Amica 39
On the wall to the left of the small lararium (shrine of the household gods), just beyond the atrium, is painted a fresco of Bacchus, whose dress is a bunch of grapes. There’s a big snake in the foreground, and in the background a mountain with vineyards up the side and above them the rocky top.
'What’s this painting about?'
'The god Bacchus.' answered Fannius.
Oh why do men respond with just half-sentences, and don’t explain anything more?
'Yeah, well it doesn’t take much imagination to understand that it’s Bacchus, but what are those flying birds? What’s the snake doing there, and the bird that’s cleansing its teeth? Why the mountain?'
'Don’t ask me questions that are too complicated, you should ask the painter what they all mean, or my father who commissioned the painting after the earthquake, fifteen years ago when I was still a boy - but even better, Eulalia would know and explain it to you.'
It’s hopeless, it’s like trying to lure spiders out of their holes! If men don’t want to answer, that’s how they act. Perhaps it is because their minds flee reality, perhaps the effort of thinking or remembering wears them out, or it brings up something they want to suppress.
Seeing the disappointment in my eyes, he takes me in front of the painting, remaining behind me, hugs me around my hips with his arms of steel,
'See,' he says, 'it’s Mount Vesuvius with vineyards growing on the slopes, and then forests, then the treeless top. But it’s not accurate, it’s an imaginative representation, not the real picture, it only gives an idea of the mountain. Bacchus is pouring the wine that’s in the ampulla down onto the ground to make the earth fertile, the soil that produces best Falernum wine in the Empire. However, this is the Agathodaimon Serpent facing the altar, he is the genius loci (the spirit of the place), just as Bacchus, or Dionysus, is the spirit of Vesuvius.'
Then he falls silent, thoughtful.
'But the birds, what do they represent? And why are they flying away?'
'I don’t know, I never managed to explain it. And then you see there’s also that big spotted lynx jumping, and if you look on the left on the wall there’s a deer fleeing. The whole thing is an idyll, a sacral image, to seek the protection of the god on our crops and on our house.'
'But do you think there are gods?'
'I’ve long since ceased to believe in the gods, since I became a soldier. Every day I see young people dying in their prime of life, even though every day before battle, we make sacrifices to plead for their benevolence. They’re worthless, you just have to count on yourself, on your own strength. However, so as not to disturb the men's beliefs, I participate in the rites, but I just throw a handful of aromatic gum as an offering in the altar-fire.'
He falls silent.
This is why males don’t want to talk, because if they speak they are forced to think, and thinking inevitably evokes the ghosts that chase them like goblins, and their peace is disturbed.
'Have you ever seen the top of Vesuvius?'
'Yes, it's a great amphitheater, but the center is without any vegetation, and the rocks are reddish.'
'I want to see Vesuvius myself, it seems so strange compared to other mountains.'
'Tomorrow we’ll go up to the point where you can see the whole country around, and the crater in the middle.'
We embraced through the night, each of us pursuing our own thoughts, so close and yet so far apart.
Before the light of dawn brightens the sky we mount horses, taking with us two slaves also on horseback, and ride along the route of the trail leading to the summit area.
The autumn sun does not heat up as much the summer, the slope is not steep and we climb easily.
Getting above the woods we find ourselves in some pasture where sheep and goats graze on the sparse vegetation that’s now quite parched.
Suddenly, the horses do not want to go any further, and it’s no use urging them on or whipping them. The two slaves will guard the horses and we’ll go on up on foot, taking a little food and a small skin bag full of wine with honey dissolved in it. We lace our rugged leather boots up tight, there’s no good path ahead.
With our gaze upward, we look for a way among the rocks. Sometimes we look back at the magnificent landscape that surrounds us, the Gulf, the islands, the cities now illuminated by the sun that’s already high in the sky. A little while longer, a little further to go, and then a breathtaking spectacle - a crown of jagged peaks, like the teeth of a giant animal, surrounding a wide valley, a little concave towards the center. There’s a little dry grass, but only on the surrounding area, in the center there’s only stones everywhere, gray, reddish, and black.
It’s an almost eery view here, which contrasts with the spectacle of the sea that opens in front of us, with the ships heading for the ports of Oplontis and Herculaneum, the fishing boats, and further away Partenope and Misenum.
'That’s Cuma there, around the headland, the mountain in the Phlegraean Fields (Campi Flegrei, a volcanic area) and the city of Puteoli (Pozzuoli). The small island is Procida, and larger, Aenarea (Ischia). To the left there’s Capreae (Capri) and the mountain of Surrentum (Sorrento), Stabiae, Pompeii, Nola.'
The wind ruffles our hair, our light cloaks fly open like wings. We look for a place to reast, eat the little food and drink the wine that will give us strength. Collecting a little dried grass and a few branches of withered shrubs we light a fire. I throw a little wine on the ground to thank the god of this place. Now we cook the lamb chops over the flame, the Falernum is delicious, hard cheese melts in the heat of the fire and spreads with the knife on the freshly-cut bread, dried figs and walnuts are the complement to this delicious lunch.
The wind stops, birds fly up in alarm, vapors are rising from the rocks that are in the middle of the valley, the few leaves on the bushes stir as if moved by a wind that is not there. There’s a thud like a distant thunder, then the earth shakes. I hug Fannius, frightened, he caresses my hair, as if to reassure me.
The fire that was dying down flares up, and columns of steam are rising from cracks in the rocks. Alarmed by these events we collect the few things that we brought with us and hasten down - perhaps we’ve angered the god, perhaps we’ve violated his home, and now he’s driving us away? A last glance at the hostile nature of this mountain, and we carry on down to places that appear more secure.
One of the slaves who stayed behind to guard the horses runs towards us, saying that even before the earth trembled the horses were restless, the birds flew away, snakes came out of their holes and wriggled off fast, and when the earth shook, one of the horses tore its reins and bolted, they couldn’t chase him without losing the others who were also trying to run away. He kneels in front of Fannius, saying he’ll walk down the mountain on foot.
But Fannius lifts me up with him on his horse, it’s robust, it doesn’t notice my little additional weight, so the slaves will have their mounts to reach the villa quickly.
Cuddling him, I say in a low voice that he made the right choice, if he'd left the slave to come down on foot, as well as the horse he’d have risked losing the slave!
Now the sun sets in the sea, its golden light illuminates the landscape, we arrive at the villa as the first shadows of evening are falling. The slaves and slavewomen run out towards us, they feared the worst when, in the middle of the afternoon, they saw the horse that had bolted return home alone.
