Robert Fabbri - False God of Rome

A short bout of honking greeted them as they reached the temple level but it was half-hearted as most of the geese seemed to be intent upon settling down for a nap while they digested their bread and grain.

Ziri clambered up the rope first, scaling the fifty feet in surprisingly quick time; Vespasian followed, though not quite so nimbly.

‘Did it go all right?’ Felix asked as he helped Vespasian out of the hole.

‘Fine,’ Vespasian replied, looking at Ziri who was urinating prodigiously.

‘Fuck me, I needed that,’ Ziri said with evident relief, ‘hours I’ve been waiting.’

‘No wonder you climbed the rope so fast.’ Vespasian grinned. ‘So, Felix, back the way we came?’

‘No, you three go straight over the Soma wall from here, then I’ll throw the rope down to you and make my way back down the ladder; if I get caught in the Soma’s grounds all I’ll have on me is an empty bird cage.’

Once Magnus was up, Felix undid the rope and, keeping low, they moved to the rear of the temple roof. Felix wrapped the rope around him and threw it down over the Soma wall. Ziri and Magnus quickly descended into the street below.

Vespasian clasped Felix’s forearm. ‘Thank you; come and see me when you’re back in Rome, Felix, I’m in your debt.’

A loud disturbance at the Soma gate prevented a reply. They looked back; a unit of legionaries was running towards the temple led by a centurion with a flaming torch; next to him ran a priest.

‘Cybele’s flabby arse!’ Vespasian exclaimed. ‘Flaccus must have guessed.’

‘Go, quick, I’ll be fine, they’ll go straight to the temple.’

Hitching the leather bag over his shoulder, Vespasian slipped over the parapet as Felix braced himself against it taking the weight of the rope.

Burning his hands, Vespasian slid down and landed with a jolt in the street below; the rope quickly followed.

‘What’s the panic?’ Magnus asked, collecting the rope.

‘Just run!’

Taking the steps three at a time Vespasian hurtled down to the docks followed by Magnus and Ziri. Ahead he could see the ship; its furled sail had been hoisted ready for departure. Sprinting along the stone quay he hurdled a coil of rope and a drunken sailor before turning sharply left onto the jetty to which his ship was moored. Although there had been no sign of pursuit during their dash across the city he was desperate to sail as soon as possible for fear that their theft of the breastplate had been discovered.

‘Triarchus,’ he shouted, running up the gangplank, ‘we sail immediately!’

‘You seem to be in quite a hurry,’ a familiar voice said as he jumped down onto the deck. ‘Now, why would that be, I wonder?’

Vespasian turned and saw Flaccus leaning against the mast. The rescued Jews and Flavia were huddled behind him guarded by two soldiers.

‘When I found your rope dangling from the terrace I thought that you’d just decided to run,’ Flaccus said, walking forward as Magnus and Ziri ran aboard. ‘So I rushed down here only to find that you’d given orders to prepare for sea and would be back in an hour or so. Been doing a little late-night burglary before whisking the lovely Flavia and your new Jewish friends back to Rome, have you? What’s in that bag?’

‘Nothing that concerns you, Flaccus.’

‘Oh, but it does concern me. If you’ve done what I expressly forbade you to do then it concerns me deeply, so I would be much obliged if you would open it.’

‘Prefect, I would remind you that this is an imperial ship.’ Vespasian pointed at the imperial banner on the masthead. ‘It is therefore under the direct command of the Emperor himself, you have no jurisdiction here. Whatever may be in this bag is the property of the Emperor.’

Flaccus gave a half-smile and tilted his head. ‘That may be so, but no matter, I’ve sent one of Alexander’s priests to go and check his tomb; if he finds a certain item missing then we might review where my jurisdiction ends.’

‘You can review it all you like but it would be unwise to interfere with Caligula’s property.’ Vespasian handed the bag to Ziri. ‘Take that to the cabin, Ziri.’

‘It wouldn’t be Caligula’s property if Caligula’s thief hadn’t stolen it, but we shall find out soon enough — I can see our priest approaching.’

Vespasian turned and saw the priest running along the quay with his legionary escort.

‘He can come on board, but the soldiers stay on the jetty.’ Vespasian put his hand on his sword hilt. He felt Magnus take a pace closer to him.

‘Very well,’ Flaccus agreed, walking to the top of the gangplank, ‘I have no need for military muscle, yet. Centurion, keep your men there, but have them ready to board if I shout. Send the priest up.’

The priest who had escorted them down to the chamber made his way onto the deck.

‘Well?’ Flaccus asked him.

‘I don’t understand it,’ the priest said, shaking his head. ‘Someone has been in there; they must have got in through the roof, the soldiers found a puddle of fresh urine up there. There was grain and some bread scattered on the temple floor that they must have used to keep the geese quiet. The guards said that they had seen and heard nothing except that a couple of the geese that had escaped turned up and they caught them and put them back inside.’

‘Yes, but what about the breastplate?’ Flaccus pressed.

‘That’s what I don’t understand; it was still there. I had the soldiers lift the lid off and I examined it; it was the real breastplate, I can swear to it, there is a stain on the left-hand side. Nothing else was missing but someone must have taken the lid off earlier.’

‘What makes you so sure?’

‘Because there was a drop of fresh blood on the neck of Alexander’s tunic, it was still moist.’

Flaccus glared at Vespasian. ‘Just what have you done, senator?’

Vespasian shrugged. ‘Quite evidently nothing, prefect; now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to Rome. Triarchus, we sail as soon as the prefect and his men have disembarked.’

‘Fine, you can go but I’m taking those Jews.’

‘If you do then my report to the Emperor will be even more damning than it already is, and believe me, Flaccus, no matter how much money you have he will have you found and hideously despatched. He’s mad, don’t you know?’

Flaccus looked at Vespasian, uncertainty in his eyes, and then, spitting at his feet, stormed off the ship.

‘If you know what’s good for you,’ Vespasian shouted after him, ‘then you should pull the Greeks off the Jews and get the Emperor’s city back under control.’ He walked over to the two soldiers left guarding the Jews. ‘You two, off!’

‘What a terrible man,’ Philo commented as the legionaries left. ‘I shall write such a diatribe about him that his name will be blackened forever.’

‘Try not to make it too rhetorically flowery like the rest of your works, brother,’ Alexander said with a sad smile. ‘Just the facts.’

Philo snorted.

‘We shall have to bury your dead at sea,’ Vespasian said as the gangplank was hauled up and the mooring cables dropped.

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Alexander replied, ‘we’ve decided to go back.’

‘How? We’re sailing.’

‘In that boat that you came in; once we’ve left the harbour we can sail back to the beach bordering the Jewish Quarter.’

‘Flaccus will kill you if he finds you.’

‘No, he won’t, he’ll be needing me to broker a peace. If my people see that I do not ask for revenge for my murdered wife then they may be able to forgo their demands for retribution.’

‘And Flaccus gets what he wants?’

‘Maybe; but we cannot afford to fight any more, we would be exterminated. However, we will never forgive Flaccus. Once we have peace my brother will lead a delegation to the Emperor to complain about his treatment of our people.’