Friday, January 21, 2011

Gm Yukon Interior Light

Forfeiture

I.

The empire is now in the downturn on the parable of the decline. Between dwarfs and dancers at the court miasmatic languishes in a swamp, the circus of power is addressed in its mud, the pigs in the mire are not otherwise, except to be natural that their animals. The hired lovers walk the corridors of the villas, parade naked through from room to room, you leave and shake violently, and in turn touch you cling and move up the bodies of men that the next day find yourself on the high benches, on bodies of women who fill the brothels and slum.

is a quiet night of this decay, the moon cut into slices the sky, pouring its light on the buildings cold, unable to cleanse the filth that fills the streets. The wise, the honest will cower in their homes, read by the dim light, looking for answers to frequently asked questions unresolved, warming to the flame of genius. Rare carve through their shadows in the alleys, they advance with the air of conspirators. But everyone knows what happens in high places, everybody knows the exaggerated pomp, the unbridled luxury that senators are granted, the secret connections between the militias and dirty deals. Nobody does anything, nobody can denounce what is visible to all: do the strolling players in the cantons of theaters, but no one can believe who wears a mask, who grins and does not take life seriously.

The scouts are around the walls while building the odalisques shake their navels. They say that the emperor burns Rome, which will make a pile of blackened wood. Nothing could be easier. Now it will be clinging to the kidneys of some dancer or flute players, or he may have wanted to experience the thrill of a Nubian slave. But meanwhile, lost to chase these thoughts of lust and power, I arrived at my destination. The door is bolted, large rusty hinges seems impossible that they can turn on themselves. Busso with the conventional sign and look, look around if you ever someone had been following me. The door creaked open: it seems that there is none, but I know that there is a huge dark shadow fisherman ready to attack a centurion or an assassin sent by the emperor.

II.

Inside, the rich palace, the same faces, more and more frightened. Gaius Licinius scrofula is narrating the last emperor found: it is preparing the table on a slave naked and takes liberally from his body the food. "Never have we seen a similar triclinium" comments in between the angry and smiling Junius Quiet Vatinius. The slave meanwhile Falerno pours into the cup, the same Falerno flowing rivers in the festivities of the Emperor. Rumors even say that we make the bathroom the most prestigious lovers.

But now it's time to leave the jokes and rumors, it's time to finalize the strategy. Now that we're all here, Lucius Nonius Beast says it's better to talk about serious things. How to save Rome, how to save the empire from this corruption of morals that all mud, which overwhelms pigs and pigeons, which affects the guilty and innocent alike. There would be the brother of the emperor: we can count on him? We can support? Publius Valerius Gavio says no, if he looks like his mother, who was voluptuous mistress of the emperor and the father of these simultaneously, then there is little to make us rely. The philosopher Marcus Brutus Rufino preaches of alternative forms of government, but he is the first to know that you can not beat the empire, the connections between political and military power. We should return to the days of Cincinnatus, the consuls of the Republican.

The night became even more silent when I listen you can hear the voice of the waterfalls of the Tiber. Does not end anything, not even tonight: these meetings are becoming more and more intellectuals are in a clique where spilling vain and beautiful words. Then came a messenger, is alarmed, tired. Extends a dispatch to the landlord, in a low voice, looking down. Gaius Cornelius Agrippa rips the red seal, place the roll, the eyes move rapidly on the text, then looks at me and bleaching in the face. "We're lost." He can not say more. With dagger drawn from the gown's cut his throat. Then, sharply to the sword, the other five. Had long suspected that there was some light at the palace. The same is my job, look at that combination ... The emperor will reward me tonight: will repay me with a slave of Pannonia, but I want sesterces, only sesterces ...

Photo © Permanently Scatterbrained

0 comments:

Post a Comment