Free Gore Vidal’s Caligula by William Howard Page B

to the base. Then, smiling up into the young man’s eyes, he gave a quick jerk, tightening the noose as hard as he could.
    A scream of agony rent the air, then another. The young sentry fell backward into the chair, still screaming. As his hands went to his tortured crotch, the two guards pulled his arms away and bound them behind him.
    Tiberius, smiling benignly, watched the sentry writhe, watched as the bloody spittle began to dribble from his bitten lips. Then he looked at Caligula approvingly, and Caligula responded with a slight bow and a smile that matched Tiberius’ own.
    “Give him more to drink,” Tiberius ordered the officer of the guard, and turned to the young victim. “After all, this is a day you’ll never forget. Will you, lad?”
    The agonized groan of response was choked off as the guards poured more wine down the man’s throat.
    Tiberius leaned again on his ebony “crutch” and turned to go. Caligula noticed that the black girl kept her legs pressed together, rubbing the thighs against each other, while her nipples stood out. Evidently the torture had aroused erotic sensations in her. His eyes narrowed as he watched her. Her buttocks were large and firm. A sudden desire took possession of him. Later, perhaps, he thought. He turned and kept pace with his grandfather as they strolled on through the villa’s gardens.
    “How will they receive me at Rome?” Tiberius asked his grandson as they walked.
    Whore’s piss! So the old bastard was really planning to return!
    “With joy,” Caligula sighed tenderly, smiling his most affectionate smile.
    “They ought,” snapped Tiberius. “I have done my best for my people. I swear I have.”
    He watched Caligula closely as they entered the groves and glades of the villa, looking for signs of disaffection, but Caligula spoke pleasingly about the triumphal reception Tiberius was sure to receive. All Rome would come out to greet him, walking as far as the thirtieth milestone or farther, Caligula promised, and Tiberius accepted this as Vesta’s own truth. The most patrician of the Senators would be dispatched to Ostia, Caligula vowed to escort Tiberius’ trireme to Rome. Statues of Tiberius would be erected all along the banks of the river Tiber, and they would be wreathed in laurel leaves fashioned of the purest gold. The wreaths would then become Tiberius’ property, of course.
    “Of course,” murmured Tiberius.
    No expense had been spared to make Tiberius’ retreat as “rustic” and sylvan as possible. Olive trees shone silvery-blue next to the feathery plumage of honey locust and acacia. Willows stared like Narcissus at their reflections in hidden pools. It was a setting worthy of those mythological creatures, the fauns, nymphs and satyrs.
    It surprised Caligula not at all therefore, to come upon a young satyr making love to two nymphs in a sun-dappled glade. The boy, whom Caligula guessed to be about eighteen, stood with his hind hooves braced, his tail against a tree. Bending before him, small round buttocks presented to his cock, was one of the most delicately beautiful creatures Caligula had ever laid eyes on. Her hair was of palest gold, wound round with a coronet of woodland wildflowers. Her diaphanous dress, pulled up to her waist, seemed woven for a divine nymph. The girl’s hands were braced upon her knees, so that the thrusting of the satyr’s pole would not topple her. And pole it was, Caligula saw with a stab of envy—fully ten inches in length and correspondingly thick.
    Another nymph stood next to the satyr, her back against the same tree, as though waiting her turn. Her hands cupped the mighty genitals, and she rubbed and fondled them as he fucked. This nymph’s hair was jet black and hung free down below her waist. Her thin gown was pulled off one shoulder, exposing a round breast at which the satyr suckled with evident enjoyment.
    When the trio caught sight of the Emperor Tiberius, the dark girl turned her body so that it faced