Douglas Jackson - Enemy of Rome

‘Condemned from his own mouth.’ Domitianus couldn’t suppress a sneer. ‘Let the sentence be carried out.’

Valerius made no attempt to resist as they came forward to bind him. He tried to put what was to come out of his mind, looking over the heads of the crowd to where a procession of men on horseback were approaching down the Argiletum. The leader wore a breastplate worked with gold and the glittering plumed helmet of a Roman general. His old enemy Gaius Licinius Mucianus had come to watch him die.

Mucianus forced his horse through the crowd to the dais and dismounted, throwing the reins to one of the guards. Primus darted a look of alarm as his rival approached Domitianus and saluted, earning a wary nod of recognition in return.

‘I bring greetings from your father, the Emperor,’ the general announced, ‘and from your brother Titus. Your father sends word that he will return to Rome once his business in Judaea is completed and you have had sufficient time to arrange an appropriate welcome for him. He confirms your position in sole charge of the city as acting Prefect of Rome.’ He turned to survey the scene around him as if noticing the thronged Forum for the first time. ‘What is happening here?’

‘Your timing is good.’ Domitianus smiled. ‘I am having this criminal put to death. You will no doubt enjoy the spectacle.’

Mucianus studied the prisoner and frowned as he recognized Valerius. ‘My timing is indeed propitious.’ He turned to an aide and the tribune ran forward with an open scroll. ‘I carry a pardon for this man signed by the Emperor himself.’ He handed the scroll to Domitianus. The newly appointed Prefect of Rome took it with shaking fingers, and when he came to the end of the document he raised his head with a look of puzzled amusement.

‘But this is a pardon for a previous sentence of death, for cowardice in the face of the enemy.’ He laughed. ‘The Senate has convicted Gaius Valerius Verrens on the most vile charges of treason and I have just sentenced the traitor to death by crucifixion.’ The sallow face creased into what he obviously believed was a benevolent smile. ‘However, in recognition of my father’s regard for the man’s past service, I hereby commute the sentence to a merciful beheading. Send for the executioner.’

‘Sir,’ Mucianus stepped forward urgently, ‘may I respectfully advise …’

‘You may not,’ Domitianus snapped. ‘I will have his life.’

Mucianus continued to whisper to Vespasian’s son, and Primus attempted to join the conversation, but Domitianus waved him away.

Strong hands pushed Valerius to his knees and he raised his head to see the bull-shouldered executioner walking towards him, a long cavalry spatha twirling expertly in his right hand. He recognized the brick-red peasant face of the man who had been within a heartbeat of removing his head four months earlier in a grassy Pannonian field. The soldier’s face split in a wry grin and he shook his head. ‘You should have run, son, and just kept running,’ he whispered.

‘Just make it quick,’ Valerius said.

‘You know the drill, lad. Head up and keep it still. Makes it easier on both of us.’

Valerius did as he was instructed, the wall of faces on the far side of the Forum a flesh-coloured blur. As a hush fell over the sacred space he took a final breath.

In the pause before the blow fell he was distracted by a slight movement at the corner of his eye. A wall of white entered his vision, moving from left to right, and his astonished eyes registered a procession of Vestal Virgins from the Temple of Vesta a few dozen paces up the Via Sacra. One face stood out at the centre of the little group and his heart stopped as he realized he was looking at Domitia Longina Corbulo. Domitia stared directly ahead, acknowledging neither the crowd nor the man kneeling in the centre of the square. Suddenly he knew.

‘Strike,’ he hissed at the legionary. He tensed for the stroke, but it never came.

‘Strike,’ he repeated, loud enough for every man to hear.

But the executioner was looking to Titus Flavius Domitianus for the signal, and Domitianus only had eyes for Domitia Longina Corbulo, who detached herself from the procession and serenely approached the platform, where a space miraculously appeared at his side. Their heads bowed together and Valerius watched in despair as a one-sided discussion took place. Eventually, Domitianus nodded gravely and stood, his face a picture of bewilderment.

‘I have taken the advice of my generals. The sentence is commuted to exile.’ He blinked and his eyes focused on Valerius. ‘You will leave Rome within twelve hours and never set foot on the soil of Italia again … on pain of death.’

Valerius bowed his head and understood for the first time that there were worse fates than death.

‘You should not have come here.’

The bitterness in Valerius’s voice was like a knife through Domitia’s heart, but to betray it would only have increased the pain for them both. Somehow, she managed to remain composed and apparently unmoved. ‘Do not judge me, Valerius. I did what had to be done.’

‘Your duty?’ He spat the word as if it were a curse. She had arrived at the room where he had stayed before his capture as he was packing a leather bag for a journey that did not yet have a destination. Curtains covered the windows and the darkness was like a cloak between them, which was a blessing because it meant they did not have to look into each other’s eyes.

‘Not my duty,’ she said without bitterness. ‘What was right. Would you deny me the right to make a sacrifice to save the man I loved?’

Now it was his turn to feel the sting of the blade and she heard the agony of it in his voice. ‘I would rather have died.’

‘Yes,’ she said carefully. ‘I understand that, but ask yourself how Domitia Longina Corbulo could have lived if she had left you to your fate when she had the means to alter it.’

‘I should kill him.’

‘And have my sacrifice mean nothing?’ She shook her head at his naivety. When she had made her decision it had felt like a death sentence, but once it was taken she realized she had the capacity to live with it. How many women of her class had the luxury of choice? ‘Have I misjudged you so, Valerius? The man I love is brave and honourable and kind. He is not a fool who voluntarily throws himself to the wolf for no purpose. It is what Domitianus wants you to do, and you would die for nothing. I have given him my vow, and I will not break my word. You have often said I am my father’s daughter. Would you expect me to dishonour his shade?’

Valerius fought for words, but he knew nothing he said would change what was. When the silence became unbearable, it was Domitia who spoke.

‘Where will you go?’

‘I don’t …’ He swallowed. ‘To Titus, I think, if he will have me. If he does not want me, or if my presence threatens his position, then east; a sword for hire.’

‘Better with Titus,’ she nodded. ‘I will send Serpentius after you when he has recovered.’

At first he thought he’d misheard her. ‘Serpentius?’

‘He was hit by a club from behind as he tried to save little Lucius.’ Her eyes misted over as she remembered the moment, her heart in her mouth for Serpentius, the awful flood of blood from the pale flesh of the child’s throat. His mother’s screams. ‘Serpentius is not invincible after all, Valerius. Neither are you. You may find him …’ she searched for the proper word, ‘changed. Since he woke it is as if he sees the world differently.’

Valerius sighed. Of course, the boy’s fate had been certain from the moment Vitellius had named him his heir. But Serpentius? ‘I thought he was dead.’ His voice sounded very tired. ‘Better then to send him back to his homeland. The gods know there is no more honour in riding with Gaius Valerius Verrens, enemy of Rome. If you could find a way to …’