Domitius halted Vitus with a hand on his arm and strode across to his fellow politicians. After a moment spent speaking to a grey haired man in a toga, Domitius shook the man's hand and returned to Vitus.
“They have the situation here as under control as it is going to be. They are going to spend a while longer trying to convince the people to go to their homes and then they are going to return to their families. We should do the same.
“I need to know that Flavia is safe. I suppose the doctor could be finished with your friend, as well. Before we can go to my home there is one place I must visit first. We will have to walk, the streets will be empty, but I wish you had a sword, all the same.”
Vitus fell in, beside the praetor, allowing the older man to lead him through unfamiliar streets. The night was mostly empty but shouts and other noises could be heard from elsewhere in the city. It would seem that even in the middle of the night and under a curfew, Rome never truly slept.
The sound of the metal studs in the soles of his sandals sounded too loud to Vitus in the empty night. He found himself looking back to make sure they were not being
followed. After his time spent in the legions and later, fighting the Risen, he was almost amused by how unnerving he found the quiet city.
After a maze of lefts and rights, Domitius drew them to a stop outside a large Mansion on an extremely wealthy looking street.
“Can you wait here for me, my friend? I will be much quicker if I don’t have to make introductions. I will return to you with all haste.” Domitius was walking up the short driveway to the door before Vitus had time to nod his assent.
The door was opened almost as soon as Domitius knocked on it. He went inside and left Vitus outside on the street.
The centurion put his back to the wall around the garden and watched the still night for movement. Elsewhere in the city he heard more sounds of men on the streets. There would be an element that would delight in the danger of being out when the hour struck. Despite, or even because, of the warnings men would dare the streets. Until, that was, they realised the horror of what they were facing.
After what seemed an age, Vitus saw shadows moving behind the door and soon afterwards, Domitius came out. He glanced around for a second before seeing Vitus.
“I am finished here, I will explain everything when we are safe indoors. We don’t have much time left, let us make our way home.”
Domitius took the lead and soon they were on streets Vitus recognised from earlier in the day. It was a short walk, but every shadow promised a threat, then a final turn brought the home of Domitius in to sight.
Paulus must have been watchin because Domitius’ man servant opened the door before either of them reached it. They bustled inside and the praetor turned to the slaves.
“The house is to be secured. All doors locked and all windows shuttered. Leave no access to the property unguarded. When this is done, come back to me and I will give you further instructions.”
Flavia must have been told they had arrived and overheard the orders her husband was issuing. She looked confused but remained silent while Domitius spoke to Paulus. Eventually, when this was done, she spoke to her husband from her place halfway down the stairs.
“Domitius, what is happening?” She had a concerned look on her face but she was calm in her manner.
“Flavia, the emperor is dead. Otho is staging a coup. He just murdered Vespasian in front of the senate, the Praetorian guard has turned traitor.” Domitius took a breath and gave Flavia the chance to interrupt him.
“Oh, Gods! That’s awful. What are we going to do about it?”
“That’s not the worst of it. The creatures from Germania, Otho has them somewhere in Rome. We don’t know how many but I am assuming that all of the missing people and probably some more.”
Flavia looked confused and it occurred to Vitus that Domitius had been so busy dealing with the situation, that no-one had taken the time to tell her everything that was going on. Domitius obviously had the same thought, he turned to Vitus.
“My friend, give me some time with my wife, please. I’m sure your friends will be pleased to see you. If you don’t mind, I will call for you in a short while and tell you about the visit we made on our way home.”
Vitus nodded and made his way upstairs, leaving the praetor and his wife to a difficult conversation.
Vitus turned the corner at the top of the ornate staircase and was greeted by Lucia. She stepped toward him and threw her arms around him. She buried her face in his neck and began to cry. Vitus held her to him, feeling her warm breath and wet tears against the stubble on his throat.
Eventually her tears subsided and Vitus held her away from him. She looked tired and upset but Vitus didn’t see the look of resignation that he expected.
“They’ve been in there such a long time, Vitus. They won’t let me in and I don’t know what's happening. I keep hearing noises and it’s scaring me. I keep expecting the door to open and the doctor to tell me that he’s dead. I can’t wait any longer.”
Inwardly, Vitus breathed a sigh of relief. No news meant that the procedure had not been a failure, at least, not yet.
“Lucia, I’m sure that this is a good thing. If it was over then they would tell you straight away. If they haven’t come out, then Regulus is still alive.”
They sat down on a couple of chairs that had been placed on the landing. Lucia leaned against him and he allowed the girl to find comfort against his chest.
After all that had happened recently, Vitus was almost glad to find that he was anxious for Regulus. He hadn’t quite been as numbed by everything as he had thought. It was a small relief to him.
The wait was interminable, like the anticipation before the start of a battle. The idea that you were to face something you could not avoid but could not approach at your own speed.
Vitus tried to sit as still and calm as possible, hoping to ease Lucia’s worries. In the end, it wasn’t the doctor but Fulvia that interrupted their vigil.
She came upstairs looking pale and shocked. Evidently Domitius had told her everything that had happened and she was taking the news as well as could be expected. She knelt in front of Lucia in a kindly manner and asked after her niece. Lucia hugged her and while she did, Fulvia mouthed the words, “My husband would like to talk to you.”
Vitus nodded and slipped out of his chair. He made his way down the stairs and it seemed that he could feel the tension ease as he did. The ground floor of the house was a flurry of activity, with slaves moving about the rooms on errands. Paulus was moving among them, giving orders like the finest general at war. Without pausing to speak to Vitus, he pointed towards Domitius’ study and Vitus knocked on the door before entering.
Domitius was sat at his large dark wood desk, quickly scratching a letter on a roll of parchment. He looked up as Vitus walked in.
“An unusual day, wouldn’t you say?” He said, with a sardonic smile.
“I’ve had stranger but not many. Life has certainly not been boring since this all started. You wanted to see me?”
Domitius gestured for Vitus to sit down. “Yes, my friend, take a seat.” The praetor rose from his seat and moved to a table on which stood fine glasses and a number of drink jugs and bottles. He poured to small quantities of an amber spirit into two glasses. He returned to the desk and handed one to Vitus.
After he had sat, Domitius raised his glass and said, “To Vespasian, a fine emperor and an unfitting end.” Vitus raised his glass and then drank. The spirit first burned and then settled warmly in his stomach.
Vitus sat and looked at Domitius. The older man looked tired but unflustered. Vitus had to admit, he was beginning to be impressed by the way the praetor was dealing with the situation. It would have been so easy for a man who had seen and heard all that had happened today, to just throw up his hands and resign himself to his fate.
He began, “I’ve always known Otho was devious but I never expected anything like this. With all th
e rumours and now the return of Titus, I suppose that was naive. His position was threatened but I never thought he would make a grab for everything.”
Vitus must have looked puzzled because Domitius held up a hand in apology.
“I’m sorry, my friend, I get ahead of myself. Titus, Vespasian's son, has recently returned to his home outside Rome.
“There have been rumours for months that Vespasian intended to replace Otho as Praetorian Prefect. It made sense, no-one gets closer to the emperor's ear, and it is the perfect place for Titus to learn the workings of the empire.”
The story was already beginning to form in Vitus’ mind but he allowed the older man to talk.
“He is clever, Otho, there is no doubting that. He knew the best way to seize power is to do it under a cloud of civil unrest. Make the people angry or fearful, and the man who relieves those fears will be the man in power.
“By the sounds of it, he’s been preparing this coup for months. From the time of the very first rumours, I guess.
“Imagine the planning that must have gone into kidnapping all of those people and the anger he must have felt when the people did nothing about it. He must have expected crowds banging on the door of the palace, demanding action.”
He stopped and even allowed himself a chuckle. Vitus could imagine the man they had just seen kill the emperor, pacing his office in a fit of rage. The image did a little to ease the burning anger he held in his own heart at that moment.
“The Risen have played straight into his hands. It must have felt like a gift from the Gods. Here was he, with an army of people he had already gathered together. All he had to do was turn them.
“Gods! Listen to me! I say, all he had to do, as if turning more than a thousand people into undead monsters is an easy feat. I suppose it is a measure of the man’s ambition and depravity that he has managed to do it. He will unleash this swarm on the city and then send his men out to clean up the mess, and the people will love him for it.”
Vitus interrupted. “Surely they will hate him for being the one who set the Risen on them in the first place.”
Domitius was already shaking his head before Vitus had finished. “I wish it were true, my friend. The people of Rome have seen civil war, fire, riots and all manner of civil strife. In the end, it is not the person who starts the trouble but the person who ends it, that is important.”
Vitus shook his head in astonishment and Domitius shrugged back his reply.
“With the streets clean, he will post his list and the people will tear the senate apart, in order to keep the dead from returning. They will do his job for him. They will remove almost every opponent that stands in his way, it’s genius.”
“Does he not realise that if he releases a hundred of the Risen on to the streets, he could be fighting thousands within three days? He could lose Rome to them before the three days are up.”
“A sane and rational view, Vitus. I can only guess Otho has enough of his Praetorian guard in and around the city to be certain he can contain the threat. I know he has at least six of his cohorts in the city but there may be more. That's somewhere near three thousand men. Gods knows what he’s promised them, in return for all of this.”
“So whose house did we visit on our way home?” Vitus asked.
“That was the house of Titus himself. He’s not there, he’s in his villa outside the city. I had to make sure they were aware of what had happened and that they were sending word to Titus. They were and they are.”
“The gates are locked, aren’t they?” Vitus asked
“There are many ways in and out of a city like Rome.” Domitius allowed himself a weak smile.
“One more question. I hope I don’t offend by asking. Will your name be on the list in three days.”
“I will be fine, thank you for your concern. My family is one of the oldest still in Rome.”
The two men sat in silence for a while, drinking the spirit and for a brief moment, enjoying each other's company. The rank and file archer, turned centurion by circumstance, and the Praetor of Rome. A friendship born on despair, and already cast with bones of iron.
The study door was opened and Flavia stepped in, looking flustered but happy.
“The doctor has finished with your friend, Vitus, I think you should come and see.”
Vitus excused himself and left Domitius to continue his writing. He followed Flavia up the stairs and onto the first floor landing. Lucia was not there and so he assumed, was in with Regulus.
He stepped into the room expecting to see a scene of bloody carnage or worse, death. Instead he saw the room was clean and on the bed, Regulus was awake.
The boy looked pale and small but essentially himself. His eyes were bright but unfocused, Regulus made no attempt to speak or acknowledge Vitus, nor anyone else. Vitus was almost shocked into silence by the sight of his friend, after such an ordeal.
To one side, the doctor and his grandson stood looking on with faint smiles on their faces. Vitus turned to the ancient man and took his hand, shaking it a little too hard.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for us, you are a most gifted doctor,” He said to the old man, while the young boy translated.
The doctor replied in the strange, clipped language of his people, while his grandson spoke to Vitus.
“Your friend is not out of danger yet. He will need a lot of rest and cannot be moved from that bed for some time. His head may become infected and the blood may gather around the wound.
“It is important that the wound is kept clean and any fluid is drained from the site. My grandfather wishes to remind you, that the damage will never heal fully. Your friend will be weak in the spot, the slightest damage will carry the gravest danger.”
“It is a gift from the gods that he is alive at all. We are all so grateful. After what he has done for us, I’m not sure I could ever repay him,” Vitus said directly to the grandson.
“My grandfather says he will return tomorrow to check on the patient and redress his wound. Before he arrives, it is important that the patient is kept still and quiet. He will need to be nursed at all times.”
Vitus stepped back and rubbed his hands across his face. In all the excitement he had completely forgotten that this man and child were now in danger if they tried to go home. The old man was unable to fight or run, and the young boy might be able to look after himself but couldn’t be expected to defend his grandfather.
“I’m sorry,” he began. “I have some bad news. You can’t go home.”
The boy translated, and the old man began to look stern as he spoke. Vitus held up his hands to placate the doctor and was about to explain. He felt a hand on his arm and Fulvia stepped into the conversation.
“Vitus, allow me to explain to the doctor. You should go and sit with your friend for a little while.”
Vitus nodded gratefully and turned towards the bed. Lucia stood up from her chair and threw her arms around his chest, hugging him close to her.
“He’s alive, Vitus. I can’t believe it.” Her eyes were bright and she looked alight with a fire.
“I’m so happy, Lucia,” he said, gently holding her away from him. He sat her down in the chair she had just vacated and sat next to her. Regulus looked so small, lying in the bed with cotton sheets pulled up to his chest. His arms were by his side, over the covers, and Vitus could see a slight shake in his hands.
The large cloth wrapping on his head made him look almost comical and Vitus reminded himself to tell Regulus, when he had recovered. It was exactly the kind of thing that would tickle the boy.
The fact that he couldn’t be moved might complicate the days to come, but they would deal with one thing at a time. Lucia would certainly not leave his side, and Vitus thought of them both as family now.
Domitius had been a man of high standing yesterday. Today, however, all that had changed. Vitus vowed to stand by the man who had done so much for him and his friends. The days to come would be important days for them a
ll. Rome was on a cliff edge, and Otho was standing with his sword to her back.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
For once, the Praetorian guard were keeping a low profile, and the shoppers seemed to be a little more willing to spend time shopping. The morning was warm and everyone seemed to have a smile on their face. It was a couple of hours after sunrise and the small market street was, for once, a nice place to spend the day.
Garic, the butcher, had a lamb on the block and was making short work of turning it into joints, when he heard the first scream.
It was a woman’s voice, over on the far side of the market. It wasn’t an unusual sound to hear on market days, pickpockets and common thieves were rife. No doubt, some poor unsuspecting dear had been sent tumbling in the dirt, a few coins lighter. Garic shook his head and carried on with his chopping.
A few seconds later Marcus, his apprentice, came running around the end of the row of market stalls. No doubt, he had been causing trouble, Garic just hoped it was nothing to do with the scream he had heard. He paused in his work to see if anyone was chasing the lad.
“What’s good today, Garic?” asked one of the old ladies who made up his regular custom.
“I’ve got a nice bit of pork, how would your husband fancy that tonight?” He questioned, all the while keeping his eye on young Marcus as he ran towards the stall.
“I think he can be persuaded,” the old lady said with a warm smile. “Give us a couple of nice shoulder joints, please.”
Marcus reached the stall as she finished and came to a sliding halt in front of her. Garic was about to chastise the boy for his rudeness, when he saw the horrified look on the boys face.
“Marcus, what is it?” He asked to the panting boy.
“I...I...I don’t know, Garic. Things! Monsters!” The boy was close to panic.
“What are you talking about?” He asked, running out of patience.
“Garic, we’ve got to run,” said the boy, finally catching his breath. “There are these things, there are loads of them. They’re all covered in blood and stuff, and they just killed a woman and a kid over there.” He pointed to the far side of the market.
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