Watchmen of Rome

by Watchmen of Rome (retail) (epub)

  ‘People must show me respect,’ continued Manius calmly. ‘And if someone doesn’t show respect to a family member something has to be done. Otherwise no one would respect me. Then where would I be?’

  ‘Am I supposed to care?’ asked Carbo.

  Manius shook his head. ‘It doesn’t really matter whether you care or not. It only matters that you show me the deference I am owed, or your bloodied corpse will serve as a reminder of what happens around here when respect breaks down.’ He nodded to the men behind him, who stepped forward.

  A voice came from behind Carbo. ‘It’s illegal to bear arms in the city of Rome, friends.’

  Manius paused and looked over Carbo’s shoulder at the speaker. Carbo didn’t turn, keeping his eyes fixed on Manius, but recognized the voice of Vespillo. He saw Manius assessing the source of the interruption, before smiling humourlessly.

  ‘I’ve heard that, friend,’ he replied, emphasizing the last word ironically. ‘It seems to be a custom honoured more in the breach than the observance, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Even so,’ said Vespillo. ‘It is the law and tradition that arms are not carried within the sacred boundary of Rome. Please put your weapons away and leave in an orderly fashion.’

  ‘By Pluto’s balls, who are you to command me to do anything?’

  ‘Lucius Vedius Vespillo. Tribune of the vigiles.’

  Now Manius laughed out loud. ‘The little bucket fellows? Sons, either of you on fire?’

  Cilo smiled and Balbus let out a mocking laugh.

  The scrape of chairs from behind Carbo told him that Vespillo and his companions had stood, and he now risked a look behind him. Vespillo had drawn a gladius-style sword and the others had produced solid-looking clubs. The expressions on their faces suggested they didn’t appreciate being addressed that way.

  Manius’ eyes narrowed and Carbo saw him recalculating the odds. He stepped up close to Carbo, so their faces were inches away from each other. Carbo could smell fish sauce and onions on his breath.

  ‘You don’t seem to understand. All this around here, it’s mine. The houses, the businesses, the citizens, the slaves. They all owe me honour, duty and taxes. I am their paterfamilias, and like the father of the household I have the right of life and death over everyone here.’

  ‘Not me,’ said Carbo. Balbus and Cilo had stepped up close behind Manius, and now Vespillo moved to just behind Carbo’s shoulder. ‘Leave my tavern. You are not welcome here. Don’t come back, or we will have a problem.’

  Manius’ eyes flicked from Carbo’s to Vespillo’s. ‘We already have a problem. And we will be back. Just remember when the time comes for you to regret your attitude that I gave you a chance.’

  Behind them Marsia moved to the door and held it open for them, her features set firm.

  Manius spat on the floor, the spittle hitting Carbo’s shoes. He spun abruptly and walked out. Cilo and Balbus followed. As Cilo passed Marsia he squeezed her buttock painfully and winked at her. ‘I’ll be back for you, beautiful.’

  Marsia slammed the door behind them and composed herself. Carbo gave her a moment, then said, ‘Tidy up, Marsia.’

  She nodded, then directed Philon to right the upended furniture, while she produced a mop and a bucket to clear up the spillages.

  ‘First though, Marsia, a drink here for my new friend, Vespillo. Anything you like, on the house.’

  ‘Falernian?’ said Vespillo with a wry smile.

  Carbo laughed. ‘Well, I haven’t had time to assess my stock yet, but if Publius was telling me the truth, Falernian is a little out of our league. This isn’t the Palatine, you know.’

  Vespillo laughed. ‘I had noticed. Whatever you have will be fine.’

  Marsia went to fetch a cup of wine and Carbo directed Vespillo to a seat.

  ‘Thank you. That was… unexpected.’

  Vespillo looked embarrassed. ‘Just doing my job.’

  ‘And what job would that be?’

  ‘As I said, I’m tribune of the second station of the vigiles, on the Esquiline.’

  ‘And who are the vigiles exactly?’

  ‘Who are the vigiles? Where have you been for the last twenty-one years?’

  ‘Germany. As I said. For the last twenty-five years, as it happens.’

  Marsia returned with a cup of wine for Carbo and Vespillo, then returned to restoring order in the tavern. Vespillo took a deep draught of the wine and swallowed.

  ‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘So you served your full tour of duty then.’

  ‘As did you in the XXth.’

  Vespillo nodded. ‘I’ve been retired a lot longer than you, though.’

  Carbo noted Vespillo’s head, full of hair but shot through with grey, and an almost entirely white, short-trimmed beard. ‘I can tell.’

  Vespillo chuckled. ‘Cheeky bastard. Well, the vigiles, the watchmen, were set up by the divine Augustus in the year of the consuls Lepidus and Arruntius to fight fire, after a particularly bad blaze took out a large chunk of the city. There are seven cohorts each commanded by a tribune. Overall command is with an equestrian, currently Quintus Naevius Cordus Sutorius Macro.’

  ‘What’s he like? Usual clueless political appointee that we get in the army?’

  ‘He’s a good man, on the whole. Takes the job seriously.’

  ‘And that job involves putting out fires. That’s why Manius called you a little bucket fellow.’

  Vespillo grimaced. ‘The name isn’t the most flattering. It’s been following the vigiles since they were formed, and it rankles. But we have all been called a lot worse. Besides, firefighting is only part of our job, admittedly a big part. Tall, poorly built wood-timbered buildings, indoor cooking and open braziers to keep warm, warehouses with wood, lumber and grain, narrow streets allowing blazes to spread easily – this all means several fires each night, of a greater or lesser extent, just in our district.’

  ‘So what else do you do?’

  ‘Well, if you put a bunch of men out on the street at night, organize them into cohorts and centuries, and give them axes, saws and ropes, it’s inevitable they will be given other tasks. So, the vigiles’ role quickly evolved into a night watch, keeping the peace when those lazy bastards in the urban cohorts are in bed. We catch thieves and muggers, break up fights, apprehend runaway slaves and make sure that the citizens are taking the appropriate precautions to prevent fire – keeping a bucket of water and vinegar-soaked blankets on the top floor of the insulae for example. Sometimes repeat offenders need to be taken into the street and shown that their negligence can have consequences.’

  ‘I presume your men enjoy administering the odd beating then.’

  Vespillo sighed. ‘They can be rather enthusiastic sometimes. They are all freedmen, so were never going to get a chance to join the army, not unless there was another national disaster on the scale of Cannae. Discipline can sometimes be an issue. But they are a good bunch. And they are my men, so I won’t have a word said against them.’

  Carbo nodded, understanding the kind of loyalty a man had for his comrades in arms, whether they deserved it or not. ‘So how does a veteran like you come to be in charge of a group of freedmen? Surely you could have found more lucrative work as a bodyguard, or even just retire on your pension to some peaceful farm in the countryside?’

  Vespillo looked into his cup and was quiet for a moment. ‘That’s a story for some other time,’ he said. Then he looked up. ‘You should visit the station, meet the men. They would love to meet a hero from the German campaigns.’

  ‘I’m no hero,’ said Carbo flatly, then caught Vespillo’s frown. ‘Still, I would like that. Thank you.’

  ‘We are based at the second station of the cohortes vigilum, just outside the Esquiline gate.’

  ‘So how come you turned out to be here at the right time and place to be my saviour today, Vespillo?’

  Vespillo laughed. ‘I have my ear to the ground. When I am told that a newcomer has barred the local gang boss’s son
from his tavern, it doesn’t take a genius to work out that retribution is likely to come swift and hard. Besides, I wanted to meet the man who had the balls to stand up to Cilo and Manius.’

  ‘Well, I thank you again for your help.’

  ‘One veteran to another, it’s how it should be. I shall make sure my men visit regularly to keep trouble from your door.’

  ‘Would the promise of drinks on the house make it less of a chore?’

  ‘I’m sure,’ said Vespillo, smiling. ‘Just don’t let them get completely hammered when they are on duty. They may still be needed to put out a fire.’

  Carbo shook Vespillo’s hand and watched his unexpected new ally depart. Then he turned to help Marsia clear up the mess.

  * * *

  Tegius reclined in the triclinium on the couch on Elissa’s left. The couch to the right was empty. Shafat hovered, making sure their plates and cups were full. Elissa waved him away, and he bowed and withdrew.

  Elissa regarded Tegius with a cool stare. She had had time to recover her composure.

  ‘It has been a very long time, Tegius. How did you come to Rome?’

  ‘After it all happened, the master rewarded me for my… loyalty… at such a trying time. I think maybe he didn’t want to be reminded of what had happened every day by seeing me around. To him, the cost of a household of slaves was a relatively small sum, not completely trivial, but nothing to lose sleep over. So he decided to start from scratch. He emancipated me, and bought a new steward and a whole new household of slaves.’

  ‘Yes, your loyalty was paid back handsomely,’ said Elissa flatly.

  ‘Oh, it wasn’t all roses. I could write and add, and manage a household. But there was a certain level of disgust at both the crime and the punishment. Of course, none of it was my fault, but I was tainted by it. Slaves and freedmen shunned me, and the higher levels of society held me in contempt. I was actually reduced to begging for a while. I thought I wouldn’t survive that first winter.

  ‘I’m a resourceful fellow, though. I found a young nobleman who was in trouble with his gambling debts. I quietly helped reorganize his finances and he paid me well. Well enough to leave Carthage and make a new start.’

  ‘So you came to Rome.’

  ‘Not at first, no. I spent some time in Egypt and found work in various places. About a year ago, though, I had an unfortunate incident with the wife of a rather rich and violent equestrian, and the time had come to move on. I took ship to Rome, fairly hastily – just as you did, in fact.’

  Elissa didn’t comment, and he carried on.

  ‘I have enough to get by, but little extra. Then, as I was drinking in a particularly grim little tavern, I overheard a conversation about a new cult in Rome. I say new, but of course we both know that it is very old indeed. It involved the worship of the old Carthaginian gods, Ba’al Hammon and Tanit, and the high priestess was called Elissa.

  ‘Surely that couldn’t be a coincidence, I thought. There couldn’t be another Elissa who was a hereditary priestess in the service of the Lord and Lady. So I came to your meeting to find out for myself. You have changed, grown into a very beautiful woman, might I say. But I recognized the young Elissa who fled Carthage in the night-time all those years ago. Leaving behind her friends and family to die.’

  Elissa tried to retain her composure, but she felt the little tremble coming back. She had become happy, confident, powerful. Now this odious man from her past was stripping it all away, reminding her of the most horrific time of her life.

  ‘What happened that night, Elissa? Your father never said. All we knew was that the master’s guest, Gnaeus, was killed by your father. That he was found with the body and the bloody knife. He made no attempt to disguise his guilt, but offered no explanation.’

  Elissa’s hand went to her neck. Around it hung a small charm, in the stylized shape of a figure, a round circle on a cross. Her father had given it to her that night. It had belonged to her mother and was the symbol of her priestesshood. She had wondered why he had chosen that night to pass it on. Maybe he had had some sort of premonition.

  Tegius cocked his head on one side. ‘It was Gnaeus, wasn’t it? He asked for the master’s indulgence to make use of you. You, a young virgin, barely started your first flow, I’m guessing. He was a particularly repulsive individual too, wasn’t he? Obese and warty. I wonder what he looked like naked? Was he very rough with you, when he took you? Was it very painful?’

  ‘Stop,’ said Elissa, her voice a whisper.

  ‘I bet you cried out, I bet your father heard. Do you realize, if you had remained silent nearly a hundred men, women and children wouldn’t have been crucified? I helped the soldiers, you know. Identified all the slaves. Helped group them by family, as they nailed them out. The little ones died quickest. Some of the women wouldn’t stop screaming. Most of them just hung there, waiting for the crows to come and start pecking at them, hoping they would die before the agony became too much to bear.’

  ‘Please, stop,’ said Elissa.

  ‘Of course, of course, my apologies. It must be painful to be reminded. Maybe my presence itself is a sad reminder of your past. Of the guilt you bear for all those deaths. Maybe I should leave Rome, for your sake. That would be expensive, though.’

  ‘Do others know what you know?’

  Tegius smiled. ‘I have only just confirmed for myself it was you. There is no need for anyone else to be told. Not your followers, about your past shame. Or the authorities, that you are a fugitive slave. I just need some money and I will be gone forever, and you can continue your privileged existence here and forget all about that terrible time.’

  Elissa bowed her head and Tegius smiled triumphantly. She looked up to where Shafat was waiting, out of earshot, and gestured to him. He nodded and hurried out.

  Tegius took a deep draught of his wine, then picked up some chopped morsels of liver, slid them into his mouth and swallowed with an appreciative noise.

  ‘You dine well, High Priestess. I am glad you have seen sense. It is best for both of us.’

  Behind him, Glaukos appeared, his steps quiet despite his stature.

  ‘Mother?’ asked Glaukos.

  ‘It is as I thought, Glaukos.’ Her voice had steadied again and there was iron in it now. ‘Tegius here has asked for my assistance in return for a favour. Please compensate him as we discussed.’

  Glaukos gripped Tegius’ head on either side, and before the surprised man could cry out, Glaukos snapped his neck.

  Chapter IV

  Carbo eased himself into bed with a groan. As well as the main bar area the tavern had a small side room, a back room which served as a kitchen and sitting area, and two rooms on the first floor, one of which served as a bedroom for the master and slaves, and one a general purpose dining, sitting, eating, sleeping and working area. Above that, accessed from a communal stairwell which led to a back door to the property, were two more storeys, each storey housing two families. Marsia had told him what the rental arrangements were and Carbo had left it to her to continue to collect, as she had for Publius Sergius.

  The bed he now arranged himself in was wooden with a feather mattress, a luxury that showed that Publius hadn’t always been on the breadline. With the aches of injuries both ancient and freshly sustained, Carbo appreciated the soft feel of it, and he pulled the blanket over him. Philon was already asleep on a straw mattress in a corner, and Marsia remained downstairs, tidying after a good evening’s business and locking and barring the doors. Carbo closed his eyes, suddenly realizing how exhausted he was, and sleep came quickly.

  His dreams took him to the aftermath of a battle, as they so often did. He was naked and bloody, hands tied behind his back, secured to a stake. Long-haired warriors drank and celebrated around him and the other, pitifully few, prisoners. Intermittently, they would strike him around the head or torso with the butts of their spears, opening up wounds or making new ones, to the cheers of their comrades. Women gathered round and laughed at his m
anhood, one of them even picking it up and threatening to cut it off with a knife, causing it to shrink even more in Carbo’s terror, much to the hilarity of the onlookers.

  Carbo woke and sat up straight, gasping for breath. Marsia was instantly at his side.

  ‘Master, are you well?’ she asked.

  He struggled for control, then gave her a weak smile and nodded.

  ‘Of course, just a dream.’

  Marsia put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Would you like me to take care of your needs? It will help you relax and make sleep come easier to you.’

  Carbo frowned. ‘No, slave, I do not want that from you.’

  Marsia looked confused. ‘But the old master always expected me to…’

  ‘I’m not your old master. Go back to your bed.’

  Carbo turned his back on Marsia and feigned sleep, while visions of emasculation taunted his mind.

  * * *

  Carbo woke in the morning to find Marsia and Philon already up and about, doing their chores to prepare the tavern for opening. He stretched, pulled on his tunic and wandered down into the bar. Marsia was cleaning the jars that sat in holes in the counter, containing nuts, the remains of last night’s stew and a particularly ripe garum. Intermittently she harangued Philon, who was unenthusiastically mopping the floor. Carbo grabbed a handful of nuts and a small chunk of bread, ate them quickly, then announced he was going out.

  ‘May we know what time to expect you back, Master?’ asked Marsia.

  Carbo shook his head dismissively and strolled out into the street. The early morning sun filtering down between the tall buildings made him blink. Rome was waking up, and he watched for a moment. The last of the ox and donkey carts were making their way out of the city or back to their warehouses, to much abuse from pedestrians who yelled that they should have been gone before sunup. Men hurried in various directions to see their patrons, and some of the keener businessmen were opening the shutters on their shops, starting the job of selling anything edible, native and exotic to Rome, as well as jewellery, ornaments, pots and pans, and children’s toys. Sweet and pungent smells filled the air – perfumes and spicy foods mingling with the stench and rot of the foul streets. Anything a Roman could imagine, and many things he could not, were for sale in the shops that lined the streets and alleyways, and Carbo enjoyed a slow walk through the city.