Enemy of Rome (43 page)

‘It’s Sabinus. And look, there’s old Metellus.’

‘Are they being arrested?’ The big-breasted woman hanging out of a second-storey window sounded pleased at the prospect.

‘Fat chance,’ an elderly man on the other side of the street chortled. ‘Lean out a bit further, Liv, and I’ll give you a squeeze.’

The woman disappeared with a suggestion that was at best anatomically unsound. On the street below a tanner appeared from an alley. ‘What’s happening?’ he asked the owner of the next door bakery.

‘It looks like they’re taking over,’ the baker frowned.

‘Where’s the Emperor?’

The baker didn’t reply, but he began to hurriedly gather up his stock.

Sabinus marched onwards looking neither left nor right. Soon they were on the Argiletum and news of their coming must have preceded them because every door was closed. The only signs of life were the heads peering fearfully out of upstairs windows. As the procession passed in the shadow of the Temple of Mars Ultor, the head of the column seemed to stutter. Domitia frowned as she heard the unmistakable sounds of fighting: cries and screams and the clatter of iron on iron. Domitianus tightened his grip on her arm and dragged her towards his uncle.

‘What’s happening?’ he demanded. Sabinus could only shake his head wordlessly. He pointed to the gap between the Senate house and the Basilica Paulli where the advance guard Domitianus had sent to secure the Forum could be seen bending over a dozen prone bodies. Blood flowed red over the dark paving between the rostra at either end of the Forum.

‘This shouldn’t have happened,’ Domitianus hissed. Domitia looked at Sabinus and wondered that a human being could be so pale and still live. A soldier’s daughter, her heart quailed at the implications of what she was seeing. She heard worried murmuring amongst the politicians in the procession behind, but her attention was drawn to the urban cohort centurion who ran up to report to Sabinus.

‘A few of these Praetorian traitors tried to stop us, but the Forum has been secured as commanded. What are your orders, prefect?’ A shout of warning rang out and the officer turned sharply in time to see one of the prone men leap to his feet and run off in the direction of the House of the Vestals. ‘Get that man,’ the centurion roared.

Too late. As they watched, the wounded Praetorian disappeared among the temples leaving only his shouts echoing between the marble columns. ‘Murder! Betrayal! The traitors have risen.’

‘Your orders?’ the centurion repeated, but Sabinus seemed to have been struck dumb. Meanwhile, most of the senators and patricians had slipped quietly away at the sight of the spilled blood and the terrible consequences it heralded. Domitianus hurried after them, attempting to persuade them to stay, but none would even look at him. In desperation he dragged at Saturninus’s arm, but the senator shrugged him away.

‘We came here to witness a peaceful handover of power.’ The politician’s voice was edged with fear and heavy with disgust. He waved a despairing hand at the bleeding bodies lying on the black tiles. ‘We wanted nothing to do with this.’

‘Stay with us,’ Domitianus urged. ‘We can still win. My father’s legions will be here in a day, two at most. Vitellius won’t dare act against us.’

‘Perhaps not,’ Saturninus said. ‘But this will bring the entire Praetorian Guard down on you. I see nothing here but blood and death.’

‘He’s right. That bastard will be off squealing to his Praetorian mates at the palace,’ the tribune in charge of the escort cohort said. ‘We can’t hold the entire Forum against them until Primus’s legions get here.’

‘Then find somewhere we can hold,’ Domitianus insisted. As he spoke his eyes were drawn to the looming bulk to his right.

‘This man says he is known to you.’

Valerius looked up to see Serpentius struggling like a chained animal between two big Praetorians. In the packed anteroom Vitellius’s waiting aides backed away from the snarling figure in the doorway, appalled at the savagery written in every line of the Spaniard’s face.

‘These idiots have had me in the guardroom for an hour,’ the former gladiator raged. ‘They wouldn’t listen.’

‘Free him,’ Valerius ordered, ‘and return to your posts.’

He offered Serpentius a cup of wine, but the Spaniard shook his head. ‘We’ve no time for that,’ he rasped. ‘You have to come now. Sabinus and the urban cohorts have seized the Capitoline. They’ve left a dozen dead Praetorians in the Forum and now the Guards’ mates are on the way with blood in their eyes.’ Something in his voice changed and Valerius felt a terrible foreboding. ‘Domitianus is there. He’s taken the lady Domitia with him.’

The room seemed to disappear for a moment until the iron grip of Serpentius’s fingers on Valerius’s arm returned him to reality. ‘No time for that, my friend,’ the Spaniard said. ‘We must go. Now.’

‘The Emperor …’

‘He’ll hear soon enough.’ Serpentius was already on the move. ‘But only the gods know what he can do about it. This city is like a scorpion stinging itself to death. It’s as if people think the only way to avoid a repeat of what happened at Cremona is for Primus to be welcomed to a city in ashes with the streets already filled with bodies.’

They hurried through the gardens and past the lake, but by the time they reached the Sacred Way it was already filled with Praetorian units making their way towards the Forum. Valerius paused to look out across the sea of golden statuary, white marble and ochre tiles. On the far side the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus stood like an impregnable citadel on the western of the Capitoline’s two summits. The temple, the holiest in all Rome, was surrounded by a clutter of smaller shrines, arches and altars, each set in its own compound. To the right, across the dip of the asylum, more ancient and careworn, lay the Temple of Juno Moneta, on the platform known to all as the Arx.

‘How many men did Sabinus have with him?’ he asked Serpentius.

‘A single cohort when he came down from the villa on the Esquiline. It depends whether he had time to bring in reinforcements before the Praetorians got here in any strength.’

Valerius turned the situation over in his mind. A thousand men. Not enough to defend the entire hill. Sabinus would have to set up strong-points to hold the stairs and the Clivus Capitolinus. That way he could fortify the temple precinct and hold out for days. The urban cohorts were a police force, but that force was made up of trained soldiers, and even the Praetorian Guard would struggle to winkle them out of such a formidable position. He only prayed that their commander realized that. Better to talk Sabinus out than have men slaughtered in one futile attack after another.

But when he forced his way through to the base of the hill he realized he’d prayed in vain. Cornelius Clemens, the stony-faced tribune in charge of the Praetorian force, had done all the talking he was going to do.

‘You say you’re here from the Emperor?’ Clemens had encircled the base of the Capitoline mount with two of his cohorts; the others waited in formation on the Via Sacra out of spear range of the hill’s jeering defenders. ‘Well, you can go back and tell him we advised the traitor Sabinus to surrender, only to have him respond with accusation, threat and insult. Do they think they can occupy the most sacred site in the Empire and expect us to let them sit there and taunt us? He even had the effrontery to claim the Emperor was responsible for the deaths of his own soldiers.’ The man’s face flushed with suppressed fury. ‘Twelve of my men. Good men all, murdered by a gang of backstabbing traitors. Well, it doesn’t matter where they hide or how long it takes, I am going to make them pay.’

‘Perhaps it would be better to wait for the Emperor to arrive in person,’ Valerius suggested. ‘It might avoid more bloodshed.’

Clemens pushed his face into Valerius’s, so close the one-handed Roman could smell the sour wine on his breath. ‘Maybe you don’t hear so well. Those were my men lying with their throats cut. The way I hear it, the Emperor won’t be leaving the palace any time soon. My lads don’t like what they hear about their tentmates surrendering without a fight at Narnia. If I don’t order them up that hill then like as not they’ll go anyway. Now take yourself out of here.’ He threw a contemptuous glance at the mottled purple stump of Valerius’s arm. ‘This is no place for a cripple.’

‘There’s a woman with them …’

‘More than one, so we hear.’ Clemens softened a little. ‘But if they’re with that nest of traitors, they’ll have to take their chances. I won’t risk the lives of any of my men to keep them safe.’

Serpentius was waiting on the far side of the waiting Praetorians, beside the little circular shrine to Venus Cloacina. Valerius explained what he’d been told. ‘So where does that leave us?’ the Spaniard asked.

‘I need to get Domitia out of there, but …’

‘… the only way to get her out is to get inside first, and that isn’t going to be easy.’

Valerius looked up at the towering bulk of the temple. ‘The odds of getting through Clemens’ cordon without his permission are slim. Even if we did someone would probably put a spear in us while we were explaining why we were there.’ Neither man voiced the terrible reality of what would happen to the defenders if the Praetorians successfully stormed the hill. A soldier with blood in his eye wasn’t going to be concerned about the age or gender of the people who got in the way of his sword.

‘That doesn’t leave us many options.’ Serpentius paused as shouted orders were passed down the line of men to the foremost cohorts. He met Valerius’s eye. ‘And time is getting short.’

Valerius tried to still the fear that rose inside him. ‘There has to be a way.’ He ran back through the ranks to the command post. Clemens was briefing his officers, but he’d just noticed the several hundred people gathered among the temples surrounding the Forum. ‘Jupiter’s piles, where in the god’s name did all these civilians come from?’ he complained to one of his aides. ‘Get rid of the buggers. What do you want now?’ he demanded when he saw Valerius.

Valerius knew he only had one chance. He outlined the situation quickly and succinctly, one officer explaining a potential complication to another. ‘The woman in question is General Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo’s daughter and she is not with the rebels of her own free will.’ He saw surprise and a degree of respect in the other man’s eyes. ‘I served with the general in Syria and before he died I promised I’d protect her, so you see my problem. It is a matter of honour and duty. If you’re sending your men into the temple I’d count it a favour to go with them.’

Clemens’ grim features twisted into a frown of calculation. His first instinct was to refuse the request outright, but he was a man who understood honour and duty. If there was a chance of saving the women – and one of them was Corbulo’s daughter … He made his decision. ‘If you’re stupid enough to want to get yourself killed that’s up to you. You can go in at the tail of the cohort. Just remember you’re on your own. Once it starts no one’s going to stop and help you. I take it you’ll be accompanied by that murderous-looking bastard who’s watching your back?’ Valerius laughed. Serpentius would be pleased with the description. ‘I doubt he’ll have trouble finding the pair of you a blade and there’s a pile of shields over by the steps of the basilica.’ He was interrupted by a rattle of metal as the leading Praetorian cohort hefted their
scuta
. Valerius nodded his thanks and ran off shouting for Serpentius to fetch swords and a shield. When they were armed they took station at the rear of the last century. The black and silver-clad Guards in the final ranks turned to study the newcomers.

‘We’re safe now, lads,’ someone muttered. ‘Some aristo’s come to lend us a hand, and he’s brought his mangy old hound with him.’

‘How about if this mangy old hound rips your fucking throat out when we’re done with this hill?’ Serpentius growled back.

‘You’ll be lucky if you can get up that hill, grandad.’

‘Save your breath,’ Valerius said before the Spaniard could continue the conversation.

Serpentius glared at him. ‘We’ve done some daft things, but I reckon this is the craziest yet.’

‘You know why we’re doing it. If anybody’s mad, it’s you for coming with me.’

‘Bloody women,’ the Spaniard spat. ‘A month ago we were fighting for Vespasian. Now we’re attacking his brother, with no armour and one fucking shield between us. We might as well go the whole way and fight naked like those Celtic barbarians you were telling me about.’ His face dissolved into a grin, then sobered again as the men ahead began to move forward down the Sacred Way towards the Capitoline.

It had begun.

Valerius drew his sword when the ground began to rise beneath his feet and they turned from the Sacra Via on to the Clivus Capitolinus. Ahead, the first rocks and spears began to clatter against the upturned shields of the leading centuries as they trotted up the slope. Serpentius raised the curved
scutum
to cover both their heads. For the first time Valerius longed for the comforting protection of a
testudo
and the familiar weight of plate armour on his shoulders and chest. Serpentius had been right, this was madness. He wouldn’t do Domitia any good by getting killed.

‘Glad you came?’ chuckled a voice from amongst the shields in front.

‘This is like picking ripe peaches compared to Bedriacum,’ Serpentius spat back, still holding the heavy
scutum
at shoulder height.

‘You were at Bedriacum?’ The voice gained a new respect. ‘I was with the Twenty-first then.
Optio
, third century Second cohort. Who were you with?’

‘The First Adiutrix and we kicked your arses for a while. Found your eagle yet?’

A centurion’s bark ended the exchange as the column stuttered to a halt.

‘That’ll be the leading century up to their necks in the shit,’ Serpentius predicted. Valerius realized the Spaniard was right. Up ahead men were bleeding and dying as the centuries of the First cohort fought off a shower of spears and arrows and hammered at the gates where the road met the saddle between the two summits. Meanwhile, the rest of the column would have to endure.