Slowly shaking his head in amazement, he surveyed the crowd. ‘I see faces; a sea of faces.’
‘He sees!’ Vespasian cried. ‘He sees!’
‘He sees!’ the crowd replied and then broke into adulation, praising their new Emperor as a miracle worker as the newly sighted man kissed Vespasian’s hand and then with an incredulous expression walked down the steps without faltering.
With a shrewd idea of how the prefect had worked the last trick, Vespasian looked down at the deformed hands of the second supplicant and wondered if this attempt would be quite so successful. The fingers were swollen and curved like claws and seemed to be set rigidly in place.
Again the crowd quietened, although the silence was not absolute on this occasion as many congratulated the cured blind man as he made his way through to show off his new vision.
‘Lay your hands on the ground,’ Vespasian ordered the cripple. He turned to Tiberius Alexander to see whether he had any advice.
‘Press down hard,’ he mouthed.
With a mental shrug, Vespasian looked back down to the two disfigured hands lying palm-up on the wooden floor. He placed his right foot on one, forcing the man’s fingers flat under his toes. He laid his hand on the cripple’s head and then pushed down with the ball of his foot. He felt a series of clicks and the man shuddered as if restraining a cry. Vespasian then turned his attention to the second hand and, with the same preparation, pushed all his weight down upon it. This time the man did let out a stifled cry of pain and Vespasian could see his eyes watering.
Vespasian stood back. The man raised his hands and stared at them as if he had never seen them before. One by one he flexed his fingers; each digit moved independently with a full range of movement. Vespasian offered his own hand; the former cripple took it and was raised to his feet and turned to face the crowd.
‘No longer is he cursed,’ Vespasian cried. ‘His hands are cured!’
The man held his arms aloft and clenched and unclenched his fists as the crowd melted into messianic adoration.
‘So how did you do it?’ Magnus asked, once he had got over his mirth. ‘Not that I hold with miracles at all, mind you, they ain’t natural.’
‘Yes, Tiberius, how did you do it?’ Vespasian asked, standing next to Caenis and looking out over the Great Harbour as the sun set; a light, refreshing breeze blew in his face, cooling him. High, to his right, smoke showed that the raging fire which would burn all night, taking the sun’s place reflecting in the great bronze mirrors, was being stirred into life at the top of the Pharos.
‘I can guess,’ Caenis said, linking her arm through Vespasian’s and watching a small flotilla of lanteen-sailed fishing vessels gliding out through the harbour mouth to ply their trade through the night.
‘It was quite straightforward,’ Tiberius Alexander admitted.
‘The blind man said that he had been cursed by the gods, three months ago; in other words about the time you would have arrived back in Alexandria after promising a miracle.’
Tiberius accepted a glass of iced wine from a half-naked slave girl. ‘I can see you have the basis of the matter.’
‘So you paid him to pretend to be blind, and to make the deception easier he wore bandages over his eyes so that people couldn’t see that he wasn’t.’
‘Precisely. And I made sure that he was well known, as a blind man, throughout the city by always having the Watch move him on roughly and generally treat him unkindly so that he became noticed and attracted a degree of sympathy. Everybody knew him as a blind man and no one questioned it. And I’m sure if you asked people how long he’d been around for, they would have said for ages and not just three months.’
‘And the cripple?’ Vespasian asked.
‘Same again: I paid him. I had his fingers dislocated and then bound up. I have to say, I was amazed that they did pop back in when you trod on his hands; still, that was a risk I had to take as two miracles are far more convincing than one.’
‘And now I’m the messiah,’ Vespasian mused, ‘how ludicrous.’
‘How useful,’ Caenis corrected.
‘Here in the East, perhaps, but not in Rome. I shan’t play on it there.’
‘Quite right, love; don’t play on it but don’t deny it either. The rumours of what happened today are bound to travel and they can do you no harm if you just refuse to address them one way or another.’
Magnus did not seem so sure. ‘Yeah, but what happens when these miraculously healed people start to boast about their exploits and the truth comes out?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,’ Tiberius said with an unconcerned air. ‘It’s been given out that these two fortunate gentlemen have been taken to Rome as proof of the miraculous events here; no one will miss them in Alexandria. It’s just such a shame that the Emperor cured them only for their ship to fall foul of a winter storm.’
‘So they’ve taken ship already, then, if you take my meaning?’
‘Yes, Magnus, they sailed for the necropolis a couple of hours ago. I can only hope they sailed with the satisfaction of the knowledge of a job well done.’
Vespasian pursed his lips in approval. ‘Thank you, Tiberius; I have to say that it had crossed my mind that keeping them alive could leave us open to blackmail. Now the question is: do we leave it at that or am I expected to be performing miracles every day?’
Tiberius sipped his drink and contemplated the question for a few moments. ‘Well, I’ve not got any more set up, Princeps, so unless you feel that you can really perform one I think that’s it. What I will do, though, is start rumours of other miracles; you know how credulous the masses are, they’ll believe anything if they want to badly enough.’
Vespasian gave a wry grin at the extent of Tiberius Alexander’s cynicism as Titus came out onto the terrace, looking worried and holding a scroll. ‘What is it, Titus?’
‘A letter from Mucianus.’
‘What does it say?’
Titus unrolled the scroll. ‘He’s at Aquileia with Hormus. There have been some negotiations between us and the Vitellians but no progress has been made. They have heard that a Vitellian army is marching north under Caecina; he had a debate with all the legionary legates as to what to do, in the absence of any new instructions from you, and they decided to stay put and wait. However, Antonius Primus, the legate of the Seventh Galbiana, stationed in Pannonia, has disobeyed Mucianus’ orders and has marched to meet it because he felt that since Lucilius Bassus, the prefect of the fleet at Ravenna, persuaded his men to declare for you, the north of Italia is there for the taking. Mucianus thinks that the spilling of Roman blood by Romans in your name is now unavoidable.’
Vespasian thumped the balustrade. ‘Antonius Primus? The fool! What does he think he’s doing? I was absolutely clear that none of my troops should enter Italia until negotiations had proved fruitless.’
‘But he has, Father; this letter is ten days old, so he may well have already met the Vitellian army.’
‘One legion against an army? Surely no one is that rash?’
Titus looked back at the letter. ‘He was and that’s the main reason that Mucianus has written. He says that he had no choice but to follow Primus, as, if his single, unsupported legion were to be defeated, it would be catastrophic for your cause. The whole army of more than forty thousand men is in Italia and is heading for Cremona, just near to where Vitellius defeated Otho.’
‘And is in all likelihood already there, my love,’ Caenis observed. ‘It may even be that that battle has already been fought and it could be another ten days before we know the result.’
‘Ten days? Yes, you’re right, Caenis.’ Vespasian’s already strained expression increased as he came to a decision. ‘Prepare a caravan, get me a guide and have the camels loaded onto transport ships, Tiberius; it’s time for me to go to Siwa and consult the god Amun.’
CHAPTER XIV
‘TAKE JOSEPHUS WITH you, Titus,’ Vespasian said to his son as they both prepared to depart the
Great Harbour of Alexandria, one to the East and the other to the West. ‘He may be useful in negotiating Jerusalem’s surrender. If that fails, which instinct tells me it will, then use all force possible. And once Jerusalem has fallen come directly to Rome and join me. Traianus can be left in charge of the mopping up operations until whoever I choose to conduct the siege of Masada arrives in the province.’
‘Yes, Father,’ Titus replied, grasping Vespasian’s forearm. ‘I expect to be there within the month. With luck I’ll circumvallate it by—’
‘Wait!’ A thought struck Vespasian. ‘If you plan to circumvallate it, it would be best to have as many of the bastards within the walls as possible, would it not?’
Titus grinned. ‘In order to starve them out so much the quicker.’
‘Exactly, my boy. Use the negotiations as a way of delaying until their feast of the unleavened bread sometime early in the new year; I’ve heard that often the city swells to a million and a half people at that time; let them try to feed all those mouths together.’
‘That’s brilliant, Father; that way we could kill tens of thousands of them.’
‘The more the better.’
‘Indeed, the more the better.’
Vespasian pulled Titus into an embrace. ‘Make them suffer like they’ve never suffered before, so they won’t dare to rise against Rome again.’
‘I will, Father; I’ll break their mothers’ hearts.’
‘And once you’ve done that we’ll share a Triumph back in Rome. That should see us safely on our way to securing our position.’
‘Provided Mucianus wins.’
‘He will.’
Titus essayed a look of confidence; it did not convince Vespasian. ‘I know he will, Father.’
‘And even if he doesn’t, we’ve still got the East, and we’ll keep that, then take Africa and starve Vitellius out. I’ve already sent messages to the Governor of Africa and the legate of the Third Augusta there; if they refuse to come over to me then, when I get back from Siwa, I’ll launch a campaign to take the province. We’ll win in the end now that we’ve started, Titus; never let go of that thought.’
Titus returned his father’s embrace. ‘I won’t.’ He stood back and looked Vespasian in the eye. ‘But tell me: what do you hope to gain from this voyage up the coast and then a two-hundredmile trip across the desert to some remote oracle?’
‘The same as Alexander when he came here: advice and guidance.’
‘Come on, Father, there are plenty of other oracles which don’t involve such an arduous journey.’
‘That may be true, Titus; but I was there once and it was made clear to me then that I would return; and now the time is right for I know the question that I must ask.’ He kissed Titus on both cheeks, turned and walked up the gangway of his quinquereme to where Magnus and Caenis waited for him on board.
‘It no safe, master.’ The guide was adamant as he and Vespasian stood on the summit of a coastal sand dune, looking to the south.
Vespasian glanced down at the brown-skinned, curly-haired, wiry little Marmarides who reminded him so much of Magnus’ former slave, Ziri, now lying forever in a river in Germania Magna so far from his parched homeland. ‘How far away is it?’
The guide shaded his eyes and gazed towards the brown cloud looming on the horizon; he sniffed the air and muttered to himself as he calculated. ‘Six hour, perhaps eight.’
Vespasian studied the dust storm for a moment; it was evidently huge, far larger than the one he had experienced the last time he had travelled to Siwa, which had buried more than a hundred of his men. ‘Is it coming this way?’
The Marmarides shrugged. ‘Maybe, maybe not, master; the sand-god’s wrath come and go where he please. We say: “When sand-god blow, no further we go”.’
‘I’m with the desert-dweller,’ Magnus said, puffing. ‘Ziri knew everything about the desert and I’ll wager that this frizzy little camel-botherer is in the same league. We stay here, with the ships, until that thing has gone.’
Vespasian, despite his haste, found himself agreeing. He turned and looked back at the three ships, bobbing at anchor fifty paces out on a calm, refreshingly blue sea. ‘Very well, we’ll camp on the beach; but we’ll offload the camels from the two transport ships. It’ll give them some time to stretch their legs after being at sea for three days.’
‘Or we could just turn round and sail back to Alexandria,’ Magnus suggested in a helpful tone.
Vespasian ignored the comment and, taking another quick look at the dust storm, walked back down the dune to the beach.
‘What I don’t understand,’ Magnus said as he placed six fish, one by one, on a grill above a driftwood fire, close to the water’s edge, ‘is why you don’t just take the two Egyptian legions and transport them over to Brundisium in southern Italia. With the fleet in Ravenna having declared for you there would be nobody in those waters who’d oppose the landing and you’d have Vitellius fighting on two fronts.’
Vespasian smiled to himself, lying back next to Caenis on the sand with his hands behind his head, looking up at the star-strewn night; the gentle rhythm of waves rolling ashore had relaxed him almost to the point of slumber in the time it had taken Magnus to set the fire. The smell of the grilling fish now completed the idyll. ‘It’s too late in the year to risk taking two legions on such a voyage.’
‘It weren’t when they first declared for you back in July. Mucianus arrived in Aquileia in September; you could easily have had those two legions on Italian soil by then and there wouldn’t have been much for Vitellius to negotiate about other than the size of his annual wine allowance.’
‘And what about Lucilius Bassus and the Ravenna fleet?’ Caenis asked. ‘We didn’t know until recently that they had declared for us.’
Magnus dabbed some oil onto each of the fish. ‘Yeah, well, surely that would have been a risk worth running? With the whole East supporting us, the Ravenna lads would have seen sense and left the landing well alone.’
‘But I couldn’t guarantee that, could I?’ Vespasian heaved himself up and sat cross-legged; the fire warmed his face and chest as smoke, sprinkled with red sparks, swirled up into the sky, drawn by a strengthening breeze. ‘It could well have been a bloody affair had the Ravenna fleet decided to oppose the landing and I probably would have ended up losing the best part of two legions to Neptune. The whole strategy of my campaign, firstly in Judaea and then in this year of civil war, has been to use negotiation wherever possible. It is only after that has failed that I resort to violence and then I make it as extreme as possible, as I don’t see the point of half measures when you are trying to defeat someone.’
Magnus looked up from his cooking, the firelight reflecting bright in his glass eye, giving the impression that the flame burned within his head. ‘I couldn’t agree more. Hit the fuckers as hard as you can so that they go down before they get you down – that’s what I used to do when I was in the legions and that’s what I used to do when I was patronus of the South Quirinal Crossroads Brotherhood; but that is not what I see you doing now.’
‘What do you see me doing, then?’
‘I see you going in completely the opposite direction from Rome, across over two hundred miles of what we both know to be the most unpleasant desert, which has currently got a sandstorm raging in it big enough to make the one that nearly killed us thirty years ago seem like one of Juno’s polite farts, in order to consult an oracle about something that, as far as I can see, you already know the answer to because it’s so glaringly obvious.’
‘What is?’
‘The answer, that’s what.’
‘And what is this glaringly obvious answer?’
‘Go to Rome as soon as you can and claim what is now yours.’
‘Yes, that’s the answer to the question: what should I do now? I grant you that. That’s why I’m not going to ask that question, it would be a waste of everyone’s time.’
‘Then what are you going to ask?’
&nbs
p; ‘That will be between the god and me; but I assure you, Magnus, that it will be well worth the effort of getting to Siwa. I need the answer to this question because it will put my mind at ease on a subject that will influence the way that I govern when I get to Rome.’
Magnus turned the fish with his knife. ‘It had better be a really good question then, a nice tricky one to make all this worth our while.’
Caenis rolled over and lay on her side resting her head on a hand. ‘I’m not complaining. Look how beautiful it is here. Do you imagine that we’ll be able to have evenings like this when we’re back in Rome? Of course we won’t. These are probably our last few days of relative freedom before the responsibility of office and the magnitude of the task of rebuilding the Empire’s finances precludes little holidays like this.’
‘You’ve evidently never been across a desert, then,’ Magnus surmised, ‘not if you consider riding a fucking camel two hundred miles across one as a little holiday.’
‘You’re right, Magnus, I haven’t, but then I haven’t done much in my life other than watch people scheme and plot in Rome. When we went to Britannia eight years ago that was the first time I’d been to any of the provinces since the one time I went to Gallia Belgica twenty years ago and since then I’ve been enjoying travelling: Achaea, Thracia, Judaea, and now Egypt. This will be my last chance to see these places because when we get back to Rome we will be too busy for this sort of leisure.’
Magnus grunted and tested one of the fish with the tip of his blade. ‘Yeah, well, I’d just rather skip this bit of holiday and get down to whatever hard graft you seem to have planned back in Rome.’
‘You don’t have to come to Siwa,’ Vespasian pointed out. ‘You could stay here with the ships and have that lovely big cabin in the quinquereme all to yourself.’
‘What, and miss the opportunity to watch you chatting with a god? Bollocks I will. I’m coming too.’
‘Then stop moaning and serve the fish and pass the wineskin. Let’s enjoy what may well be our last chance to have a peaceful meal on a beach, sitting around a glowing fire on a warm evening with good company.’
Emperor of Rome Page 26