Fanina, Child of Rome

by Pierre Sabbagh

  ‘The meeting of the Senate is over!’

  Fanina stood on tiptoe as the troops of the Watch on the temple steps opened their ranks. She watched the reactions of the tense, motionless crowd awaiting the senators, who began to appear at the door as it swung slowly open. Still the crowd made no move. Then Brazen-beard rushed out of the sanctuary, arms spread wide and hair dishevelled, shouting in his strident voice:

  ‘Sejanus has been condemned. Let him die! Let him die! To the executioner with the dog!’

  A confused roar went up from the crowd. Was it hatred or pity? With Hemonia’s arms tight about her waist, Fanina felt herself flung forward towards the milling people. In an irresistible wave the people were besieging the temple, sweeping past the Watch, who fell back under the colonnade.

  The shouting grew louder, attained its paroxysm, then died away....

  Surrounded by eight lictors of the Triumviri Capitales, Sejanus had appeared at the temple door a few paces from where Fanina stood.

  Fanina could not help admiring him.

  He looked thin and strained after the battle he had been waging, but his expression was still resolute, his chin still firm and he was not trembling. Within a few hours, after years of struggle and ingenious scheming, after bringing down so many enemies, at the very moment when the Empire was in his grasp, when he was about to show himself its master in the eyes of the whole world, everything had collapsed about him. Those who, that very morning, could not find enough to say in his praise, those who had prostrated themselves before him, had been galvanized by Vindex’s and Macro’s example, and were now consigning him to the hangman’s noose. Like a lion cornered by hunters about to drive their spears into him, he knew no fear and stood facing them, holding them in check, dominating them all.

  He stood within a few paces of Fanina; she could read on his lips the words he was about to hurl at the crowd whose every weakness he knew, and whose sympathy, past master of oratory that he was, he knew how to arouse.

  He would have been capable of making that crowd turn against his enemies. It only needed a few words ... he only needed to remind them of the ten thousand Praetorians whose reprisals would spare none of those who had risen up against him....

  Fanina felt fear grip the senators, the men of the Watch and the lictors surrounding Sejanus. Fear was already making some in the crowd mutter that things had gone too far, that the whole business was nothing more than a settling of accounts between people in high places that was no concern of the common people, that Tiberius was no better than Sejanus and that life would be no better under one than under the other.

  Hemonia drew Fanina back. It was too late! Sejanus had seen her and Fanina saw her name on the condemned man’s lips.

  Fanina whom he loved ... Fanina for whom he had sacrificed everything ... Fanina for whom he had thrown away his every chance of success ... Fanina whose desertion had been his undoing....

  Transfigured, Sejanus stiffened and looking Fanina straight in the eyes, shouted:

  ‘My friends! ...’

  ‘Shut him up!’ screeched Brazen-beard to the lictors of the Triumviri Capitales, doing his best to keep out of sight behind the senators. ‘Shut him up, by all the gods!’

  But the lictors made no move....

  Fanina realized in horror that everything would be decided in the next few seconds. A few words from Sejanus to the hesitant crowd and Caius would be lost. For in the infernal cauldron that was seething in Rome, the loser would be pitilessly sacrificed by the bloodthirsty mob. And the loser must not be Caius.

  Tearing her eyes away from Sejanus, Fanina looked around in desperation. At the very top of the Gemonies steps two officers had appeared: Vindex and Macro.

  And in a flash it was all over.

  ‘To the Tullianum!’ shrieked Brazen-beard. ‘Hang him!’

  Caught up in an irresistible swirling mass, Fanina felt herself flung forward through the temple colonnade. For a moment, she and Hemonia struggled to keep hold of one another, then suddenly Fanina found herself alone, borne along by the crowd towards the prison as they literally lifted the lictors surrounding Sejanus off their feet. She thought she caught sight of Cadmus the executioner coming to take charge of his prisoner.

  All the rest was lost in utter confusion. People were gesticulating, running and pushing one another, giving dreadful shouts. Like a river bursting its banks, the people stormed the Gemonies steps that rose straight to the top of the Capitol on either side of the Tullianum. Hurled out into space from the top of the prison doorway, a Watchman fell screaming on to his comrades’ javelins as they stood lower down the steps.

  Dragged along, hustled, borne like a feather in a whirlwind, Fanina fought desperately to free herself from the stream of men as it bore her along.

  Half dead with terror, she bumped into two almost naked slaves round whom the crowd had gathered shouting:

  ‘Here he is, the swine!’

  ‘Here he is, the dog!’

  The body the two slaves were dragging feet first by two great iron hooks could only have been that of Sejanus. But what had this terribly mutilated body in common with the body of Sejanus? In what way did this face, all blackened and swollen, with its horrible staring eyes, in any way resemble Sejanus’s face?

  Overcome with horror, Fanina heard Brazen-beard’s voice:

  ‘That mistress of Sejanus even had to come as far as this! There she is, the slut he loaded with the gold and jewels he had stolen from the people! There’s the woman whom he tried to make Empress!’

  Hate, like love, works miracles. Brazen-beard had found her in the midst of all this crowd. He was pointing her out to the bloodthirsty throng of madmen who, after smashing every statue of Sejanus, were now dividing his corpse between them and playing ball with his head as they tossed it about over the crowd.

  Nothing more was needed for the ghastly crones leading this ravening pack to set upon Fanina.

  Fanina was going to die. She felt herself dying even before the hands that reached out for her had seized her. She was going to die and it did not matter, now that Caius was safe. She could never survive so much horror. In another world she might find out what was just and what unjust. Perhaps she would learn why she had been called upon to lead the life she had led....

  In a flash, she seemed to see two shapes, two seemingly huge shapes dash towards her through the crowd. Could that face be Caius’s? And could the other be Horo’s? Too late! They were too late!

  A stab of pain shot through her breast, plunging her into a world of darkness which engulfed her.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  She was on the sea. She must be sailing over a lightly swelling sea. She was in pain, in great pain. The pain that gripped her in the middle of her chest radiated out to her whole body.

  Red lights danced before her eyes. She felt hot, terribly hot. Strong arms were around her: someone was carrying her, someone who walked with a long, firm tread, clasping her close to him.

  Did she dare open her eyes? Would it not be better to prolong the delicious sensation of well-being that was stealing over her in spite of the pain that wracked her through and through?

  The footsteps of the man who was carrying her rang out on the cobbles of a quiet street; she would have known that step among thousands: it was Caius.

  Fanina glanced timidly between her long, delicately curving eyelashes. Caius’s strong, determined chin rose above her like the stem of a ship, dominating her.

  She had flown to Caius’s rescue and it was Caius who had saved her life.

  Feeling perfectly lucid now, Fanina anxiously watched the handsome face that rose above her, a few inches from hers, inscrutable and stony. The young officer did not look down at her, but strode on tight-lipped and silent. Where was he taking her? What fate had he in store for her?

  The facade of a familiar building stood out against a cloudless sky. They were on the Palatine hill, in the very street on which the house of Fanina’s parents stood. Caius was taking
her home. He crossed the threshold. Crushing her with his silence, looking straight ahead, he crossed the silent garden from whose marble fountain the familiar sound of water no longer came.

  Still he walked on; he pushed a door open with his foot; he climbed some stairs and Fanina began to tremble. It was the staircase leading to her room above the great hall where her parents had taken their lives.

  In the dark, Caius’s breathing grew deeper and the hammering in his heart blended with the wild beating of Fanina’s.

  The young man entered the room, crossed it in a few paces, and laid Fanina on the bed. Eyes shut, Fanina dared not move. Caius had saved her life nobly and generously. He had brought her back to her home, and now he was going to leave her, without uttering a single word. What could he have said that would not have crushed and humiliated her?

  Still he made no move. Perhaps he was reliving that unforgettable scene that had made them one in this very place, where he had passionately declared his crazy love for her. Then, in spite of the vestal’s costume she was decked in, in spite of Hemonia and in spite of everything that separated them, had he taken her in his arms, she would have given herself to him with all her heart, without a thought for death as it hovered over them.

  But now everything was spoiled. Life had implacably separated and broken them.

  The silence went on and on. Fanina could no longer hear the young man. Had he already gone? In spite of herself, she murmured:

  ‘Caius!’

  A shudder ran through her. Could it be? Burning and passionate, his lips touched her hand. Not daring to open her eyes again, she shrank away, for the kiss was a kiss of farewell. A kiss she would have wished to continue for ever.

  Then suddenly Caius’s lips left her hand. All was over.

  A second went by, interminable. Caius did not seem to have moved and yet now she felt him close to her, touching her. Then, very gently, he whispered:

  ‘I love you, Fanina! I want you to know that I love you and shall never love anyone but you!’

  These were almost the identical words that she had spoken about a year ago in that very room, to let him know that she would be his and his alone.

  Shattered to the very depths of her being, Fanina opened her eyes. Caius was kneeling beside her. Deathly pale in the bluish-green light that filtered through the window-panes, his voice hoarse and anxious, broken with emotion that overwhelmed him, he stammered:

  ‘Do you love me still? Me, only me?’

  How could he have any doubts about it? She gave a long sob as she threw herself with all her strength into his arms.

  ‘Only you, Caius,’ she said softly.

  They remained thus for a long time, silent and motionless in each other’s arms. Time stood still. Numb with happiness, Fanina did not dare to move. She felt so wonderful, so wonderful. Then at last Caius laid his lips on hers with the infinite tenderness and all the contained passion of true love....

  Then, opening her tunic, her beloved’s hands began to undress her. Caius stood up, and Fanina saw his troubled gaze sweep over her as if she were a jewel he could never tire of contemplating. She was seized by a terrible fear. He knew her body had belonged to Sejanus. Instinctively she covered herself with her tunic.

  As if guessing her thoughts, Caius, his lovely blue eyes gazing into hers, said in a steady voice:

  ‘Nothing that either of us has lived through while we have been separated exists any more, Fanina my darling.... For us, everything begins today.’

  Not only had Caius forgiven her, but he had done so clearly and firmly with a nobility that left Fanina gasping, a nobility that showed that he had no intention of ever going back over the past.

  Everything was to begin again, but nothing could ever be built on pure new foundations in the poisoned atmosphere of this city where all was unhappiness. Fanina begged:

  ‘Then take me away from here, Caius ... at once! Let’s go a long, long way away....’

  Day after day they fled from Rome and its bloody confusion, tight clasped in the light carriage that Vibidia had given Fanina. Day after day their steeds galloped from one relay-post to another as they crossed northern Italy and Gallia Narbonensis.

  Without a moment’s regret, Caius had left to Macro the glory of their daring coup de main. What did he care about the honours that showered down on his companion! The woman he loved was his, for Tiberius had kept the promise he had made to his intrepid partisan — now that the Empire was safe he had no more need of his elect of the gods’ — and in his capacity as Pontiff of Pontiffs of the official religion, had given Fanina to Vindex.

  ‘You are mine, mine for the rest of my life!’ the young man never tired of repeating. ‘You are my wife....’

  They pressed on and on. Everywhere they found disorder, reprisals, legions on the alert and whole populations thrown into confusion by Sejanus’s downfall. On and on they went, never fast enough for Fanina.

  Never could they be far enough from Rome and Italy where everything conspired to remind Fanina of the things she would rather forget. Occasionally she would be seized with anguish, and would look into Caius’s eyes. Was the past really dead to him ? Had he really forgotten her perfidy?

  With a great happy laugh he would say:

  ‘When I think that good old Hemonia said we would have to wait twenty years before we could marry! Twenty years! Can you imagine that, my love?’

  Only the future mattered to Caius, and Fanina never wearied of listening delightedly to him planning scheme after scheme. Their life would be nothing but happiness, for what hold could unhappiness have over them, since they were united and in love?

  When they had crossed the Garonne, Caius announced:

  ‘Now we can take things easy; we have reached home.’

  Without hurrying now, intoxicated with happiness, they rode on through immense forests, so slowly in fact that their escort, which they had long since left behind, overtook them. What did they need to worry about guards and servants for? They wanted to be alone, to journey as they pleased and to stop when they chose to give themselves to one another in all freedom.

  Then one day Caius said at last:

  ‘Our house is over there in that clearing, behind that old oak tree you can see over there....’

  The weather was mild and everything was beautiful, calm and restful. The sun shone in golden shafts through the dark foliage of the giant trees, and the moss deadened the sound of their horses’ hooves. Hand in hand with Caius, Fanina looked about her. She had seen this forest before. It was just as Caius had so often described it, as wonderful as it had appeared to her the night before she had left Rome, in that dream turned nightmare.

  Fanina’s heart sank. Was she not dreaming? Was she not in the middle of one of those terrible nightmares she had so often had at the time when all those men had been fighting over her?

  A doe and a stag went by while birds sang endlessly in the branches above. Her voice trembling, Fanina said:

  ‘I would never have thought there could be so many birds in the forests of Gaul.’

  Caius gave a hearty laugh.

  ‘Perhaps there are more of them today, because they’ve come to welcome you, my love ...’

  The very phrase she had heard in her nightmare!

  Unable to bear it any more, Fanina spurred on her horse, and with Caius close on her heels, reached the big oak tree and galloped past it.

  There stood ‘their’ house, in a green clearing, all white and spruce and prettier than anything she had ever imagined.

  ‘We’re home, Fanina,’ the young man murmured, drawing her to him.

  Then, continuing still more softly, he whispered:

  ‘This is your home, my wife....’

  Hardly daring to believe her eyes, Fanina feasted on the happy sight. Everything was true, really true. Escorting Caius’s father and a radiant, transfigured Hemonia, a great crowd of servants came forward to meet them, their arms full of flowers.

  And far behind them, as if f
earing to impose himself on them, came a little inordinately broad man, swinging heavily along on his short, twisted legs....

  Horo too had come all this way to welcome Fanina.