“Very good, Titus! You’ve been studying hard, haven’t you?”
“Yes, grandfather.” Pleased with himself, young Titus Potitius reached up and touched the amulet of Fascinus that hung from a gold chain around his neck. His father had given it to him at the last Feast of Hercules, when Titus had assisted for the first time as a priest at the altar.
“Now tell me: who were the kings who followed Romulus, and what were their greatest achievements?”
“King Romulus had no son, so after he departed, the senators met and debated who should succeed him. This set a precedent that would be followed forever after, that the succession of the kings is not hereditary; instead, a king is chosen, to serve for life, by the Senate. They chose Numa Pompilius, a man of Sabine blood who had never even set foot in Roma. This set another wise precedent—that the new king could be an outsider, and should not come from the ranks of the Senate, else the senators might fight among themselves to seize the crown. The reign of Numa was long and peaceful. He was very pious, and he did much to organize the colleges of priests and the worship of the gods.”
“Then came Tullus Hostilius. He was as warlike as Numa had been peaceable. By destroying her rivals, he made Roma the chief city of all the Latin-speaking people of Italy. Tullus Hostilius built the great assembly hall in the Forum where the Senate meets.
“Then came Ancus Marcius, who was Numa’s grandson. He built the first bridge across the Tiber. He also founded the city of Ostia at the mouth of the river, to serve as a seaport for Roma.
“The fifth king was the first King Tarquinius. He was of Greek blood but came from the Etruscan city of Tarquinia, from which he took his name. He was both a great warrior and a great builder. He constructed the great underground sewer, the Cloaca Maxima, that follows the ancient course of the Spinon and drains the Forum. He laid out the great horseracing track in the long valley between the Palatine and the Aventine, which we call the Circus Maximus, and built the first viewing stands. And he drew up the plans and began the foundations for the greatest building ever conceived anywhere on earth, the new Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill.”
Titus rose from the floor and strode to the window, where the shutters were open to let in the warm breeze. The house of the Potitii was situated high on the Palatine, so that the window afforded a splendid view of the massive construction project on the neighboring Capitoline Hill. Surrounded by scaffolds swarming with artisans and laborers, the new temple had begun to take shape. It was of an Etruscan design called araeostyle, with a broad, decorated pediment set atop widely spaced columns and a single grand entrance from the recessed porch. Titus gazed at the sight, fascinated.
His grandfather, ever the pedagogue, prompted a digression. “Was the hill always called the Capitoline?”
“No. Since the days of King Romulus it was called Asylum Hill, but now people have started calling it the Capitoline—‘Head Hill.’”
“And why is that?”
“Because of the amazing thing the diggers found when they started work on the new temple foundations, back in the reign of the first King Tarquinius. They uncovered the head of man, which appeared to be very ancient but was remarkably well preserved. The priests called it a sign from the gods, and a most excellent one, portending that Roma would become the head of the world.” Titus frowned. “How could such a thing have happened, grandfather? Who would have buried a head with no body on the Capitoline, and how was it preserved?”
The old man cleared his throat. “There are mysteries which no man can explain, which are nonetheless true, for tradition tells us so. If you doubt the veracity of the tale, I can assure that I myself, as a young man, was privileged to see the head not long after it was found. The man’s features were somewhat decayed, but one could see very clearly that his hair was blond, mixed with gray, as was his beard.”
“He sounds like you, grandfather.”
The old man raised an eyebrow. “I’m not as far gone as that! Now, back to the list of the kings. After the first Tarquinius…”
“The first Tarquinius was succeeded by Servius Tullius. He had been a slave in the royal household, but he rose to such prominence that when Tarquinius died, he was put forward by Tarquinius’s widow to succeed him. He greatly reinforced and extended the fortifications of the city until all the Seven Hills were enclosed by pickets, walls, embankments, and trenches. He also excavated the underground cell in the state prison at the foot of the Capitoline, which we call the Tullianum, where the enemies of the king are executed by strangulation. He put these projects first, so that work on the new temple came to a standstill.”
“And after Servius Tullius comes the present king, the son of Tarquinius, also named Tarquinius. Our king is famous for acquiring the Sibylline Books, which are full of prophecies that guide the people in times of crisis.”
“And how did that come about?”
Titus smiled, for this was one of his favorite stories. “The Sibyl lives in a cave down in Cumae, on the coast. The god Apollo compelled her to write hundreds of strange verses on palm leaves. She stitched together all the palm leaves into nine scrolls, which she brought to Roma and offered to sell to King Tarquinius, saying that if a man could interpret her verses rightly, he could foretell the future. Tarquinius was tempted, but he told her that the price was too steep, whereupon she waved her hand and three of the scrolls burst into flames. Then she offered to sell him the remaining six—for the original asking price of the nine! Tarquinius was angry and again refused, whereupon the Sibyl burned three more scrolls, then named the same price once again. King Tarquinius, thinking of all the knowledge that had already been lost, gave in. He paid the price she had asked for nine books and got only three. The Sibylline Books are very sacred. They must be consulted only in the direst emergency. To house them, Tarquinius set about completing the great temple which his father began.”
Again Titus gazed out the window. For most of his life, work on the temple had been progressing. With the huge columns and massive pediment finally in place, its final form was becoming more evident with each passing month. Even men who had traveled far beyond Roma, to the great cities of Greece and Egypt, said they had never seen a building so grand. “No wonder they call him Tarquinius the Proud,” murmured Titus.
The old man stiffened. “What did you say?”
“Tarquinius the Proud—that’s what I’ve heard men call the king.”
“What men? Where?”
Titus shrugged. “Strangers. Shopkeepers. People passing in the Forum or on the street.”
“Don’t listen to them. And don’t repeat what they say!”
“But why not?”
“Just do as I say!”
Titus bowed his head. His grandfather was the eldest of the Potitii, the paterfamilias. His will within the family was law, and it was not Titus’s place ever to question him.
The old man sighed. “I will explain, but only once. When men use that word about the king, they do not mean it as a compliment. Quite the opposite; they mean that he is arrogant, stubborn, and vain. So do not say such a thing aloud, not even to me. Words can be dangerous, especially words meant to wound a king.”
Titus nodded gravely, then frowned. “One thing puzzles me, grandfather. You say the monarchy is not hereditary, but the present King Tarquinius’s father was also king.”
“Yes, but the crown did not pass directly from father to son.”
“I know; Servius Tullius came between. But didn’t Tarquinius kill him, and that’s how he became king?”
The old man drew a quick breath, but did not reply. Titus was old enough to be taught the list of kings and their principal achievements, but not yet old enough to be taught about the political machinations that had brought each king to the throne and the scandals that had attended each reign. To a young man who could not yet understand the importance of discretion, one hesitated to speak ill even of kings long dead; one certainly did not speak ill of a living king. About Tarquinius and the murders that had brought him to the throne, and all the murders that had followed, there was little to say that was fit for the boy’s ears.