Rome's Sacred Flame

by Robert Fabbri

  He spat at the vacant-eyed face and then slipped from his mount, drawing his sword. The injured horse was shaking, limbs twitching, breathing irregularly, its one visible eye staring at Vespasian, registering terror and pain in equal measure.

  ‘Go and deal with the other rider and get his bag of supplies,’ he ordered the two troopers accompanying him.

  Kneeling next to the horse’s neck, Vespasian put one hand on its muzzle, stroking it, as he placed his blade next to the throat. With a sharp jerk he sliced through flesh and muscle, releasing a gush of blood that seeped into the earth, taking the animal’s life with it as two shadows passed gently over the body, cast by circling birds above come to feast on man and beast alike.

  Unhooking the bag of supplies from the saddle, Vespasian left the vultures to their meal.

  CHAPTER VI

  ‘THERE THEY ARE!’

  The cry made Vespasian open his eyes and stir from the somnolent state that had been the norm for the past four days. He focused on the awning rigged above him, flapping gently in the warm breeze, which provided a small amount of protection from the relentless attention of the sun, now three hours old.

  ‘Looks like they made it, sir,’ Magnus said, stooping into Vespasian’s shelter. ‘A good amount of them, too, I’d say, judging by the cloud of dust they’re sending up.’

  ‘Good.’ Vespasian tried to sound enthusiastic as he raised himself up on his elbows but the lethargy into which he had sunk, whilst waiting at the well for the freed citizens to catch up, precluded any degree of animation. ‘I’ll give them the remainder of the day to rest and then we’ll leave soon after dark.’

  ‘We should be back in time for the last day of the Saturnalia.’

  ‘With luck.’ Vespasian yawned, got to his feet and ducked out from under the awning; immediately the sun began pounding his bald pate. ‘Bolanus!’

  ‘Yes, Governor,’ the decurion said, his hand shading his eyes as he looked south towards the column, small in the distance, emerging from the heat haze.

  ‘Have your men keep order at the well; I don’t want any fighting for water.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Oh, and keep them away from Nepos.’ Vespasian indicated to where the treacherous slave-keeper had been staked out, naked, in the sun a hundred paces away from the well; the occasional twitch, as one of the half-dozen carrion birds pecking at him managed to rip off a shred of flesh, the only indication that any life still remained in him. ‘I don’t want anyone finishing him off out of misguided vengeance; he still has a bit more suffering to do.’

  Bolanus turned and grinned at Vespasian. ‘We can’t have him missing out on any of that; especially not after all the trouble we went to ensuring he received justice.’

  Vespasian smiled back. ‘A very pleasing form of justice it is too.’ And it was: Vespasian had particularly enjoyed the first day of the sentence when Nepos had pleaded for, first of all, his life and then, as the thirst set in, a quick death; he had been granted neither. His pleas gradually faded as he weakened and, as he lost the ability to struggle, the birds had become braver; he had lost the first of his eyes the previous day. The second had followed soon after. ‘How long before we can expect to see the advance party again?’

  Bolanus thought for a moment. ‘If they managed to travel swiftly then they should arrive in Leptis Magna tomorrow; so, give them a day to get the supplies, then we should see them in three or four days’ time.’

  ‘It’ll be tight. Have your men ready to leave at the second hour of the night.’

  And so it was for the next four nights the ragged column crept north at the pace of the weakest, walking component. The very weak and the few children that had made it thus far were given places on the backs of the spare horses and the four mules, Decianus having commandeered a horse and Urbicus and Lupus having been given one.

  But it was not who had horses and who did not that occupied Vespasian’s mind as they moved forward: it was food. The Numidians were, understandably, unwilling to share their meagre supplies with the citizens as they had just enough to see them home with tightened belts. The bags retrieved from the dead had contained a fair amount of twice-baked bread and dried meat, but not nearly sufficient to keep the two hundred and fifty citizens strong enough to complete the journey now that the small amount of food given to each one had been almost entirely consumed and the rest of the provisions lost with the caravan. Steaks had been carved from the dead horses and dried in the sun as they had awaited the arrival of the column but not nearly enough to see them through.

  It was therefore with relief that the advance party, which Bolanus had sent off after the capture of the well, was sighted on the evening of the fifth day, just as they readied themselves to march. But that relief soon disappeared as the decurion commanding the turma made his report to Vespasian and Bolanus.

  ‘What do you mean: you’ve hardly brought anything with you?’ Vespasian’s face was incredulous.

  Bolanus was equally disbelieving. ‘You had strict instructions to bring as much food as you could each carry.’

  ‘I know, sir; but we didn’t have the money.’

  ‘The money! Of course you didn’t have money; you were meant to get ... wait.’ Vespasian could suddenly see what had happened. ‘The Suphetes refused to issue you with anything, didn’t they?’

  ‘Yes, Governor. They said that they wanted cash for any supplies that they gave us seeing as you were still out in the desert and there was no guarantee that you would make it back to Leptis Magna alive to make good your debt.’

  Vespasian was finding it hard to contain himself. ‘And how are we meant to survive without aid? Did they have anything to say about that?’

  ‘I don’t know, Governor. I didn’t talk to them personally; it all happened through an intermediary.’

  ‘They refused to see you? My representative. A messenger from the Governor himself.’

  ‘Yes, Governor. I tried to see them for a whole day but they refused and said that I would do better just getting back to Carthage and forgetting that this ever happened. I decided that it was best to report back to you, though, so that you would know the situation.’

  ‘Do they know you came back?’

  ‘No, Governor. I got the feeling that they would try and prevent us from doing so therefore I headed west as if going back to Carthage and then cut back south into the desert once we were well away from Leptis Magna.’

  Vespasian nodded, approving of the decurion’s actions. ‘Have your men water their horses and get something to eat; you’re coming back to Leptis Magna with me.’ He turned to Bolanus. ‘I think it’s time to pay the Suphetes a visit; we’ll take all the cavalry with us and tell my lictors to be ready to leave within the hour. And find Urbicus and Lupus, they’re coming with us too.’ He paused for quick reflection. ‘And bring Decianus; I’d rather keep him close than run the risk of him slipping away as we get near the coast.’

  The south-facing walls of Leptis Magna, just two miles distant, were not formidable for, historically, there was no threat from that direction; the port-city’s defences were concentrated on its seaward side, as Vespasian knew from his previous visit. What had changed now, however, was that the walls appeared to be manned.

  ‘It looks like they’re expecting someone who they don’t particularly want to see,’ Magnus said as it became apparent that the south gate was closed even though dawn had broken a couple of hours previously.

  Vespasian could not suppress the wry grin of a man who had just had his suspicion confirmed as he peered from within a palm-studded oasis whose water irrigated the surrounding farmland. ‘I imagine it’s rather a shock for the Suphetes to see anyone come out of the south as they must have thought they’d signed our death warrants when they refused to hand over any supplies. At least, I assume that was their motive in denying us provisions.’

  ‘But what would make them so keen to ensure that we didn’t return?’ Bolanus asked. ‘After all, they did co-operate w
ith the water dumps eventually.’

  ‘Yes, they did. But not until after I had to threaten them; but even that wouldn’t make them fear my return. If anything, you’d have thought that they would want to ingratiate themselves with me so I would forget the incident.’ He looked over to Urbicus and Lupus. ‘I rather think that the Suphetes must have realised that there was a fair chance of finding one or two of the men of the Third Augusta they had sold into slavery and were trying to avoid having to answer some very tricky questions.’

  In the two days they had taken to make the final stage across the desert to the coast, Vespasian had pondered on why the Suphetes had been so short-sighted as to refuse the Governor’s request for aid as it seemed to make no sense unless they had been actively trying to prevent his return. It had been this realisation that had made him look for a reason why they should fear his reappearance, and now seeing the walls manned against him and the gate shut he was convinced he had hit upon the cause.

  ‘If I’m correct, there is no way that they’ll let us in without us resorting to violence.’

  Magnus saw no problem with that. ‘Then resort to violence; after all, it’s only a civic militia on the walls and they ain’t going to stand for long.’

  ‘And we’ve only got cavalry.’

  ‘Take them off their horses and make them climb the walls once it’s dark.’

  ‘Yes, I could do that. But how would it look when I get back to Rome? Or, rather, how could it be made to look?’

  Magnus thought for a few moments. ‘Ah, I see. You’re worried that certain people in Rome might try and present your having to take Leptis Magna with troops as proof that you pushed it into rebellion so soon after it had been made a municipality by Nero.’

  ‘I think Poppaea Sabina could persuade her husband that I’d undone any good that he might have done and that I was an unreliable governor.’

  ‘And that would be the end to any hopes you have of another province in the near future?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘So how are we going to get in without a fight?’

  ‘Well, for once I’m pleased to have Decianus’ company.’ He turned back to where the former procurator stood, soothing his feet in the cool water of the pool. ‘He’s the perfect liar and very convincing, I’m sure, under threat of death. He can talk a small party of us through the gates and then we’ll get the rest in tonight.’

  ‘We had almost completely run out of food and were very low on water,’ Decianus shouted up at the Suphetes’ intermediary, standing above the south gate of Leptis Magna. ‘Governor Titus Flavius Vespasianus tried to address the citizens whom he had rescued from slavery in the Kingdom of the Garamantes but they turned on him and, alas, he was murdered despite the bravery of his lictors, all of whom also perished along with a lot of the auxiliary cavalry. As you can see, we number a mere dozen out of the two hundred and fifty that set out in November. It then fell to me, Catus Decianus of equestrian rank and the former procurator of two provinces, to take command. We abandoned the surviving ungrateful citizens to their fate in the desert and are now on our way first to Hadrumetum, my home town, and then on to Carthage.’

  ‘And what were you doing there, in Garama? I don’t recall you being a part of Vespasian’s party as he passed through here last month.’

  Decianus cast a nervous look at Vespasian, obscured under his wide-brimmed hat and covered with a battered travel cloak; now came the crucial part of the deception. ‘I had been held as a slave too in that kingdom, having travelled from Hadrumetum to trade slaves for wild beasts. They took my stock and enslaved me.’

  The intermediary could not conceal his surprise as he looked down at Decianus, still portly despite his time in the desert. ‘A very well-treated slave.’

  ‘I was of use to the king. He valued my accounting skills.’

  ‘So, you say that Governor Vespasian is dead as well as his lictors and that none of the other former slaves will make it out of the desert alive?’

  ‘That is correct; and all we want is to purchase food and rest up a couple of days in safety before we continue our journey.’

  The intermediary turned and began to have a conversation with someone out of sight, behind the gate.

  Vespasian held his breath as he looked, from beneath the wide brim of his hat, along the lines of civic militia armed with javelins and bows, aiming their weapons at the small group of cavalry waiting outside the gate; the rest remained, along with the lictors, concealed at the oasis.

  After a short discussion the intermediary looked back down at Decianus. ‘Very well, you may enter; you have leave to stay for two days in the municipal barracks.’

  Vespasian breathed a sigh of relief as the gates began to open.

  Vespasian peered through the crack in the door, out into the parade ground at the centre of the barracks; on the far side, guarding the gate, stood two men with a sword, helmet and shield each but nothing more in the way of uniform, implying that they were merely civic militia rather than professional soldiers. ‘Ready, Magnus?’

  ‘As I’ll ever be at my age,’ Magnus replied, cracking his knuckles.

  ‘Well, you said it was now a choice between fighting or fucking each day and I don’t believe you’ve done the latter today, so you should be fine.’

  ‘What a piece of luck that was, eh?’

  ‘Leave two men here with him, Bolanus,’ Vespasian said, pointing at Decianus and then opening the door fully. He stepped out into the warm night air and, with Magnus following, strode across the parade ground as if he had every right to be there.

  ‘Where are you going?’ the taller of the two guards demanded in Greek as Vespasian and Magnus approached the gate; his hand went to the hilt of his sword.

  ‘To find some whores and a decent jug of wine,’ Magnus informed him. ‘Do you want to come?’

  ‘You’re not allowed out of the barracks.’

  ‘Says who?’

  ‘Orders.’

  ‘Whose?’

  ‘The Suphetes.’

  Vespasian stood close up to the guard. ‘Are you saying that the Suphetes have made us prisoners?’

  ‘I’m just saying that we have orders not to let anyone out.’

  Vespasian took off his hat. ‘You may or may not have seen me when I was here in November.’

  The guard stared at his face, half illuminated by the waning moon. ‘No, but what of it?’

  ‘Because he’s the Governor of Africa,’ Magnus said.

  Vespasian took a step back. ‘And as Governor of Africa, the Emperor’s representative here, I far outrank your Suphetes. Now, lad, you can either try to stop me leaving the barracks, in which case the chances are that we will kill you, or you can obey your Governor’s command and open the gates.’

  ‘Open them,’ the second guard said. ‘He’s telling the truth, that’s Governor Vespasian, I recognise him from when he was here.’

  ‘But Vespasian’s dead, the leader of the auxiliaries said so when he arrived this morning.’

  Vespasian shrugged. ‘He lied; he always does. Now open the gate and no harm will come to you.’

  Magnus cracked his knuckles again and gave a smile that did not reach his eyes.

  ‘I’ve got no wish to die for the Suphetes,’ the second guard said, turning and lifting the bar across the gates.

  The first guard looked from Magnus to Vespasian and then nodded; he put his hand into a recess in the wall next to him and pulled out a huge key, as long as his forearm.

  ‘That’s a very sensible decision,’ Vespasian observed, turning and signalling for Bolanus and his men to come.

  The key clunked in the lock and, using their combined strength, the guards pulled open one half of the gate.

  Vespasian took the key from the lock. ‘Bolanus, tie these men up, but not so as they’re uncomfortable, and leave them with the lads guarding Decianus.’

  Once the guards had been secured, Vespasian stepped out into the street, which was dark and deserted; t
he shadowed hulk of the theatre rose on the other side. Turning left, he led his small party past the colonnaded market, as yet to start stirring for the new day, still four hours hence. As they neared the main street, the Via Triumphalis, which ran from the forum, near the harbour, all the way down to the south gate, it grew more populous. Latenight revellers lurched in and out of the shadows, frequenting the few brothels and taverns still open.

  At the Arch of Tiberius, Vespasian turned right onto the Via Triumphalis. ‘Split up into small groups,’ he ordered. ‘We don’t want to attract the attention of the local Vigiles, if they have such a thing here.’