Calpurnia's Dream

Calpurnia's Dream
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Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta CHAPTER XXXII. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta CHAPTER XXXII. Mostrar todas las entradas

jueves, 26 de mayo de 2016

CHAPTER XXXII

XXXII
Apart from the opinion that Lucius Licinius Luculus might have about enjoying meals
(Thanks, nevertheless, Lucius, for the cherries you brought into Rome and those
gardens of yours that you left to Roman citizens) my father’s dinner at Herculaneum
was not only unplebeian but also brimming with life and freshness due to that large
variety of fish and those carefully prepared, well-balanced sauces, roasts and
dressings. Not to mention the large variety of different fruits which had been preserved
in honey and spices inside the pantry throughout winter and autumn. I could not
remember such an amount of really delicious food in our Pompeian villa. No , I’m sure
that, with no need of thinking twice, both my friends and I would have renounced to our
daily life in Rome and decided to withdraw into this shelter, where not only the air but
also personal relationships were crystal-clearer, calmer, kindly... Here you could feel
yourself bursting with new life, yearning for a real existence and carrying about brand
new things.
–You are about to become quite a significant woman, Calpurnia...This should be
enough to satisfy this anxiety that so often springs through all your skin pores. Why
must you lead the same kind of living during the whole of your lifetime? The fact of
having been living isolated for the last twelve or thirteen years doesn’t mean that, after
your husband’s return, you may be bound to face quite a different lifestyle....
I noticed that Philodemus was trying to cheer me up. But... what should I do to change
that routine-dragged role which I had played for so long? Wouldn’t my long-time
acquaintances still be the same as before? How dramatically would it all change for
me? Obviously I was not expected to start up a group who wished to be devoted to
cultural life. Neither would you be so likely to trust me so deeply that I could afford
playing a crucial role in your political career. Nor would anybody else consider me
such a fascinating, useful woman as to handle me as a mediatrix with you.
 
–What kind of transcendent role could a barren wife play for....New Alexander?
My father and Philodemus gave me a startled smiled after those words that they had
never heard before in my voice and tried to convince me that you and I had had such a
scarce time to ...serenely know each other in a suitable climate that could enable your
seed to hold on to my womb fitfully. No doubt this could come true as soon as you
started spending more time in Rome. Calpurnius Piso, nevertheless, was looking at
me in a way that had nothing to do with his smile and that voice which had been
trained to sound calm.
 
 
Six days before Sextilis Kalendae, some kind of early but intense damp heat began
soaking Rome, triggering our painful pining for Herculaneum. Could it be because I
might be trying to hold on to my former life as an adolescent, to that time immediately
before our marriage? Previously, Antonius had been so unusually gentle as to inform
us well in advance. You had the intention of staying on the other side of the pomerium
until the day that your triumphus could be held. Therefore, it wouldn’t be an
unexpected arrival to which my body should get abruptly adapted. Portia and Marcia,
though, found it fitful to stay with me as they were aware of my mood, apart from some
kind of slight strange prostration, possibly due to the fact of having been urged to stop
my customary massaging. Besides, it would not be suitable that you might notice
anything unusual about me. This recovery of my usual everyday’s life was enhanced
by the joyful news that radiant Portia had just brought.
– Marcus.... Marcus Iunius Brutus....
She couldn’t speak. Assertive, energetic Portia was blocked by her visible trembling.
 
–He is going to marry me... He has bought it for me... The house of... Our house...
Her tears sprang out among her giggling, which she was trying to keep back.... Gods...
Portia, Portia, my Portia...Portia of ours...I think she did not notice that my own tears
were merging into hers. So badly did I need to feel their happiness as mine...
–I think, Calpurnia, that, as Cato’s widow, I must come back home. At least
temporarily. Besides, your husband will need you without anyone else around, you
know....
Poor Marcia! She was trying to raise my spirits up, too.
–Don’t worry: we will visit you as often as we used to, as long as your husband does
not try to take you up.
I tried to hide my quivering through irony while we tasted that hot sweet wine in which
calming herbs had been brewed and the honey pies we would usually eat at that time
of the evening, before remaining alone in my room, getting ready for sleep. I knew you
were fully aware of that ice running through my hands at that moment and of my
burning forehead, my choked stomach amidst that dusk-tinged silence coming from
the peristylium….
– My little Calpurnia, my wife....
I let your dry lips kiss my forehead.
–Have you been ill?
That voice which used to thunder in my head, dense, modulated, sounding, making my
belly vibrate... was now fading, whispering....
 
 
–No, of course…What else could be expected of a wife who is like a newly-wed bride
and, with no previous warning, must welcome an undercover husband who breaks into
Domus Publica , like a criminal, whereas he should be outside the pomerium? No
don’t worry...Antonius won´t know anything about this. Neither will anybody else in
Rome...

Your eyes, further than what’s purely human than ever, in an unconceivable
transparent shade of blue, within that net of deep wrinkles, became miraculously
brighter in your parchment-like face, now paler and thinner. But there wasn’t the
dazzling smile which could have blown away all those ghosts that had been taking
shape since that fateful night and that were now inevitably getting through my anxiety,
which I was striving to suppress as those tender solid hands seemed to deeply know
each muscle of my thighs, all those paths and curves of my hips, belly and breasts...
Just as if you had never really left this lectus during these thirteen years. No, it can’t be
true….How on earth would it be possible, that another woman could also possess this
outburst of life and virile force that is now flowing through my lower belly? I will never
forget the way my sleepy lips uninhibitedly caressed your eyelashes, those tracks on
your face, your nose, sharper than ever. I wonder why I did not notice your hair,
already fully grey and thinner, or your extremely thin body. I think you read my budding
restlessness while lying in silence, your arm around my surrendered body, your head
hidden on my neck. Would I have expected anything else? But, nevertheless, I didn’t
want this, to feel that old anguish, so similar to that sensation I felt at my wedding
night, when I blessed my father for having chosen you for me and I consciously
opened up my being to absolute rendition, expecting, yearning to feel it full of that life,
growing nourished with your seed... I wished you had only warmly, respectfully greeted
me and then gone away, inventing any excuse.... No, no...Gods.. Kornel.. No, despite
it all, I shouldn’t have given up my body anointing. Who knows...No, I should not have
stopped massaging myself.. Perhaps it could have even made you find me... exciting?
Even so seductive that you could have forgotten about ... that devilish snake?
 
–Calpurnia... why should you keep tormenting me like this...?



 

 







 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 




 
 
 

 
 

 

 
 




domingo, 1 de mayo de 2016


XXXI

It was certainly that restlessness caused by that discovery of myself and also of those diverse unknown….faces -? – of which I had begun to be aware... This was what drove me to ask my father for it, one of these evenings he would come for dinner in Domus Publica with Marcia, Portia and Cornelia Sulla.

Why do you think I had such a big villa built, my daughter, but to put up as many people I could lodge, including all of you? If you hadn’t been the first to suggest it, I would have felt urged to do so. You four need to forget about Rome for a few days. I also need it before your husband returns. You know what this will mean.... He has made plans for no less than four triumphi to celebrate....

He thought it fitful not to go on speaking. He knew that our guests were informed about how the things in Northern Africa were going on...

Thanks a lot for your generosity, Lucius Calpurnius...However, both Portia and I think that our duty is to keep waiting for news about the development of events.

Marcia was growing paler and paler and more and more haggard each day, at the same pace as her lines on both sides of her mouth became deeper inside those thinning cheeks.

Our mood is not the best one to visit such a fascinating place as your villa at Herculaneum.... I think we must go on supporting those who are still loyal to Cato and...join our thoughts to theirs...till they eventually put it to auction, the house which used to be ours...

Her voice faintly cracked. She took a deep breath while Portia was caressing her hair. My father remained in respectful silence, prudently looking askance at me, letting me guess what had been wandering about his heart for a long time...

The same thing which came out into light a scarce month later. Marcus Iunius Brutus himself, who had arrived in anticipation, communicated the news to Marcia and Portia. After learning it from him, that you would return in two months, I finally decided that I would take my poor friends to Herculaneum, no matter what it could take....

.... I knew his pride wouldn’t surrender to Caesar...I must speak with the philosophers who used to go with him and live at home... about his last hours...

Portia!!!

Some kind of steely ice went through my fibres: never before had sweet, prudent Marcia raised her voice so loud or lose her temper.... Yes in such a situation anything would be predictable...Cato’s widow sank her head between her thighs, refusing to find a shelter in none of us, pouring her pain before herself, unwilling to exhibit her mourning for that one she had loved devotedly, alien to herself, barrenly – Yes, I was not the only one- for so many years...Portia...Gods, no, Portia... Perhaps her mourning was that, with dry eyes, watching beyond us, alien to anything around her, maybe beholding that bodiless life which could be her own father right now, hovering over us... protecting them, both of his women? Could it be that she, like me, might be listening to an aching echo, sibyl-like, bond to her blood within herself?...Mother... should you be able to reach him, guide him... Enable him to enlighten and protect her the way he couldn’t when he was a fleshy limited being.. My poor girls... I drew Portia’s inert cheek to mine while I was caressing Marcia’s shaking locks, still weeping in silence on her lap. Whoever you may be... Marcus... Mother... Do not tear them apart from me...

He will forgive all of them...Brutus himself and all those who fought for Pompeius, as long as that they accept ... his supremacy. You know, he has tried to convince them that the idea of Republic has become... obsolete in a world which has been different from that in which the last Tarquinius was defeated during these two hundred years.

Portia’s cold, isolated tears kept on falling...even in the morning when we set off for Herculaneum.

- .... Gods ... He even dared saying that your father had been a simple naïve apprentice by quitting dictatorship as soon as he found it unnecessary, Cornelia...

Cornelia Sulla’s skin had become not only extremely ivory-like but even ashy.

No wonder ... Even you, Calpurnia, should take that into account, in spite of being his wife and, consequently, who, in the short time, will share his destiny.... who knows if that of Roman queen.... Are you aware of this historical role you may be about to play?



There was no irony in her words. Cornelia only seemed to be describing all that she meant. I got almost scared. Was this perhaps what I was bound to and I had been praying for to those higher forces who rule everyone’s life? What if, after all, all that I learnt that night about you... and that woman could be no more than a delusion which might have been somehow plotted by someone who would be interested in taking me away from you and, thus, undermining your interests? Yes, it had been wise of me to take the decision of going to Herculaneum and stay there until your arrival so that I might keep myself away from...

Calpurnia... Are you listening?

I blinked.

Yes, Cornelia, I am...

Yes, I think I should give up these massages that may be unbalancing my senses...

I have the feeling that he wants to forget about my father’s role in his life, that everything he has obtained so far is due to the fact that Sulla decided to spare his life when he was in his early twenties. Therefore, from now on, all his doings would be led to wipe away Lucius Cornelius’ memory. One example of it could be the fact of confronting his great clemency and that widespread belief in Sulla’s ruthless tyranny, knowing that this will mean a large amount of popularity for him. I hope that it won`t mean any obstacle for... my business..

Why, Cornelia? He really thinks Republic is outdated. I see no reason why a patrician should be forbidden to trade with the fruits of her own land..

Gods, Cornelia... Never before had I been so aware that she may be the luckiest one of all of us. All her children were still alive and she had repeatedly been able to build herself a life, apart from possessing her own financial resources and enjoying the privilege of not being submitted to a paterfamilias. What a contrast with these poor newly-widowed ones, with no offspring or house of their own, since deceased Bibulus’ house was said to be likewise confiscated by Antonius, showing no mercy upon Portia – could anyone expect anything else of him?- ... or even myself

The bright salty breeze of that sunny winter day, announcing that the coast was near, enlivened that life sprout beating inside ourselves during all the time we had been forced to live secluded inside that deep sickly damp valley among hills which was Rome, where it seemed that this chain of scheming, violence and unhealthy conditions of vici like Subura had been condensed during hundreds of years, generating some kind of smothering air, only relieved by the scent of the pine trees which invade our hills... Yes, no doubt Campania was another world: fertile, with those streams of flowing fresh air. Notwithstanding that damp, which, increased by winter cold, became more and more intense as we got nearer the cliff on which my father had erected his colossal-sized villa, which many considered an example of newly-rich homo novus‘ display of power and others , an attempt to set up a place of knowledge, very similar to those in Greece, due to that library to which not even Cicero’s could be compared. A large part of it was said to belong to eminent philosopher Philodemus, that Epicurean who was protected by my father and had his own rooms in the villa, near the chambers which sheltered the collection of papyri, devoting himself to its maintenance and organization as well as making them available to all those scholars who were interested in them.

I wonder what a Stoic, daughter to one of the most illustrious followers of the masters from the Stoa, may think about being lodged in the same place as an Epicurean...

My father’s hearty irony made Portia smile for the first time in many days.

Marcia’s father is a most dedicated Epicurean, Lucius Calpurnius. Do not forget that....

How would I have forgotten him or his dinners, so to call them, my dear! Would he ever give that name to this simple meal we have here in the evening? No, here you won´t see those trays brimming with huge peacock feathers, date-stuffed larks or things like that. Excuse me, Marcia. This does not prevent me from considering your father one of those beings who bring something exquisite and charming to... that Roman sewer of ours...

He gave me a sad look. He also felt –no, he really knew – that a Roman king could not be interested in a barren queen... Calpurnia, Rome’s barren queen...

We all strolled around both peristylia, that one looking over the bay through its surrounding gallery of arcades, where peacocks and several kinds of birds and cats wandered around, and that sheltering this oversized swimming-pool in which even a naumachia had been held.. I understood why my father still kept wiry. Like you, he was able to swim in cold water, even in winter...My friend were startled by the size of the rooms, twice as large as any other villa in Pompeii or Cornelia Sulla’s at Cumae. The paintings covering their walls were huge frescoes representing life-sized scenes on groups of teachers and pupils at Athenian agora or the revival of the Garden of the Hesperides and Elysian fields. Eight cubicula, near the library, were decorated with allegories referred to the eight Muses. True, part of the villa seemed to aim at being a response to Athenian gymnasia. Gods...Why couldn’t I have been educated like Portia? There’s so much I have missed throughout my life....

In front of the exedra, Mount Vesuvius showed off its massive overwhelming bulk among the colours of sunset, like that day at Pompeii....

Perhaps you would like to take a bath and change clothes before going to the triclinium ... You know, though we may have an Epicurean as our guest, Luculus would have considered our dinner... simply plebeian.