its senators.”
The
patricians
in the chamber responded with flattered smiles. But one toward the rear called out, “What about Tarquinius? He's dead, no matter how it happened. We have to deal with that issue first.”
patricians
in the chamber responded with flattered smiles. But one toward the rear called out, “What about Tarquinius? He's dead, no matter how it happened. We have to deal with that issue first.”
Propertius said, “Under the circumstances, the less that becomes known about this shameful affair the better. Publicizing the king's death would serve no constructive purpose. I suggest we announce that, as a result of unspecified abuses of power, Tarquinius has been expelled from Rome by a unanimous vote of the Senate. The people will see that we have acted in their best interests and their trust in us will be enhanced.”
The prince of Clusium nodded and bowed his head. An almost palpable tension radiated from him, but those who noticed put it down to simple nervousness, the discomfort of a warrior mired in a puddle of politicians.
Severus clapped a hand on the prince's shoulder to lend him support. A spark leaped from Lars Porsena's skin, nipping the builder's fingers sharply enough to draw blood. At the same time the prince shot a sidelong glance at Severus, who blinked in surprise.
The light in the chamber briefly reflected in his eyes, turning them a vivid green. Lars Porsena smiled; the color faded.
The prince bowed his head and folded his arms across his chest, holding his body tightly. An invisible wave emanated from him, a tide that rippled across the room in concentric waves. Its greatest influence was felt by those closest to him at the front of the room, the oldest and most respected members of the Senate.
“What we have heard makes sense,” a venerable, silver-haired
patrician
said thoughtfully. “You know that I have always advocated such a path.” The other senators looked at him in astonishment. They had never heard him say any such thing. “Perhaps it is time the Senate took control of Rome. I move we appoint two consuls to serve as joint governors.”
patrician
said thoughtfully. “You know that I have always advocated such a path.” The other senators looked at him in astonishment. They had never heard him say any such thing. “Perhaps it is time the Senate took control of Rome. I move we appoint two consuls to serve as joint governors.”
Another suggested, “Why not elect consuls annually until we find a new king? That way they won't have a lifetime lock on power.”
“And if we give them the right to veto each other's actions,” said the man to his left, “their decisions will have to be taken in concert.”
But one lone senator at the farthest edge of the room remained dubious. “We would have to be certain the two we chose could work together. We must not rush into anything, my friends. Calm deliberation is required here. Reasoned debate. Perhaps we should name a committee to look into the matter further and draw up a list of possible candidates.”
A suddenly impatient expression flickered across the face of Lars Porsena. Lifting his head, he fixed his coldly burning eyes on the silver-haired senator who had spoken first. After a moment the man exclaimed, “There is no time for committees and lists. But you are right, we need two men who can work well together; I nominate Propertius Cocles and his brother, Severus, to be consuls of Rome. And we'll vote on them here and now!”
H
oratius was badly shaken. The scene Khebet showed him in the pool of blood was horrific beyond his imaginings. As the two men stared at the shocking vision, Khebet said in a surprised voice, “I recognize that man, Horatius. You saw him in the street, remember? Severus identified him as an Etruscan prince called Lars Porsena.”
oratius was badly shaken. The scene Khebet showed him in the pool of blood was horrific beyond his imaginings. As the two men stared at the shocking vision, Khebet said in a surprised voice, “I recognize that man, Horatius. You saw him in the street, remember? Severus identified him as an Etruscan prince called Lars Porsena.”
“I think I remember him,” Horatius said vaguely, “but he is nothing to me. We just saw my mother dragged away, perhaps to some awful fate. That's all that matters. Come on, we have to find her!” He bolted for the door.
With the greatest reluctance, Khebet followed him. The priest's horoscope for this moon had promised revelations and excitement and the prospect had tempted him. Now he was beginning to wish he had stayed in Aegypt, where he knew how to avoid danger to his person.
Throughout his career Khebet had stood apart from every murderous court intrigue and repeatedly shifted
allegiances within the jealous ranks of the priesthood to be certain he was on the safe side. Let others suffer the assassin's dagger or the poisoned cup.
allegiances within the jealous ranks of the priesthood to be certain he was on the safe side. Let others suffer the assassin's dagger or the poisoned cup.
Fear of death was not something an Aegyptian priest could admit. His people considered death the brilliant climax of life, the blazing sun following life's pallid moon, and spent fortunes to prepare for the Afterlife. Yet the idea of dying terrified Khebet. His real reason for joining the priesthood of Anubis had been hope that the god of death might relent for one of his own priests.
He had promised to help Horatius and so he would. For the moment, pride was as strong in him as fear.
Horatius ran straight for the palace gates. Khebet pounded along at his heels. When a guard challenged them with a leveled spear, Khebet summoned enough priestly authority into his voice to shout, “Urgent business! Aegyptian ambassador!”
The disconcerted guard stepped back and the two men ran out into the chaotic streets of Rome.
They did not go alone. Pepan, the invisible companion, hovered close to Horatius as he had done since early that morning. The Lord of the Rasne was even more desperate than Vesi's son. He had a better idea of what was at stake.
Hurry!
he kept urging, although Horatius could not hear him.
Hurry!
Hurry!
he kept urging, although Horatius could not hear him.
Hurry!
Whenever they passed some reflective surface there would be a brief glimpse of an aristocratic face with an aquiline nose and a beard composed of two long, corkscrew curls, a face whose anxious gaze was fixed on Horatius. The young man was too distracted to notice. But the observant Aegyptian saw the image clearly, just as he had seen the shades that were joined with Horatius's spirit.
The skills Wulv had taught the boy Horatrim proved invaluable. Horatius was not far from the palace before he caught a whiff of her scent, that particular combination of skin and hair that would always mean Vesi to him. For a time he was able to follow the trail through the narrow, crowded streets, but then he lost it again. The smells of Rome coming awake on what promised to be a hot morning overwhelmed the scent of one woman. Horatius cast back and forth like a hunting dog, desperate to pick it up once more.
Fate seemed to be conspiring against him. A cartful of fish blocked an exceptionally narrow street; a crowd of children playing a ball game ran into Horatius and Khebet full tilt, then swirled around them, shouting and laughing, hindering their progress.
As he accompanied them, Pepan could hear the sibilant hiss that had replaced Vesi's identifying music. Sometimes it seemed to be getting closer, then again it faded when Horatius took a wrong turn. Pepan knew exactly where Vesi was, but the knowledge did him no good. Try as he might he could not transmit it to Horatius.
Then he became aware of another being hurrying toward Vesi. Mortals on the streets of Rome that morning noticed only a tall Etruscan prince emerging from the palace and setting out across the city. They gave way before him out of respect for his size ⦠and the air of purpose and menace he exuded.
But seen from the Otherworld, there was no mistaking the
siu
that now occupied the prince's body. Bur-Sin reveled in the strong, virile flesh. This body, he promised himself, he would keep and enjoy for a long time.
siu
that now occupied the prince's body. Bur-Sin reveled in the strong, virile flesh. This body, he promised himself, he would keep and enjoy for a long time.
Just as Horatius found Vesi's trail again, his nostrils were assailed by an appalling stench. He recoiled in disgust.
Khebet cried, “I smell a demon!” But in the crowded, narrow streets they caught no glimpse of Lars Porsena.
Khebet cried, “I smell a demon!” But in the crowded, narrow streets they caught no glimpse of Lars Porsena.
The smell evaporated or was drowned in a hundred other odors.
Horatius resumed the search, instinct and the unseen urging of his invisible companion drawing him on until they eventually came to the edge of the fetid waste ground below the Capitoline Hill. Suddenly Horatius stiffened and threw up his head. With a broad grin he broke into a run. “Thank the
Ais
, I've found her, Khebet!” he called over his shoulder. He was sprinting toward a shack at the foot of the Palatine Hill on the far side of the waste ground.
Ais
, I've found her, Khebet!” he called over his shoulder. He was sprinting toward a shack at the foot of the Palatine Hill on the far side of the waste ground.
Before he had covered half the distance he was attacked.
They came out of the heaps of refuse, and they came in their hundreds. An army of huge black rats swarmed toward Horatius as if guided by a single mind. The first few to reach him hurled themselves at his bare feet and ankles and began to gnaw furiously.
Horatius gave a violent kick but only succeeded in casting off two or three while still more ran up his other leg. Razor-sharp teeth bit deep into his upper thigh. A questing head rummaged beneath his toga, seeking his genitals.
Horatius screamed in defiance. Springing high into the air and simultaneously pummeling them with his fists, he at last dislodged his attackers and leaped clear of themâbut only temporarily. Within a heartbeat they were on him again.
Meanwhile Khebet, badly frightened, ran back to the edge of the waste ground. The rats paid no attention to him. Their fury was concentrated on Horatius.
The young man fought with extraordinary agility,
moving, moving, always in constant motion, knowing that if he stood still he would die. He used two broken lengths of wood to strike at the rats that came too close. Horatius leaped across a fetid pool. The rats in his wake poured into it, those behind landing atop those already in the water, pushing them down, until the pool was thick with bodies. Still the vermin came.
moving, moving, always in constant motion, knowing that if he stood still he would die. He used two broken lengths of wood to strike at the rats that came too close. Horatius leaped across a fetid pool. The rats in his wake poured into it, those behind landing atop those already in the water, pushing them down, until the pool was thick with bodies. Still the vermin came.
Horatius was tiring.
Khebet found it hard to believe that any human could battle so many rats at one time and stay on his feet. Summoning all the courage he could musterâand furious with himself for being in this situation in the first placeâthe Aegyptian looked around for a weapon. There was nothing but broken planks and bits of stone. He seized the nearest piece of timber and tried to make himself go to Horatius's aid â¦
⦠as a second army appeared on the scene.
This one was composed of thousands of warriors in armor, black, jointed armor. Individually each was the length of a man's forearm; together they formed a dark sea of chitinous terror. They waved audibly clashing pincers while their curving tails dripped poison.
“Scorpions!” Khebet froze where he stood. Although normally scorpions were solitary individuals, these were acting in concert. What malign force controlled them the Aegyptian could not say, but it was obvious they had a single, deadly purpose.
When the rats saw the scorpions they ceased their attack on Horatius. They gathered around him in a semicircleâand waited. The scorpions hurried toward them. Rat and scorpion bracketed the young man between them. Inexorably, they began to close on him.
Khebet shouted an unnecessary warning; Horatius was fully aware of the danger. He dodged to one side toward a perceived opening, but the rats were even faster than he. They filled the hole with their bodies and kept coming.
Horatius turned in the other direction, but the scorpions wheeled and blocked the opening. Then, when they were almost close enough to touch him, they inexplicably halted.
He took a tentative step. They reared up and menaced him with clashing pincers and he stopped.
The rats swiftly moved in behind him.
He was completely encircled with vermin now. Their ranks had grown so deep that even the most spectacular leap on his part could not clear them. He turned all the way around, slowly, looking for the tiniest avenue of escape.
There was none.
The rats watched, eyes fixed and unblinking. He noticed that their eyes were greenâbut did rats not usually have red eyes? When he turned to look at the black carpet of scorpions, he saw that they too were sheened with a greenish hue.
Now that they had him trapped, Horatius expected them to attack from every direction. But they did not move.
He cast a frantic look toward Khebet. “Help me! I have to get to my mother, don't you understand?”
“Yes, yes, of course. I understand
now
,” the Aegyptian added. He did not know the reason, but he recognized the magic. There was only one way to fight magic.
now
,” the Aegyptian added. He did not know the reason, but he recognized the magic. There was only one way to fight magic.
Throwing back his head and lifting his arms toward the sky, the priest of Anubis began to chant.
“Great Anubis, Jackal Lord, god of the dead, hunter of souls, devourer of
kas
! Hear me!”
kas
! Hear me!”
Moments ago the sun was high in a cloudless sky, but suddenly black clouds came boiling out of the south. Across the waste ground a warm wind began to blow sharp particles of sand that stung Horatius's skin like a million tiny insects. But there was no desert close to the city.
The wind blew harder, hotter. Howled out of a black sky.
The earth rumbled beneath Horatius's feet. A quiver ran through the hills of Rome, a shaking of the earth that grew steadily stronger. Carried but faintly on the howling wind came the terrifying ululation of a hunting dog.
A jackal.
Within the tombs on the Palatine hillside, something stirred.
Something awoke.
One by one, the heavy stone doors of the tombs were pushed open from the inside. Out into the day shambled a parade of decaying forms, bodies phosphorescent with decomposition. Bodies long since vacated by their spirits, but obedient to the command of the god of the dead. Many were so rotted they had no discernible gender. Some were child-size; others still bore remnants of white hair clinging to their emerging skulls.
Step by awful step they came down the slope.
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