Roma.The novel of ancient Rome

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.

She recognized the voice of the Virgo Maxima, and of Foslia. They called her name aloud: “Pinaria! Pinaria! Are you here?”

The Vestals had returned.

“Tell me again, where and when you found this infant?” said Dorso, frowning.

“Yesterday, abandoned in the bushes outside the ruins of my old master’s house,” said Pennatus. “Clearly, the mother had just given birth.”

“And who might the mother have been?”

“Not a Gaul, surely. The child is too handsome to be a Gaul, don’t you think?”

Dorso scrutinized the baby. “He is a good-looking fellow. And too tiny to be a Gaul! The child of a returning Roman, then?”

“My intuition tells me so. No doubt the mother experienced great hardship during the occupation, and when she returned to the city to find that all she knew was burned or in ruins, the prospect of caring for the newborn was simply too much for her. Another harsh legacy of the Gauls, that the women of Roma should be so beset by fear and uncertainty that they abandon their children! And such a beautiful child as this little fellow!”

“You appear to be very fond of this infant, Pennatus.”

“There is something very special about him. Can you not sense it? I think it was a sign, that I should have found this child on the very day the Gauls departed and the Romans returned-a pledge from the gods that the city is to be reborn, that its best years lie ahead.”

“Words of piety and optimism from you, Pennatus?”

“I am a changed man since my months on the Capitoline.”

“And you will be a free man, as well, if I have any say in the matter. You accompanied me when I made the sacrifice on the Quirinal. You fought beside us when the Gauls gained the summit and frightened the geese. You’ve more than earned your freedom, and your master is dead and no longer needs you. I intend to approach his heirs, pay them a reasonable sum, and see that they set you free. What do you say to that, Pennatus?”

“The gods are surely smiling upon me, that I should rescue this child, and receive such a pledge from you, in the space of two days! But…”

“What is it, Pennatus? Speak!”

“If you truly wish to reward a humble slave for his service on the Capitoline, I have a different request to make. Not so much for myself-for what am I except a broken thread in the great tapestry woven by of the Fates? — but for the sake of this helpless, innocent child.”

Dorso pursed his lips. “Go on.”

“What use is freedom to me? On my own, in such a devastated city, a dull fellow like me would probably starve. I would much prefer that you purchase me outright and keep me as your slave. I promise that I shall strive every day to prove my worthiness to be your trusted servant. I shall be honored to be the slave of the bravest descendent of the bravest of all Roman houses, the Fabii. And if someday, after my years of service, you should see fit to manumit me, I will proudly bear a freedman’s name that honors my former master: Gaius Fabius Dorso Pennatus.”

Dorso was not immune to flattery, even from a slave. “I see your point. I will be glad to honor this request. You shall be the most senior of the slaves in my household, and my trusted friend.”

“And also-though I know this is an extraordinary request, still I feel compelled to make it-I ask that you adopt this foundling, and raise him as your own son.” Seeing the look of surprise on Dorso’s face, Pennatus pressed on. “Is there not an ancient precedent for such an act? Romulus and Remus were foundlings, the flotsam left behind by a great flood; so, too, this child was left behind when the Gauls at last receded. Faustulus adopted the Twins and never had cause to regret it, for the gods meant him to do so, and surely you shall not regret it if you adopt this foundling.”

Dorso raised an eyebrow. Why was Pennatus so interested in the child? He claimed to see the newborn as an omen, but seeing omens and bowing to the will of the gods was not in character for Pennatus, unless his captivity on the Capitoline had truly transformed him. Was it not more likely that Pennatus’s concern for the newborn sprang