English fiction -- 19th century; Historical fiction; Italy -- History -- 476-774 -- Fiction
The vast buildings which covered the Imperial hill, though discoloured
by the lapse of ages and hung with ivy, had suffered little diminution
of their external majesty; time had made them venerable, but had not
shattered their walls. For two centuries and a half, they had stood all
but desolate, and within that time had thrice been sacked by
barbarians, yet something of the riches and art which made their
ancient glory was still discoverable in the countless halls and
chambers; statues, busts, mural paintings, triumphs of mosaic, pictured
hangings, had in many parts escaped the spoiler and survived ruin;
whilst everywhere appeared the magnificence of rare stones, the
splendours of royal architecture, the beauty of unsurpassed carving.
Though owls nested where empresses were wont to sleep, and nettles
pierced where the lord of the world feasted his courtiers, this was
still the Palace of those who styled themselves Ever August; each echo
seemed to repeat an immortal name, and in every gallery seemed to move
the shadows of a majestic presence.
Belisarius had not resided here, preferring for his abode the palace of
the Pincian. His successor in the military government of Rome chose a
habitation on the deserted hill, in that portion of its complex
structures which had been raised by Vespasian and his sons. Thither the
two visitors were now directing their steps. Having passed a gateway,
where Marcian answered with a watchword the challenge of the guard,
they ascended a broad flight of stairs, and stood before an entrance
flanked with two great pillars of Numidian marble, toned by time to a
hue of richest orange. Here stood soldiers, to whom again the password
was given. Entering, they beheld a great hall, surrounded by a
colonnade of the Corinthian order, whereon had been lavished exquisite
carving; in niches behind the columns stood statues in basalt, thrice
the size of life, representing Roman emperors, and at the far end was a
tribune with a marble throne. This, once the hall of audience, at
present served as a sort of antechamber; here and there loitered a
little group of citizens, some of whom had been waiting since early
morning for speech with the commander; in one corner, soldiers played
at dice, in another a notary was writing at a table before which stood
two ecclesiastics. Voices and footsteps made a faint, confused
reverberation under the immense vault.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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