Convulsively her hand sought the bronze pennant, whose sharp point had already delivered her from the clutches of the big fellow who had tried to take her, near the Janus-Curiatius shrine.
It was not there. Then she remembered that she had thrown it down when the dwarf in the leather cloak had attacked the Praetorians.
She was unarmed.
‘What are you waiting for? Why don’t you slap her back?’ roared a huge German woman, pushing the Numidian wench back towards Fanina.
The crowd of prostitutes, claws bared, ebbed back towards Fanina, but almost immediately it retreated.
‘Lydia!’
Lashing out right and left, a tall young man elbowed his way through the crowd of women and extracted Fanina.
‘Lydia, what are you doing here?’ the young man exclaimed again, grasping her by the arm.
Fanina looked at him in astonishment.
‘Come on, now,’ he went on gruffly. ‘Don’t look at me like that. Come on home. Father’s waiting for you.’
‘What’s all this about?’ the woman who had first recognized Fanina asked angrily.
‘What do you think it’s about? My sister has run away from home yet again, and I’ve been looking for her ever since last night.’
Then, tapping his head, he added sadly:
‘For about a week she’ll act quite normal, then suddenly she runs away and we have to chase after her for hours before we find her.’
He was leading her away, and Fanina let him do so without trying to understand what it was all about. Their expressions showing they did not know which way to take it, the women began to disperse.
‘She doesn’t look as mad as all that,’ one of them remarked.
‘If you had to feed all the loonies in Rome who look as sane as you or me, all the cash you’ve ever earned from your clients since you’ve been on the streets wouldn’t buy them a bread roll each,’ retaliated another.
Still grumbling, the lad dragged Fanina away.
‘If her virtue is as weak as her head, she must have made more than a few men happy when she’s been on the loose,’ one of the women shouted mockingly after them.
The coarse laughter of the whores followed them for some while. Soon they reached a narrow passageway that ran between two vast blocks of houses. It was lighted by the full moon shining in all its brilliance in the clear sky. The young man stopped.
‘Just as well for you that I happened to be going past,’ he said. The passageway was deserted. Fanina had recovered her composure and replied in even tones:
‘Thank you for what you did for me.’
The young man bent his thin face down towards her, and his deep-set crafty little eyes sparkled as he took hold of her shoulders.
‘Where are you going to take me now?’ he asked.
Fanina recoiled, and the young man’s hands tightened their grasp.
‘Well, what did you expect me to say?’ he asked. ‘One good turn deserves another, my beauty. My little piece of play-acting enabled me to save your pretty hide from the loving attentions of those ladies. You needed a rescuer; you had me. For my part, I needed a pretty girl on the cheap, and here you are. You give me tonight and tomorrow we’ll be quits.’
Fanina shook off his grasp with a jerk. ‘You did a good deed,’ she said coldly. ‘The gods will be grateful to you.’
He made as if to grab her again.
‘If you lay hands on me, I’ll scream.’
He burst out laughing.
‘Scream your head off if you feel like it, sweety; the locals will either empty their chamber-pots over your pretty head or simply block their ears so that they can’t hear you.’
With a shudder Fanina shrank back against the wall of the nearest house and stayed leaning against it. She was at the mercy of her ‘rescuer’. She tried a subtler line.
‘I live in the Via Sacra,’ she said. ‘Take me there, then we’ll see.’
The lad gave a soft whistle of admiration.
‘In the Via Sacra?’
‘It’s only a stone’s throw away.’
He took a closer look at her, jogging from one long leg to the other.
‘By Bacchus!’ he exclaimed. ‘I hadn’t had a chance to take a proper look at you. You struck me as pretty, but, do you know, I’ve never seen a girl as beautiful as you.’
He leaned forward to examine her more closely.
‘You know, in broad daylight you must be terrific....’
He corrected himself:
‘A glamour puss who lives in the Via Sacra, a daddy’s girl out on the loose, I bet.’
Fanina had blundered in saying that she lived in the very aristocratic neighbourhood of the Via Sacra.
‘I’m only a servant,’ she added hastily.
‘A slave?’
Fanina lowered her head affirmatively.
‘Are you trying to tell me that your master is fool enough to let a lovely piece like you out at night, bringing all sorts of horrible diseases back with you?’
His mouth stretched wide in a lecherous smile, and he added:
‘No doubt about it, I’ll never get the chance again to have a girl as lovely as you. I’ve got you, my dear, and I’m keeping you.’
Fanina did not have time to make a get-away, for he had already taken her in his arms again and was feeling her body so roughly that she wanted to scream. His avid lips began to seek out hers, but Fanina turned her head away sharply. As slie did so, something heavy fell from her hood and rang on the cobbles: it was the purse full of gold, silver and small change that the Supreme Vestal had slipped in among the clothes Araxea had brought to the little house on the Field of Evil-doers.
‘What’s that?’ asked the young man.
‘A purse. If you let me go, you can have it.’
Still holding her with one hand, he bent down to pick up the purse which he opened with two fingers. There was a glitter of gold and silver pieces.
‘Aurei, quadrigats, sesterces; like it was raining money!’ he exclaimed in utter astonishment.
He turned towards her beaming with delight.
‘I’ve never seen so much money in one place before.’
Then he gave a furious cry, as Fanina sent him flying backwards with a sudden twist. Some of the gold pieces rolled on to the cobbles, and before he had time to pick tliem up, she had reached the end of the passage that opened on to a brighdy Ughted street. But there she stopped suddenly, as if turned to stone, her heart in the grip of an inexpressible anguish.....
On the footpath opposite her stood two watchmen lookmg at her, motionless and impassive beneath their heavy, shining metal helmets, with their thumbs tucked into their belts that held short, Spanish-style swords....
A hand slipped under Fanina’s arm.
‘A funny kind of way to say goodbye, dearie,’ jeered a voice.
It was the young man, who, after gathering up the gold pieces, had joined her again. He caught sight of the watchmen, broke off his sentence, hesitated, and looked as if he was going to leave Fanina, who was too astonished to react. Then he suddenly had second thoughts, clasped her round the waist and drew her away without the slightest resistance on her part.
They walked on a score of paces. Fanina’s temples were throbbing and she was acutely aware of the nightwatchmen’s gaze fixed on the ba& of her neck. They said nothing. Still they said nothing. A few more steps, and a few more. The men did not challenge them. It was a false alarm. Now she could breathe more easily. The watchmen must have taken them for a pair of lovers making it up after a tiff. It was an excellent cover to avoid drawing attention to herself.
‘I’ve a feeling those two uglies made an even more unpleasant impression on you than they did on me,’ the young man sniggered into her ear.
Fanina did not reply. He clasped her still closer, and placed a wet kiss behind her ear. Fanina gave a long-drawn-out shudder. He had kissed her in the very place Vindex had chosen as they parted.
But she must not offer any resistanc
e. If she showed the slightest reluctance, the watchmen would consider it their duty to fly to her assistance. She had to endure, ever to endure. Her life was at stake, and, what was even more important to her, the life of Vindex as well since his fate was irrevocably linked to hers.
‘Now give me your lips.’
With her neck held stiff, slowly, but unhesitatingly, Fanina offered her cold, tightly shut lips to the young man.
‘How badly you kiss,’ he growled. ‘Come on, now, try harder.’
Fanina parted her lips, and gave herself up to the man’s caress.
‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘Again ...’
Again he drew her to him and their breaths mingled. A warm glow suffused Fanina’s body and her legs felt weak beneath her. Then panting, trembling, with taut breasts, she bit furiously at the mouth that was offering itself to her.
Bending her over against him and delicately tilting up her chin, he murmured with glazed eyes and husky voice:
‘You’ll see, my dove, when you’ve spent a night in Tertius’s arms, you’ll have some pleasant surprises in store for every other lover you have in the future.’
Then, as if to recover his poise, he went on with mock ceremony:
‘I was forgetting, my nymph, that we had not been introduced. My name is Tertius Pansa. And yours?’
Bristling with anger, she replied:
‘Lydia.’
With a great ringing laugh, he landed a resounding slap on her behind.
‘Well said!’ was his appreciative comment. ‘Until further orders, then, you will be my darling Lydia, but at dawn, when I take you back to your home on the Via Sacra, I’ll find out your real name. Meanwhile, let’s stroll round the festival like everyone else in the neighbourhood. I’m sure that once you’ve had a few cups of Falernian, Caecubian or Calenian, I’d be hard put to it to find a more willing wench.’
They walked on more quickly. The sensuality that had for a moment gripped her had now left her, and cold-bloodedly and quite deliberately she pressed close to Tertius. She was angry with herself and full of self-approach, for she had let herself be caught unawares and was ashamed of the fact, as if she had betrayed Vindex. Vindex alone could give her pleasure, he alone, she repeated, he alone....
She appeared to be surrendering to Tertius as much as he could desire. Her body was pressed close to his. She had to be as she had been each time disaster had struck — docile as long as necessary, but as hard as steel inside, and quite ruthless when her adversary showed the slightest sign of weakness.
She would have to defend herself against Tertius. She would grant him as little as possible of what she had given Vindex, and in exchange he would protect her from everyone else.
She had seen through him very clearly. He was one of those mean little wretches that haunt the disreputable districts of the city. Petty thieves, pimps, and small-time thugs, who nevertheless knew how to command respect for themselves and for those they considered their property.
So for the time being she had decided to give Tertius the impression that she was his property.
As they walked on, they met more and more people heading the same way. They were mostly men, walking in ever-larger groups and talking and laughing loudly.
Fanina could now make out the far-off strains of harps and flutes, the haunting drone of bagpipes and the thump and rattle of a tambourine, interspersed with bursts of singing, cries of revelry and the heavy tramp of feet.
The crowd was growing more and more dense. Mostly humble folk they were: workmen, shopkeepers, spivs, enfranchized slaves wearing Phrygian caps, and layabouts like Tertius, whose companion they all ogled like ravenous wolves.
A little farther on at a cross-roads, there was the glint of helmets. Half a dozen men of the watch stood carefully scrutinizing the faces of passers-by.
Fanina swiftly drew the hood of her cloak over her head and clasped Tertius even closer.
‘There’s nothing like the sight of one of those jerks to get you into an affectionate mood,’ the young man mocked. ‘I must say I’ve had it good tonight. I gather there was a spot of bother up near the top of the Way of Evil-doer....’
Fanina pricked up her ears, and Tertius went on:
‘It would appear that three or four watchmen were laid out cold by some persons unknown and, as if that were not enough, a couple of horsemen of the Praetorian Guard were done in right in front of the Janus-Curiatius shrine.’
He giggled:
‘I’d have died laughing except that it resulted in a round-up such as you only see in Rome every ten years or so. Every single person found hanging about round there got picked up, and if I hadn’t had a long pair of legs I’d be having my ribs massaged with a belt down in one or other of the city barracks....’
Fanina had a fleeting vision of Vindex being beaten up in some guardroom, but she had no time to dwell on the painful image. They had reached the watchmen.
Lifting her head towards Tertius, Fanina drew him down to her and laid her lips on his.
‘Hi, Tertius!’
Tertius broke away from Fanina, who turned slightly to one side in order to hide her face in the shadow of her hood. She watched what was going on out of the corner of her eye. It was a young watchman who had hailed her companion.
‘How you doing, Druentianus?’ Tertius asked with a forced smile.
‘Not as well as you, by Hercules! Let’s have a peep at the face of the doll there that’s making such a fuss of you!’
Fanina stiffened and stared straight into the soldier’s face.
‘May the gods protect me, Tertius,’ exclaimed Druentianus with a knowing laugh, ‘but I think this time you’ve struck it rich!’
‘If the rest is as good to look at as the little we can see I’d gladly give six months’ pay to be in your shoes for a while!’ remarked another watchman, rolling his eyes ecstatically.
Tightening his hold on her, Tertius preened himself and laid a casual, proprietary kiss on her brow.
‘Where are you off to, anyway?’ Druentianus went on.
‘Same place as everyone else; to Domitius Brazen-beard’s celebration,’ Tertius replied.
Fanina’s legs almost gave way beneath her and she clutched convulsively at Tertius’s shoulder.
The watchmen burst out laughing.
‘I’ve the impression that your conquest is already half seas over, Tertius,’ laughed the sergeant in command of the patrol. ‘One cup more and she’ll be as limp as a rag by the time you get her into bed.’
Tertius walked away swiftly with Fanina in tow.
‘He’s not a bad chap that Druentianus,’ he remarked with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘We were born in the same block over by the Porta Capena. Only the idiot chose to go around putting out fires and policing the streets by night, instead of having a good time like me.’
Fanina stopped. ‘Don’t let’s go to this festival,’ she begged.
‘What an idea!’ protested Tertius. ‘Brazen-beard has the best wines in Rome. Surely you don’t want me to miss the opportunity of drinking a cup or two to your health. And in any case, we’re there already, look....’
An enormous stone wall, bristling with long steel spikes, ran for about twenty yards between two houses. There was a monumental gateway in it, through which the crowds were thronging, and through which they could see a huge garden lit by thousands of lanterns that hung in festoons between the branches.
Now Fanina could hear even more clearly the dance music, the singing, the drunks shouting, and the slaves calling for more amphorae of wine from the stewards.
‘I’m not going in,’ Fanina stated.
Was this what the gods had decreed? Had they let her cross the city only to lead her the more surely to Brazen-beard’s lair, Brazen-beard her worst enemy, who, together with Calvinus, had had her buried alive deep down under the Field of Evil-doers? In this garden stood the house to which Brazen-beard had planned to lure her, the house in which, as the unhappy Araxea had said, the red
headed swine gave himself up to debauchery with gladiators, Libyan slaves and porters from Ostia.
‘I’m not going in!’ she repeated.
Tertius’s wrinkled eyes stared at her.
‘You’re not going in?’ he asked, his mouth taking on a vicious twist.
‘No.’
He turned about and called: ‘Druentianus!’
Fanina heard the watchman reply: ‘What do you want?’
The watchman’s heavy tread drew nearer, while Tertius watched Fanina’s reactions with an ironical look. The young woman endured his stare, then, overcoming the surge of impotent rage and fear that rose up within her, she said:
‘As you will, Tertius. Let us go to Brazen-beard’s.’
‘What did you want, Tertius?’ the watchman repeated, close beside them. A triumphant smile lit up the rogue’s face.
‘My adored nymph would like to know why Brazen-beard is holding this festival. Can you enlighten her?’
Druentianus, visibly delighted to be able to speak to his friend’s lovely companion, assumed a swaggering pose and, tucking his hands into his belt, explained:
‘It is to thank the people of Subura for the help they gave him by asking the College of Pontiffs to have Fanina the Vestal buried alive as a punishment for her crimes, my pretty one. The feast is to last seven days and seven nights.’
Then with a finger on his lips he added softly:
‘You mustn’t tell anyone, but apparently Domitius said that seven days was about the time it would take Fanina to die down there in her hole....’
And he concluded, with a pout of disgust:
‘While she dies of hunger and cold, the people who had her shut up in the tomb in the Field of Evil-doers are busy stuffing themselves and warming their bellies by emptying Domitius’s wine jars.’
An indefinable glint shone in Fanina’s eyes.
‘Let’s go and empty some of Brazen-beard’s wine jars too, and drink to Fanina’s health, Tertius,’ she said coldly.
As they were about to push open Brazen-beard’s garden gate, Tertius gave Fanina a long kiss on the lips. Then he whispered in her ear:
Fanina, Child of Rome Page 4