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...?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

CHAPTERS XXIX-XXX

XXIX.

– …. And above all, be apparently virtuous, though she might not be so in her private life. Mainly when her stability as a wife is not guaranteed. Calpurnia, I think that Portia is right when she recommends you not to expose yourself to public opinion. However, neither should you let yourself be humiliated by an obsessive fidelity to… those rules that your husband imposes you

My inner fibres started to quiver.

–There’s no need to betray him; you must start to consider you own dignity and how to handle it without any dependence on what he may dictate you. Remember that not even old Calpurnius Piso will be very willing to help you when he sees that the best business of his life has faded away. However, Calpurnia, what mostly worries me is being conscious that, long ago, I made a contribution to this state of things that is about to come. No wonder that, sooner or later, Rome may be seen seriously convulsed. This explains why I feel deep aversion for aristocrats like those Clodii, Curiones, Fulvii and everyone around them. Young old-lineaged noblemen who, under the mask of alleged humanitarianism and with the rabble’s support, aim at concentrating power in them, not far from pre-Republican kings. And this could happen again soon. At least we did it all openly ,in the broad daylight, so that ,when the accumulation of power was no longer necessary , we would immediately give it up. Calpurnia… at least you can be sure that your natural moral integrity will not…be perverted by collaborating in that strategy.

–Why do you take it all for granted, Kornel? Don’t I have the right to hope that….what is thought to be unmovable will ever change? How can I be sure that night’s experience was no more than… the reflection of my own obsessions?

That silvery light-blue transparency through his eyelashes spread widely, desert-like, before my expectant look. Those little wrinkles around his eyes seemed to have increased. It might be the effects of those emanations in my body, activated by that anointment with which I massaged it every day .Why did that smell of incense and myrrh seem specially dense, so that it could almost be tasted, invading my eyes and nostrils, deep down into my entrails?Wasn´t that spicy resinous mist ascending, thicker and thicker, taking shape in front of me?Merging into that living body I had in front, almost absorbing it… Some kind of waxy Kornel…made up of incense, myrrh and cinnamon. A barren frightening feeling went all through my shivering body and showed itself before my eyes. Some kind of heartbeat… Was it mourning?...Full of anguish, blazing… a funeral pyre?Bellona’s temple? No, it wasn’t taking hold of me, though. Only that queasy ascending quiver….

–Calpurnia, little Calpurnia…

Again that old voice, fleshy and nearby, while I, still trembling, was recovering my consciousness. Those supple slender fingers were running through my sweat-damped locks… Those lips, still firm, touched my forehead…

XXX

Fortunately, Marcia and Portia accepted my offer. It happened to be a sort of salvation for my convulsed mood. I badly needed some really trusty company at all times in order to avoid being crushed by all those unknown sensations which hastily sprang up within my restless womb.

– Not even my father’s intercession, despite his connection to your husband, Calpurnia, has proved useful to convince him not to expropriate my own house. Why should Caesar have chosen him as his representative and lieutenant in Rome? Isn´t he aware how treacherous Antony may be? He can only get on well with that gang of demagogues and parasites ….

–I am fully aware of that, Marcia. As for these people my husband chooses as his collaborators… what can I tell you? You well know that he has never told me anything about it, due to obvious reasons. Anyways, let’s thank Bona Dea for having dissuaded him from visiting me. This lingering perfume of ointment would seem highly suspicious to him and, therefore, his information might seriously alarm my husband. No, I don’t think he could be very interested in coming here.

I was aware I was moving on a ground that was utterly unknown to both of them and that it wasn’t Kornel who I had before me. In fact, they found it so weird, that I should kept that habit of anointing myself with something so extremely, even unbearably penetrating and sweetish. However, in those days when , due to my prostration, I had to stop my massage, my mood experienced a remarkable change that forced me to return to my ointment as soon as I recovered my independence and I had no more need of depending on other people. What would I do when I ran out of it?

Despite the caution many had recommended me, including Kornel, maybe encouraged by those changes that this massage might have made in my personality, making it more assertive, I made up my mind: I would go with Portia and Marcia to Cato’s confiscated home on Palatine Hill. We would be driven there within Portia’s litter, which would be carried by some of the serfs she had managed to keep within Domus Publica. It wasn’t just mere curiosity but some kind of drive, beyond simple boredom and fear of remaining alone in my room with all this amount of new disturbing emotions. I made sure I was well covered: the knife-like damp cold that heralded the beginning of winter helped me to be as cloaked as possible. Marcus Portius’ domus was, as it was known all around Rome, extremely austere, even compared to that customary sobriety of Palatinian entrances and front walls. Obviously, there were none of those multicoloured marble, porphyry or jasper stones that some patricians chose to frame their thresholds with them. It was a strikingly small house. However, ten, twelve… maybe fifteen or more people, maybe philosophers, teachers from the insulae and even some undercover aristocrat were clustering around the small flight of stairs, sitting, like marble figures, merged within themselves. Their eyes were alien to what was surrounding them, weaving a net of silence that no neighbour would dare profaning. Not only thanks to Marcius Philippus’ doing but also due to the fact that they were all aware of how sacred this bond was, not only that one between the unfortunate deified tribunus and all those gathered individuals but also his connection with a good part of Rome, either patricians or people from Subura or any other vicus.. Everybody, neighbours from Palatine Hill and plebeians, joined into prayer...They were all worshipping the memory of old Republic’s last remainder. You well knew that it would imminently happen, that Rome would definitely stop being what they claimed it really was. Did you really feel, like Kornel, that the ancient monarchic ghost would return to stay forever? Before my friends could react, I pushed myself out of the litter. No, I did not mean to stay therein, as they had initially thought. No, by no means. I must, I needed to breathe that air which was impregnated with respect and feelings, something beyond any other thing I may have known so far. We three let ourselves fall on those three or four stairs leading to the door. I pressed my friends’ hands, which I felt trembling, partly shocked by that unusual atmosphere that had sprung up around, partly because of their downheartedness at sitting at the feet of what had been their home, now like strangers who came to a sacer place....

“Some day I will have the same sensation whenever I go past Domus Publica.” Despite those thick furs with which we had covered the inside of our clothes, the ground felt icy. I sharply wished I could hold my girls tight but I thought it fitful to try to remain anonymous, though our clothes and our litter made it difficult, notwithstanding our refusal to be attended by our serfs or be served any food or drink, like all those scattered human beings, which kept reminding me of ivory figures. Like that over there, sitting near the neighbouring domus, wrapped in linen cloaks which had been dyed in wood, earth and stone colours, a mantle covering his head so that nobody could make out his grey, red-golden hair or his gold-and-silver-streaked crimson beard. Only his transparent, grey penetrating eyes, sparkling through that net of thin lines around them.

“In spite of all our differences, we both loyally loved old Rome and we were determined not to let it be ravished by kings in order to make her become their own domus as they did in Etruscan times, alien to the greatness of being a Roman citizen...”

I made an effort to shake off that gaze, which, as usual, was going deeper into the most private part of me, penetrating that point where my purest, natural femaleness lay.... How could I join the thought of all who were gathering there? In fact, what did I have to do with Marcus Portius Cato, my own husband’s old irreconcilable enemy, apart from sharing his plebeian origin...I mean, only half of it since his mother, Livia Drusa, was an ancient patrician? Or was this a mere token of loyalty to my friends? Gods... there is no doubt. This is an answer to what I know is still to come. A reaction against that disloyalty, which, in its due time, will be revealed to me. Like the fact of lodging my friends, Marco Portio himself’s wife and daughter, in the Pontifex Maximus’ house. Like this inebriating toxic-like quiver?

The sun was setting. Portia’s hand, warmly pressing my forearm, made me understand that it was time to come back home.

CHAPTERS XXVI-VIII

XXVI.

– Kornel… He is still alive….

Despite my tears, I had been able to read the confirmation of my words in his face. His blue-and-grey look was not icy any more….As I went on scrutinizing him through my eyelashes, I grew aware that he was gradually discovering each detail of everything I had gone through a few hours before while Cornelia, Portia, Marcia and the High Vestal were raising their thoughts to Bona Dea… Later on, I would be informed that Lucius Cornelius Sulla’s daughter had promised the Goddess the erection of a pavilion or monument in her villa at Cumae in return for my coming back into life….Gods, she’s really some kind of second mother for me.

–No, Calpurnia, do not regret it… You can’t change the course of events. It’s obvious that you may have felt hatred. What else can you do when… you are betrayed by the man you love by giving another woman what legitimately belongs to you, mainly when that… woman (so to call her)can show him a much more impressive promising face than this little life you can offer for… his old age? No, his idea about living is quite different. No wonder, Calpurnia…How on earth can you know him deeply if your real life as a married woman has only lasted days, no matter how many years have gone by since the wedding date? Do you think he means to age at the pace imposed by time? I don’t deny that he might love life: otherwise, you would not have witnessed that scene you have just attended. Calpurnia, my sweet beautiful friend …Your husband goes … where he thinks destiny drives him….according to his….unique personality (this is out of question). He is unlike any other more or less ambitious patrician who would dream of a safe quite elderly age. … Calpurnia, I never assured you that you would recover your husband. My only purpose was to encourage you into learning how to strengthen yourself in order to face what awaits you… I know he has an important place among your emotions, This is the most delicate aspect. No doubt about it….

For the first time since I first met him I discovered hopelessness on that face, where some beard was already long but not enough to be braided.

–Frankly speaking, I would like to have seen Lucius Calpurnius face to face. How much will he have changed, this offspring of….? I am so sorry, Calpurnia… It’s unforgivable of me, as I am being your guest here…. Well, once again I remind you not to worry about that reaction you had. You are no high-standard necromancer or such a naturally perverse being so as to have caused that evil you fear. You had better take care of yourself and not let this remorse destroy you… You are very important for more than one person, little Calpurnia… Cornelia will keep me informed and let me know if you wish to see me…

She shook my hand with fatherly tenderness. I noticed that he had restrained himself from caressing my messy wet curls. Luckily, he silently left before he could read it in my eyes, how my heartbeat was speeding up.

XXVII

I spent most of the time lying on my lectus, well covered though it was still hot, notwithstanding it was almost mid autumn. Unlike what had been usual of him for years, my father would visit me every evening, alarmed not only by that past experience that I had successfully got over but also because of that absent, even lifeless air about me. Even though I felt unable to describe what was happening inside me, I was worried that he might have had news on what was happening there in Alexandria and also, I am sure, of those constant rumours about you and….

–That little schemer who aimed at restoring the old pharaohs …. Though, in fact, she isn’t more ambitious than her sister Arsinoe….What else could be told about that aberrational custom of theirs, unnatural marriages? Cornelia, I hope that my son-in-law won’t get into trouble inside that degenerated atmosphere, not to mention that net of sinister palace officers who handle their monarchs’ will just as Egyptian priests used to more than one thousand years ago. No, I don’t think his….arrogance may lead him to ruin our Roman world. Sorry, my child, but I can remember him as such a young man, giving his funeral speech in memory of his aunt …. Why on earth should he have to announce that his lineage traces back to Aphrodite herself? Not even did his father himself, who consecrated Venus as his protector, dare doing anything like that… I wonder how he would have reacted ….

Obviously, he could not make out what Cornelia’s smile was hiding

–There are those who think that the fire at Bellona’s temple is the Goddess’ answer to the arrogance of New Alexander, as you call him…. Leaving superstition apart, Calpurnia, you know that our respective son and husband arouses mixed feelings among Romans: on the one hand, there is the rabble: they haven’t forgotten those splendid ludi he organized as an aedile… Neither they nor we, who had to pay for them by means of scandalous loans. Dead Crasus and patient Balbus know that better than me. But there are still a great amount of Romans, both patricians and plebeians, who believe in good, old noble Republic which has made our hills become what we see today, the old virtus spread into half the world as an example to follow, being able to enjoy an immense sea which is entirely ours. The same Republic, which ended up with Carthaginian threat and Etruscan supremacy. These Romans always supported optimates, no matter what may be told. Hasn’t Marcia told you that her domus has become a pilgrimage place?

We all exchanged silent astonished looks.

–It has almost turned into a sort of sanctuary in Cato’s memory since we had news about what happened in Pharsalus. You know, there is no exact information on what has become of the last mirror of Roman austerity and loyalty to his principles. Therefore, people tend to sublimate this kind of personalities. It is said that strangers constantly come near the entrance and sit around in silence, without any offending intention. They stay silent, absorbed, as if looking inside themselves…. Marcia has refused to expel them and, through her father, has even given orders that no-one alien to the house might use violence against them. Marcius Philipus, as you can imagine, finds it all that “ bizarrely amusing”, according to his own words. What else can you expect of an Epicurean view about Stoics? Should that thing go too far, let’s hope that Antonius won’t intervene…

Antonius, by the way, was who had given him such accurate information about Alexandria and had also confirmed that you were sound and safe. And had also told him something that had deeply moved him, more than his face could show: the serious damage inflicted on the Library….

– Notwithstanding all, Lucius Calpurnius, that book collection you keep in your villa in Herculaneum may be the most important in the world after that in Alexandria. Perhaps you are one of the few people who should not lament it

My father remained in silence for a moment.

–I can’t complain, Cornelia, but you never have enough… However, I still dream that, on his return, my son-in-law might bring me a considerable collection of papyri. He very often spoke about his interest in setting up a public library in Rome… Among other projects, like the new forum, the new basilica in honour of gens Iulia, the temple of Clemency (in fact, erected as a homage to his own generosity)… and that devoted to his…divine ancestor. But….How on earth didn’t you know anything about it… Calpurnia, my child….

Immediately, astonishment gave way to compassion in their eyes.

XXVIII

After quite a long convalescence (I couldn’t tell how many days!), one day I received Marcia and Portia’s usual visit. But this time they looked extremely anguished.

–That ….unmentionable, obscene entertainer of endless ludi….He even has the intention of confiscating our house, as well as many Pompeius’ followers’ goods so as to put them to auction. No wonder both he and his accomplices, Fulvia and his friends from Gens Clodia, are willing to catch as much as they can… and, therefore, guarantee themselves all that indecent lavish they can afford at Baiae for the rest of their lives… One day they will certainly fall…I know my father and his memory will remain for centuries but they….

–One day will come, Portia, in which patricians will recover old Roman principles and all that madness will be left for newly rich liberti ,for instance….

Both women’s reddened eyes watched me with astonishment. They exchanged glances discreetly.

–What about all those… strangers who, sunk within their thoughts, sit down around your house?

A shadow of bright surprise enlightened that blurred look.

–They have become tens of visitors, Calpurnia…. They don’t even accept to be comforted with food, though they may spend hour after hour in that sort of … prayer, lethargy? One of them told me that they devote themselves to try to get their minds merged into one so that it may spring up… some kind of animated force that would flow and reach our remote fathers so that they help ….my husband to hold on as a bastion of Roman integrity….

– I will settle you in here. – I knew I had to be resolute at that moment. – No matter who I may be and that this is Domus Publica. You know that there is plenty of room and, besides, the vestals are fully familiarized with your presence.

Anyway, I was conscious of my unavoidable being destined to divorce. Why should I need to be obsessed in showing that neurasthenic discretion?

–Provided that you really want to stay here, of course….

-Dear Calpurnia, we would certainly love that. We’d do the same for you. But it’s so hard that this… swine … Don´t put on such a frightened face, Marcia! I speak out what most Palatinians think of Antonius… It’s immoral that he the rest of his herd should sponge on my father’s house, a place which is becoming almost a sanctuary for many Romans….

“Even your husband’s brightness will fade as time goes by, Calpurnia… But Marcus Portius Cato will remain for hundreds of years….”

–I think, nevertheless, those people will go on gathering around my house … and they will increase day after day… They don’t know anything about my father’s fate, whether he may live or not. And this obviously makes a myth of him.

–But do we really know anything about what is he doing now?

Marcia’s flooding eyes sunk on her friend’s shoulder. Portia’s unshed tears twinkled among her eyelashes. After two or three minutes, Marcia raised her face.

–We should join them, Portia. At least a short while everyday…. This will give us strength …to us and to him, through all these who worship him.

–Marcia, my sweet Marcia … how lucky my father is to have you!

That aggressive Portia of only a few minutes earlier had turned into a model of female tenderness

–No, Calpurnia, thanks for your kindness, but it wouldn’t be reasonable of yours to come with us. The Great Man’s wife, you know, must be a public example of virtue….

CHAPTER XXV

XXV

Calpurnia… a blow, almost a whistle down below, tinged with my name, a female echo… Cornelia?....Maybe … Who was Cornelia? This name probably had no sense for me up here…The only thing that seemed to count was that ethereal flow which I knew it wasn’t me.… I knew … Perhaps I imagined… guessed….Hovering in that uncertain air, not even aroused by some breeze or that hot wind that sometimes flogs Southern summers. No, it was something you couldn’t touch, flowing onwards… Mother… I cannot hear you as I used to…Why can’t I feel you? Perhaps this lifeless being is no longer able to be shaken by your force. … No, I cannot face it myself all alone, lost within this….How would I call it? Maybe now that hope of fertility has definitely run away from me her presence has no sense anymore…Yes… it might like what Gallic priests say, that the immaterial body, after getting rid of the corresponding physical being, wanders around until another one absorbs it, as some Greeks thought?... Maybe… yes, yes… You, my lord, could even be there, waiting for me, hovering somewhere….You? ...Will I be able to recognize that flow of force that you are… could be now? And then…? If we are not bound to incarnate in another … person…or animal…might we be destined to remain here merged inside this immense invisible intangible stream…? Didn’t our priests or sibyls want to tell us about this , such as ghastly thing, to keep hanging on something, such an airy thing, who knows… till when….? What about if our … fluxes… would never meet? Why did I take that for granted? Why don’t fear or anxiety take hold of me, as I would have expected…? Yes, it must be like that, this not-being… despite all...Sibyl…Mother…. If only I could bid him farewell… or maybe it was you, my husband, who somehow had felt me throughout this…space...in which I…was floating.... or maybe flowing? Suddenly something seemed to vibrate within that flow which was my trembling being… I knew I was not able to see but I thought I might perceive something almost visually…something that was approaching though this waving flow… Could it be Charon’s boat? It certainly reminded me of a vessel… But it did not give off that subtly ethereal, uncanny scary force that would have been expected of it. It started to appear among my perceptions as some kind of…solid (?) reality. Majestic-like…. Even dazzling. Its sails could be like huge purple-and-gold tapestries… Its poles, ivory and chryselephantine… Who knows if, after all, my disembodied being had finally decided to leave that … undefined place, so as to return to that inert body of mine which would then be suffering ill people’ usual restless dream.. However that bizarre vision in gold, ivory and purple was absurdly tinged with this uneasiness that infected my heartbeat, as I had grown aware it was no simple dream, this what was happening right there…That quiver, fleshy, panting and wet, had got hold of my ability to feel, which I kept intact… No, no incarnated fertile Mother Goddess was presiding that exulting brightness of fruitful blood... but some kind of out-of-measure ruthless cunning, proper of a serpent, like a big sacred cobra or Apophis, the magical Egyptian snake….feeding on the sacred seed from the other side of the world, that which comes from another face of the Goddess, that of Fruitful Beauty and Sensuousness, now incarnated in her favourite son, the future Roman king that is wedding the Keeper of Divine Fertile Force, the queen of the big river, which makes her realm fruitful. All of it was growing more and more evident, like those dark nipples, caressed by those hands whose lines, veins, long fingers were as mine as my own body, like that frantic shaking , aroused by that same wet warmth filling each void of your being that so many times had made me lose control… No, I cannot lose it now… Some merciless dry breath got through my disembodied being, some kind of serene wrath that I knew I had to use right then. Had I been prepared just to face this? Yes, perhaps this was the second step to follow… No, I could not invoke the Sibyl to beg protection and resilience… I could only look within my bodiless being for enlightening…. Kornel… no…no… I suddenly thought I had to concentrate my thoughts where that fertile motherly sprout remained hidden, though misty and barren, perhaps petrified within that abyss that I was then… That last remainder of fruitfulness and physical deliverance that I had experienced so many months before rose up before me, as solid as your firm hands ascending on my thighs and the acrid smell of body juices…and that long conversation we both had till dawn… Kornel…… standing before the atrium of that temple on those sea wave-washed stairs…. waiting for you… maybe through myself? But it was not that bearded mask with red golden braids but those noble chiselled features, so similar to those you find in any bust of marble or porphyry stone, But so alive now that I could almost touch the blood beating under the carved cheekbones and the vigorous arms that could be perceived through that tunic which had been dyed in all the colours of the forests. I suddenly thought to be regaining my fleshiness. That ardent stream coming from my womb, where your heir should have sprung, making me speedily flow towards that eerie blue-and-silver look which was scrutinizing my belly, as if trying to possess it in the only way available at that moment? Wasn´t it really solid, that vigorous virility running through my body? Wasn’t it that, your blue-grey look, ecstatic, almost puzzled to find me there? No, those tiny dark breasts weren’t mine. Nor that voice, either low howling or childish laughter, almost calculatingly musical, exhausted by that desire….which was really mine… and that I felt concentrated in the bottom of my being and then waving upwards, now menacingly intense, dark…. A serpent which, dart-like, went through that womb, piercing that virility which was filling it up and that newly-begotten life sprout within that cave which had momentarily been consecrated to the goddess of sensuousness and plenty… No, mother, no, no… Don’t let this that they are making come to life… Mother, goddess, lady…Do not allow the goddess to incarnate within her… It would be a sacrilege… Do not consent that none of the three succeed in what is being engendered! No… Cut it down right now…

Your eyes looked frightened. Had they recognized another living force in that look which was facing yours? Maybe the face of the Divine Mother, which Romans don’t worship, the Crone, the Bringer of Death and Lady of the Underworld? Were you facing Her in myself, just discovered, or was it that small fleshy thing whose occult nature you were beginning to unveil? It was then when some intangible shiver started running through my being while I was beginning to realize what I had unchained. I could appreciate that icy sparkling which veiled your eyes.. Gods, was this what I had been destined to….? Some heavy dark fog seemed to swallow me at the same pace I felt myself more and more reduced.. No, no…I couldn’t let myself be taken away this way…Mother, mother, mother….

–Calpurnia… my child!!! Thank you, Bona Dea, thank you, My Lady, for taking her back to us…

Cornelia’s salty tears were mixing with the sweat which damped my unravelled hair on the pillow. Or were they my father’s, whose face, unexpectedly ashen, I felt so near?