Rome 4: The Art of War (47 page)

Juvens, of course, had to lead the way across. Someone in the early
ranks up on the landing had a rope. They tied it round Halotus to act as an anchor and Juvens crawled across the rough wood, feeling paint flake off under his hands; he had no idea what colour it was, only that it was leaving raw wood that drove splinters into his knees.

But he made it across and stood and set his foot on the edge to hold it better for the next man, who took his place, and the third, who had brought a torch, but covered it at Juvens’ whispered oath. ‘If Sabinus sees us, we’re finished.’

Unwilling to leave themselves lightless, the men clustered round it so that the light could not leak up to the temple on the Capitol. And they prayed that neither Sabinus nor any of his men looked their way.

They had reason to hope that they wouldn’t; from the fires glowing bright again on the Asylum, it seemed that Sextilius was making good progress with his feint from that direction. What Priscus was doing round the south side was anybody’s guess, but there were no screams coming from there, so Juvens allowed himself a measure of optimism.

His men were all across on to the middle tenement. Halotus came last, picked up the door and carried it under his arm to the far edge of the roof.

Here, the gods smiled on them; the adjacent tenement had leaned in towards the one they were on, cosily, like a gossiping neighbour. The gap between was a mere three feet and the men had room to take a run at it. Like boys winning a dare, they ran and jumped and tumbled and soon they were betting on it as a long jump that threatened to send some men out across the other side into oblivion.

‘
Steady!
’ Juvens’ voice was a whip cracked across them. They gathered in the centre, laughing, and the moment was swiftly forgotten. They stood on the roof and gazed into the temple compound and then it was only a matter of readying themselves to cross the gap.

They
were waiting for Halotus to bring the door when they saw the barrel of burning pitch fly out over the temple walls.

I still have no idea why that happened. You’d have to ask those who were inside if you want to know that, but there’s no doubt it contributed to the disaster that came afterwards.

Rome, 19 December
AD
69

INSIDE THE TEMPLE
, relief at the day’s early success had dissolved in the dark. Braziers had been lit, casting everything in a feral, ruddy glow, but they brought no cheer; there was not enough food, few blankets and no wine.

Sabinus was a bent shape, moving amongst the comfortless groups, offering words of encouragement to the fearful, exchanging memories or words of hope with the stalwart.

I saw the best in him that night. The politician who was used to the back-stabbing, double-dealing, word-twisting of the senate became another man here, offering true comfort to those who needed it. He should have been a priest; it would have suited him.

Domitian was more erratic. For a while, he had been elated by his first taste of battle. When the Guards left, he stood on the wall and screamed invective at them. Later, when they were obviously returning in greater numbers, he turned his fury on Antonius Primus, who had not yet come to save him.

‘He leaves
us to die so that later he can claim Rome for himself. We should never have come up here. It’s a death trap.’

When he tired of repeating that, he came to find Matthias and me and we retired to join Quinctillius Atticus in the law library, where Domitian passed the time rifling through the bronze tablets, reading old decrees passed centuries before he was born.

A knock rattled the door. Matthias ran to open it. Pantera stood on the threshold, with Sabinus a little behind him, and then Trabo. The brazier’s red light showed them filthy, coated in ash and mud, scratched on arms and hands and face.

‘My lord Domitian, my lady Caenis, Consul Atticus …’ He nodded to each of us in precise succession although nobody made any pretence that any of us was in control of our defences: Pantera ruled us now. ‘The Guards are mounting a diversionary assault on the front gate, but it appears they are also climbing up the Hundred Steps at the north side of the hill which, as we know, give access to the northern gates. We believe they may also be endeavouring to scale the tenements that lie against the temple walls on the forum side. Your lives are in danger. I know I argued that you should stay, but I believed Antonius Primus would be with us before this. If he comes now, he may well be too late. Accordingly, I would urge you to leave. We have found a way out over the wall behind the library, but those who are leaving must go now.’

‘All of us?’ I asked. ‘You can get a thousand people out of here?’

‘Not all. The emperor’s family and immediate servants, and the consul. No more. And there is no time to waste.’

‘I will not leave.’ Sabinus was cloaked in calm. His words fell like the pronouncements of an Oracle. ‘I will not abandon those who have placed their faith in my brother. Consul Atticus and I shall remain together and endeavour to negotiate with
the Guard when they enter. If nothing else, it will give you time to get clear.’

‘Sabinus!’ Quinctillius Atticus fell on his knees. He has always been prone to over-dramatization and this was a splendid performance. ‘We have to leave! If we go now, we can save our families. We can—’

‘We are old men, Quinctillius. We will slow down the younger ones.’ Sabinus’ smile was peaceful, generous. ‘Caenis of course must go. My brother would never forgive me if I kept her in danger.’

Pantera looked no happier than the consul. ‘And your brother will never forgive me if I don’t take you away now,’ he said. ‘I was sent to Rome with two tasks: the first was to take Rome bloodlessly, which I have manifestly failed to do. The second, and by far the more important, was to preserve Vespasian’s family from harm.’

He quoted my love from memory, his eyes half shut, remembering. ‘“For if I am emperor and any one of them has come to harm, all the power in the world will not repair their loss.” You are one of the three he holds most dear; you, his son and Caenis. Your safety is my first priority.’

‘And yet if you tell him I ordered you to leave, and that I resisted all attempts to take me, he will understand.’ Sabinus took Pantera by the arm, gently turned him round. ‘We can stand here and argue, losing time, or you can accept what I say: that I will stay here with the consul and will negotiate with the officers of the Guard. If you have discovered – or created – a way out, you must use it now to take Domitian and Caenis to safety. I am the emperor’s brother and I so order you.’

‘They’ll kill you.’

‘They may not. Vitellius is a civilized man and he does still hold some sway with this rabble.’

Pantera’s face was drained of colour, even in that place, where
the braziers turned everything red. He might have gone on arguing, but I said, ‘Sabinus, are you sure?’

‘I have never been more certain of anything. Go now. I will hold here. I served in Britain and that did not go altogether badly. We shall not give up without a fight and when we do, we shall demand our rights as civilized Romans.’

His brother had a stubborn streak and there was a painful familiarity in the man I saw before me now; never had he looked so much like Vespasian.

As Sabinus had done, I touched Pantera’s arm. ‘You’ll have to take him by force if you want him to go and I think that may not be possible, if I understand how you plan us to leave?’

‘No, my lady, it would not be possible.’ Pantera swept his hands over his face. When they dropped again, the decision was made.

‘My lord … Your brother will almost certainly crucify me, but I believe you are right. I honour your courage.’

‘My dear.’ Sabinus took my hand, drew me to him. ‘We should have longer for this. Know that you have brought the light to my brother’s life, and to mine, knowing him so happy. I would have liked to see you as his right hand on the throne, but you’ll get there without me.’

‘Sabinus …’ I had known him since I was seventeen; the shy and distant boy of a not-quite-senatorial family who had become slowly, over decades, the big brother I never had.

We were too formal, too public. There should have been words, and there were so few, and all stuck.

‘Brother …’ My fingers cramped over his. ‘He will know of this, and all else you have done for his cause.’

‘I could ask for nothing more.’ He pulled me into a quick, gruff embrace, a brief warmth and scents of smoke and sweat and home. I wanted to weep, but the moment was too great for that; it was not my place to spoil it.

‘Go now,’ he said. ‘They are waiting.’

He gave a
half-salute, such as men give on going to battle, and before I could say aught else I was being led at a half-run out of a side door in the library and we – Matthias, Domitian and I – were following Pantera westwards, to the wall that stood atop the precipitous eastern face of the Capitol.

We reached it swiftly, and without anyone seeing us. Trabo was there, and Borros, the big Briton. He stood wide-footed with his back braced against the wall and had made a stirrup of his looped hands.

Pantera said, ‘Let me go up first.’ He did so, and then sat astride with his legs dangling and leaned down.

‘Caenis first. If it please you, my lady, Borros will lift you up until you can reach my hand.’

It didn’t please me, but there was really no choice. The wall was ten feet high, if not more. Borros knotted his fingers into a platform and I took the same step Pantera had done and, stretching, was able to reach his hand. He gripped my wrist and hauled me up as if I were a sack of lamb. Scrambling, I made it up on to the curved top of the wall.

‘If you sit on it, lady, you will be safest.’ His eyes signalled an apology, but he was obviously right. I slid along to where he showed me and sat astraddle, in a way that would have scandalized the widows who were my neighbours and given them food for gossip for months. They were not the ones looking down the eastern face of the hill, at the sheer drop that fell away and away and away into the night. If we had tumbled then …

Domitian came next, and then Matthias and Trabo, who helped Pantera to haul Borros up.

‘How are we to get down again?’ I asked.

‘There’s a rope, lady. If I might climb past you?’

He had lizard feet, Pantera. He stepped lightly past me and went on a dozen paces and then lay on his belly on the wall and leaned
down, and on the second or third try found what he sought. He whispered back, ‘Borros!’

The big Briton made himself the anchor once again, and the rope dangled over the edge, down into the everlasting dark.

Domitian went first, stepping lightly down the wall with his legs braced against it. He seemed immune to fear that night. His father would have been proud of him. Trabo followed Matthias and then it was my turn. I couldn’t move. I was frozen to the wall, staring at the height, terrified.

‘My lady?’ Pantera was behind me, standing on the wall’s curved top. ‘We need to lower you down. With your permission?’

He asked for my dignity, knowing I couldn’t climb; of all the things I am grateful for that night, his care for me on that wall ranks amongst the highest.

He wrapped the free end of the rope around my waist and, with my feet braced against the stone, Borros and Pantera lowered me down until I felt Domitian’s hands on my waist, helping me that last step, untying the rope that dug in beneath my ribs and made my breathing tight.

‘Keep your back to the wall. Don’t step forward. There is nowhere to go but down.’

I could feel it, the long drop to the foot of the Capitol. It sucked at me, sang to me siren songs of life swiftly gone, of an end to all care and fear and hope, for what use is hope when all is hopeless?

I thought of Sabinus and wished I hadn’t. We were so close still to the temple; we’d have heard sounds of fighting if it had started, so it hadn’t yet.

‘Excuse me, my lady.’ Shuffling past me on the tiny ledge, Pantera gave me a sickly grin. It felt better, knowing that he hated heights as much as I did.

With him in front, we all edged forward in the dark, testing each step as
we went, keeping our right hands on the cold, slick stone of the temple wall and the other hand wrapped tight across our chests that we might not swing it out and pull ourselves over.

We reached a corner. Ahead, to our right, were the Guards who were assaulting the main gate of the temple. We had come round the side and there was a small gap before we reached the row of priests’ houses, now largely burned out.

By the noise, there were Guards there in numbers greater than we had yet seen on the hill. They were not well ordered; I could hear the commands and counter-commands, but there was no doubt they were perfectly capable of killing us if they saw us.

Or they’d take us prisoner, which would be worse. Very badly, I didn’t want to be the reason why Vespasian had to abandon his attempt, but I had no doubt, also, that he’d do exactly that if Domitian or I were to be taken by Lucius and threatened with harm.

They were a stone’s throw away; less. Pantera drew Domitian, Matthias and me close and said, softly, ‘Under the first of the priests’ houses is a cellar room. The trap door has been badly burned but is still in place, and I think nobody will find it who doesn’t know to look. The gap from here to there is ten paces.

‘If I have timed it correctly, there will be a noise from inside the temple very soon. When this happens, you will keep your heads covered with your cloaks, your faces turned away from the light, and you will walk, not run, those ten paces on to the porch and in through the front door of the first priest’s house.

‘It will feel like a lifetime, but it is not. Borros, Trabo and I will protect you with our lives if the Guards see you. In that case, you will have to risk being seen. Run to the fifth house. It has a door in the back wall that leads out to a narrow path behind the row
that leads down the hill. The silver-boys will hide you if you can get to the Street of the Lame Dog.’