annr.pandora-第9部分
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And besides it was a great pleasure。
So I was there； not so far from the cave of the Lupercal； watching with other young women； as the two chosen men of that year were smeared with blood from a sacrifice of goats and then draped in the bleeding skins of the sacrificed animals。 I couldn't see all of this very well； but I had seen it many times； and when years before two of my brothers had run in this festival； I had pushed to the front to get a good look at it。
On this occasion； I did have a fairly good view when each of the two young men took his own pany and began his run around the base of the Palatine Hill。 I moved forward because I was supposed to do it。 The young men were hitting lightly on the arm of every young woman with a strip of goatskin； which was supposed to purify us。 Render us fertile。
I stepped forward and received the ceremonial blow； and then stepped back again； wishing I was a man and could run around the hill with the other men； not an unusual thought for me at any time in my mortal life。
I had some sarcastic inner thoughts about 〃being purified；〃 but by this age I behaved in public and would not on any account have humiliated my Father or my brothers。
These strips of goatskin； as you know； David； are called Februa； and February es from that word。 So much for language and all the magic it unwittingly carries with it。 Surely the Lupercalia had something to do with Romulus and Remus； perhaps it even echoed some ancient human sacrifice。 After all； the young men's heads were smeared with goat blood。 It gives me shivers； because in Etruscan times； long before I was born； this might have been a far more cruel ceremony。
Perhaps this was the occasion that Marius saw my arms。 Because I was exposing them to this ceremonial lash； and was already； as you can see； much of a show…off in general； laughing with the others as the pany of men continued their run。
In the crowd； I saw Marius。 He looked at me； then back to his book。 So strange。 I saw him standing against a tree trunk and writing。 No one did this … stand against a tree； hold a book in one hand and write with the other。 The slave stood beside him with a bottle of ink。
Marius's hair was long and most beautiful。 Quite wild。
I said to my Father； 〃Look； there's our barbarian friend Marius； the tall one； and he's writing。〃
My Father smiled and said； 〃Marius is always writing。 Marius is good for writing； if for nothing else。 Turn around； Lydia。 Be still。〃
〃But he looked at me； Father。 I want to talk to him。〃
〃You will not； Lydia！ You will not grace him with one small smile！〃
On the way home； I asked my Father； 〃If you're going to marry me to someone … if there's no way short of suicide that I can avoid this disgusting development … why don't you marry me to Marius？ I don't understand it。 I'm rich。 He's rich。 I know his Mother was a wild Keltoi princess； but his Father has adopted him。〃
My Father said witheringly； 〃Where have you learned all this？〃 He stopped in his tracks； always an ominous sign。 The crowd broke and streamed around。
〃I don't know； it's mon knowledge。〃 I turned。 There was Marius hovering about； glancing at me。 〃Father；〃 I said； 〃please let me speak to him。〃
My Father knelt down。 Most of the crowd had gone on。 〃Lydia； I know this is dreadful for you。 I have caved to every objection you have raised to your suitors。 But believe you me； the Emperor himself would not approve of you marrying such a mad wandering historian as Marius！ He has never served in the military； he cannot enter the Senate； it is quite impossible。 When you marry； you will marry well。〃
As we walked away； I turned again； thinking only to pick Marius out from the others； but to my surprise he was stark still； looking at me。 With his flowing hair； he much resembled the Vampire Lestat。 He is taller than Lestat； but he has the same lithe build； the same very blue eyes and a muscular strength to him； and a squareness of face which is almost pretty。
I pulled away from my Father and ran up to him。
〃Well； I wanted to marry you；〃 I said； 〃but my Father has said no。〃
I'll never forget the expression on his face。 But before he could speak； my Father had gathered me up and gone into obliterating respectable conversation：
〃How now； Marius； how goes it with your brother in the Army。 And how is it with your history。 I hear you have written thirteen volumes。〃
My Father backed up； virtually carrying me away。
Marius did not move or answer。 Soon we were with others hurrying up the hill。
All the course of our lives was changed at that moment。 But there was no conceivable way Marius or I could have known it。
Twenty years would pass before we would meet again。
I was thirty…five； then。 I can say that we met in a realm of darkness in more respects than one。
For now； let me fill up the gap。
I was married twice； due to pressure from the Imperial House。 Augustus wanted us all to have children。 I had none。 My husbands seeded plenty； however； with slave girls。 So I was legally divorced and freed twice over； and determined then to retire from social life； just so the Emperor Tiberius； who had e to the Imperial throne at the age of fifty； would not meddle with me； for he was more a public puritan and domestic dictator than Augustus。 If I kept to the house； if I didn't go abroad to banquets and parties and hang around with the Empress Livia； Augustus's wife and mother of Tiberius； perhaps I wouldn't be pushed into being a stepmother！ I'd stay home。 I had to care for my Father。 He deserved it。 Even though he was perfectly healthy； he was still old！
With all due respect for the husbands I have mentioned； whose names are more than footnotes in mon Roman histories； I was a wretched wife。
I had plenty of my own money from my Father； I listened to nothing； and yielded to the act of love only on my own terms； which I always obtained； being gifted with enough beauty to make men really suffer。
I became a member of the Cult of Isis just to spite these husbands and get away from them； so that I could hang around at the Temple of Isis； where I spent an enormous amount of time with other interesting women； some far more adventurous and unconventional than I dared to be。 I was attracted to whores。 I saw the brilliant； loose women as having conquered a barrier which I； the loving daughter of my Father； would never conquer。
I became a regular at the Temple。 I was initiated at last in a secret ceremony； and I walked in every procession of Isis in Rome。
My husbands loathed this。 Maybe that's why after I came home to my Father I gave up the worship。 Whatever； it was a good thing perhaps that I had。 But fortune could not be so easily shaped by any decision of mine。
Now Isis was an imported goddess； from Egypt； of course； and the old Romans were as suspicious of her as they were of the terrible Cybele； the Great other from the Far East； who led her male devotees to castrate themselves。 The whole city was filled with these 〃Eastern cults；〃 and the conservative population thought them dreadful。
These cults weren't rational； they were ecstatic or euphoric。 They offered a plete rebirth through understanding。
The typical conservative Roman was far too practical for that。 If you didn't know by age five that the gods were made…up creatures and the myths invented stories； then you were a fool。
But Isis had a curious distinction … something that set her far apart from the cruel Cybele。 Isis was a loving mother and goddess。 Isis forgave her worshipers anything。 Isis had e before all Creation。 Isis was patient and wise。
That's why the most degraded woman could pray at the Temple。 That's why none were ever turned away。
Like the Blessed Virgin Mary； who is so well known today throughout the East and West； the Queen Isis had conceived her divine child by divine means。 From the dead and castrated Osiris； she had drawn the living seed by her own power。 And many a time she was pictured or sculpted holding her divine son； Horus； on her knee。 Her breast was bare in all innocence to feed the young god。
And Osiris ruled in the land of the dead； his phallus lost forever in the waters of the Nile； where an endless semen flowed from it； fertilizing the remarkable fields of Egypt every year when the River overflowed its banks。
The music of our Temple was divine。 We used the sistrum； a small rigid metal lyre of sorts； and flutes and timbrels。 We danced； and we sang together。 The poetry of Isis's litanies was fine and rapturous。
Isis was the Queen of Navigation； much like the Blessed Virgin Mary would be called later； 〃Our Lady Star of the Sea。〃
When her statue was carried to the shore each year； the procession was so splendid that all Rome turned out to see the Egyptian gods with their animal heads； the huge abundance of flowers and the statue of the Queen Mother herself。 The air rang with hymns。 Her Priests and Priestesses walked in white linen robes。 She herself； made of marble； and carried high； holding her sacred sistrum； dressed regally in a Grecian gown with Grecian hair。
That was my Isis。 I fell away from her after my last divorce。 My Father didn't like the worship； and I myself had enjoyed it long enough。 As a free woman； I wasn't infatua
