Enemy of Rome

XLIV

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.

Serpentius cursed as a rock clattered off his raised shield. To their right a series of columned porticoes flanked the road and from the roofs Flavian supporters and red-tunicked soldiers of the urban cohorts hurled spears, rocks and roof tiles on to the attackers who could only protect themselves as best they could. A growl of frustration escaped Valerius’s throat. He knew what would happen if the leading centuries finally broke through the gates. One thing was certain: he was doing Domitia no good back here.

He shouted to Serpentius. ‘We need to get closer to the front.’

‘You mean where the spears are thickest?’ the Spaniard said sourly. But he was already moving. They edged their way between the tight-packed column and the stonework of the porticoes. It took them directly beneath the defenders’ missiles, but Valerius knew anyone trying to drop a boulder on them would have to expose themselves to a degree that would probably be fatal. The stalled attackers suffered the spears and stones with resignation apart from the odd howl when a point found its mark between the shields.

By the time they reached the lead century the gate to the Capitoline summit was already well splintered by their battering ram. It looked to Valerius as if a few more blows would see it split apart and he cursed as the testudo protecting the ram began to edge backwards. When it was clear of the worst of the missiles the unit’s centurion darted out of the armoured tortoise and took shelter by the wall beside the two men in civilian clothing.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ the centurion demanded.

‘Gaius Valerius Verrens, adviser to the Emperor, observing your attack.’ The soldier’s face twisted into a grimace as if he’d just bitten into an unripe lemon. Clearly the last thing he needed was any hint of Imperial interference. Still, he could hardly ignore the Emperor’s representative.

‘You can tell him that we would already have taken the place if those heathen bastards hadn’t torn down every statue and column and used them to barricade the gate.’ He licked his lips and spat. ‘Defeated by gods and long dead fucking generals. Wood we can deal with, but we can’t break stone, and there’s no way round the gates, so we have to try something different.’ He leaned against the wall and removed his helmet and head cloth to dash the sweat from his eyes. ‘Give them their due,’ he said with a grin, ‘they’re going to be hard to shift, but we’ll winkle them out eventually. A few policeman and night watchmen are no match for my lads, even behind those walls.’

‘What’s the plan once you get inside?’ Valerius asked, hoping for some detail that might help him get to Domitia Longina Corbulo before the Praetorian swords.

A shadow crept over the centurion’s eyes. ‘The only plan is to clean them out and kill everything that gets in our way.’ He glanced at Valerius’s missing hand and the old scars that marked both men as soldiers. ‘You’ve been around. You know what happens when legionaries break a siege. We’ll make it quick out of respect for their courage, but that’s as good as it gets for those men up there.’

‘They have a woman with them,’ Valerius said. The centurion shook his head as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘I need to be with the first century into the complex.’

‘Then you’re likely to be dead. If I have anything to do with it, this will be the first century over the walls, but there’ll be a price to pay. Honour and duty. The men they killed were from my front rank and there’s a blood bill for that. Still, you look a handy pair and if you’re prepared to take the chance for some floozy, who am I to stop you? Aprilis, centurion second century First cohort,’ he belatedly introduced himself.

‘How do you plan to do it?’

‘That you’ll have to wait and see,’ he said as he set off after his men.

They followed, dodging the spears and boulders as the second century filtered back to re-form as the fourth in the column of attacking units. Valerius was curious how this fitted with Aprilis’s boast that his men would be first into the temple complex. Perhaps the answer lay in the ladders that had appeared among the waiting soldiers. Not siege ladders by any means, builders’ ladders, but long enough to scale a single storey. A roar from the far side of the Capitoline beyond the Tarpeian Rock announced the launch of a new attack and the centurion nodded grimly. ‘The Third cohort are going up the Hundred Steps. Won’t be long now.’

‘Ready,’ the shout came from the head of the column. ‘At the double, advance.’

They retraced their steps up the paved roadway, forming testudo as they came under fire from the portico roofs. The first three centuries went ahead to resume the attack on the all but impregnable gate, but Aprilis halted his men in front of the most accessible of the pillared buildings. The roofs of these porticos backed on to the asylum, the area that dipped between the two Capitoline summits. Up here the building work never ceased and the defenders had easy access to piles of stone, the soldiers and civilians taking turns to hurl their missiles. But this time Aprilis had an answer to them. He roared an order and five ranks at the rear of the preceding century turned to launch a hail of spears that swept the defenders off the roof. Even as the pila were in the air the men with ladders ran to place them against the porticos and others rushed to mount them. Simultaneously, eight-man sections of legionaries formed scuta platforms and their comrades leapt on the swaying floor of shields to swarm the positions vacated by the defenders.

‘After you, lord,’ Serpentius invited. Valerius leapt on to the undulating surface and they supported each other across the painted scuta until they reached the wall of the portico. The roof was still beyond their reach, but the Spaniard formed a basket with his hands to boost Valerius up. Another hand clamped over his left wrist and he was able to haul himself on to the sloping roof. Half a dozen bodies littered the tiles, a few still groaning, but Aprilis’s men ignored them to hunt the survivors who were fleeing towards the far side of the hill. Valerius scrambled over the peak of the roof and leapt on to the ground of the asylum a few feet below. A moment later Serpentius joined him.

‘It’s like killing rabbits,’ a Guard laughed as he ran past chasing a terrified unarmed civilian.

But capturing the asylum, or even the Arx summit to the southeast, didn’t mean they’d won the Capitol. The Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus was the true goal, and it still stood, massive and impregnable, away to Valerius’s left, inside its own walled complex. Those walls were currently held by a weak force of urban cohorts, but Sabinus would reinforce them when he realized the threat to his flank. ‘Aprilis!’ Valerius called to the Praetorian commander as he tried to rally his men. ‘The temple.’

The centurion raised his sword in acknowledgement and Valerius studied the task that faced them. Here in the dip between the two hills it only now became apparent how formidable an obstacle the walls were. The temple sat on a raised platform of sheer rock perhaps twice the height of a man, with the walls adding a further six or eight feet to the barrier. None of the ladders carried by the Praetorians would reach the parapet, not even if two were lashed together. Likewise it was too high to repeat the tactic of the shield platform. He suppressed a grunt of frustration. A mere few dozen paces away Domitia was being held captive. Somehow he had to get across that wall. He looked around, searching for an alternative. By now most of the defenders were dead, but a few were still attempting to escape from the rear of the Capitoline, where the rocks fell away steeply towards the streets below. Here apartment buildings nudged close to the hill, some of them almost backing on to it, and Valerius saw one fleeing soldier make a flying leap over the low wall and across a gap of eight or nine feet straight through a curtained window.

‘There’s one who deserves to get back home to his woman tonight,’ Serpentius laughed appreciatively.

But the man’s escape had given Valerius an idea. A pile of long planks lay beside the stones and building rubble that the Flavians had been using as missiles. ‘Get Aprilis and his men to bring the longest planks and follow me,’ he ordered. Instant understanding flashed across Serpentius’s face and he ran off in search of the Praetorian centurion.

Valerius made his way to where the fleeing defender had disappeared through the apartment window. Brick built and unusually solid, the insula block soared another two storeys above the height of the saddle. More important, the upper windows overlooked the walls of the temple complex.

Aprilis arrived at the head of his men and Valerius explained his plan, shouting to be heard above the clash of arms and screams of dying men that came from all around the hill. By now many of the porticoes were in flames and smoke filled his nostrils to remind him of the horrors of Cremona. He pointed to the window. ‘If we can reach that building we might be able to get a small force into the temple complex.’

‘Why not go down and in the front door?’ The Praetorian looked dubiously at the drop between the insula and the hill.

‘We don’t have time,’ Valerius pointed out. ‘Those walls are going to be reinforced before long and then they’d slaughter us. It’s now or never.’

Serpentius grabbed one of the planks and pushed it out towards the rectangular window a few feet below. It just reached the ledge with the near end a precarious thumb’s breadth on to the surface of the asylum. Valerius looked down and caught a glimpse of a frightened female face. He prayed whoever was in the apartment wasn’t preparing to push the plank away from their window.

‘Do you want to live for ever?’ Serpentius brushed past him and danced across like an acrobat, ignoring the bow in the wood that threatened to plunge man and plank on to the rocks below. ‘I’ll hold it steady. Get somebody to do the same at your end.’ A guard came forward and Valerius stepped up on to the plank. ‘Keep your eyes on me, and for the gods’ sake don’t look down.’

Every instinct told him to look down but, keeping his eyes on the Spaniard, he placed his right foot on to the flimsy bridge. The second step was easier, and with the third Serpentius was able to grab his arm and haul him into the cramped room. He was followed by Aprilis, who almost fell on top of him, and then the other soldiers tumbled through the window one after the other. A cry and a rattle of wood on stone announced that their temporary crossing had been momentarily severed, but Valerius could hear the sound of iron studs on wood as more and more soldiers crossed into the building. He noticed a woman and two children cowering in the corner of the room and gave them what he hoped was a reassuring smile before he followed Serpentius out into the main corridor. Guardsmen were already on the stairs, some of them still carrying the planks they’d recovered.

‘Stay down,’ Aprilis called as they darted into a room that faced the Temple of Jupiter and ducked below window level as a pilum thrown from the temple complex embedded itself in the plaster wall behind them. The centurion looked up at the spear and flinched as it was followed by a whirling oil lamp. Moments later, the curtain was alight and flames had begun to spread across the floor. ‘This is going to be interesting.’

Valerius stepped forward with Serpentius, but Aprilis grabbed the Roman’s arm. ‘The second century of the First cohort isn’t going to let a pair of civilians take all the glory.’ He called out four or five names. ‘Have your sections ready. When I give the order you get those planks across and men with them. For Rome.’ A dozen voices echoed the sentiment, and Aprilis continued, ‘Remember Metto and the lads who died in the Forum. If it happened to us do you think they’d let us down? Not likely.’ He cursed as a second oil lamp fell into the room, the flames reaching out for cloth and straw. ‘I hope you’ve brought those fucking pila like I told you. One volley on the order, then you cross.’

He sat back for a moment and closed his eyes. ‘Shit. What are you waiting for?’ he whispered to himself. ‘Now!’

The spearmen rose and hurled their javelins into the defenders guarding the wall. Valerius heard the shrieks of spitted men and looked out as Aprilis’s men rammed their planks forward to bridge a gap he now saw was considerably less than it had been on the lower storey. As the first boards reached the far side defenders rose from behind the parapet braving the spears to hurl the fragile bridges aside. Away to their right a group managed to get across only to be swamped by the enemy. By now the room was well ablaze, the flames licking at their skin.

‘Fuck this,’ Aprilis muttered. He stood up, pulled himself into the window frame and launched himself across the void, half sprawling on the opposite parapet and then rolling forward, already hacking at the legs of the Flavian defenders who instantly flung themselves at this new threat. The remaining Praetorians saw their commander’s plight and followed his example. A few were hurled back into the abyss, but most safely made the leap to rise in growing numbers and carry the fight to the enemy.

Serpentius shook his head in wonder and shrugged at Valerius. ‘You heard the man. What are we waiting for?’ Without a backward look he bent his knees and sprang the gap like a leopard to land, sword ready, a warrior in his gore-stained element. Valerius watched helpless as three men converged on the Spaniard, thinking they were safe behind their shields. Serpentius danced forward, his gladius flicking out like a viper’s tongue. In moments two of his attackers were down and the other had fled. The Spaniard left them to bleed and turned to urge Valerius to jump. As the Roman tensed to make the leap a new group of Praetorians burst into the room with a plank, bridged the gap and surged across. Grateful, Valerius followed them at a more sedate pace and Serpentius met him at the wall with a rueful grin. ‘Just like a soft aristocrat to take the easy way.’

Valerius took a moment to study the scene around him. Aprilis had lost his helmet and blood ran from cuts to his head and arm, but he didn’t seem to notice his wounds. The Praetorian rallied the survivors of his century into a defensive line to meet an attack from across the compound. The enemy officer seemed to be having trouble getting his men into position. Valerius’s heart sank as he recognized Aemilius Pacensis, one of Otho’s former aides and a man he knew and liked. Joining Aprilis, he thrust any such thoughts aside. On the far side of those men lay the Temple of Jupiter — and Domitia. The sound of renewed fighting came from the Clivus Capitolinus, where the Praetorians had resumed their attack with new purpose. It explained why Pacensis had so few men for his counter stroke. Sabinus couldn’t afford to take men away from the gate and the walls above the Tarpeian Rock without fatally weakening the defences. But he was wrong. Because here, like a knife poised over his heart, lay the greatest danger. Valerius and Serpentius joined the line as Aprilis lost patience and launched his legionaries towards the confused Flavians. The numbers were equally matched and almost all were armoured and equipped with sword and shield, but that was where the similarity ended. Aprilis and his men had spent years on the Rhenus frontier honing their battle skills and sparring with the Cherusci, the Chatti and the Marcomanni. Fighting for survival was a way of life for them. The men facing them in the red tunics of the urban cohorts were trained in arms, but their recent experience had been breaking up bar brawls and bread riots and dealing with political upheaval. Pacensis shouted an order for a final rush, but the assault was tentative and piecemeal and the solid wall of Praetorian shields smashed the Flavians backwards. ‘Kill the bastards,’ Aprilis howled.

Valerius found himself swapping cuts with Pacensis, the patrician’s handsome features twisted with fear and rage. ‘Aemilius? Throw down your sword. It is finished,’ Valerius urged. But the Flavian only attacked with renewed strength.

‘Traitor,’ he snarled. ‘Turncoat. The name Verrens will be remembered for this infamy along with the Catilines.’ Without warning his mouth gaped in a tortured shriek as a sword point found a gap in his armour and tore deep into his vitals. Valerius stepped back in bewilderment as his opponent sank to the ground, squirming spastically in his death agony. Serpentius faced him over the dead man, eyes glaring.

‘Serpentius, why?’ Valerius demanded. ‘He was a friend.’

All around them men still hacked at each other with swords or wrestled together, tearing at their enemy with their bare hands, intent on smashing faces and skulls to pulp with helmet or rock. The slabs of the temple precinct flowed with blood and the air was heavy with the scent of death. Men wept, but didn’t understand whether it was with relief or sorrow.

‘He was the enemy,’ the Spaniard snarled. ‘How often have I told you that if a man comes at you with a sword you don’t talk to him. You kill him.’

Aprilis’s men finished off the wounded and would have set off after the survivors, but the centurion roared at them to follow him to the gate. As Valerius turned there was an eruption of flame and smoke. The insula they’d attacked from was an inferno and the fire had spread to a second building at the rear of the great temple. Even as they watched, the flames leapt the narrow gap and greedily sought out the ancient wood of the temple gables before flickering up the pediment and along the line of the roof. Smoke began to wisp from beneath the ochre tiles and Valerius was reminded of the Temple of Claudius in Colonia. When the Celts had fired the temple roof the end had never been in doubt. Even so, his mind struggled with what he was seeing. The Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus was more than just a place of worship. More than just a place where Emperors came to cement their rule. It was Rome. Men believed that as long as the temple existed, the Roman Empire and all it stood for would prevail. But the most sacred building in Rome was being devoured before his eyes.