Douglas Jackson - Enemy of Rome

‘Won’t the Guard have searched it?’

‘If they have it’s just an empty building, but Domitianus will know about it.’

‘So you think that little dog’s turd could be skulking there?’

Valerius increased his pace. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’

When Valerius had last come this way the Vicus Corvius had been filled with bustling activity, but now it was deserted. The only sign of life was at the head of the side street that led down to the horreum , where two tough-looking men watched them suspiciously as they walked past. Valerius risked a glance and saw more men standing outside the warehouse doors.

‘Soldiers trying to look like labourers,’ Serpentius confirmed his assessment. ‘It looks as if not all the urban cohorts have been rounded up. You were right, but I’m not sure how much good it does us. Even if Domitianus is here we won’t be able to get near him without a fight.’

‘Maybe there’s another entrance,’ Valerius suggested.

They continued along the street and down another that ran parallel to the one with the watchers. The storehouse must have stretched the entire block, because much of the street was a blank wall, with a single opening at the height of the second storey. From the opening protruded a beam hung with a pulley and ropes.

They stopped and Serpentius considered the opening. ‘If we could somehow reach that beam …’

But any thought of breaking into the warehouse was banished by the frantic blare of trumpets in the distance. ‘Cornicens,’ Serpentius said.

‘And not too far away,’ Valerius agreed.

They ran back to the Esquiline Gate where a sentry stepped into the street to bar their way. Valerius showed him the Emperor’s pass and the man reluctantly allowed them access to the nearest gate tower. From the highest battlements they had a view across the sea of ochretiled roofs to the Campus Martius and beyond. His heart pounding, Valerius followed the line of the Via Flaminia past the distinctive conical roof of Augustus’s mausoleum and out towards the Milvian Bridge. On the far side of the Tiber a dark amorphous mass seemed to shimmer and twitch and he knew he was looking at an army on the march. As the seconds passed it became clear it was actually a meeting of two forces. A battle. He watched a section of the mass detach itself and flow haphazardly back towards the bridge. Marcus Antonius Primus had been slow in coming, but now he was here and in numbers, and the Praetorian and militia defenders who’d hoped to stop him were fleeing back to the city.

‘Look.’ Serpentius pointed north along the line of the walls, where the tombs flanking the Via Salaria had been swallowed by the ever-spreading suburbs. The great red-brick fortress of the Castra Praetoria stood to their right and from its gates century after century of Praetorians marched out to meet a second Flavian column approaching down the old salt road. The Spaniard let out a bark of laughter.

‘I don’t see anything funny,’ Valerius said.

‘I was just wondering who in the name of Mars’ hairy sac we were fighting for this time.’

Valerius blinked. It had never occurred to him not to defend his city, but the Spaniard was right. They couldn’t fight Primus, because that meant fighting the Seventh Galbiana, the legion that had been his , if only for a moment.

‘This time we fight for ourselves.’ The words were uttered so softly that Serpentius almost didn’t catch them, but the determination on Valerius’s face carried its own message. And for Domitia Longina Corbulo.

Serpentius hesitated as they emerged from the tower on to the street. ‘Domitianus?’

Valerius had already made his decision. ‘We don’t have time. A few cohorts of Praetorians and Vitellius’s armed civilians aren’t going to hold Primus and his legions for long.’

They hurried down the cobbled street in the shadow of the Old Anio aqueduct towards Subura and the Forum. When they reached the Porticus Liviae, Serpentius said he knew a quicker route. Despite Valerius’s reservations they dashed through alleyways and between crowded insulae until they reached the Scalae Caniniae, a narrow, fetid stairway that wound between the poorer houses clinging to the lower slopes of the Mons Opius. As they reached the bottom of the first set of stairs they met a file of soldiers and armed civilians. Valerius stepped back to allow them to pass and momentarily became separated from Serpentius. The men had their heads bowed, and some of the older ones struggled for breath after their climb. They were urged on with curses and threats by the veteran in charge, a sallow-featured legionary in a ragged red tunic and armour that had seen better days. When they came abreast of Valerius he ordered a halt and the grateful men stood panting as he approached the Roman.

‘I have orders to collect every able-bodied man for the defence of the city,’ he said sourly. ‘Join the rear of the file and we’ll get you a sword when we reach our post.’

His tone allowed no argument, and he turned away expecting Valerius to follow. Instead Valerius pulled Vitellius’s warrant from the pouch at his waist. The soldier accepted the wooden plaque with a suspicious grunt and inspected it as if it was a tin denarius . Eventually, he shook his head. ‘The situation was different when this was issued. I need every man I can get to keep these bastard rebels out of the city.’

Valerius let his face relax into a deferential smile. ‘But you said every able-bodied man.’ He flicked back his cloak to reveal the stump of his right arm.

The moment the soldier’s pale eyes widened at the sight of the mutilated limb he knew it was a mistake. Valerius saw the elements come together as if the man had discovered the answer to some long-lost mystery. With a bitter laugh of disbelief his hand swooped for his sword. Beneath the cloak Valerius groped for his own blade. Too late. Two men grabbed him by the arms.

‘I know you.’ The words burst from the legionary in a rasping snarl and the sword point came up to touch Valerius’s throat. ‘Old Lucca never forgets a face, not a face like yours in any case, or that wooden fist you wore then. You were outside the gates at Cremona before that bastard Primus burned it. Only you were in uniform. A tribune, wasn’t it, but with a legate’s sash. You’re a fucking spy.’

‘No,’ Valerius insisted. Against such certainty, he knew there was little point denying his identity, but he had the Emperor’s seal. ‘Not a spy. An envoy to the Emperor. How do you think I got this pass? Yes, I was at Cremona, but there are negotiations taking place that you should not interfere with.’

‘Negotiations,’ Lucca snorted. ‘The only negotiation those Flavians will get is a spear in the throat.’ The men closest to Valerius growled their agreement. ‘Right, lads, we’re taking this spy to the carcer where they know how to deal with traitors like him.’

Valerius opened his mouth to protest, but a civilian with the pinched, feral features of a weasel prodded him with the point of his spear as a second man disarmed him. ‘Why not just stick him now? We’re needed on the walls.’

Valerius could see the calculations running through Lucca’s mind. ‘Take me to the Emperor,’ he said desperately. ‘Any one of his people will vouch for me.’

Lucca laughed. ‘We’re at war, in case you hadn’t noticed. The Emperor has enough on his mind without wasting his time with a spy. No, you filthy bastard, it’s the carcer and the strangling rope for you.’

Valerius looked round, hoping to see Serpentius. The Spaniard was nowhere in sight, but he would not be far away. ‘Get to Aprilis,’ the Roman called out. ‘Aprilis will know what to do. And when you’ve found Aprilis go to Domitia.’