Avoiding staggering drunks and inert bodies lying in the gutter and ignoring the offers of various forms of delight from the cheaper whores who worked the street rather than being part of a respectable establishment, Vespasian made his way south, into the main residential area of the city. Here the noise grew as the poor of Leptis Magna, packed into insanitary accommodation almost as tightly as back in Rome, struggled and argued with one another in a continual fight for survival against very high odds.
Trying to keep to the raised pavement and paying attention not to step in anything too disgusting, Vespasian kept going straight south, with Magnus next to him and Bolanus and his men following in groups of twos and threes.
‘There it is,’ Vespasian said to Magnus as the torches burning to either side of the south gate came into view; a group of guards lounged in their flickering light, passing round a wineskin. ‘We need to head east.’
Turning left into the second-to-last cross-street before the gates, Vespasian hurried along its dark length, his footsteps, and those of the men following, clattering on the stone paving slabs and echoing off buildings. Coming to a junction he turned right; a hundred paces ahead he could see the city walls.
‘Just a couple,’ he whispered to Magnus, whilst looking at two silhouetted men patrolling the walkway. He turned to Bolanus, coming up behind him. ‘Have them dealt with, but don’t harm them more than necessary.’
Bolanus nodded, leading three of his men off.
Vespasian watched as they crept close to the wall; they waited until the guards had passed the head of the stone steps leading up to the walkway and then edged up them. At the top they stole forward, taking care with every step not to make any sound. Ten paces behind the guards, Bolanus dashed forward, his men in his wake. Reacting to the sudden noise, both guards turned; too late did they see the fists crashing into their faces, punching their heads back, overbalancing them so they collapsed onto the stone-hard ground with their attackers fast upon them. Two more blows each and they were still; not a sound had issued from their throats in warning.
‘Come on,’ Vespasian said, running forward. Taking the steps two at a time, he clambered up to the walkway and looked over the wall out into the night. The moon was close to setting, its light faint, but even so he caught a movement, no more than the twitching of a shadow. ‘They’re there; get ready.’ He raised his arms, crossing them at the wrists as Bolanus and his men joined him. From out of the night came a running group; quickly across the open ground before the wall they came and as they reached its base they cast up ropes, four in all. Catching one, Bolanus wrapped it about his body and braced himself; his men dealt with the remaining three. After a few moments of straining, Hormus appeared on the wall, a leather bag over his shoulder; further along, Vespasian’s lictors began to scramble up, all with bags and with their fasces strapped to their backs. Once all eleven were over, the ropes were hauled in, all bar one.
‘Be there at dawn, Bolanus,’ Vespasian said as the decurion climbed onto the wall holding the last remaining rope.
‘We’ll be there, Governor.’ Bolanus descended the twenty feet to the ground and was soon lost in the night. In the distance a horse whinnied.
‘I have everything you asked for, master,’ Hormus said, putting his bag down, rummaging in it and pulling out a pair of red-leather senatorial shoes followed by a white tunic with a thick purple stripe down the front and then lastly a folded, senatorial toga.
‘Well done, Hormus.’ Vespasian began unlacing his sandals whilst his lictors unpacked their togas from their bags.
‘I’ll get going with the lads then,’ Magnus said.
‘And take the guards with you,’ Vespasian said, indicating to the two unconscious bodies still slumped on the ground. ‘If they come round before dawn ...’
‘Don’t worry, they won’t have the chance to make any noise; they’ll be enjoying a deep sleep for the rest of the night, if you take my meaning?’ Magnus grinned and then went off down the steps taking Bolanus’ men with him, leaving Vespasian and the lictors to change.
The guards on the south gate roused themselves from their drunken slumber as the first rays of the sun hit a high-altitude, rippled cloud, brushing it with deep reds and violets. Within the city the sounds had changed; the inebriated roistering and violent arguments had been supplanted by the calls of tradesmen and market-stall-holders as they set up for the day’s business, many of them on the Via Triumphalis, close to the gate. A man whom Vespasian took to be the captain of the ill-disciplined guard rang a bell next to the gates; his men began the process of opening them. From the confines of a narrow alley, Vespasian, with his lictors, watched the gates swing open and the first carts of the farmers bringing their produce to sell in the markets trundled in, each paying a small coin to the captain of the guard for the privilege.
A dozen carts had rolled in before the captain looked south through the gates and then did a double take. ‘Close them! Quick!’
As he shouted, Magnus and Bolanus’ men emerged from the crowd; within a few moments the guards had been overpowered and the gates remained open.
Vespasian looked behind him to the senior lictor. ‘We’re off.’
The lictors moved forward, passed Vespasian and turned right, out onto the Via Triumphalis, as Bolanus and his cavalry trotted through the gate. With his lictors preceding him in two lines, led by the senior on his own at their head, and the auxiliary cavalry, four abreast, behind, Vespasian processed, attended by his freedman, up the Via Triumphalis with all the dignity of a governor of an imperial province. The citizens of Leptis Magna paused in their tasks to watch their Governor, cheering him for no reason other than such a showing of Roman magisterial dignitas with a bodyguard of almost two hundred cavalry drew automatic admiration from those so far beneath that station.
And, as the sun rose, quickly warming the cool dawn air, Vespasian smiled inwardly at the scene he had created. ‘The Suphetes won’t be able to try to dispose of an awkward governor asking tricky questions now, Hormus,’ he said out of the corner of his mouth, keeping his nose in the air and looking straight ahead. ‘Not now the whole city is witnessing my arrival.’
Hormus kept his countenance equally as dignified. ‘I’m sure they will be most polite, master.’
‘Too late.’
By the time Vespasian had got to the forum, a massive crowd was following the procession, eager to know what the Emperor’s representative in their province wished from them and their Suphetes. News having travelled quickly, numerous people were coming up from the harbour below, in which many of the merchant vessels that provided the city with its wealth were sheltering until it became safer again to risk the crossing to Italia. One small vessel, Vespasian noticed, was braving the season, slipping out of the harbour mouth, and he wondered if he would risk the shorter sea journey, hugging the coast, back to Carthage. The lictors carried on, across the forum to a building on the far side; elegantly colonnaded, painted in bright shades of red and yellow and framed by the blue sea sparkling in the winter sun, it housed the thirty-strong membership of the Leptis Magna Senate, many of whom now stood on the steps of the building.
The lictors, fasces held upright in both hands before them, lined along the bottom of the steps; Vespasian stood behind them as the cavalry drew up in ranks to his rear.
Once the clatter of many hoofs had stilled and the only sound was the buzz of the curious murmuring of hundreds of spectators, the senior lictor raised his rod-bound axe, the symbol of the magistrate to be able to command and execute. ‘The Governor of this province of Africa demands that the Suphetes, Agathon and Methodios, come forth!’
The members of the local Senate muttered together before a man, whom Vespasian recognised as being the intermediary from the previous day, stepped forward. ‘What does the Governor wish from the Suphetes?’
Vespasian cleared his throat. ‘That will become known when they answer my summons and appear before me. If they do not show themselves very soon then I
’ll have no choice but to have my cavalry search the city until they are located.’
That very real threat galvanised the local senators; before he had a chance to respond, the intermediary was pulled back into their main body to be kicked and punched to the ground. Half a dozen of the younger men ran back up the steps and disappeared into the building. It was with great pleasure that, a few moments later, Vespasian saw them dragging out two bearded old men, protesting and struggling feebly. ‘Bring me a chair,’ he demanded as the Suphetes were brought down the steps towards him.
The senior lictor instructed four of his colleagues to seize the Suphetes; their stream of protests and pleas were cut off by hands clamping over their mouths. All was quiet as a slave appeared with a curule chair from within the Senate House. Vespasian sat, arranging his toga to his satisfaction; resting his chin on his right fist, his elbow on the chair’s arm, with one leg extended and the other curled beneath the chair, he looked at the two men who had tried to end his life.
For a few score heartbeats he contemplated them; around the forum the murmuring ceased and, apart from the occasional stamp or whinny from one of the horses, silence was complete. Vespasian motioned the lictors to let go of their charges.
‘We’re so relieved to see you safely back, Governor,’ Agathon said, his reedy voice brimming with conjured enthusiasm.
‘Our prayers have been with you,’ Methodios asserted with equal insincerity.
‘Daily.’
‘Twice a day.’
‘Morning and night.’
‘With rich sacrifices.’
‘The whitest lambs.’
‘Rich in blood.’
Vespasian continued contemplating them, the fingers of his left hand drumming on the arm of his chair, as their professions of piety grew weaker and then eventually died in their throats and they became silent.
The Suphetes had both begun to sweat under the intensity of Vespasian’s gaze and, despite their eminent position in the city, they wrung their hands and shuffled their feet as if they were errant pupils being disciplined by their grammaticus.
And still Vespasian contemplated them.
Methodios broke first; he fell to his knees, extending his arms in supplication. ‘Forgive us, Governor; what we did was for our city.’
Agathon also knelt. ‘We didn’t think that we could cope with the influx of all those people. We are a small city and there would not be room for them; nor would there be sufficient work.’
‘And we wouldn’t be able to feed them out of public funds.’
‘So we obstructed—’
Vespasian held up the palm of his hand to stop them. He contemplated them for a few more moments. ‘Obstructed!’ The word echoed around the forum. ‘Your refusal to send us supplies could have meant the deaths of me, my lictors, over two hundred auxiliary cavalry and may still, even now, condemn almost two hundred and fifty Roman citizens struggling to cross the desert.’
‘We will send them whatever they need, immediately.’
‘No you won’t; I will requisition what they need and have my cavalry take it back to them as soon as I’ve finished here. You will be doing nothing in future – if you’re sensible.’
‘What do you mean, Governor?’ Agathon asked, having shared a puzzled look with his colleague.
‘Just this.’ Vespasian signalled behind him and two riders dismounted; walking forward they stopped behind Vespasian’s chair. By the looks in the Suphetes’ eyes, Vespasian could tell that they recognised them. ‘What do you have to say about these men?’
The Suphetes said nothing, their eyes downcast.
Vespasian turned to Urbicus. ‘Are these the men who sold you and your comrades?’
‘They are, sir.’
Vespasian addressed the Suphetes. ‘You sold legionaries in the Emperor’s service as slaves! Do you deny it?’
The Suphetes slowly shook their heads.
‘The punishment for selling a citizen into slavery is severe; but I shall be merciful. I will give you a choice: seeing as the Emperor has recently conferred upon you citizenship you can either travel with me, when I return to Rome, so that you can face trial before Nero, or you can elect for a quick execution by decapitation here.’
There was a sharp intake of breath from all the local senators assembled on the steps and the Suphetes looked at Vespasian in shock.
‘I would consider carefully as you may find that the Emperor is not nearly so merciful as I am.’
Agathon got to his feet. ‘You do not have the power to order our execution.’
Vespasian pointed at his lictors. ‘The fasces, Agathon; they represent the power to command and execute.’
The Suphetes swallowed and looked down at Methodios; they came to a mutual decision. ‘We will appeal to Caesar.’
‘Very well, but I warn you, Optio Urbicus and Legionary Lupus will be coming with us as witnesses against you. We leave once the citizens have arrived in two or three days. You will be kept in custody until then and also on the journey. Bolanus, take them to the barracks.’ Vespasian rose to his feet and headed up the steps of the Senate House. ‘I will now address the Senate.’
‘And so, therefore, you will choose two from your number, before I leave, to replace your discredited leaders and I will endeavour to forgive the Municipality the wrongs it has done me personally.’ Vespasian sat back down on one of the two chairs reserved for the Suphetes at the far end of the chamber. The senators, looking suitably chastened after what had been a stinging attack on the civic government of Leptis Magna, applauded him.
The intermediary stood, his face bruised and his clothes tattered; Vespasian motioned for him to speak, interested in how such a staunch supporter of the Suphetes would try to worm his way back into favour. ‘Colleagues, we have all been at fault in this matter; I perhaps more than any other. I would like to propose a vote of thanks to the Governor for his forbearance and willingness to forgive.’ This sentiment was greeted with enthusiastic cheers. ‘I also propose that we offer the Governor a gift, if this would be acceptable to him.’ The senators vocalised their agreement to this sentiment. ‘What would you wish from us to help ease your forgiveness?’
The image of the ship leaving the harbour earlier came immediately to Vespasian’s mind. ‘My freedman, Titus Flavius Hormus, will be remaining here for a while to set up a business which will add to the prosperity of the city; he will have need of a good-sized merchant vessel.’
There were a few moments of silence as the senators calculated the great cost of the request.
The intermediary cleared his throat and looked around his colleagues who muttered their assent. ‘I think we can all contribute to purchase you that reasonable request, Governor.’
‘That is a wise decision as it will guarantee my forgiveness. I will emphasise to the Emperor that the Suphetes acted alone so that there will be no imperial repercussions for Leptis Magna.’ That announcement was the cause for many expressions of relief and gratitude. ‘Furthermore, my freedman will need a crew and also workers on shore as he intends to import camels and breed them. He will be able to employ a considerable number of the citizens currently on their way here, which will go some distance to allaying your fears about the influx of refugees.’
The intermediary opened his arms and looked to the ceiling of the chamber. ‘The Governor shows that he is sympathetic to our problems. I propose that in addition to the gift of the vessel we should vote him a bronze statue out of public funds. I call a vote. Those in favour?’
It was unanimous.
Vespasian stood. ‘I would be honoured. Now I must see to the supplies that need to be sent back to the column in the desert and once that is done I will hold a court to hear petitions and cases.’
Feeling pleased with the morning’s work, Vespasian strode from the chamber and out into the sun to find Hormus and Magnus waiting for him. ‘You heard all that?’
Hormus nodded. ‘I did, master; and if it’s your will, I’ll stay here a
nd set the business up.’
‘You’ll need no more than a year.’
‘Indeed, master. But tell me, where will the money come from? I don’t believe that you made any from the Garama deal.’
‘Ah, well, that’s where you’re wrong.’ Vespasian reached into the fold of his toga and brought out a bag the size of a large apple; he lobbed it at Hormus. ‘Take a look in there.’
Hormus’ eyes widened as he loosened the drawstrings and peered inside.
‘Forty of them; the biggest, blackest pearls of the whole batch; the pearls that I took as a commission, shall we say, and the twenty that Decianus had taken for himself. They were my price for allowing Decianus to come along. That’s why I had to wait for him to bring out the slaves from the city.’
‘Lucky he gave them to you already,’ Magnus said, taking out a pearl and admiring it.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘It’s just that he’s disappeared; we were looking for him whilst you were dealing with the Senate and we can’t find him anywhere. The two lads who were guarding him have disappeared too so it would seem like he’s offered them a good bribe.’
‘Well, he can’t have gone far.’
‘No? Bolanus sent out a few search parties and it would seem that he was last seen down at the port.’
The image of the ship came again to Vespasian’s mind. ‘Shit!’
‘I’m afraid so, sir. It looks like he was on that ship that sailed a couple of hours ago.’
And Vespasian knew that to be the truth of the matter and cursed himself for not being more vigilant. His replacement as governor would not arrive in the province for at least another four months so he could not expect to be back in Rome for five months at the earliest. Five months that, Vespasian feared, Decianus would utilise fully to tell his side of the story of what happened in Britannia and here in Africa.
And Vespasian knew all too well that it would not be a story that would reflect favourably upon him.
Rome's Sacred Flame Page 12