from a more personal reason? In his head, Dorso had already done some simple arithmetic. The occupation and siege had lasted seven months; a normal pregnancy lasted about nine months. It was not hard to imagine that Pennatus had enjoyed a dalliance shortly before the arrival of the Gauls, and then, during the occupation, had became separated from his lover-probably a slave girl, but possibly a free woman, perhaps even high-born, for such things did happen. Now Pennatus had descended from the Capitoline to discover that he was the father of a newborn. Whether slave or free, the mother felt obliged to relinquish the child rather than keep it-and now the wily slave sought, by this gambit, to make his own bastard the son of a Fabius!
Dorso felt an impulse to call Pennatus’s bluff and demand the truth from him. And yet…the gods worked their will in mysterious ways, using doubters and disbelievers and even slaves as their unwitting vessels. Pennatus might think he was getting the better of his new master; but in fact, it might be that the gods were guiding both men to do exactly what the gods desired.
Dorso recalled the long walk from the Capitoline to the Quirinal, with Pennatus following behind him. In retrospect, the mad boldness of the act took his breath away, yet it had proved to be the best thing he had ever done, or probably ever would do. That action had made him a famous man; his name would be spoken and revered long after he died. On that day, Dorso had become immortal-and Pennatus had been there with him, every step of the way, helping him keep up his courage simply by showing no fear. Pennatus had done no less than Dorso, yet he would be forgotten by posterity. Did Dorso not owe a debt to Pennatus-a debt so great that it demanded a repayment as bold as the walk to the Quirinal itself?
Dorso nodded gravely. “Very well, Pennatus. I will adopt your…I will adopt the child. He shall be my son.” He took the baby in his arms and smiled at the tiny infant, then laughed aloud at the look of wonderment on Pennatus’s face. “Did you not expect that I would say yes?”
“I hoped…I dreamed…I prayed…” Pennatus dropped to his knees, clutched Dorso’s hand, and kissed it. “May the gods bless you, master!” Reflexively, he reached to clutch the talisman of Fascinus at his breast, but his fingers touched only his own bare flesh.
The scattered exiles returned to Roma. Little by little, order was reestablished in the devastated city. The Senate reassembled. The magistrates resumed their offices.
Almost at once, the Veii Question was raised again. Camillus was determined to settle the matter, once and for all.
A few of the most radical of the tribunes of the plebs argued that the city was so ruined, and its sacred places so polluted by the Gauls, that Roma should be abandoned altogether. They proposed that the entire population should move at once to Veii, where many of the exiles had taken shelter during the occupation and had begun to feel at home. Ignoring all other possibilities, Camillus seized on this argument and decided to frame the debate as an all-or-nothing proposition: Would the citizens completely abandon Roma and move to Veii, or would they pull down every building in Veii for materials to rebuild Roma?
With the Senate united behind him, Camillus came before the people assembled in the Forum. He mounted the speaker’s platform to address them.
“Fellow citizens, so painful to me are these controversies stirred up by the tribunes of the plebs, that in all the time I lived in bitter exile my one consolation was that I was far removed from this unending squabbling! To contend with this nonsense, I would never have returned even if you recalled me by a thousand senatorial decrees. But now I have returned, because my city needed me-and now needs me again, to fight an even more desperate battle, for her very existence! Why did we suffer and shed our blood to deliver her from our enemies, if now we mean to desert her? While the Gauls held the city, a small band of brave men held out atop the Capitoline, refusing to abandon Roma. Now the tribunes would do what the Gaul could not-they would force those brave Romans, as well as the rest of us, to leave the city. Is this a victory, to lose the thing dearest to us?
“Above every other concern, the will of the gods must be considered. When we follow divine guidance, all goes well. When we neglect it, the result is disaster! A voice from the heavens announced the coming of the Gauls to Marcus Caedicius-a clear warning to mind ourselves-and yet, soon after, one of our ambassadors to the Gauls flagrantly violated sacred law and took up arms against them. Instead of being chastised by the people, the offender was rewarded. Soon after, the gods punished us by allowing the Gauls to take our beloved Roma.
“But during the occupation, acts of such great piety occurred that the favor of the gods was restored to us. Against impossible odds, Gaius Fabius Dorso performed a miraculous feat. To honor the divine founder of the city, he left the safety of the Capitoline and walked to the Quirinal, unarmed and oblivious to danger. So overwhelming was the aura of sanctity that shielded him that he returned unscathed! And though the defenders of the Capitoline suffered terribly from hunger, they left the sacred geese of Juno unmolested-an act of piety that resulted in their salvation.
“How lucky we are to possess a city that was founded by Romulus with divine approval. Those who followed filled it with temples and altars, so that gods dwell in every corner of the city. Some fools will say, ‘But surely the gods can be worshiped just as well at Veii as here in Roma.’ Nonsense! Blasphemy! If the gods wished to live in Veii, they would never have allowed it to be conquered. If they did not wish to dwell in Roma, they would never have allowed us to retake the city. The divine favor of a place is not something you can pack in a trunk and take with you!
“Yes, Roma is in ruins, and for a time we must endure discomfort. But even if we must all live in huts again, what of it? Romulus lived in a hut! Our ancestors were swineherds and refugees, yet they built a city in a few years, out of nothing but forests and swamps. We shall look to their example and rebuild the city better than it was before.
“This disaster of the Gauls is no more than a brief episode. Roma has a great destiny. Her story has only just begun. Have you forgotten how the Capitoline received its name? A human head was exhumed there, which the priests declared to be a mighty omen: In this place would reside one day the head and supreme sovereign power of the world. That day has not yet come-but it will! Abandon Roma, and you abandon your destiny; you consign your descendents to oblivion.
“Look to your hearts, Romans!
The crowd was deeply moved, but remained undecided. They responded to Camillus’s final words with a prolonged, uneasy silence.
Just at that moment, a company of soldiers returning from guard duty arrived at the far end of the Forum. The soldiers scheduled to relieve the company were late. The exasperated commander ordered his men to halt. “No point going elsewhere,” he said. “We might as well settle right here.”
The acoustics of the Forum were such that his words rang out loud and clear to Camillus’s listeners, almost as if they came from the sky. People looked at one another in wonder. There was nervous laughter and cries of amazement.
“It’s an omen!” someone shouted, “an omen from the gods! The voice spoke to Marcus Caedicius before this whole affair began. Now the voice speaks to us again! ‘We might as well settle right here.’”
“Settle right here!” the people chanted. “Settle right here! Settle right here!”
The crowd broke into an uproar of cheering, laughter, and tears of joy. Camillus, who could see to the far side of the Forum and knew exactly where the voice came from, was acutely chagrinned. For all his eloquence and passion, it was a chance remark from an anonymous soldier that tipped the scales.
Standing in a place of honor, maintaining their composure despite the uproar of the crowd, were the Vestals. The Virgo Maxima stood stiffly upright, allowing herself a faint smile. Foslia, more smitten than ever by Camillus, gazed raptly at the dictator. Her hand sought Pinaria’s and squeezed it tightly.
“Oh, Pinaria!” she whispered. “We’ve been through so much-you, more than any of us. And yet, all shall be well again. Vesta never ceased to watch over us, and now her servant Camillus will guide us back to virtue!”
Pinaria did not answer. The loss of her baby and her parting with Pennatus had plunged her into deep sorrow. The resumption of her day-today duties as a Vestal brought her no comfort. Her contemplation of the sacred hearthfire only filled her with doubt. During its hiatus from Roma-so the other Vestals assured her-the fire had never wavered in the least, but burned as steadily as ever. How could that be, when Pinaria had repeatedly broken her vow of chastity? Her transgressions should have extinguished the flame altogether!
