The month of February is the month of festivities,
the time when birds find their mates and that of the Lupercalia, the festival
of the god of fertility. For Rome, this is the time when the mobs crowd the
streets and there are festivities everywhere. Yet for me, this is the month
when I have experienced the optimum happiness in my life with a tinge of regret
especially when I have to come to terms with the fact that my days have become
numbered.
It is very cold and even my bones can feel the
chill of this night. I don’t know what hour it is. But the little glimpse of
sky that I view from my barred window, it looks dark blue with a glow. Looks like
it must be three hours past midnight. Not that I was a reader of the skies but
judging from the months of captivity and the hours when the watch changed in
the tower, I think I have become adept at it. But there is something very
special about this day as it might be the last one I might see. This day I go
to face my death in the gallows before the huge crowd gathered for the
Lupercalia this week.
There are occasional shouts and celebrations from
the streets. Just like every year, this year too many young men will prove
their valour in the competitions held before the emperor. The women will be
showered with the ceremonial blood from the sacrifice of animals before the god
of fertility near the caves of Romulus and Remus. Then, there will be the
choosing of one’s bride from the urn of good fortune. Julia will also be chosen
by some warrior or the other. Even the thought makes me angry as it brings to
my mind a very unpleasant memory of having to tend for her for days on end and
then having to leave her side on new orders from the Emperor.
No comments:
Post a Comment