Fanina, Child of Rome

by Pierre Sabbagh

  Sejanus straightened up. With parted lips and eyes fever-bright, he was gazing at her. Drawing the folds of her enveloping cloak about her bosom, she lowered her voice and added:

  ‘The position you hold must have given you access to quite a few secrets.’

  He swallowed with difficulty and nodded.

  ‘Then you must be aware of the reason Tiberius made me a vestal.’

  Screwing up his eyes, he gazed intently at her and nodded once more. Pointing with her chin at the bronze pennant that lay at her feet, Fanina went on:

  ‘That relic, that you must undoubtedly be familiar with, is the most precious thing Tiberius ever owned. He gave it to me the first time I was allowed to watch over the altar of the goddess; you could hardly expect better proof of the fact that the Emperor really believes in my mission.’

  Sejanus was transfigured. He spoke with trembling voice:

  ‘Tiberius told me more than a hundred times over the past ten years that you were the most precious person in the whole Empire; that you alone are worth twenty legions; that you are the instrument of the gods, the instrument of strength and power, the ultimate hope of Rome in the hour of misfortune. Thrasyllos, the Emperor’s soothsayer, has often told me that your horoscope is in every detail identical with that foretold in the Sibylline books and in the prophetic verses of your ancester, Mastarna Marcius!’

  Then suddenly he broke off. His face hardened and he watched her eagerly as he muttered:

  ‘I had forgotten to take account of you in my calculations!’

  Looking straight into one another’s eyes, they stood face to face.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ Fanina asked.

  ‘I mean that, without you, I could already have been the ruler of the whole world. Without you, Tiberius would have been completely in my hands,’ he said harshly.

  Fanina grew calmer.

  ‘Do you still imagine I am on Tiberius’s side?’ she asked gently.

  Turning away, she walked back slowly to the window where she stood in the diffuse light that filtered through the rough panes of the casement, and leaned against it.

  ‘How can you possibly imagine for a single moment that I could still be on Tiberius’s side, you who with your spies in every corner of the Empire, must surely be aware of the terrible disasters that have befallen me through no fault of mine?’

  Sejanus took a few rapid steps towards her. He was ashen, and his mouth trembled.

  ‘How can you possibly imagine that I, the daughter of Faninus and Terentia, that I could be on the same side as Calvinus and Domitius Brazen-beard who had me buried alive in the Field of Evil-doers?’

  ‘Am I to understand ...’ the commander of the Praetorian Guard began in a strangled voice.

  ‘If you are really bent on getting rid of Tiberius, I am with you, Sejanus.’

  Very pale, they took stock of one another. As if emerging from a dream, Sejanus drew his hand across his brow. He could not believe what he had just heard. He had perhaps hoped he might reach some sort of alliance with Fanina by other means, and after a long time and a slow, tortuous process of winning her round, in which he would have had to use all his charm and all the subtle dialectic of the consummate diplomat that he was. But her proposition had taken him completely by surprise.

  ‘I do not know exactly what your aims are, Sejanus,’ Fanina went on, ‘but if you are determined to put an end to the terror that is steeping the Empire in blood, if you are determined to bring happiness to the wretched unfortunates, the depths of whose misery I have had a chance to share since I became wretched like them, if, thanks to you, Rome can return to the happy days of the Republic, then you will find no more valuable ally than me.’

  Lifting one hand, she concluded:

  ‘This I swear to you, Sejanus, by all the gods whose instrument I am, not to save Tiberius himself as he possibly imagines, but to save the Empire that he is leading towards disaster.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Carried by four Liburnian bearers, the litter in which Fanina had taken her place was proceeding down-country. As she lay in the narrow vehicle with its scarlet, gold-brocaded hangings, she drew into her lungs the fresh scents of the approaching spring. She was on her way back to Rome ... to Rome....

  Two days had elapsed since that morning when Fanina had concluded the agreement which allied her to Sejanus for the accomplishment of their ambitious plans: to depose Tiberius and to re-establish the Republic, pure and righteous, as Brutus and Cassius had wanted it to be.

  Fanina could still see Sejanus’s emaciated face as she swore that oath, not a single word of which did she disown, so precisely did it reflect her innermost thoughts.

  Not believing his ears, clutching at his throat with his hands as if he were choking, the commander of the Praetorian Guard had stammered:

  ‘Can it be? ... Can it be? ...’

  Drawing herself up to her full height, she had looked him up and down, then said in a glacial voice:

  ‘Do you want me to make a speech about it, Sejanus? In order to convince you, must I answer the questionnaire you no doubt prepared to confound me with while you were out on your long night ride in the mountains? No doubt, in order to set your mind at rest, you would like to know how I managed to get out of the tomb in the Field of Evil-doers and why I happened to be with Atia when you came to consult her.’

  Turning her back on him as she walked back to the centre of the room, she added, as if what she was saying was of slight consequence to her:

  ‘Pardonable curiosity, illustrious Sejanus.... All I can say is that trusted friends helped me and that I do not exactly know why I happened to be at Atia’s place that very night. If you cannot resign yourself to attributing to the gods their part in what I consider to have been a miraculous combination of circumstances, bring on your guards; if the gods are favourable to them they will soon find out more than I can tell you.’

  Then opening the door she concluded:

  ‘Now leave me. I need quiet and rest.’

  Bowing very low to her, the commander of the Praetorian Guard retired. Fanina bolted the door, fell on to the bed and waited a long, Ibng time for sleep to come. She regretted nothing of what she had said and promised. She was even full of impatience for the time when she could really throw herself into the fray, but why, oh why had it to be together with this man ... Sejanus? Why had it not been to Vindex that she had sworn that solemn oath that bound her body and soul?

  What an exciting life of adventure the two of them would have had together as they trod the radiant road to Liberty, and how good it would have been to have been able to come together as one before the combat!

  The past two days really had been two days of calm and rest. In the silent fortress, the Praetorians kept very quiet and at night they desisted from calling out their customary shrill summons while on guard, lest they disturb Fanina in her sleep. Only a very occasional messenger galloped up and left again immediately at top speed. Many, many messengers came and went across the bare plateau where the commander of the Praetorians held the reins of the Empire and spun the threads of his intrigues. Sejanus, discreet and anxious not to intrude, brought Fanina her meals upstairs himself. Once he had suggested she might like to go for a short walk in the neighbourhood, but she had refused and he had not insisted.

  The day before they set out, Sejanus had brought Fanina some clothes — simple but in the very best taste — and she had tried them on with undisguised pleasure. Now their small party, in the centre of which Fanina’s bearers walked, were making their way down the mountainside.

  Far away towards Forum Aurelii, a narrow strip of blue sea mingled with the intense blue of the sky. Occasionally one of the horses would stumble against a stone and its four hooves would ring out as it tried to regain its balance. Sometimes the clink of arms would be added to the monotonous sound of the horses’ hooves, the clang of a sword pommel against a steel breast-plate. For their return to Rome the Praetorians had put on full military
regalia. Their faces like masks in the shadow of their golden helmets, not daring even to glance at the woman their leader now treated with such respect, Gryllus and Romilius had once again put on the insignia of first decurions. As for Sejanus, he rode at the head of the column, behind the stately figure of the vexillus who wore a stuffed lion’s head and bore the scarlet banner of his own personal guard. In no way was he marked out by any of the insignia of his many offices; there was nothing in his sober, elegant riding dress to indicate that he was the commander of the garrison of the Eternal City, one of the two reigning consuls, the second in command of the most powerful empire in the whole world.

  At noon the little troop halted in a spinney. Still not wanting to impose his presence on Fanina, Sejanus ate his lunch a few paces from her.

  ‘When shall we reach Rome?’ Fanina asked suddenly.

  ‘In three days at the outside, illustrious ...’

  Sejanus broke off, then drawing nearer, he whispered:

  ‘Forgive me, illustrious Fanina, but I don’t think I can very well call you by your rightful name in front of the men. What should I call you?’

  ‘Bella.’

  This was the name Atia had given her when she had arrived and it sprang naturally to Fanina’s lips.

  ‘The only name, Fanina excepted, that would be right for you,’ whispered Sejanus with a smile.

  Then he added, louder:

  ‘We shall be in Rome in three days at the outside, illustrious Bella. Perhaps you will then allow me the pleasure of offering you some hospitality.’

  Fanina had not thought about this particular problem. Like lightning she replied:

  ‘If you do me the favour of behaving like a gentleman towards me, you would be doing me an honour, illustrious Sejanus.’

  The small band set out again. As they left a wretched, halfabandoned village, the mountain track suddenly widened out and became a stony, poorly maintained road running along the brink of a deeply embanked river. Here the escort was able to fan out as it pleased, and without the necessity for any order, the Praetorians instinctively formed ranks as if for a ceremonial parade, their scarlet banner flying in the wind.

  At the first halt, while new bearers were taking over the carrying poles of Fanina’s litter from their weary companions, Sejanus came back to watch the manoeuvre. At the second halt he did the same again, and at the third, when the Praetorians set off once more, he stayed with Fanina as if by accident....

  That evening as the little troop entered Forum Aurelii, the commander of the Praetorians had been riding beside Fanina for a good two hours.

  At first, every now and then, as if cautiously sounding the ground, he had made some brief remark. Since Fanina showed no sign of ill will towards him, he had gradually grown more animated and had begun to paint a lively picture of the lighter aspects of the wearisome round his exacting duties imposed on him, and to caricature the leading personalities with whom he was obliged to mix.

  He was a brilliant raconteur, and spiced his anecdotes liberally with the ‘Italian salt’ that enlivened the constant flow of banter the Romans kept up with one another. He had a happy turn of phrase, could conjure up a picture in a phrase and was often funny and always enjoyable to listen to.

  ‘He’s going out of his way to win me over,’ Fanina thought to herself.

  A vague smile playing about her lips, she listened in silence, studying him, analysing him, like a character from a play her literature teachers had taught her to study. This man Sejanus could be a real charmer when he wanted to. But under the charm one caught glimpses of the pitiless beast of prey he surely was in the political arena, the jouster whose rapid changes of front and whose stinging repartees must leave many an opponent in the Senate gasping.

  Since she was going to have to share his battles with him, Fanina had at first endured his presence beside her, for it helped to allay the monotony of the long, wearisome journey. As they entered Forum Aurelii, she felt amused in spite of herself and began to wonder whether this pleasant companion was the same man as the hardened professional soldier whose unspeakable assault she had suffered.

  One of the riders had gone on ahead and reserved a room in the relay post at Forum Aurelii ‘for an officer of the Praetorian Cohorts’. As the guards dismounted in the courtyard and prepared to eat their evening meal outside under the watchful eye of the master of the posting stage and a swarm of pretty slave-girls anxious to please, Fanina and Sejanus sat down at the table that had been prepared for them: the sort of unpretentious table found in taverns or relay posts, at which one ate in a sitting position instead of lying down to eat as one did in the homes of the rich and even the moderately well-to-do.

  Meanwhile, at the opposite end of the room, waiting until their leader had finished his meal before they themselves ate, Romilius .md Gryllus, Sejanus’s customary bodyguards, stood watch.

  The meal was served with dispatch. Sejanus ate sparingly and took little to drink but was extremely attentive to Fanina. He had adopted the pose of the great friend, ready to be helpful in any way, but without overdoing it; he had become her squire.

  Their meal was nearly over when the sound of a horse’s hooves rang out in the courtyard of the posting house, and almost immediately after, the master of the house came in.

  ‘Most worthy lord,’ he said to Sejanus, bowing and scraping as lie spoke, ‘there is a military tribune outside asking for lodgings for the night. Would it be possible to ask you graciously to grant me permission to serve him his meal in this room?’

  Sejanus was so busy explaining to Fanina how his friend the famous gourmet Marcus Gavius Apicius made sow’s liver taste still more delicious by feeding the sows dried figs and filling their drinking trough with honey-flavoured wine, that he did not even honour the master of the relay-post with a glance, but with a gesture that signified that he saw no objection to the man’s suggestion, took up the thread of his story once more and went on:

  ‘Apicius had thought up a hundred other ways of feeding animals to make them worthy of his table, illustrious Bella. The dear old idiot is at his wit’s end to satisfy his own and his friends’ gluttony. No dish is too exotic or too expensive for his purse, so much so that since I have known him he has spent more than a hundred million sesterces on food alone.’

  ‘A hundred million!’ Fanina could not help exclaiming. Her father had never owned even a hundredth part of that fabulous sum.

  Visibly delighted to see her at last show some interest in his conversation, Sejanus added:

  ‘But now the poor man only has some ten million sesterces left and he is busy shouting from the rooftops that he’s about to die of hunger...’

  Sejanus had led up to the conclusion of his story so amusingly that for the first time in a long while, a silvery laugh rose to Fanina’s lips. Then, lifting her head, she caught sight of a young officer of the cavalry legions standing in the doorway as if turned to stone, watching her.

  It was as if the ground suddenly gave way beneath Fanina’s feet. Breathless, she stammered:

  ‘Caius!’

  It was indeed Vindex who, horribly pale, not believing his eyes, was walking hesitantly towards her as if afraid she might vanish at any moment.

  ‘You! ’ he said in a toneless voice. ‘You!’

  With his hands clutching his breast, shaking his head as if he could hardly believe what he saw, he stood motionless for a moment a few paces from the table where Fanina, still holding the j pose in which she had been surprised laughing heartily beside ] Sejanus, felt herself quail beneath his glance. Then, grief and astonishment painted all over his face, he turned his chin in the direction of the all powerful commander of the Praetorian Guards I and went on:

  ‘You! You in ... that man’s company!’

  ‘You were with Calpurnia not so long ago, weren’t you, Caius!’ Fanina rejoined in an irrepressible burst of anger, provoked by the note of reproach she had caught in Vindex’s words.

  She hurled the words at him in a lo
w barely audible hiss, with all the inexpressible bitterness and searing resentment of a jealous woman, who for too long had churned over her grievances against the man she loved too much and who had betrayed her, against the unworthy lover. At the very moment when she had called to him for help in her distress, he had despicably abandoned her, preferring to her a girl who might be less beautiful, but who was honoured, rich, happy, on whom the gods had bestowed every blessing.

  Suddenly everything she had been feeling burst forth. She could no longer control herself. No longer was she the civilized patrician who knew how to master her passions under all circumstances. She was the eternal jilted woman, pouring out her unhappy love in tones akin to hatred.

  ‘You were with Calpurnia, Caius, and then you didn’t worry about whether I was safe or in danger, or whether the grief caused by the loss of my parents had driven me to desperation!’

  This was madness! She had sworn to herself that she would win him back, that she would forgive him the wrongs he had done her, and here she was, without even waiting for his explanations, heaping imprecations on him, whereas it might well have been enough had she merely remained silent, for the impassable wall of incomprehension that she was wantonly building between them to totter and fall. But she just could not help herself. He had made her suffer too much. Every word she uttered there before witnesses, before Sejanus feigning nonchalant indifference, before Gryllus and Romilius as they stood at the back of the room, hands in their .wordbelts, ready to intervene, every one of the words she hurled at him in her hissing voice, more impressive for its contained vehemence than any strident outburst of anger, every word led to a still harsher one; already in the rash blindness of his proud youth, unable to take any more of Fanina’s bitter accusations in front of these bystanders, Vindex, violent by nature, let fly too:

  ‘I’ve never spared a thought for anyone but you! What have you to reproach me for, I who sought so long for you? I who have moved heaven and earth to find some trace of you!’