Roma - Saylor Steven - Страница 71

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“The Clusians have contributed, very generously, and so have many others,” said the messenger, “but there is still not enough. Camillus looks to you here on the Capitoline, who never left Roma, to help make up the final measure of the ransom.”

There were shouts of protest. “Us?” said Manlius. “For months we’ve eaten fly-blown flour and drunk nothing but rainwater! These people have nothing left to give!”

“Are you sure? Perhaps some of you know where treasure was buried, to hide it from the Gauls. Perhaps some of the women still have a few pieces of jewelry. All the Roman women in exile have already contributed every piece of jewelry they possessed.”

“This is wrong!” shouted Manlius. “Our women should not be stripped of every ornament, simply to satisfy the greed of Brennus.”

“There is no other way,” said the messenger. “The Gauls must be paid. Once they leave, the city will be ours again, and we can begin to rebuild.”

Dorso looked over his shoulder at Pennatus and grinned. “Perhaps you should donate that little talisman you wear so proudly.”

Pennatus gripped the image of Fascinus. He scowled and clutched it so hard that his knuckles grew pale.

Dorso laughed. “Relax, Pennatus! I was only joking. Not even a Gaul would want that worthless piece of lead!”

The ransom was paid in the Forum.

Brennus insisted on a formal ceremony at which Camillus himself was present. Those on the Capitoline watched the transaction with mingled dismay and relief. The Gauls produced a huge set of scales, large enough to weigh a whole ox. Lead weights were placed on one tray. The Roman emissaries piled the ransom onto the other. The treasure of ingots, coins, and jewels rose higher and higher, until at last the lead weights began to rise.

The two sides of the scale reached equilibrium. A sigh passed through the crowd watching from the Capitoline, to see such a fortune paid to recover the city that was theirs by birthright.

Down in the Forum, Brennus strutted before the scales and laughed. “Not quite enough!” he shouted.

Camillus looked at him darkly. “What are you saying? The scales are balanced.”

“I forgot to include this. You want me to put it aside, do you not?” Brennus drew his sword and tossed it atop the lead weights.

Groans of anger and disgust rose from the Roman delegation. Some of the officers reached for their swords, but Camillus held up his hand to stay them. “We have yet a little more treasure in reserve. Place it on the scales.”

More was added to the ransom, until the two sides were balanced again. Brennus let out a roar of triumph and clapped his hands. The Gauls broke into raucous cheering and laughter. Even from the Capitoline, the watchers could see Camillus’s face turn dark red from fury and chagrin.

Pinaria, watching with the rest, suddenly felt the presence of Pennatus beside her. His hand sought hers. She submitted to linking her fingers with his. “Whatever may happen, Pinaria, I love you!” he whispered.

“And I…” She could not bring herself to say the words. She let out a gasp, drew back her hand, and placed it on her belly. The baby was kicking inside her. She sensed that the time was drawing very near.

Like a ruinous floodtide receding, the Gauls withdrew from Roma. The process took several days; there were a great many of them, and they were not in a hurry. They continued to rummage for loot and set fires until the final hour of their occupation.

The Romans on the Capitoline, despite their impatience, waited until the last Gaul had departed before they began to climb over the barricades and descend the winding path. Elated to be free at last, but horrified at the wreckage of their beloved city, they dispersed across the Seven Hills, each seeking a remnant of home, and awaited the return of Camillus and the exiles.

Dorso, with Pennatus at his side, accompanied Pinaria to the doorway of the House of the Vestals. The structure appeared to be intact, though the doors had been broken open and hung crookedly from their hinges.

Trembling, Pinaria stepped inside. Dorso moved to follow her, but Pinaria shook her head. “No, stay back. What I must do here, I must do alone.”

“But we can’t be sure it’s safe. I can’t leave you, Vestal.”

“Of course you can! Do you think the goddess has protected me this long, only to allow some misfortune to befall me in the House of the Vestals? Go, Dorso. Leave me, so that I can set about purifying the house before the other Vestals return. Aren’t you eager to see what’s become of your own house?”

Dorso frowned. “And you, Pennatus? Where will you go?”

He shrugged. “Back to my old master’s house, I suppose—if there’s anything left of it.”

“Very well, then,” said Dorso. The three parted company.

Only moments after Pinaria crossed the threshold, her water broke, and then the pains began. Staggering, she made her way to her bedchamber. The room was filthy, the bed disheveled; a Gaul had slept there in her absence. She felt a wave of revulsion, but had no other choice than to collapse onto the bed.

A little later, she opened her eyes. Pennatus stood over her. In her delirium, she thought he was an image sent by Vesta to taunt her with her guilt, but then Pennatus smiled, and she knew he was real. He took the cord from his neck and placed it over her head.

“Fascinus protects women in childbirth,” he whispered. “Don’t worry, Pinaria! I’ll stay with you.”

“But what do you know about childbirth?”

He grinned. “What do I not know? When I was small, I watched slave girls give birth to my master’s bastards. When I grew older, I carried and fetched for the midwives. I know what to do, Pinaria. You’ll be safe with me, and so will the baby.”

“Pennatus, Pennatus! Will you never cease to amaze me?”

“Never! I love you, Pinaria.”

“That amazes me most of all.”

It was an early birth and the baby was small, but nonetheless healthy; he gave a great cry when Pennatus held him up to examine him for defects. For an hour Pinaria held him.

The winter day was short, and shadows were already growing long.

There were voices from the street. The first of the exiles had already entered the city. At any moment, the Vestals might arrive.

“Pennatus, what shall we do with the child?”

“He was born whole and healthy. That means the gods want him to live.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I want him to live, no matter what the gods intend.”

“Blasphemy, Pennatus!” She shook her head and managed a rueful laugh. “How absurd, that I should chide you. I’ve just given birth to a child, in the House of the Vestals!”

“Will you stay here, Pinaria?”

“There’s nowhere else for me to go.”

“The baby can’t stay here with you.”

“No.”

“Can you bear to give him up, Pinaria?”

She gazed at the child in her arms. “Where will you take him, Pennatus? What will you do with him?”

“I have a plan.”

“You always do! My clever Pennatus…”

Gently, he took the child from her. Tears ran down her cheeks. She touched the talisman at her breast. “You must take this as well, for the baby.”

Pennatus shook his head. “Fascinus is for you. It averts the evil eye. It will protect you from the scrutiny of the other Vestals.”

“No, Pennatus—”

“Fascinus is my gift to you. Let it remind you of me, Pinaria, as it served to remind me of my mother.”

“Your mother is dead, Pennatus.”

“And so am I, in the world to which you must return. We will never see one another again, Pinaria, at least not like this. We will never again be alone together, never speak words of love. But you will know that our child is alive and well, proof of the love we shared on the Capitoline. I promise you that!”

She closed her eyes and wept. When she opened them again, Pennatus and the baby were gone. The room grew dark. Time passed, and more time, and the room slowly grew light again. From within the house, she heard voices, indistinguishable at first, then growing closer and louder. They were the voices of women, talking with great excitement.

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