Free SALVE ROMA! A Felidae Novel - U.S. Edition by Akif Pirinçci

I heard a voice from behind my back.
    »Statistics, hon«, I said and shrugged without turning around.

6.
     
    T his time there were no leftovers but a trip to the real luxury. Though I could have had guessed that again Antonio’s cocky promise had a snag to it. Sleepy, we wormed our way through the romantic and meanwhile deserted alleys. Familiar faces, which I knew from illustrated books and Gustav’s enthusiastic monologues while he studied maps of the Ancient Rome, crossed our path. The gigantic shadow of the Pantheon grew towards us as we walked the Via dei Cestari, and when we reached the Piazza della Rotonda, suddenly we saw it live and bodily.
    Could there be any more simple building than the Pantheon? A barrel with a hemisphere on its top, technically that’s it. So ingeniously simple and yet of gigantic dimension. Thick bronze doors let to the circular room, which had the diameter and the height of almost 165 feet. The walls are about 20 feet thick! 27 BC, the temple is said to have been dedicated to the seven holy planetary god Neptune, Uranus, Saturn, Jupiter, Mercury, Venus und Mars.
    At his late hour I didn’t dare to get more than a short glimpse. My eyes wandered along the coffered ceiling, which had once been an image of the firmament, decorated with gilded bronze. At daytime, an about 32 feet wide circular hole was the source of light, which evenly suffused the room. Now in the dark only a sallow light pillar could be seen. It was produced by the shining of the stars and through the giant hole in the dome it descended down into the dark hall as if it were Heaven’s salute to the great son of the Roman Renaissance, much-loved Raphael, whose grave was right h ere inside one of the alcoves.
    Antonio reminded me to move on, and after a while we seemed to have reached our destination. We faced a spotlighted wonder hewn in stone, Rome’s most well known landmark. A couple of ages ago, a not quite that cheap pope named Clemens had, much to the delight of the Romans, ordered to build a fountain in this spot. It was the Fontana di Trevi, the one where you’re considered to throw a coin at over your left shoulder, if you want to see Rome ever again. To call this baroque jewel a »fountain« is as appropriate as to speak of Elvis as »quite a good singer«.
    At this time of night, just a couple of twosomes were sitting at the edge of the pool and whispered sweet nothings. My eyes reveled in the piece of art, which leaned right against the palace of the Dukes of Poli. Underneath the middle of a three-axle triumphal arch the god Poseidon sat enthroned on a cart that was pulled by two sea horses, surrounded by sea shells, booming waves and fish-bodied sea gods. The water moved over artificial rocks and swirled around the figures until it was collected in a semicircular pool, just to begin the loop anew. The gorgeous illumination of the site and the quiet burble of the water provided the atmosphere with something so enraptured that I was temped to lie do wn and fall asleep on the spot.
    »We’re here«, Antonio said. »Don’t fall asleep yet!«
    »Why not?« I replied. »Do we have to take a bath first?«
    He pointed at one of the surrounding buildings and trotted off. One building among those that surrounded the plaza was notably eye-catching due to its particular splendor. The sand-yellow shining palazzo seemed to be newly renovated, or had never been allowed to go to rack. The very neatly arranged windows with their window blinds were as big as doors. Protruding balconies harbored the supply of several flower shops; cascades of liana-like plants sounded the depths out of giant terracotta pots so that half of the facade was covered with a green curtain; and upstairs on the roof there was a terrace as big a sports ground. And no store for luxury fashion spoilt the lower level, as it seemed to be common around here. My astonishment just wouldn’t come to an end when I noticed that there was just a single