neighbourly greeting. Tiro waved back. Cicero stayed motionless for a moment, then clutched his stomach and hurried on, disappearing over the edge of the roof.
Meanwhile, below us in the street, more men in black kept running by in parties of two and three, stragglers rushing to catch up. Most of them took the Ramp. I tried to see where they were all headed, but my view of the Forum was mostly of beaten copper roofs gleaming in the sunlight; every now and again I could catch a glimpse of tiny figures moving in the spaces between. They all seemed to be gathering before the Senate House at the far end of the Forum, where the sheer rock face of the Capitoline Hill forms a natural wall.
From my position, I had a clear view of the front of the Senate House. Broad marble steps led up to the massive bronze doors, which were closed. I could see only a tiny portion of the open space in front of the Senate House, but this included a clear view of the Rostra, the raised platform from which speakers address the populace. Already the space between the Rostra and the Senate House was filled with a crush of black-clad mourners.
The funeral dirge, which for a while had faded out of hearing, now returned, rising from the Forum. Echoing up from the valley, the harsh music sounded more confused and discordant than ever.
Suddenly it was overwhelmed by a great shout from the crowd. The body of Clodius had arrived. A little later I saw the bier as it was carried onto the Rostra and propped up for the crowd to see, just as it had been displayed on the steps of Clodius's house the night before. What a tiny thing it looked, and yet even at such a distance there was still something shocking about that glimpse of naked flesh amid so many black-clad mourners and so much cold, chiselled stone.
A speaker mounted the Rostra. I could hear only faint echoes of his voice. As he paced back and forth across the Rostra, waving his arms, pointing to the corpse of Clodius and raising his fists, the crowd broke into a thunderous roar. From that point on the noise of the mob rose and fell but never quite subsided.
"What's going on?"
I turned my head; startled. "Diana, go back down the ladder at once!"
"Why? Is it dangerous up here?" "Very. Your mother would have a fit."
"Oh, I hardly think so. She held the ladder for me. But I think she's afraid to come up herself." "As well she might be."
"And how about you, Papa? I should think an old fellow like you would be more likely to lose his balance than I would be."
"How did I ever come to have such an impertinent child?"
"I'm not impertinent. Just curious. It's like the siege of Troy, isn't it?"
"What?"
"Like Jupiter up on Mount Ida, watching the battlefield down below. They're all so tiny. It makes one feel... godlike."
"Does it? Jupiter could send down thunderbolts or messengers with wings. And he could hear what was being said. Having a view hardly makes me feel godlike. Quite the opposite. It makes me feel powerless, watching from a distance like this."
"You could go down and join them."
"Put myself at the mercy of that mob? There's no telling what they might do next -" "Papa, look!"
Like a storm-churned flood, the crowd seemed suddenly to overflow the broad square in front of the Rostra, surging in wave after wave onto the steps and terraces of the surrounding temples and public buildings.
"Papa, look! The Senate House!"
The broad steps were inundated by the mob, which rose like a black flood tide to lash against the tall bronze doors. Bolted from within, they stood against the tide, but soon I began to hear a low, thudding, repetitive boom. It was hard to see exactly what was happening, but the mob seemed to be assaulting the doors of the Senate House with some sort of makeshift battering ram.
"Impossible," I said. "Incredible! What are they thinking of? What do they want?"
All at once the doors gave way. A moment later a cheer of triumph rose from the crowd. I looked back to the Rostra. The
Meanwhile, below us in the street, more men in black kept running by in parties of two and three, stragglers rushing to catch up. Most of them took the Ramp. I tried to see where they were all headed, but my view of the Forum was mostly of beaten copper roofs gleaming in the sunlight; every now and again I could catch a glimpse of tiny figures moving in the spaces between. They all seemed to be gathering before the Senate House at the far end of the Forum, where the sheer rock face of the Capitoline Hill forms a natural wall.
From my position, I had a clear view of the front of the Senate House. Broad marble steps led up to the massive bronze doors, which were closed. I could see only a tiny portion of the open space in front of the Senate House, but this included a clear view of the Rostra, the raised platform from which speakers address the populace. Already the space between the Rostra and the Senate House was filled with a crush of black-clad mourners.
The funeral dirge, which for a while had faded out of hearing, now returned, rising from the Forum. Echoing up from the valley, the harsh music sounded more confused and discordant than ever.
Suddenly it was overwhelmed by a great shout from the crowd. The body of Clodius had arrived. A little later I saw the bier as it was carried onto the Rostra and propped up for the crowd to see, just as it had been displayed on the steps of Clodius's house the night before. What a tiny thing it looked, and yet even at such a distance there was still something shocking about that glimpse of naked flesh amid so many black-clad mourners and so much cold, chiselled stone.
A speaker mounted the Rostra. I could hear only faint echoes of his voice. As he paced back and forth across the Rostra, waving his arms, pointing to the corpse of Clodius and raising his fists, the crowd broke into a thunderous roar. From that point on the noise of the mob rose and fell but never quite subsided.
"What's going on?"
I turned my head; startled. "Diana, go back down the ladder at once!"
"Why? Is it dangerous up here?" "Very. Your mother would have a fit."
"Oh, I hardly think so. She held the ladder for me. But I think she's afraid to come up herself." "As well she might be."
"And how about you, Papa? I should think an old fellow like you would be more likely to lose his balance than I would be."
"How did I ever come to have such an impertinent child?"
"I'm not impertinent. Just curious. It's like the siege of Troy, isn't it?"
"What?"
"Like Jupiter up on Mount Ida, watching the battlefield down below. They're all so tiny. It makes one feel... godlike."
"Does it? Jupiter could send down thunderbolts or messengers with wings. And he could hear what was being said. Having a view hardly makes me feel godlike. Quite the opposite. It makes me feel powerless, watching from a distance like this."
"You could go down and join them."
"Put myself at the mercy of that mob? There's no telling what they might do next -" "Papa, look!"
Like a storm-churned flood, the crowd seemed suddenly to overflow the broad square in front of the Rostra, surging in wave after wave onto the steps and terraces of the surrounding temples and public buildings.
"Papa, look! The Senate House!"
The broad steps were inundated by the mob, which rose like a black flood tide to lash against the tall bronze doors. Bolted from within, they stood against the tide, but soon I began to hear a low, thudding, repetitive boom. It was hard to see exactly what was happening, but the mob seemed to be assaulting the doors of the Senate House with some sort of makeshift battering ram.
"Impossible," I said. "Incredible! What are they thinking of? What do they want?"
All at once the doors gave way. A moment later a cheer of triumph rose from the crowd. I looked back to the Rostra. The
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