As they were preparing for sleep, there was a knock at the door.
‘Who is it?’ asked Aurelius, flattening himself against the wall next to the door with his hand on his sword.
No answer. Aurelius gestured to Livia that she should open it, while he waited with his weapon in fist. Livia, holding her own dagger in her left hand, slowly lifted the bolt with her right, and then swiftly flung open the door. The corridor was deserted, dimly lit by a lamp hanging from the wall.
‘Look,’ said Aurelius, pointing to the floor. ‘They’ve left a message.’
There was a little folded piece of parchment paper on the ground. Livia picked it up and opened it: two handwritten lines and a small sphraghis, an oriental-type seal with three intertwining fret designs.
‘Antemius’s signature,’ said Livia, beaming. ‘I was sure he wouldn’t have left us on our own.’
‘What does it say?’ asked Aurelius.
‘Stephanus has deposited some money with a banker in Pozzuoli. We’ll be able to recruit the men we need, and I’ll be able to get a message back to Antemius through the courier carrying the letter of credit. It’s a system we’ve used in the past, and it’s always worked very well.’
‘I want my comrades. Even if a single one of them has survived, I want to find him.’
‘Calm down. We’ll do everything we can, but it’s not said that we’ll succeed.’
‘Ambrosinus said that Roman prisoners were taken to Misenus.’
‘And that’s where we’ll go to look for them, but nothing will be certain or easy. If we find them there, they’ll be slaves, understand? Slaves. Chained, probably. Certainly under close surveillance. Trying to free them might expose us to enormous risks and jeopardize our main mission.’
‘There is no mission more important to me. Do you understand that?’
‘You gave me your word.’
‘So did you.’
Livia bit her lip: there was no way out but his. He would never change his mind.
*
They started out the next morning just before dawn. A cold north wind had swept away the mist, and a crescent moon shone low over the surface of the sea. Capri lay clearly at the horizon, rocky and dry, topped by thick brush. To the south, a thin stream of smoke rose from Mount Vesuvius, black as a mourner’s veil against the lightening sky.
At sunrise they met Antemius’s banker, a man called Eustatius, in a little isolated church outside the walls, at a chapel dedicated to the Christian martyr Sebastian. The image of the saint, tied to a pole and pierced with arrows, struck Aurelius like the lash of a whip. His mutilated memory tried frenetically to make a lost contact, awakening the deep sense of anguish prowling in his soul. It took an immense effort to control himself, to hide his emotions.
‘We need some information,’ said Livia, pretending not to notice Aurelius’s reaction.
‘You can count on me,’ replied Eustatius, ‘for whatever I can do.’
‘We’ve heard that several Roman soldiers who were taken prisoner have been brought to Misenus to serve on the galleys.’
‘I doubt it. Most of the military port is in disuse,’ replied Eustatius. ‘This season’s ships have been pulled aground for repairs. The rowers are used for other jobs.’
‘Such as?’ asked Aurelius anxiously.
‘Manning the sulphur mines or salt works. Others are used as gladiators in illicit games. The activity’s illegal, but the betting goes sky high. Believe me, as a banker I know. If it’s soldiers you’re looking for, my guess is you’ll find them there.’
‘Where?’
‘Inside the piscina mirabilis.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s an old cistern that was used to store drinking water for the fleet’s ships. Imagine a huge underground basilica; it’s absolutely amazing. Since the aqueduct is no longer in use, it’s become the perfect hiding place for these shameful orgies. I can assure you that there are many Christians among the spectators, betting enormous sums on the most highly ranked champions. You’ll need a pass to get in,’ he added, and handed them a small smooth bone tablet inscribed with a trident, the three-pronged spear used in gladiator combat.
Livia took the money and the pass, signed a receipt and wrote a few lines for Antemius in code. They were about to leave, when the banker stopped them.
‘Wait, there’s something else. If you can, find yourself a room at the Gallus Esculapi; it’s a tavern near the old dockyard. It’s the favoured haunt of the bookmakers and gamblers. If you’re asked: ‘What do you say to a little swim?’ answer ‘Couldn’t ask for better.’ It’s the password used by frequenters. What else? Oh yes, you realize of course that organizing or even participating in gladiatorial games is punished by death.’
‘Of course,’ said Aurelius. ‘It’s an old law of Constantine’s but that doesn’t mean it’s respected.’
‘That’s true, but be careful anyway. When convenient, laws are applied to the letter, and if you should be the unfortunate one to find yourself under the edge of the axe . . . Good luck!’ said Eustatius.
They rode all day without stopping, going past Lake Lucrinus and Lake Avernus and reaching Misenus after sunset. It wasn’t difficult to find the Gallus Esculapi tavern at the old Portus Iulius dockyard. The great hexagonal basin was partially silted up, and the port entrance was only big enough to let one ship through at a time. It held only five warships in all, many of which showed signs of years of negligence. They were under the charge of a magister classis, whose worn standard dangled inertly from one of the yards. What had once been the base of the imperial fleet, a basin designed to contain two hundred warships, had become a dried up millpond full of decaying wrecks.
Livia and Aurelius entered the tavern after sundown and ordered chicken soup and vegetables. The air rang with the cries of gulls and the calls of women rounding up their children for dinner. The place was already quite crowded: a bald, red-faced host was serving white wine to the regulars sitting at their tables rolling dice or playing knuckle bones or morra. It was evidently the domain of games and gambling, but where were the bookmakers? Livia looked around and noticed a few tables grouped around the only window, where several disreputable looking characters were sitting. Their faces were scarred and their arms tattooed like the barbarians. Gallows-birds. She nudged Aurelius.
‘I’ve seen them,’ he said. He called over the host and said: ‘I’m new to these parts but, you know, I like this place and I’d like to make the acquaintance of some of these fine people. Bring a carafe of your best to those men over there.’ The host did so and the wine was accepted with an ovation.
‘Hey, stranger! Come over and have a drink with us, and bring the little chickie with you. You do believe in sharing with your friends, don’t you?’
‘Give me some money,’ whispered Aurelius to Livia. He approached their table with a half smile and said: ‘You don’t want that one around. She’s no chick. She’s a wolf, and she bites.’
‘Oh, come on!’ protested a second man as he got up from the table, an ugly scoundrel with a mouth full of rotten teeth. ‘Come over to the party, sweetheart!’ He approached Livia, who was still sitting at her table and laid a hand on her shoulder, fingers moving down towards her breast. Lightning fast, she grabbed his testicles with her left hand and squeezed, as she swiftly pulled out her dagger with her right. Without letting go, she sprang to her feet and jabbed it at his neck. The wretch yelled with all the breath he had in him, but he couldn’t move with that blade at his throat and he couldn’t get free of her steel fingers. Livia continued to squeeze until the man fainted in pain and collapsed to the ground. The girl slipped the dagger back into her belt and continued eating her soup as if nothing had happened.
‘I told you she bites,’ said Aurelius, impassive. ‘Can I sit down?’
The others moved over wordlessly. Aurelius poured himself some wine and ostentatiously placed a couple of silver coins on the table. ‘I’ve heard that you can make a lot of mo
ney here, if you’re tipped off to the right man.’
‘You like to get straight to the point, from what I see,’ said the man who seemed to be their leader.
‘If it’s worth it to me.’
‘Well, you’re in the right place all right, but you need a patron saint, if you get my gist.’
Aurelius took the tablet with the trident and flashed it for an instant before putting it back in his pocket: ‘Like this one?’
‘I see you know the ropes. Do you like to go to bed early?’
‘Me? I’m a regular night owl.’
‘What do you say to a swim at midnight?’
‘Couldn’t ask for better.’
‘How much do you want to bet?’
‘Depends. Is there anyone worthwhile?’
The man got up, grabbed him by the arm and took him aside as if to confide a great secret: ‘Listen, there’s this Ethiopian. A giant. Tall as a tower and all muscle. Looks like Hercules himself. He’s massacred every one of his opponents.’ Aurelius’s heart skipped a beat: Batiatus! he would have liked to yell, but he suffocated the excitement that he felt at knowing his friend was alive.
‘Everyone’s been betting big money on him, but seeing that the gold’s not a problem for you, I’d like to make you my partner. Let’s bet everything you have on the black man losing. I guarantee he’ll lose, and we’ll split the winnings, but I need at least five gold solids, or it’s not worth it to me.’
Aurelius pulled out his money bag and weighed it in his hand. ‘Money’s not a problem, but I’m not stupid. Why should the big guy lose at all?’
‘Two reasons. The first is that he has to fight three against one tonight. The second is a surprise. You’ll see for yourself. I don’t know you, handsome, I can’t risk telling you any more than that. I’ve already said too much. So how much are you betting?’
‘I told you, I’m not stupid. You’ll see your money tonight, just before the show begins.’
‘Agreed,’ said the man. ‘At midnight, when you hear the admiralty’s bell ringing.’
‘I’ll be there. Oh, let me tell you something. Remember her?’ he said, pointing at Livia. ‘She is nothing but a wet chick compared to me. No tricks, all right? Or I’ll rip off your balls and force you to eat them. Now go and collect that animal before he wakes up and she changes her mind and smashes his head like a pumpkin.’ The man grunted in assent and went to take care of his battered crony. Aurelius and Livia disappeared into the alley.
‘Batiatus is alive!’ exclaimed Aurelius, beside himself with joy. ‘Can you believe it? He’s alive!’
‘All right, I heard you. And who is Batiatus?’
‘One of the men in my division. He was my commander’s personal body guard. He’s a huge Ethiopian, more than six feet tall and strong as a bull. He’s worth ten men, I’m telling you. If we manage to free him, I know we can liberate the emperor. And if he’s alive, maybe so are some of the others. Oh gods, if only it were true . . .’
‘Don’t get your hopes up. In the first place, how do you plan to set him free?’
Aurelius put his hand on the shaft of his sword: ‘With this. What else?’
‘I imagine you’ll need a hand.’
‘It would help.’
‘You have a strange way of asking for things.’
‘I’m not asking for anything. I’m trying to help you bring your mission to completion.’
‘True. Let’s get started, then, we’ll have to prepare everything we need. What did that other pig tell you?’
‘That everyone will be betting on the black man, since he always wins, but he asked me for a large sum to bet on him losing, and says that he’ll arrange it.’
‘Do you think they mean to poison him?’
‘I doubt it. He’s worth too much.’
‘Drug him?’
‘Maybe.’
‘I don’t like it. We’ll have to be on our guard.’
They returned to the tavern and made careful plans. ‘We’ll need horses,’ observed Aurelius. ‘Three or even four, you never know. I can take care of that. I noticed an exchange post at the entrance to the city; my military insignia should get us what we want, but I’ll need more money.’
Livia dipped into their reserves and Aurelius left, not returning until after dark.
‘It’s all taken care of,’ he said. ‘The post master was a good man, an old-fashioned functionary who knows when not to ask too many questions. He’ll have the horses waiting for us at the mill located at the third milestone near the coast. I said that I was expecting friends and that we’d be leaving tomorrow before dawn.’
‘What about our weapons?’ asked Livia.
‘They’ll presumably be searching people at the entrance. Do you think you can hide them under your cloak? You’ll have to look like a woman, do you know what I mean?’
‘Perfectly,’ replied Livia, not flustered in the least. ‘Please leave now. Knock when you come back.’
When Aurelius entered, he was astonished at Livia’s metamorphosis. Her eyes sparkled, accented by a thin line of bistre, and he wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, but the toll of a bell sounded from the port.
‘The admiralty’s bell,’ said Aurelius. ‘Let’s go.’
12
PEOPLE STARTED ARRIVING a few at a time, in silence and complete darkness, mostly men, but women as well and even a few children. They were searched at the entrance, and any weapons found had to be left with the guard. The only light was a small lantern used to check the passes similar to the one which Aurelius had received from Eustatius.
Aurelius and Livia stood in line awaiting their turn. Livia had arranged her hair and was wearing a veil that she had bought at the market which accentuated her feminine grace. The crowd began to buzz as the sound of heavy footsteps and dragging chains was heard, and parted to make way for the combatants who were to fight that night. Among them was a black man a full head taller than the rest: Batiatus! Aurelius pushed closer even as Livia tried to hold him back. When he was near the lamp, he bared his head and said: ‘Hey, sack of coal. I bet a mountain of money on you tonight, try not to disappoint me!’
Batiatus turned towards the voice and found his old comrade in arms standing before him. His eyes glittered in the semi-darkness, and emotion was close to betraying both of them, but Aurelius gave a quick wink and immediately covered his head, turning away. The lanista, the gladiators’ trainer, yanked on the chain and Batiatus stumbled down the stairs that led to the heart of the immense cistern.
Suddenly Aurelius saw Vatrenus pass by as well, and could not hold back his tears. A chunk of his past life suddenly re-emerged in that dark, sinister place; companions he had thought lost were alive and at hand, raising immense hope in him and terrible fear: fear that everything would sink back into the void, fear that he would not be up to the task, that he would fail as he had failed to liberate Romulus at Ravenna. Livia understood what was going through his mind; she held his arm tight and whispered: ‘We can do it. I know we can do it! Bear up now, we’re going in.’
The guard was about to put his hands on Livia, but Aurelius growled: ‘Hey, keep those paws off her! She’s my fiancée, not that whore of your mother.’
The man muttered something in irritation, but he must have been used to such insults. ‘You get over here and let me search you, then – and show me your pass, or I’ll make you sorry you ever opened your mouth,’ he said, putting his hand on a sort of cudgel he had hanging from his belt.
Aurelius showed him the tablet and raised his arms, grumbling, as the guard searched him. ‘You can go,’ he said, finding everything in good order, and he turned away to check some newcomers.
Aurelius and Livia began to descend the long flight of stairs that led to the base of the cistern, and found an incredible spectacle before them: the grandiose piscina mirabilis, lit up by dozens of torches, a reservoir capable of holding enough water for an entire city. It was divided into five aisles, each supported by tall arches.
The walls and floor were smoothly polished, and the pavement sloped on both sides towards the centre to form a lime pit, a little channel closed by a gate which had to be opened occasionally to expel the limey silt which would deposit on the bottom over time. Looking up, towards the ceiling on the eastern wall, they could see the original water inlet from the aqueduct; once used to fill up the cistern, it was now closed by a gate. A long rusty smear and a slight dripping sound made it clear that there was still water in the aqueduct supply line, but it was probably shunted off towards secondary collectors. Directly across from the inlet, on the west wall, was the old outlet pipe, which had once supplied the fleet tanks with water from the top surface, the cleanest and most pure. Now the entire system, that had quenched the thirst of sailors and soldiers in the world’s most powerful fleet, was nothing but an empty abyss, a reservoir of blind, bloody violence, of man’s most shameful instincts.
Aurelius noticed the buckets of water with butchers’ brooms near some of the pillars that must have been used to sweep away the blood. A wooden shed leaned up against the back wall, probably a changing room for the gladiators.
Livia passed the sword and dagger to Aurelius and kept the other weapons for herself. ‘Where should I take position?’ she asked.
Aurelius looked all around: ‘The best thing for you to do is to go back towards the entrance. You’ll be able to keep an eye on the entire situation from up there and cover our escape. Remember, don’t ever lose sight of me. As soon as you see me attack, shoot down anyone who gets in my way. I’m counting on you.’
‘I’ll be your guardian angel.’
‘What’s a guardian angel?’
‘A kind of winged genius that we Christians believe in. They say that each one of us has one protecting us.’
‘Whatever you can do to cover my back will be fine. There’s my bookmaker. You go and take position.’
The Last Legion Page 12