Douglas Jackson - Enemy of Rome

‘Sabinus is dead.’ Valerius’s words dropped like a stone into the unreal calm in the room overlooking the lake at the Golden House.

‘We know,’ Galeria Fundana said, stroking her sleeping son’s curls. ‘They sent us his head.’

Aulus Vitellius stirred on his couch. ‘I tried to save him, but the Praetorians insisted.’

‘We saved the others.’ Galeria brightened, as if the lives of a few senators might be balanced against that of Titus Flavius Vespasian’s brother.

Vitellius nodded, setting the great jowls wobbling. ‘Saturninus has agreed to travel north to negotiate with Marcus Antonius Primus. Two cohorts of the People’s Militia checked Cerialis and his cavalry in the suburbs yesterday and chased them back to Fidenae. We can still negotiate a peaceful settlement.’

Valerius frowned at the mention of Fidenae. It meant that the estate and Olivia were in the front line now. He wondered if the Emperor — yes, he was still the Emperor despite everything — believed what he was saying. He, Domitia and Serpentius had been turned away by successive sets of nervous Praetorians on the morning after the battle of the Capitoline. Eventually, they were forced to take shelter in an abandoned house in the Fourth District. It had taken all his negotiating skills to persuade the Guards to send word to Vitellius of the one-handed man seeking an audience with the Emperor. By then, every city junction was controlled by members of the People’s Militia, Vitellian supporters provided with weapons by the Praetorians from their armoury at the Castra Praetoria. He and Serpentius had been accosted four or five times on the way to the palace by men urging them to join and handing out swords, spears and shields to anyone who agreed.

‘I have a request to ask of you, as a friend,’ he said to the Emperor.

Galeria’s head came up sharply, but Vitellius raised a hand for silence. ‘If it is within my power to grant it.’

‘The lady who accompanies me was held on the Capitoline against her will and is still in great danger. I would be grateful if you could keep her under your protection until I return.’

‘You are not staying with us, Valerius?’ It was almost a plea.

‘I have one more task to complete.’ Valerius decided he couldn’t tell Vitellius of his plan to kill Domitianus. He hesitated and something seemed to catch in his throat. ‘Once before, you asked me to give you my oath and I refused. I give it now, gladly, not to Aulus Vitellius Germanicus Augustus, but to Aulus Vitellius, my friend. When this is done I will return to share whatever perils you face or triumphs you achieve.’

Vitellius’s lips twitched in a fleeting half-smile and in that moment Valerius understood that all the earlier talk of peaceful settlements had been a pretence to protect the Emperor’s wife and son. He rose to take his leave, but Vitellius heaved himself up and followed him out to the corridor.

When they were alone, Valerius turned to his old friend. ‘Disarm the militia and open the gates, Aulus. Take Galeria and Lucius south to join your brother.’

The massive chest heaved in a bitter sigh. ‘Do you think so little of me, Valerius? Even if it were possible I would not leave my people.’ He stretched out a plump hand and his fingers stroked a painted marble bust of his son. ‘Aulus Vitellius’s fate is not his to decide. You once told me that an officer should never give an order if he thinks it will not be obeyed. It was good advice. The Praetorian Guard are beyond my control. If I gave the order, they would ignore it. They are as much my jailers as my protectors. A week ago Aulus Vitellius Germanicus Augustus was the ruler of forty million souls. Today he is not even the ruler of his own house.’ He laid a hand on Valerius’s sleeve. ‘May the gods go with you and aid you in whatever mission you undertake. All I ask is that when you return, make it your task to keep my wife and child safe.’

‘It will not come to that, Aulus.’

Vitellius shook his head at the lie. ‘I will always remember our time in Africa. A poor man rich in friends is wealthier by far than a rich one with none. Life was much simpler then.’

When he was gone, Valerius tried to shake off a terrible sense of foreboding. He walked swiftly along the corridor to the guest room where Domitia slept. She woke as he kissed her forehead, the wide, knowing eyes startlingly close to his. She clutched his right arm. ‘Don’t go, Valerius.’

He shook his head. ‘You said yourself he will never leave us alone.’

‘That was yesterday,’ she said. ‘I was tired and frightened. I didn’t know what I was saying. Today, I order you not to go.’

‘And if I obeyed, I would not be the man you think I am, or the one you deserve.’

She drew his head down to hers and kissed him deeply. ‘Now will you obey me?’

He shook his head, and she turned her face to the wall. He stroked her hair. ‘He may already be dead if the Praetorians have found him.’

She didn’t respond until he reached the doorway. ‘Valerius?’ He hesitated. ‘Come back safe. I can’t lose you now.’

‘Do you really think we’ll find him in all this?’ Serpentius searched the crowds who thronged the streets in a desperate hunt for the last available food. Vitellius had sent out heralds with a plea for calm during the negotiations with Primus, but it was clear not many people shared his optimism about a settlement. Most of the shops and stalls had already closed, their stocks sold out even at the exorbitant prices being charged by bakers and butchers, fruit and fish merchants who kept just enough back for their families. Rumour put Primus’s forces anywhere between a mile and ten miles from the city and on the Via Salaria or the Via Flaminia, depending on whom you believed. They stepped back into a doorway as a century of Praetorians marched past with purposeful strides, silver breastplates gleaming and faces grim. Every man carried a black-painted shield with the familiar lightning bolts dissecting the boss, and a pair of heavy, weighted javelins.

‘He won’t have gone to his uncle’s house.’ Valerius didn’t take his eyes off the soldiers until they’d rounded the corner. ‘That’s the first place the Praetorians would look for him. You said the last sighting of him was on the Street of the Ringmakers?’

‘So they say,’ the Spaniard shrugged, meaning believe it if you will. ‘An informer told the Praetorians that Domitianus hid in a temple of Isis and in the morning the priests gave him robes and let him take part in their procession. My Praetorian mate, the one from Twenty-first Rapax, reckoned that was where he ducked out of the parade.’

Valerius chewed his lip. The Street of the Ringmakers was in Subura, and that was where they were heading. Vitellius had provided them with a pass that nominally gave them access to any part of a city scattered with informal militia checkpoints. Whether it would continue to do so depended on how much authority the Emperor still retained. Subura would give Domitianus the option of the Viminal or Esquiline gates, but Valerius doubted Vespasian’s younger son would risk trying to leave Rome now. What was the point when his father’s forces were coming to him? He would have friends in the city, but the Emperor’s spies would have a list of them and no doubt their homes had already been searched. But Subura opened up another possibility.

‘Not all of Sabinus’s urban cohorts were on the Capitoline.’

‘That’s true.’ Serpentius studied him with new interest. ‘But most of the rest were rounded up and sent back to the Castra Urbana.’

‘Remember that warehouse I told you about?’ They had reached the junction of the Vicus Patricius and the Via Tiburtina and Valerius took the right fork up the hill towards the Porticus Liviae. ‘The one where Sabinus kept them hidden?’