Fanina, Child of Rome

by Pierre Sabbagh

  For she had now reached the House of Vestals. Without even realizing it, she had crossed the road and had followed Cornelia through a little-used doorway that shut behind her.

  Then two sinewy arms had gripped her by the shoulders, turned her round like a child, and clasped her in a tight embrace.

  ‘My Hemonia!’ she sobbed.

  ‘My darling!’

  Clasping one another, clinging tightly together in the dark, they stood quite still, overcome with emotion at this meeting they had no longer dared hope for.

  ‘Darling!’

  ‘My Hemonia!’

  Cornelia steered them gently towards a brilliantly lighted room and vanished without a sound. Then Fanina gently pushed her nurse back in order to take a look at her, to see her again as she had always seen her in her mind’s eye. She almost cried out in horror. Was this her Hemonia, her strong Hemonia, her indomitable Hemonia, this poor little old woman with the white hair, all bent and stooping, her face deeply lined, as she looked at her with eyes pale from weeping? Mad with grief, Fanina clasped Hemonia to her, but it was Hemonia who drew away.

  ‘So you didn’t recognize your old Hemonia, did you?’ her nurse murmured.

  Humbly bowing before the woman who had suffered so much on her account, Fanina buried her face in those dear thin, shrunken hands that caressed her, tracing the lines of her face like a blind man the better to recognize her.

  ‘It’s my fault! It’s all my fault!’ Fanina stammered.

  ‘It is life as the gods willed it,’ Hemonia said softly. ‘It’s the same cruel life that crushed you, that imposed strains on you that you were not strong enough to bear, my dearest.’

  That was her old Hemonia; she considered what she herself had undergone was of no importance. The only suffering she had found hard to bear was that undergone by ‘her’ girl. What did her own misfortunes matter? Whereas the most trivial of Fanina’s troubles was intolerable to her.

  Yes, she had been tortured by Brazen-beard himself. Domitius had an old score to settle with her since that day ten years back when she had so cruelly humiliated him. With added refinements of his own invention, he had begun to torture her slowly on the grill. This had gone on for some two days, but what had caused her the greatest suffering had been the way Brazen-beard had so cunningly kept her in a state of uncertainty about what had happened to Fanina.

  Yes, she had been trapped by the fire, but why talk about that since she had managed to escape the flames and had set out to find Fanina, whose condemnation she had not yet heard about, for without Fanina her life held little interest for her.

  That was why she had dragged herself to the House of Vestals, horribly burnt and half dead after the terrible things she had lived through.

  After that she had remained with Vibidia, with fury in her heart, and mad with anxiety, lest she should in seeking Fanina lead Brazen-beard’s and Calvinus’s spies to her. Here she had turned to the gods in whom she had never believed and besought them to give her back her only reason for living.

  With her face buried in the shoulder of the woman to whom she meant everything, Fanina could at last give way to her feelings. No longer need she act a part. Casting aside all fear of what people might think, once more she became the child with no secrets to hide from Hemonia. Hemonia understood everything. Hemonia guessed everything. Hemonia forgave everything.

  ‘Your father, Fanina, he was so good, so noble ... And your mother, Fanina, she was so gentle and so kind ...’

  Then at last:

  ‘And what about “him”, Fanina?’

  ‘All that is finished, Hemonia ... finished.’

  Drawing a veil over the six months she had lived with Sejanus, Hemonia had gone to the heart of the matter, to the wound that would never heal.

  ‘He betrayed me odiously, Hemonia.’

  Her nurse’s pale eyes stared straight into hers.

  ‘Vindex betrayed you, my dear?’

  ‘Yes, Hemonia.’

  Taking Fanina’s face in her two hands, her nurse shook her head sadly. Her lips shaped words but she did not utter them. With a deep sigh she said:

  ‘I shall leave someone else to tell you all about that.’

  ‘What do you mean, Hemonia?’

  A vague smile lit up her nurse’s face.

  ‘I’m not the only one here, you know, my dear,’ she replied. ‘You belong to someone else as well as me ...’

  Then she whispered:

  ‘To Vibidia, who cannot wait to see you again.’

  How could she ever express to Hemonia the gratitude she felt for her infinite tact? Fearing to arouse the jealousy that had set her nurse so long against the Supreme Vestal, Fanina had carefully refrained from asking her about Vibidia, and yet it was Hemonia herself who was granting to Vibidia the place she occupied in Fanina’s heart.

  Removing Fanina’s cloak, her nurse rearranged the folds of her scarlet dress.

  ‘What an odd way you are wearing your hair now!’ she exclaimed, as she attempted to tidy Fanina’s skilfully piled-up locks. Then glancing over Fanina’s shoulder, she fell silent. Fanina turned round and petrified, watched the solemn procession that was entering the room.

  Dressed in their ceremonial costume, the five priestesses who were not watching over the altar of the goddess made their processional entry. Vibidia walked at their head, paler, diaphanous, thinner than before, her eyes feverish, but still as lovely as ever. Maximilia, Cornelia, little Pupilia and another little girl who had taken Fanina’s place, acted as her escorts.

  Once again, nothing was happening the way Fanina had imagined it would....

  The role Vibidia was making her play was far from being the conventional return of the prodigal daughter to the bosom of the family she had dishonoured. Meltings of the heart, tears and forgiveness had no place in the strange ceremony presided over by the Supreme Vestal with her incomparable presence and sovereign majesty.

  Coming to a halt a few paces from Fanina, she spoke in her deep, musical voice:

  ‘Fanina, our sister, our dear daughter, we would have liked to welcome you back in the Temple of Mother Vesta herself, you who have given your all for the city. But alas, we are not alone in this house. There are servants constantly spying on us. This is far too grave a moment for us to share with them the great honour you have done us by entering our house again. But Vesta is everywhere, Fanina. And that is why I beg her, I implore her, I demand of her the boon, and I am sure she will grant my wish, of her presence, that she may hearken to us as she does in her sanctuary!’

  Coming closer, she took Fanina’s trembling hands in her ice-cold hands, while Fanina, stupefied, hardly believing her ears, heard her pronounce the customary greetings as if nothing had occurred, as if she had never been condemned by the pontiffs, as if she had never been pledged to the subterranean deities of Darkness and Death, as if she were still a pure, chaste priestess of Vesta.

  ‘Here is Fanina your servant, O Mother.... Here is she who is yours and yours alone in her struggle to bring happiness to the city. Here is she whom the city has given you to do with as you please.’

  The Supreme Vestal’s voice broke.

  ‘She has suffered so much, O Mother, for all, for all of us, in order to perpetuate the institutions that were the greatness of our Nation. She has sacrificed everything to save us from anarchy.’

  Thinking she must be dreaming, Fanina saw the other vestals surround her with the marks of the deepest respect, while Vibidia chanted on:

  ‘You willed her as she is, O Vesta, with all her faults and her immense qualities. You willed her beautiful, intelligent, courageous, sensitive and good. Your wish was that during these tragic times we are living through the destiny of Rome should be in her delicate hands. Through her all can be destroyed, or all can be born again, more beautiful than ever. Protect her, inspire her, support her, O Vesta....’

  One by one the priestesses filed past her in tears, bowing low and repeating:

  ‘Protect her,
inspire her, support her, O Vesta....’

  The thin little voices of Pupilia and the new little vestal rang out....

  The four priestesses slowly walked away and Fanina was left alone with Vibidia. Hemonia had gone too. In the near-by street they could hear the ceaseless tramp of cavalry patrols and the endless streams of people going to pay their last respects to Calvinus.

  A pall of ice fell across Fanina’s shoulders and she gave a shudder. She and the Supreme Vestal stood there for a long while hand in hand in silence. What could they have said to one another? None of the words that Fanina found rushing to her lips seemed adequate to express what she felt.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said in a whisper.

  With half-closed eyes, Vibidia drew her to her and murmured:

  ‘Forgive me.’

  Nestling in Vibidia’s arms, not daring to move, Fanina heard her go on softly:

  ‘Forgive me for not having been able to protect you. Forgive me for having made you, my daughter, into an instrument, a weapon, a victim.’

  Drawing her towards a long ivory bench, Vibidia made her sit down beside her.

  ‘Alas! The die is cast,’ she went on softly.

  Fanina looked up at the Supreme Vestal who lowered her eyes.

  ‘The destiny of millions of men is in the balance at the moment,’ she went on. ‘Tiberius stands on one side, alone, or almost alone. On the other is Sejanus, more powerful than ever, in spite of the Emperor’s constant efforts to undermine his position. You, Fanina, stand between the two of them, to arbitrate in the battle between the man who is nothing more than a pigmy and the giant who stands ready to crush him.’

  Fanina looked at Vibidia in horror. Hands folded, thoughtful, her voice grave, Vibidia painted a picture of the political situation as it appeared that night. She weighed up the Emperor’s paltry chances against the commander of the Praetorians. She bewailed the abrupt disappearance of Atia, ‘Tiberius’s half-sister by an adulterous association, who had been his secret adviser’, who had acquired a powerful influence over Sejanus and who would undoubtedly have been responsible for his downfall had she not been killed. She bemoaned the death of Hermann with his German guards, whose intervention at this time would have been so valuable when those willing to sacrifice their all for Tiberius could be counted on the fingers of one hand.

  Fanina was heartbroken. Politics! More politics! Was it not politics that had shattered her life irretrievably? They had made her a vestal by deception just to satisfy Tiberius’s political aspirations! For some obscure political reasons, Tiberius had not protected her against Calvinus and Brazen-beard! He had let her be condemned. Her father and mother were dead. Vindex had abandoned her, no doubt through political ambition, and had shamefully deserted her in favour of the daughter of the Prefect of the City. It was politics again that had thrown her into Sejanus’s arms. Politics had made Sejanus a foul murderer. Politics were nothing but crime, baseness, ignominy, treachery and cupidity. For the sake of politics, she had lost everything. Because of politics, she would never be a woman like other women....

  Sickened, horrified and defeated, she had fled to Hemonia whom she had so miraculously found again. Then overwhelmed with happiness, she had found Vibidia, her second mother, in whose arms she so longed to find refuge and to forget everything. Then, once the first emotion of meeting was over, Vibidia, this ancient Roman matron cast in bronze, this intransigent servant of the Empire and of the goddess mother of the city, could find nothing of greater urgency to do than to talk politics....

  A terrible sob rent Fanina’s breast.

  ‘Stop!’ she cried, her voice breaking. ‘Stop, please stop! I’m not interested any more! It fills me with nothing but disgust!’

  Pushing Vibidia violently away, she rushed across the room so as not to hear her any more.

  ‘Fanina!’

  The Supreme Vestal ran after her.

  ‘Fanina!’

  Dashing into the room, Hemonia seized hold of her.

  ‘Fanina!’

  The two women clasped her to them, kissing her passionately, while Fanina went on in fury:

  ‘Have you the slightest idea how painful all this is to me? Just now you spoke of the sacrifices I have accepted. Sacrifices! A word that sounds good in retrospect! In actual fact I have been treated as a plaything by all of them; by Tiberius, by Calvinus and by Brazen-beard!’

  Tearing herself free from Vibidia and Hemonia, her nerves near to breaking-point, she added softly:

  ‘And I was nothing but a plaything to Vindex too, who betrayed me after enjoying me.’

  Side by side, silent and downcast, the two women no longer dared approach Fanina, who, in an almost inaudible voice, went on bitterly:

  ‘You no doubt know that I was Sejanus’s mistress and that he really does love me. ... I gave myself to him to fight the Emperor you so revere, Vibidia ... but Sejanus nevertheless remains Sejanus. What sort of a reputation would a government have, however just it was, whose founder was an assassin? Even before its inception, the Republic he is ready to inaugurate, without personal conviction but just to please me, is more stained with innocent blood than Tiberius’s Empire.’

  ‘Beloved ...’ Vibidia said very softly.

  ‘My darling,’ stammered Hemonia.

  Their faces bathed in tears, they held out their hands in supplication to her, while she, almost at the point of collapse, shaking with long, exhausting nervous shudders, implored them:

  ‘Don’t ask any more of me. Let me stay here with you. I shall be a serving-girl to the serving-girls of this House, Vibidia ... I would accept the most humble of tasks to stay among you for ever. I want to live alone with my thoughts, to know nothing of the outside world any more and to be completely unknown.’

  Once again the two women took her in their arms.

  ‘Hush now, hush, dear one....’

  It was sweet, so sweet.... Tenderly they drew her away, and she let them do as they wished. In the quiet warmth of a near-by room they undressed her, put her to bed in a little bed and tucked her in.

  ‘Sleep in peace, dear.’

  Hemonia blew out the lamp, and Fanina heard her sit down beside the bed in the dark.

  ‘Go to sleep, my love.’

  Hemonia was there, close beside her. So was Vibidia. Eyes heavy with sleep, Fanina tried for a moment to make out their dear silhouettes in the darkness.

  ‘Go to sleep....’

  Lulled by the music of their well-loved voices, she found the memory of all the tribulations that separated her from the happy days when she had been all theirs begin to fade little by little. She was becoming once again the little Fanina of yore, loved, pampered and protected.

  With the music of their voices in her ears, she fell asleep at last.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  ‘Just another effort, my love.... Our house is in the clearing, behind the old oak tree you can see over there.’

  ‘Did you build it yourself?’ Fanina asked.

  ‘All myself, for you...’

  ‘You should say: for us.’

  ‘For us, beloved.’

  The young man laid his burning lips on Fanina’s. Overwhelmed with happiness, brimming over with desire, Fanina gave herself up to the delicious caress that held her prisoner in the strong arms of her lover... a long, an endless kiss....

  ‘Later,’ he whispered.

  ‘When we are under our own roof,’ she agreed.

  Arms entwined, they went on. The air smelt good. The sun shone in golden shafts through the dark foliage of the giant trees. The moss muffled the sound of their footsteps. A doe went by, closely followed by a stag, and in the trees the birds chattered away endlessly.

  ‘I would never have guessed that there were so many birds in the forests of Gaul,’ Fanina remarked.

  He laughed.

  ‘Perhaps there are more today because they’ve come to welcome you.’

  They walked on for a long while.

  ‘When shall we see the
house?’

  ‘It’s right here now, in the clearing behind the old oak tree over there.’

  ‘But you’ve already said that a dozen times ... We keep on walking and the old oak seems to move as fast as we do....’

  Then all of a sudden Fanina exclaimed:

  ‘I can’t hear the birds any more!’

  Her voice fell flat in an oppressive silence. Then she saw that she was alone. The young man who had been clasping her lovingly to him had vanished.

  She wanted to shout out: ‘Caius!’

  But had it really been Vindex beside her a moment ago? Feverishly she tried to reconstruct his features....

  Then a dull roar rose up all about her: the frenzied gallop of thousands upon thousands of huge beasts converging on her at breakneck speed made the ground tremble. On all sides the age-old trees, literally mowed down, fell with a thunderous roar and the sky appeared, livid and dazzling ...

  ‘Fanina!’

  An icy hand touched her forehead. Bathed in sweat, Fanina opened her eyes.

  A lamp was burning a few inches above her head. Leaning over her, Hemonia and Vibidia were waiting for her to wake up. She sat up, wild-eyed.

  Was this a continuation of her wonderful dream turned nightmare? This little room, was it in fact the same room she had gone to sleep in with Hemonia beside her bed. But what was that incessant noise that stabbed through her head? That tramp of horses’ hooves in the neighbouring street...

  ‘Fanina, wake up!’ Hemonia insisted.

  Taking her by the shoulders, Vibidia said:

  ‘Believe me, darling, I am loath to drag you from your sleep, but unfortunately, history marches on ...’

  ‘What do I care about history!’ Fanina interrupted, violently on the defensive.

  ‘It was I who asked the Supreme Vestal to waken you,’ Hemonia said gently.

  ‘That’s the first time I’ve ever known you concern yourself with the course of history!’ Fanina retorted hostilely, her voice rising.