“Good man.”
When I finished the inspection, I saw Eleyne, our sons, and the rest of my entourage off to Vatican Hill with an escort of twenty guardsmen. I motioned to the groom who held the spare mount Casperius had brought along for my use. He led the dark bay gelding toward me as it snorted and its buttocks drifted from side to side, the pendants on the bridle jangling in the breeze. The groom soothed him with some quiet words. Taking the reins, I said to Casperius, “We’ll head for Lord Sabinus’s headquarters, but first I want to see what’s left of the city.”
We mounted our horses and left the river front with the troops following behind. Casperius and I zigzagged down the rubble-strewn avenue, passing the shattered remains of a temple. Workers and slaves shoveled mountains of ash and cinders and threw burnt timbers into the cluster of parked carts and wagons. These, too, would be driven to the docks and loaded aboard barges. I turned about and ordered the centurion to send a squad of ten troops ahead of us to clear a passageway. The people scattered at our approach. I looked about and saw among the ruins hundreds of refugees picking through the rubble, attempting to recover belongings or bodies of loved ones.
“I read Lord Sabinus’s report,” I said, “but I want to hear it from you. How did the fire start?”
“Commander, we know it first started somewhere near the Circus Maximus,” Casperius said, “but it took off like Jupiter’s thunderbolts, spreading through the whole city. We couldn’t control all the fires—there weren’t enough of us. Most of our men were needed just to keep order among the panicking mob and control the looting. Had to leave most of fires to the Watch, and later the Praetorians, when Nero ordered them to give a hand.”
He continued his grim narration about the storm of flames raging through Rome for three days. “With a life of its own, it blew winds fed by timbers and wares, roaring and feasting at its whim. The heat was so intense we couldn’t get near without burning ourselves. You could smell scorched flesh everywhere. A few of the men got too close and were trapped by falling timbers. They died horrible deaths—still haven’t got their screams out of my mind. We had to demolish a ribbon of houses for a firebreak before the blaze was finally stamped out at the foot of the Esquiline and the Quirinal. Sabinus’s house was scorched and blackened but remained standing with little internal damage.
“Altogether,” Casperius said, “the fire leveled three districts and reduced seven to blackened ruins. Thousands of shops, mansions, tenements, public buildings, and temples have been razed.”
I cursed to myself and wondered if this was some sort of punishment by the gods, and if so, why? “What about the barracks?”
Casperius looked about and spat. “The fires completely bypassed Castra Praetoria, so the Guard and the Praetorians had a place to return. Of course, we’ve seldom seen the camp during the past weeks.”
“Altogether how much remains of the city?” I waved towards the charred ruins.
“Only four of Rome’s fourteen districts survive intact.”
“Which ones?” I looked back towards the Tiber.
“The Trans-Tiberina across the river, most of Quirinal Hill, the Janiculem, and the Capitoline.”
Upon hearing the report, I held my reins tighter than usual. My horse came to a sudden halt, jolting me backwards. I loosened my reins and kicked him in the sides. We rode forward. “Anything else saved?”
“The Forum and parts of the Esquiline survived, too, and areas south of the Circus Maximus and Caelian Hills between the Appian and Ardeatian Ways.”
“How did Vatican Hill fare?”
Casperius glanced at me as if knowing why I asked. He grinned. “You’re in luck, Commander. Like most of the areas outside Rome, your home wasn’t torched.”
I nodded, quietly breathed a sigh of relief, and said a silent prayer in thanks.
“Did the Palatine escape the blaze?” I inquired as we approached the hill. A haze of dust and smoke, churned by the activities of the workers at its foot, partially obscured the emperor’s residence.
“Yes, sir.” Casperius related that due to a concerted effort between the City Guard, the Watch, and the Praetorians, much of the palace was saved, including the House of Livia and Tiberius and part of the venerable quarters of Augustus. Unfortunately, fire gutted the adjacent Temple of Apollo.
Riding along, I studied Rome’s devastation—the shattered remains of a great city. Lost forever were many of Rome’s splendid historical monuments. No longer would citizens sacrifice at legendary King Servius Tullius’s Temple of the Moon or the Altar of Holy Peace dedicated by Evander to Hercules. They would never again pray in the temple at the foot of the Palatine, which legend said, was consecrated by Romulus, the city’s founder, to Jupiter the Stayer. Nothing remained but ashes of Numa’s sacred residence and Vesta’s shrine containing Rome’s household gods across from the Temple of Saturn.
As I looked around, I said to Casperius, “It’s amazing the Guard and the Watch saved as much as they did.”
Casperius winced and grabbed the hilt of his sword, then released it. He spat. “Our efforts were nothing compared with the loss of people. Thousands died, mostly from fallen buildings or while trying to escape. Countless numbers were trampled to death or trapped beneath the rubble of burning buildings. Thousands more suffocated from smoke inhalation.”
Casperius told me his men had supervised the disposal of the dead to prevent the spread of disease. State slaves dug giant pits for mass burials and cremations outside the city, leaving no time for relatives wishing to conduct private rites or to search for loved ones.
As we approached the Palatine and Sabinus’s headquarters, I noticed its scorched but standing walls and pillars. But the once extensive garden at its foot was a clump of ashes being cleared away by a small army of slaves and shoveled into nearby carts.
Casperius continued his story. “Nero has contracted two architects, Severus and Celer, to supervise the rebuilding.”
“He chose wisely,” I said. “They’re Rome’s greatest designers.”
“They must be,” Casperius said, “because the work has started. The emperor gave orders to clean up and embellish the city. Of course,” he said with a snort, “he confiscated the choicest land east of the Forum for his newest home. They’re going to build what’s called the Palace of Gold.”
Army tents still sheltered the homeless who remained at the mercy of nature’s fickle elements.
Casperius pointed to an area covered with cinders beyond the Circus Maximus and growled, “As if that weren’t enough, the emperor’s planning to erect a pompous golden statue to himself, nearly one hundred feet tall, I’m told. He’ll call it the Colossus of Nero, but the people already have other names for it—none of them complimentary.” He grinned. “Already heard about one clod who wants to trim its golden toenails.”
Exhausted, the men of the City Guard suffered from injuries and fatigue. Given little time for food and sleep, they had exceeded the limit of human endurance. But they had obeyed.
After hearing the report from Casperius, I was proud of them. No! I was honored to serve with such men. From the first day their numbers diminished from injuries, illness, heat exhaustion, and death. Now they could be relieved, properly fed, and rested.
Unfortunately, the end of Rome’s greatest fire was the beginning of a greater tragedy.
Chapter 22
Chapter 22
Upon completing a survey of Rome’s destruction, Casperius and I reported to Sabinus’s office on the Palatine. We entered the well-lighted room that contained a large window overlooking the Circus Maximus. The heat of the city and smell of charred ruins drifted on a faint breeze. We saluted the prefect, sitting behind his desk. A half dozen scrolls were stacked to one side. Deep lines creased his forehead and black, heavy bags underscored his sunken eyes. A two-or three-day stubbled growth of a gray beard covered his face. He wore a dyed-white, leather corselet, bordered with gold fringe over a scarlet tunic. A gold, muscled cuirass protecte
d his chest. Sabinus skipped the usual greetings.
“Welcome home, Commander Marcellus Reburrus, if one can call it that.” Sabinus motioned to a couple of stools, and we sat across from him.
“I regret I didn’t arrive sooner,” I answered while wiping the sweat from my hands along the side of my breeches.
“It would not have made any difference, but your troops performed in an exemplary manner.” He nodded to Casperius. “Tribune Niger is a good man.”
Casperius sat straighter. “I’m honored, sir.”
“Did the emperor comment on their performance?” I asked.
Sabinus grinned. “He was impressed by Centurion Cornelius Martialis’s status report, which was far superior to one filed by the Praetorians.”
“Another good man,” I said. “That must have infuriated Tigellinus.”
The prefect scratched his nose. “If so, he kept it to himself, but you are probably right.”
“Is there anything to the rumors I’ve heard?” I asked.
Sabinus narrowed his eyes. “Which rumors?”
I looked toward the door that opened out upon a wide corridor. Footfalls clattered on the mosaic floor, and a slave walked by. Soon his steps faded away. I waited for the space of a few more heartbeats before answering, “Nero played his lyre from a tower in the Garden of Maecenas while Rome burned. The story is sweeping through the streets and refugee camps.”
Sabinus shook his head. “Utter nonsense. He returned to Rome immediately upon receiving news of the fire. He ordered the Praetorians at once to combat the flames.”
“We would have lost more of Rome if he hadn’t,” Casperius said.
“Indeed, Tribune Niger,” Sabinus continued. “Nero did not go near the gardens. I reported to him at Esquiline Field east of the city when he arrived from the coast. I’m not surprised his enemies spread that piece of trash. Nero heard the same gossip and turned his dogs loose to find the source—for once I hope they are successful.”
Again, I glanced to the door and back to Sabinus. I leaned forward and whispered, “Unfortunately, his reputation for depravity gave the rumor mongers the excuse they needed.”
Sabinus seemed alarmed by my open remark. He glanced at Casperius Niger and wiped the perspiration from his balding head. He motioned me closer and placed a hand on my forearm. “Marcellus, I know the destruction of the city must be a shock, but these are dangerous times—made more so by this calamity. It is not safe to think such thoughts, let alone give them voice.”
I nodded, and Casperius agreed.
The senator related how Nero asked Tigellinus, his secretaries, and Sabinus himself their advice on feeding and sheltering the thousands of homeless people. Over the objections of Tigellinus, the emperor concurred with Sabinus’s suggestion that the city’s wheat supplies, which had survived the inferno, be opened to the state bakeries and bread distributed to the hungry.
“I informed the emperor, if he did not, food riots were a certainty,” Sabinus added. “Nero was visibly shaken. He needs the mob’s support.”
I wiped the sweat rolling down the side of my face with the back of my hand. “I can imagine the look on Tigellinus’s face.”
“There is more,” Sabinus said. “I suggested sheltering the homeless in the Field of Mars, using surplus tents and blankets from the Praetorian camp. Tigellinus protested, but was overridden by Nero, who stood very firm. By the gods, I was proud of him.”
“Did Tigellinus object to using the Praetorians in fighting the fires?” I asked.
“No, he realized the city must survive, especially since our guards fought alongside his Praetorians in saving the Palatine. Faenus Rufus persuaded Tigellinus it made good sense.”
Since my return from exile, I had seldom encountered Faenus Rufus. It was he who had warned me of Drusus, the corrupt Watch tribune, when I first arrived in Rome with Sabinus years before. Faenus transferred to the Praetorian Guard during my exile, and eventually was appointed to the position of co-Praetorian prefect.
“Thank the gods,” I said, “for having an ex-Watch officer as an ally.”
“Exactly. Tigellinus knew the Praetorians had to participate in fighting the fire if he was to remain in Nero’s favor. After all, someone must be left to pay taxes.”
“At least he’s making the effort, sir,” Casperius said.
“That’s true, Tribune Niger, but the rumor about the lyre playing is so bizarre,” Sabinus said in a voice that trailed away. He shook his head and looked out the window. He sighed. “I fear one day his enemies and historians alike may record such tripe as fact.” He paused, and then continued in a lower voice. “Despite the terrible crimes Nero has committed, the burning of Rome is not one of them. Although, he loves to sing and play the lyre, he put his instrument away to deal with the blaze. I know because I was there. Nero sent commands to outlying towns to provide aid for Rome in the way of men, additional food, and provisions.”
Sabinus looked at Casperius and then focused his eyes on me. “We have work ahead of us. The investigation into the fire’s cause has begun. Tigellinus and the Watch prefect are conducting their own. I assigned Casperius Niger to head our own inquiry until you returned. He can fill you in on the details.”
Casperius nodded. “I already have, sir.”
“Very good,” Sabinus said. “Now, I must leave. The emperor expects me and the rest of the court present . . . ,” he lowered his voice, “for one of his abominable recitals.”
*
Although the investigation of incendiarism was within the jurisdiction of the Watch, I knew the prefects of the Praetorian Guard, the City Guard, and the Watch distrusted one another. It didn’t surprise me to learn they would conduct independent probes. Sabinus wanted me to see what mine would reveal. He told me the prefects, including himself, feared the repercussions resulting from such devastation. During the following three days, on more than one occasion, Annaeus Serenus, the Watch prefect, approached me ostensibly to clarify questionable details noted in my preliminary report. I included his statements, along with my observations, for Sabinus’s judgment. Serenus assured me, his report likewise noted overpowering winds were to blame for the lack of containment within my areas. Politicians—what an abomination.
On the fourth day, Tigellinus delegated Faenus Rufus to continue the inquiries for the Praetorian Guard. The emperor required the Praetorian prefect to be at his beck and call, leaving little time for the investigation. Fortunately, Rufus was an honorable man, not cut from Tigellinus’s dirty cloth.
Three mornings later, Rufus and I conferred in his spacious office at the Praetorian Barracks, which looked out onto the camp’s huge parade field. Through the open door and window came shouts from snarling centurions putting troops through their drills. Moated columns of dust roiled on the sunbeams coming through the window. A half dozen cabinets, filled with canisters containing scrolled records, lined the office’s brick walls.
“Did you know,” Rufus said to me across the desk from where I sat, “Tigellinus removed your men from their posts along the Caelian when he attempted to save Gallus’s lost estate on the Viminal?”
My chest tightened as a frown crossed my lips. “Yes, I did. And because my men were pulled from their posts, the Caelian’s contained fire rekindled and raced into new areas. I’m naming Tigellinus in my report as the party responsible for the fire reaching Nero’s estate.”
Rufus’s face, which reminded me of a bear, flushed as he quickly grasped the document’s consequences. For a moment he eyed me. “Perhaps we can work something out—I’m not ready to fall on my sword for Tigellinus.”
I gestured with a hand. “You’re not to blame for his actions.”
“No, but I’m second-in-command.” He looked in the direction of the door and back to me. “Tigellinus will denounce me for failing to carry out his orders. He’ll use me as his sacrificial goat.” He shook his head. “What’s worse, Nero will believe his every word.”
“What do you have in mind?�
�
“I’ll file a neutral report,” he said in a low voice, “and I ask that neither of our reports indict or criticize the other’s forces.”
I understood his meaning and nodded. “Agreed.”
Later, I reported to Sabinus and informed him of what Rufus had proposed.
Fearing many innocents might be injured by the political sword, Sabinus suggested I temper my formal report even more than Faenus Rufus had proposed, but also file a separate unofficial one to him containing all details and names.
Arsonists started the fires, rumors said. But reports confirmed the conflagration began in a shop near the Great Arena, the Circus Maximus. My investigation could not substantiate arson as the cause. No survivors lived to point an accusing finger. The proprietor of the silk shop where the blaze ignited died in the flames. Like most fires in Rome, it probably started from a spark flying out of a cooking brazier and landing in a corner of the shop’s tinder-dry room. But gossip continued to persist that the fire was deliberately ignited.
*
Ten days had passed, after I assumed the investigation from Casperius Niger, when Sabinus presented my amended report to Nero. Later, in the afternoon, I arrived at Sabinus’s court office, eager to learn of Nero’s reaction to the document.
I waited only a few minutes before Sabinus arrived clothed in a white and purple magisterial toga. After the usual salutations, he dropped wearily to the leather, cushioned chair. An expression of disgust crossed his aging face. “The emperor is a fool.”
Quickly, I turned to the open door listening for footfalls or other noise from the hallway. None. “Sir, do you know what you’re saying? Isn’t that treason?”
Sabinus glared at me, his face tight, lips pressed together in a thin line. He exhaled. “You are right, I must choose my words carefully. But you will understand why when I tell you what Nero did with the report.”
“What about it?”
“Naturally, I handed him the narrative.” Sabinus paused to pour a cup of diluted wine from a small amphora on the desk. He leaned back and took a long drink—something he rarely did. He exhaled and resumed after a short pause. “Nero flipped it to Tigellinus without the decency of a glance.” Now his pallored face changed into a field of deep furrows. “You know what that means?”
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