As more ran up to take their places, Aurelius knew that they had no choice but to fight to the last. He gritted his teeth and gripped the sword that his emperor had given him. He would throw it into the sea with his last spark of energy before he died, so that it would never fall into the hands of the enemy. As the five warriors squared off for their last fight, however, Romulus suddenly called out: ‘Follow me! I know a way out!’ And he ran towards a little ironclad gate, drawing the bolt.
Aurelius grasped the boy’s intent and leaned over the parapet, shouting and waving at Batiatus to cast off the moorings and set out to sea. He threw the rope down, since he no longer had any hopes that they would be able to escape that way. He ran to the gate and followed his comrades down the stairs. The storm was abating, although the reverberations of the volcano, nursing its rage in the darkness, were becoming louder and louder in the distance. They negotiated the courtyard by creeping along the shadows of the north wall, until Romulus reached the tree-lined lane that would keep the fugitives out of sight until they could get to the drainage grate that would give them access to the cryptoporticus. Romulus yanked it open and the others followed him in.
‘What luck that Batiatus is not with us,’ said Vatrenus. ‘He’d never fit through here.’
They dropped down one after another, but in the meantime one of the servants, awakened by all that uproar, saw them and started yelling. The furious barking of dogs echoed his cries and a group of guards ran over with torches and lanterns, searching the grounds.
‘Where are the intruders?’ demanded a guard.
The servant didn’t know what to say: ‘I swear, it was right here that I saw them. I’m sure of it!’
They were immobile under the drainage grate; their pursuers were standing right above them, and they could see their faces lit by the lanterns they held in their hands.
The guard insisted, but the man could only shrug, as the dogs roamed back and forth, whimpering. The barbarian gave him a hard push backwards, swearing, and led his men to another spot to continue their search. Romulus lifted the grate a bit to make sure that they had really all gone, and then started to let himself down to the floor of the cryptoporticus, and the others followed suit. The underground chamber was pitch black. Ambrosinus took out his flint and after a few tries managed to light a wick that he kept coiled up in a jar full of a black substance that seemed like tallow. The tiny smoking flame soon grew into a little globe of white light that guided them through the impressive display of imperial monuments. They finally reached the great green marble slab. Aurelius and the others could not hide their amazement, both at Ambrosinus’s miraculous flame and at that incredible parade of Caesars represented in the splendour of their draped robes and armour.
‘Great gods,’ murmured Vatrenus. ‘I’ve never seen a place like this in all my life.’
‘Jesus!’ echoed Orosius, widening his eyes at all those marvels.
‘Romulus discovered them,’ Ambrosinus said proudly, pointing at his disciple, who was approaching the marble slab. Romulus turned to Aurelius and said: ‘You haven’t seen anything yet. This is where the sword you’re holding comes from. Look!’
He placed his fingers on the three Vs and pushed. They could hear the noise of the counterweights and mechanisms going into action. Under their increasingly astonished gazes, the huge slab began to revolve until they saw before them, erect on his pedestal, the statue of Julius Caesar, his silver armour gleaming, polychrome marble simulating the purple of his tunic and robes, his face pale and frowning, carved by a great artist in the most precious Luni marble.
The silent stupor of the little group was suddenly interrupted by Demetrius’s alarm: ‘They’ve found us!’ he shouted. ‘They’ve seen the light!’
Glimmering torches could in fact be seen at the end of the cryptoporticus, accompanied by shouting: Wulfila himself was leading his guards down the landslide and along the hall of statues.
‘Inside, fast!’ urged Romulus. ‘There’s a way out, through this cell!’ The great slab closed behind them. The din of the weapons beating against the marble and the enraged voice of Wulfila echoed through the underground chamber, and although the thickness of the monolithic slab formed an indomitable defence, their striking weapons and wild fury poured into that tiny space and filled the group with anguish. The still air was thick with impending threat. They looked at each other in dismay, but Romulus showed them the well-head from which the mysterious flashing blue light came, as if it were in contact with the world beyond.
‘This well leads into the sea,’ piped up Romulus, ‘and it’s our only way out. Let’s go. We can’t do anything here.’ Beneath the eyes of all his companions, before they had time to say a word, he dived into the well-head. Aurelius didn’t hesitate an instant and dived in after him. Livia went next, and then Demetrius, Orosius and Vatrenus. Ambrosinus was last, and his fall through that narrow opening seemed never ending. Contact with the water gave him a sense of panic and suffocation but then, immediately after, of peace. He felt as if he were floating in a gurgling liquid, surrounded by a pulsating celestial light. The lamp he’d been holding in his hand fell and slowly sank until it hit the bottom, and that luminous globe lit the waters up with a brilliant, intense sapphire blue. He pushed upwards with all his might and reached the surface, emerging among his companions who were already swimming to the shore. They were inside a grotto that communicated with the outside world through a small opening, so low on the surface that it was practically invisible. Aurelius and the others were astounded at the flame that continued to burn beneath the water, but Ambrosinus was looking around himself with no less wonder. Vatrenus drew closer, indicating that light that seemed to spring from the very bottom of the sea: ‘What is this miracle? Are you a sorcerer?’
‘Greek fire,’ replied Ambrosinus with studied nonchalance. ‘An old recipe of Hermogenes of Lampsacus. It even burns under water.’ His gaze continued to wander around him, contemplating the magnificent images of the gods of Olympus that emerged from the waters of that sea cave: Neptune, on a carriage drawn by horses with fishes’ tails; Amphitrite, his wife, with her retinue of ocean nymphs; scaly-chested tritons puffing up their cheeks as they blew into sea shells. The unreal light, reflected and diffused by the lapping of the waves, seemed to breathe life into them, animating their faces and staring marble eyes. An ancient nymphaeum! Secret and abandoned.
Romulus was raptly observing the figures himself. ‘Who are they?’ he asked.
‘Images of forgotten gods,’ replied Ambrosinus.
‘But . . . did they ever exist?’
‘Of course not!’ gasped Orosius. ‘Only one true God exists.’
Ambrosinus’s gaze was enigmatic. ‘Perhaps,’ he replied, ‘as long as someone believed in them.’
A long silence followed. The magic of the place had overwhelmed them all. The blue light shimmering over that great rocky vault, those images, the distant rumble of thunder and the powerful ebb and flow of the sea after the storm inspired a sense of almost supernatural wonder in all of them. Chilled to the bone, exhausted from their efforts, they felt their souls invaded none the less by an inexpressible happiness, intense and profound.
Romulus was the first to break the silence: ‘Are we free?’ he asked.
‘For now,’ answered Aurelius, ‘although we’re still on the island. But if it weren’t for you, we’d all be dead. You acted as a true leader.’
‘What do we do now?’ asked Vatrenus.
‘Batiatus must have realized that we couldn’t follow our original plan, and he will have cast off. He may still be cruising somewhere nearby. We have to try to reach him or have him reach us.’
‘I’ll go and see,’ said Livia. ‘You stay here with the boy.’ Before Aurelius could protest, she dived into the water, crossed the grotto with a few strokes and swam out into the open sea. She continued along the coast until she found a point she could climb on to. She clambered up as high as she could to be able to see a wide expanse
of sea and waited, trembling miserably from the cold. The clouds began to clear and the moon cast a pale glow on the waves. On the mainland, Vesuvius hurled red flashes at the rain clouds that galloped through the sky, pushed by the western wind.
She suddenly started. From behind a promontory a boat had appeared with a small light at its bow. An unmistakable figure stood at the stern, manning the rudder.
‘Batiatus! Batiatus!’ she shouted.
The boat altered course and neared the shore.
‘Where are you?’ asked the helmsman.
‘Over here! This way!’
‘At last!’ said Batiatus as soon as he was close enough. ‘I was beginning to lose all hope. Have all of you made it?’
‘Yes, thank God. The others are hidden not far from here, in a cave. I’ll have them come out.’
Batiatus slackened the sail while Livia dived back into the sea and swam to the grotto, where she excitedly informed the others.
One by one, the fugitives swam out towards the open sea in the direction of the boat as Batiatus urged them on: ‘Hurry, hurry! I’ve just seen a ship leaving the port; hurry or they’ll find us!’
Livia swam out alongside Romulus and helped him into the boat before getting in herself. It was Ambrosinus’s turn next. Vatrenus, Orosius and Demetrius followed. Aurelius had climbed on to one of the rocks outside the cave to get a better look around when he saw a red glow spreading over the waves to his left: a warship, oars out. Wulfila was at the bow, and the ship was headed towards Batiatus’s boat. Aurelius did not hesitate an instant. He shouted, with all the breath he had in him: ‘Wulfila, I’m waiting for you. Come and get me barbarian, if you have the courage! Come and get me, scar face!’
Wulfila turned towards the coast and in the light of the torches he saw his enemy standing on a rock, the invincible sword in his hand. He shouted: ‘Put about! Put to shore, I said! I want that man, and I want that sword, at any cost!’
Batiatus understood, and trimmed his sail to the wind, setting off towards the mainland as Romulus cried: ‘No! No! We have to help him! We can’t abandon him. Turn back. Turn back, I say! It’s an order!’
Livia came close: ‘Do you want to make his sacrifice futile? He’s done it for you. He attracted their attention so we could get away.’ She turned towards the island and the image of Aurelius standing on the shore in the light of the torches dissolved into another image, far off in time: a Roman soldier standing immobile on another shore, stormed by a troop of barbarians against the background of a city in flames; herself a little girl, slipping away on a boat full of refugees, over the black waters of the lagoon. Like now.
She wept.
18
THE CREW RAISED THE fore lantern at Wulfila’s orders, illuminating the rocky shore where Aurelius stood motionless, sword in hand.
Several of the men drew their arrows and aimed, imagining that their commander meant to give them a clear shot at an already easy mark, but Wulfila restrained them. ‘Put those bows down! I want his sword, I said! If it falls into the sea we’ll never find it. Draw up to shore!’ he shouted at the helmsman. ‘I want him alive!’
From a distance, Vatrenus was trying to make out what was happening, and suddenly understood.
‘Strike the sail,’ he ordered Batiatus. Livia was startled at his words and dried her eyes, reading hope into that abrupt command.
Batiatus obeyed without understanding and the boat slowed down.
‘Why are we stopping?’ he asked.
‘Because Aurelius is luring them on to the rocks,’ replied Vatrenus. ‘Look at him!’
‘Ship to starboard!’ rang out Demetrius’s voice from the bow. Another smaller vessel, loaded with warriors, was approaching, lanterns and torches blazing from the parapets and yards. It was still a couple of leagues away, but moving steadily closer.
‘What shall we do?’ asked Demetrius. ‘They’ll spot us soon and then they’ll be on us.’
‘Wait!’ exclaimed Romulus. ‘Let’s wait as long as we can, please!’
Just then the din of the wooden hull disintegrating against the rocks reached their ears, immediately drowned out by the much louder roar of the volcano as it belched smoke and sparks into the sky. In his fury to get at his enemy, Wulfila had jammed the bow between the rocks, and the waves were lifting the stern, sending everyone on the deck rolling. They scrambled and grasped for a hand hold at the railing, cursing. Wulfila sought to right himself, still intent on his adversary, but Aurelius dived into the water and disappeared.
Ash began to rain on the deck of Livia’s boat in the deepening darkness, followed by a hail of fiery lapilli.
‘We must leave now,’ said Ambrosinus, ‘or it will be too late. The paroxysmal stage of the eruption is beginning. If the barbarians don’t get us, these lapilli will set the boat aflame and take us all to the bottom with her.’
‘No!’ pleaded Romulus. ‘We must wait.’ He anxiously scanned the black surface of the sea as the second enemy ship approached, shielding their view of Wulfila’s ship being tossed mercilessly now by the breakers. The volcanic rocks rained down faster, igniting small fires on the deck near Livia and on the coiled ropes. The enemy ship had not yet advanced far enough to see the wreck of Wulfila’s ship, but they would soon spot Livia’s.
‘How many of them are there?’ asked a worried Orosius, scrutinizing the enemy crew as they crowded now at the bow, shrieking and waving their weapons.
‘Enough,’ replied Vatrenus. He turned to Livia. ‘If you want to save the boy, we have no choice.’ Livia nodded unwillingly.
‘Set sail!’ ordered Vatrenus. ‘Fast, let’s get out of here!’
Batiatus manned the sheet, assisted by Demetrius at the helm, and they slowly picked up speed, but just then a sword burst from the seething foam, gleaming in the torchlight, followed by a muscular arm, a head and a powerful chest.
‘Aurelius!’ cried out Romulus, beside himself with emotion.
‘It’s him!’ shouted his comrades, rushing to the railing. Vatrenus tossed out a line and hoisted him on board. He was exhausted and only the embrace of his friends prevented him from collapsing on to the deck. Livia held him close, as he swayed, only half conscious, and Romulus couldn’t stop staring at him, not daring to believe that he was alive and well, and not just the figment of a cruel dream destined to fade with the breaking day.
The dense cloud of soot spewed by the volcano spread over the sea, coating the waves which lapped at the shores of the island, and Livia’s boat disappeared from sight. The crew of the second ship could now hear the cries of their comrades, floundering among the floating planks. Wulfila had managed to climb on to a rock and was bellowing orders. The ship drew up, keeping at a safe distance so as not to meet the same fate as the other, and the shipwrecked warriors swam towards it and clambered aboard, one after another. When Wulfila finally reached the ship himself, he gave immediate orders to set off after the fugitives, but the helmsman, an old sailor from Capri who knew those waters well, dissuaded him. ‘If we put out to sea, none of us will come out of this alive. I can’t see past my nose, and it’s raining fire, look!’
Wulfila grudgingly turned towards the mainland. The black sky was scored by a myriad flaming meteors and he could feel the terror creeping through his men, people of the north who had never seen the likes of this. He bit his lip at the thought that he’d let a thirteen-year-old boy and an old man escape from a fort manned by seventy of his best warriors, but what pained him far worse was the loss of that fabulous sword. He’d thought of nothing but possessing it himself, since the very first moment he’d seen it gleaming so awesomely in his enemy’s fist.
‘Back to port,’ he barked, and the ship put about; its sailors were all men from the islands, well aware of the danger they were in, and they rowed vigorously but calmly under the orders of the helmsman. The barbarians, on the contrary, shook with fear at every tremor and watched panic stricken as the fire from hell descended from the sky. The soot spread everywhere, the
stench of sulphur filled the air and the horizon throbbed with bloody light.
*
Livia’s boat advanced slowly through the utter dark. Orosius was at the very tip of the foremast from which the lantern hung and he peered out in the attempt to spot sudden obstacles or danger, although it was clear that chance alone would decide their common fate in those frightful conditions. The tension on board was thick; no one spoke for fear of distracting his comrades intent on their manoeuvres as they navigated blindly. Demetrius, perched on the forward yard with his legs hanging overboard, tried to guide their route as best he could, trusting more in his instinct than anything else. Ambrosinus approached Vatrenus. ‘Which way are we bearing?’ he asked.
‘Who knows? North, I hope. It’s the only chance we have.’
‘Perhaps I could help . . . if only . . .’
Vatrenus shook his head sceptically. ‘Forget it, we’re confused enough as it is. I’ve never seen anything like this.’
‘And yet, it’s not the first time. It happened before, four hundred years ago. The volcano buried three cities with all their inhabitants. Not a trace remained of them, but Pliny describes the eruptive stages of the volcano precisely. That’s why I proposed tonight; I thought that the general confusion would make our escape easier. I was wrong. The paroxysmal phase started hours later than what I’d predicted.’
Vatrenus stared at him in surprise.
Aurelius, who had regained full consciousness, approached them. ‘What did you want to help us with?’ he asked.
Ambrosinus was about to answer when Demetrius’s voice sounded from the bow: ‘Look!’
The cloud of soot had begun to clear and the nearly imperceptible glimmer of the waves in front of them announced the first light of day. They were rounding Cape Misenum, which was raising its head above the blanket of smoke and ash that covered the sea, and the dawning sun was illuminating its top. They all gazed at that sudden vision as the soot dissipated and the boat was struck by the rays of the sun rising behind the peaks of the Lattari mountains.
The Last Legion Page 19