‘Glaukos,’ snapped Elissa. ‘Stop your whimpering and bring him to me.’
Glaukos had managed to fashion a tourniquet from a strip of cloth from his tunic, and although he had not been able to tie it tight enough with one hand to completely stop the bleeding, it had slowed to a trickle. He got to his feet unsteadily, swaying a little.
‘Compose yourself, Glaukos,’ said Elissa. ‘I will need your help feeding the fire with a sacrifice this big.’ Glaukos grunted, glaring at Carbo with grim satisfaction. Then he picked up his dagger and held it to the back of Carbo’s ribs. He pushed Carbo in the back, propelling him forwards towards Elissa, but kept close enough that the knife stayed in contact, ready to give a killing thrust in an instant.
‘We have a deal, Elissa. Let them go.’
Carbo was face-to-face with Elissa, Fabilla between them, Rufa to one side.
‘Oh, don’t fret, Carbo. I’m not going to kill them. I honour my promises.’ She sighed. ‘Glaukos will do it instead. The Lord and Lady will be delighted with the quality of my gifts to them tonight.’
Carbo stiffened. ‘Elissa, please.’
Elissa’s face twisted. ‘You Romans!’ she spat. ‘So arrogant. You rule the world, and you believe that is your right. You think you can dictate terms to me, Elissa, Priestess of the Lord Ba’al Hammon and the Lady Tanit? You will die this night, along with these slaves, and along with Rome. Tonight, a new world begins!’
She pushed Fabilla to one side and stepped up to Carbo, pressing her knife to his throat. The knife from Glaukos on his back prodded painfully, keeping him still.
‘Lord and Lady, descend to us tonight. Bring your power and destruction, fire and flame, blood and death, to the evil Roman Empire. Free your people, the men and women of Carthage, and the rest of the world who struggle beneath the Roman yoke.’
She drew her hand back to strike. Rufa threw herself at Elissa and knocked her sideways. The dagger spun away and Elissa turned to Rufa, off balance, grasping at her. Rufa glared at Elissa and Carbo saw a hardness in Rufa’s face he had never seen before.
‘Burn, you bitch,’ she said and thrust Elissa backwards.
Elissa stumbled into the statue and hot charcoal sprayed out around her. She flailed her arms comically for a moment, trying to stay upright, clutching at the red-hot statue, ignoring the hiss as the skin on her arms and hands burnt. For a moment, she seemed to right herself. Then she fell. The statue crashed down with her, into the nearest pile of tinder and naphtha.
The red-hot charcoal that spilled out ignited the sticky naphtha instantly. Elissa screamed a piercing wail, rolling to try to right herself, but succeeding only in coating herself in the flaming naphtha. She staggered to her feet and smoky flames shot upwards from her clothes.
For a moment she was still, staring at Carbo. Her face had a ghostly glow, peering out from the flames at him, and he marvelled at the effort of will that kept her still despite the agony her body must be experiencing.
Her words came out in short gasps, but were clear.
‘Rome… will… burn.’
Then she sank to the floor, her body writhing until it disappeared from view in the rapidly spreading fire.
Carbo realized the pressure had eased in his back, as Glaukos had watched the scene unfold in dismay. Carbo spun his body swiftly, one arm knocking Glaukos’ dagger hand aside.
‘Run,’ he yelled at Rufa, then grabbed the giant’s remaining hand at the wrist. Glaukos recovered quickly and clubbed Carbo around the head with his stump. The force of the blow momentarily dazed Carbo, causing him to lessen his grip on Glaukos’ wrist. Glaukos ripped his arm free and brought it round to slash the dagger at Carbo’s face. Carbo raised an arm to block the blow and two muscular forearms clashed. The force of the impact deadened Carbo’s arm, but he managed to slide his grip down to Glaukos’ wrist and twist hard.
The dagger fell from Glaukos’ hand, but instead of trying to retrieve it, he wrapped both his arms around Carbo’s chest and squeezed.
Carbo had never felt such strength before. He felt himself lifted from the ground, a completely unfamiliar experience to him, and felt the breath crushed from him. Although both men were weakened from blood loss, Glaukos had lost much more than Carbo. Even so, Carbo could not break free from the bear hug, trying to pry the giant’s arms away from him as he struggled to take in a breath.
He drew back his head and thrust it forward as hard as he could, forehead impacting the middle of Glaukos’ face. Still the grip did not lessen and Carbo felt darkness swimming in from the edge of his vision.
His scrabbling fingers found the giant’s stump and he dug into it, causing Glaukos to roar in pain, but grip even harder. He found the tourniquet and ripped it off, feeling a fresh spurt of blood over his fingers. Glaukos dropped Carbo in panic, clutching at the pumping wound. Carbo slumped onto his backside, gasping in air. He put his arms out backwards to stop himself falling flat on his back. His fingers gripped cold steel.
Glaukos roared and threw himself onto Carbo, his huge weight set to tip the fight fully in his favour. Carbo brought the sword round, its hilt braced on the floor. It ran the giant through his chest.
Glaukos’ face was suspended an inch from Carbo’s. He felt the hot breath, saw the lips twist in a snarl. Then blood drooled from his mouth, over Carbo’s face, and the giant went limp.
‘Carbo!’ Rufa’s voice was a panicky scream.
Carbo thrust Glaukos’ corpse from him and staggered to his feet. Fire had taken hold around the walls and was spreading rapidly through all the combustible material. Tinder was crackling, vats of tallow and wax were hissing and spitting, black smoke was curling up from the naphtha and filling the air. Carbo, still struggling for breath, started to cough.
‘Carbo!’ screamed Rufa again. ‘We can’t get out!’
Carbo fought his way past the flames and through the thickening smoke to the front door, which Rufa was struggling to open.
‘Out of my way,’ he said hoarsely, no time for gentility. Rufa and Fabilla stepped back, the little girl pale-faced and trembling.
Rufa had already removed the interior bars, but the door had three locks on it. He shook the door, then charged it with his shoulder. It rattled, but moved little.
‘Where are the keys?’ he spluttered.
‘Elissa had them,’ said Rufa despairingly.
Carbo looked back at the roaring inferno, centred on where Elissa had fallen. There was no way back there. He rattled the door again, kicked it, thumped it with his shoulder. He looked around for something to batter it with, found a short log and hammered on the door with all his strength. Some of the wood splintered, but far too little to make an impression. He roared with frustration and hammered on the door with his fists.
Rufa put a hand on his arm.
‘Carbo.’ He stopped and looked at her. Her eyes were full of despair, and love. She pulled Fabilla to her, hiding the little girl’s face in her stola. Her eyes were streaming, from the smoke or emotion, Carbo couldn’t tell.
‘Carbo, you did everything you could. So much more than I had dared to hope for.’ Rufa coughed. ‘You were good to your word, to my father. He could have expected no more.’
Carbo stared at her, speechless. The air grew thicker, so breathing became hard, let alone talking. He squeezed her hand, opened his mouth, trying to find the right words to say.
The door shook with a tremendous crash. They turned, startled, and another crash came, this time accompanied by splintering wood. More blows to the door came in quick succession and within moments the head of an axe came through, daylight and air flooding in with it.
The axe disappeared, then a hook was pushed through the hole. It gripped the edges of the wood. There was a pause, then the door was ripped off its hinges with immense force. Vespillo appeared in the gap, face drawn with worry, sword in hand. He saw the three huddled together and relief flooded his face.
‘Thank all the gods,’ he cried and pulled them out of the buil
ding. They staggered clear, eyes streaming, gasping the fresh air into stinging lungs. As Carbo’s vision cleared, he saw the team of oxen that had been used to pull the door down, saw the vigiles in action as they attempted to fight the fire, started to work on neighbouring buildings to make firebreaks. A medicus approached and started to fuss around them.
Carbo and Rufa stared at each other, disbelieving. Then Carbo stepped forward, crushing Rufa into his embrace, and kissed her like it was the first time, and like it was the last time.
Chapter XXVI
The warehouse was too stocked with combustible material for any realistic attempt to douse the fire there. At full strength, the vigiles in Rome numbered seven cohorts, each of seven centuries, each of around seventy men, about 3500 in total. However, when recruiting difficulties, sickness and working shifts were taken into account, only a third to a half of that number were available at any one time. The first to arrive at the fire, the closest who had responded to Vespillo’s plea for help, were the cohort who manned the fire station on the Caelian, with their colleagues from the nearby excubitoria. They numbered a couple of hundred men, soon reinforced by another two hundred from Vespillo’s own second cohort from the Esquiline.
It wasn’t nearly enough.
Aided by a strong wind and the intense heat of the inferno that Elissa had so carefully prepared, the fire jumped from building to building with a staggering speed. Few citizens were at home, most being out watching the games, so the vigiles had little of the local aid that they usually relied on as the self-interested tried to save their property. On the other hand, there were fewer panicky crowds, and fewer people trying to prevent the destruction of their houses for firebreaks.
Carbo escorted Rufa and Fabilla through the narrow streets, heading back to Vespillo’s house. In several places they had to turn back, to navigate around routes blocked by houses which were strangely collapsed, despite not yet being touched by fire. Carbo thought of the fire that he and Vespillo had attended, the oddly collapsed buildings then, and saw Elissa’s hand at work. Fortunately, the blockages were not frequent and Carbo guessed that they had thinned out Elissa’s followers in the raid on the temple enough to reduce their impact.
Dusk was descending and the glow of the fire was visible over the rooftops. Most of the people he met in the streets had stopped to point, muttering in alarm at the apparent size of the conflagration. He bustled past them, delivering the shaken mother and daughter into Severa’s care.
Severa had endless questions, not least concern for Vespillo. Carbo assured her Vespillo was well and safe, and begged her to look after Rufa and Fabilla again. He warned all three to watch the skyline closely, and if they felt the fire was approaching the Esquiline they should leave the city by the nearest route, taking nothing with them.
‘Do you understand?’ asked Carbo sternly, fixing Rufa and Severa with a stare. Both strong women looked cowed and anxious, and nodded agreement. With a crushing embrace of Rufa, Carbo left them.
The Esquiline was only half a mile north of the Caelian Hill and in that direction the dusk sky was flickering and glowing like an angry volcano. Carbo hesitated, then thought of his tavern and his slaves. The Subura was a short distance to the west and he headed in that direction. The streets were filling with people coming out to gaze in fear at the obviously expanding blaze. As he reached the familiar territory of the Subura, people who recognized him stopped him to ask what was happening. He ignored most, pushing through, but one young man blocked his path.
‘Hey, Carbo. Where is your friend Vespillo and his little bucket boys when we need them?’
Carbo stopped, then without a word pointed to the horizon. The man followed the direction of his finger to the blaze. A low, angry sound was coming from that direction now, and even from this distance they could hear screams carried by the strong winds. The man nodded respectfully and stepped back.
When Carbo reached the tavern Philon and Marsia were waiting for him anxiously.
‘Master, what is happening?’ asked Marsia.
Carbo looked at Philon in disgust. ‘His mistress’ plans,’ he replied.
Philon looked down, shamefaced.
‘Are we safe?’ asked Marsia.
‘I don’t know,’ said Carbo. He looked around the tavern. Vatius sat in a corner, a bandage around his head, calmly sipping from a cup of wine and fussing Myia. Otherwise the tavern was empty.
Marsia noticed his gaze and answered his unspoken question. ‘We were quiet anyway because of the games, and everyone who was here went home once it became obvious this fire was a bad one. Well,’ she said, looking at Vatius, ‘almost everyone.’
‘Good,’ said Carbo. ‘I’m going to find Vespillo and do what I can to help.’ He looked at Philon pointedly. ‘And you are coming with me.’
Philon paled. ‘Master, no, please. I’m just a humble eunuch. What help could I be?’
Carbo stepped forward and gripped him under the chin, looking angrily into the slave’s eyes.
‘This is your fault, Philon, you and your mistress and your cult. I still haven’t decided whether or not to have you crucified for your betrayal. Maybe if you help your master and the people of this city today, I will be inclined to leniency.’
Philon trembled and bowed his head. ‘Yes, Master.’
‘Marsia, you are to stay here, bar the doors, and do keep watch for the fire. Flee if it comes too near.’
‘No, Master.’
Carbo looked at her in amazement.
‘What did you say?’
‘I’m coming with you, Master. My place is at your side.’ She reached behind the bar and picked up a small bucket which she had clearly stored earlier in preparation for the coming fire.
Carbo shook his head. ‘Fine, I don’t have time to argue. Vatius, would you mind keeping an eye on things here?’
Vatius raised a hand in acknowledgement and Carbo led his slaves out into the night.
The crowds had grown, the streets more clogged now, all streaming away from the Caelian, away from the growing fire. Carbo, Philon and Marsia fought their way past panicking, fleeing people. Some had left everything, bringing only their families and any slaves they possessed with them. Others struggled with carts laden with possessions, jewellery, crockery, clothing, lamps. It was foolhardy. They made little progress and the jostling crowds caused the contents to spill or the carts to overturn.
Only Carbo’s bulk allowed them to make any progress at all. He thrust cursing men and wailing women out of the way as he continued through the crush. As they approached the Caelian Hill, he encountered some people trying to make their way towards the flames. He presumed they were games-goers, trying to get to their houses, to save family and possessions. As they neared the spreading flames, the crowds thinned, and making quicker time they soon encountered a group of watchmen. Their centurion held a hand out, forbidding him to pass through.
He sighed, frustrated at the delay in getting back to help Vespillo, but was able to see the little bucket boys proving their worth. The fire was still a distance away, but he could see that it now encompassed a large area of the Caelian Hill. Under the direction of their centurion the vigiles were demolishing houses. Although brick was being increasingly used in the construction of houses and insulae since the reign of Augustus, most dwellings still remained of shoddy wood construction, crammed together, interspersed with more warehouses of the type that Elissa had started the fire in. Although they weren’t as deliberately incendiary as Elissa’s firepit, they still contained flammable materials such as grain, wool and lumber, and when the fire reached one, it redoubled in intensity.
A few people protested the destruction of their homes and businesses, but the protests were half-hearted. Romans lived in constant fear of fire, had all experienced it, and knew that this was a bad one.
Carbo watched as the vigiles wheeled up a ballista towards a tall insula that was next in the path for demolition. With swift efficiency they lined the bolt thrower up, aim
ing it at the top of the building, and at the order of the centurion, fired. A bolt shot out, its attached rope snaking out behind it, and lodged in the wood of the uppermost floor. Repeated four more times, there were soon five ropes dangling from the top floor, firmly anchored by the bolts that had struck deeply into the walls.
The centurion organized the men to attach the ropes to the yokes of two mules. He gave the order for everyone to stand well back, then had the mule drivers whip their mules forward. The mules kicked and whinnied, but reluctantly did as they were bid, straining against the ropes. One pulled through, the bolt whizzing dangerously back through the air, causing two watchmen to jump to one side.
The other four ropes held and with a series of cracks, and then a long groan, the top two floors of the building toppled down into the street. As soon as the dust and debris had settled, the vigiles were moving forward with ropes on hooks and axes to bring down the remaining two storeys. With the centurion distracted, Carbo beckoned his slaves and they sneaked on down the street.
It was easy to find the general direction of the fire, by the brightness in the darkening sky and the thick smoke, but the conflagration had spread to such an extent that knowing where Vespillo and his men would be situated would be guesswork at best.
The people they saw now were a desperate collection. Many were injured, badly burned, coughing. Some reached their blistered hands out piteously towards him for help. He ignored them and walked on. Many of the taller buildings that were on fire had crumpled bodies at their feet, lying still, many with hair and clothes still smoking and smouldering. At one corner sat a man with tear tracks starkly pale against his soot-blackened face. In his arms he cradled a small body, so badly burned Carbo couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl. Philon stared at the tableau in horror as they passed.
They came across another group of vigiles. These were operating a sipho, a big water pump, soaking a temple that was obviously deemed sufficiently important to be worth attempting to save, rather than demolish. Carbo located the centurion.
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