Scourge of Rome

XXXI

It took two of them to lift the solid sandstone block that proved to cover a narrow opening cut into the rock. While Serpentius and Josephus dragged it gently to one side, Valerius dipped a tentative foot into the entrance. He was rewarded by the feel of a solid stone step beneath his sandal.

‘There should be twenty-five stairs,’ Josephus whispered into his ear. ‘Go carefully. We cannot afford to light a torch until the cover is back over the entrance.’

Valerius nodded and groped his way downwards one step at a time. It had been dark outside, but there was something malevolent about this Stygian gloom with its clinging miasma of damp, stale air. With a lurch of the heart he felt his standing foot begin to slide from under him. He threw his hand out to steady himself, flinching at the cold touch of some slimy mucus that covered the walls. The pull of the void below threatened to swallow him as the others occupied the steps behind until he heard the soft scrape of the block being slid carefully back into position. Twenty-five stairs. It might as well have been a thousand for all he could tell. After what seemed half a lifetime his leading foot plunged into chill water. Thankfully it was only a foot deep and he splashed his way a few cautious paces across an uneven surface.

‘Careful!’ he warned his companions. The only answer was a soft curse and a splash as Serpentius made an uncharacteristic stumble.

The click of flint on iron was followed by the sound of someone blowing gently. Soon they saw the reluctant glow as the falling sparks were coaxed to ignite a tiny ball of dried grass laid on one of the lower stairs. Eventually a flame, and something thrust at it. The pitch-soaked torch caught with a soft whump and instantly filled the chamber with an eye-watering combination of golden light and thick black smoke.

They were in a tunnel just high enough for Valerius to stand without stooping and slightly greater than a cavalry spatha in width. It had been cut into the solid rock and in the sputtering torchlight he could see the tool marks where men had painstakingly chipped away at the stone with picks. Serpentius held the torch while Josephus stood on the first step arranging the skirts of his robe in a curious fashion. First he folded them back through his pale legs, then he took two wings and drew them in front of him where they could be tied into a bulky subligaculum-like knot.

‘It is a custom of my people,’ he answered their puzzled looks. ‘A worker does it before he enters a muddy field, or a soldier will gird his loins in this fashion to give him more freedom of movement in battle. In this case I hope it will stop my garments from becoming wet.’

When he was satisfied he dropped into the water, which flowed from an opening beneath the stairs, and studied the chipped rock. Valerius noticed that his face had gone unnaturally pale, but his voice was steady enough. ‘Hezekiah ordered this built to stop the Assyrians poisoning the city’s water supply when Sennacherib brought his mighty army to besiege Jerusalem. The waters originate from the Pool of Gihon to the north.’

‘You haven’t been here before?’

‘I have never had need,’ the Judaean said. ‘I knew of it, but I have never been in it.’

‘But you know where it goes.’ Serpentius pointed with the torch to where the tunnel disappeared into blackness.

‘I am aware where we are likely to emerge, but I do not know.’ Josephus’s tone said it made no difference either way, because they didn’t have any choice. ‘Neither do I know what lies between. But this tunnel runs into the city, and as you acknowledged yourself,’ he bowed to Valerius, ‘not even a mouse could enter by any normal route with so many cats waiting to pounce.’

‘Then let’s get on with it.’ Valerius spoke gruffly to hide his nervousness. The tunnel reminded him of the interior of a certain aqueduct in Rome with which he’d become much too familiar. ‘I don’t want to be still in here when the torch goes out.’

Josephus reached for the torch, but Serpentius brushed him aside. ‘Best I go first. If anything happens to you there’ll be no negotiation and no surrender.’ He looked to Valerius for support and the one-handed Roman nodded.

‘He’s right.’

Josephus shrugged and the Spaniard squeezed between Valerius and the wall to take the lead. Valerius followed, and with the Judaean guarding the rear they splashed their way through the glittering stream, which quickly deepened until it reached mid-thigh. The ceiling of the tunnel varied in height for no good engineering reason Valerius could think of. Sometimes it soared into a black void above their heads. Sometimes it forced them to bend their knees with their noses touching the surface of the water. Likewise it occasionally narrowed so that Josephus, the broadest of them, had to turn side on to pass. It became apparent that they were on a shallow slope, taking them deeper into the earth with every step. Serpentius occasionally turned to look back at Valerius as if to make certain he was still there. The Spaniard’s face was set in a rictus of such raw fury that his friend wondered if it masked fear. Certainly, the atmosphere was oppressive, as if the entire mass of the earth was weighing down upon them. Even Valerius thought he might run mad if they lost the light.

They’d just rounded a corner and Serpentius was three paces ahead when he gave a sharp cry and all but disappeared. For a moment the only thing that remained of him above water was his arm, with the torch raised aloft. Valerius instinctively stepped forward to help him and it was Josephus who reached past him to save the precious torch. The Spaniard emerged spitting water with a wild look on his face. He shook his head and a lion’s mane of spray surrounded the shaven scalp.

‘It’s only a pace across and you should be able to edge round it.’ His eyes were drawn upwards to where a shaft had been driven vertical to the tunnel, which must continue beneath him. ‘By Mars’ hairy scrotum,’ he mouthed the oath like a prayer, ‘I hope this ends soon. I’d rather face a thousand Zealots or those Sicarii than stay down here.’

‘You may well get your wish,’ Josephus said solemnly, backing round the edge of the underwater pit. ‘But I admit I am beginning to share your sentiment.’ He handed the torch to the dripping Spaniard and they resumed their progress.

They’d gone another hundred paces when the Judaean called out, ‘Wait!’ Serpentius turned, a sword appearing in his hand like the flick of a serpent’s tongue, and Valerius stared into the darkness beyond Josephus, seeking out the threat. ‘Give me the torch,’ the Judaean demanded. Serpentius stretched past Valerius to hand him the flaming brand and he raised it up. This was one of the higher parts of the tunnel. In the flickering golden light they could see what appeared to be the remains of an ancient stone plaque just above head height.

Josephus reached with his free hand to remove the coating of glutinous green scum that obscured the lettering. ‘Remarkable,’ he breathed. ‘It is in Hebrew, but of a very archaic style.’ Serpentius muttered about not having time, the torch would burn out, but Josephus wouldn’t be hurried. His voice shook as he recited the words as if they were a solemn prayer.

‘“Behold the tunnel … Now this is the history of the … the breaking through. While each man was still wielding his axe, each towards his neighbour, and while three cubits yet remained to be cut, each heard the voice of the other calling to his neighbour … and on the day of the breaking through the … stonecutters struck, each man to meet his brother, axe against axe, and there flowed the water from the spring to the pool over a length of one thousand cubits.”’

Valerius could see he was genuinely moved by his discovery, but they had to go on. ‘You can return when this is over to inscribe it for your history,’ he assured the other man.

But Josephus shook his head. ‘I will never pass this way again unless it is on the journey to God’s grace.’ He swallowed and the sad smile tightened. ‘I have had a horror of dark places since I was a child. Only the importance of our quest and a greater terror of being seen as a coward by two men such as you have kept my feet moving.’

‘Then let us continue, and at greater speed,’ Serpentius said with passion. ‘I feel the same and if I am any judge the torch has only a few minutes left in it.’

Josephus acknowledged him with a weak nod and passed back the torch. With a last wistful glance at the inscription he followed in the wake of the fading glow, his feet increasing speed with every step.

Valerius counted another six hundred paces before they noticed that the pitch darkness of the tunnel turned to a leaden grey a little further ahead. He exchanged a glance with Serpentius and the Spaniard dashed the spluttering torch into the water where it died with a hiss of complaint, plunging them into total darkness. Valerius sensed Josephus freeze and took his arm before he could cry out. ‘Courage. This is where you must play your part. Tell me what awaits us beyond the tunnel.’

The Judaean took a moment to compose himself. ‘As I understand it, we should emerge at the Pool of Siloam, which was the main water supply in the time of David.’

‘But you’re not certain?’

‘How can I be certain? I have never come this way before.’

‘So the exit could be guarded.’

‘It is possible, but I do not believe so.’

‘Why?’

‘Because the outflow is usually three feet underwater.’

‘But that means …’

‘It has been an unusually dry period,’ Josephus agreed. ‘I doubt we would have made fifty paces otherwise.’

‘And if there had been a sudden storm?’

‘I knew that God would be with us.’

‘Can we stop discussing the weather?’ Serpentius interrupted. ‘We’re here and we’re alive, but if we don’t get this done before daylight we may not be for much longer.’

He led the way slowly forward, guided by a low arch of not quite darkness fifty paces ahead. As he approached it, the tunnel widened and he whispered to Valerius to join him. After the total darkness the power of their eyes seemed intensified. Despite the gloom they could see the still waters of a large rectangular pool laid out before them, flanked by steps on every side. Beyond the steps to Valerius’s left a massive wall blocked the view. He guessed it was the actual outer fortification of this part of the city, or perhaps it was an inner wall of equal strength. Titus’s fortress within a fortress, within a fortress. To his right the steps were backed by a pillared portico. He imagined it filled with chattering women making the most of the opportunity to socialize while they were collecting water. But now it was empty and as far as he could tell there were no guards. Serpentius must have thought so, for he swung himself out to get a view of this northern end of the complex.

‘Simple,’ he said, and reached up to haul himself upwards. A moment after he’d vanished a hand appeared and Valerius allowed himself to be helped up on to a raised platform. They grinned at each other in a moment of spontaneous relief at being in the open after the long ordeal of the tunnel.

‘Don’t just stand there.’ Josephus’s urgent plea emerged from the darkness. ‘Get me out of here.’

Together they pulled him clear of the tunnel and he spent a moment rearranging the skirts of his robe before studying his surroundings. ‘Yes, it is exactly as I remembered it.’ He led the way round the pool to the portico where a gateway led to what was presumably the street. The door was closed.

Valerius pushed at it, but it held firm. When he looked closer he saw it was bolted, the bolt fixed with some kind of padlock.

Josephus pushed past him, rummaging in his bag. ‘An ingenious contraption, but for any lock there must be a key.’

He fiddled with the padlock for a moment before Valerius heard a sharp snick and the rasp of the bolt sliding back.

‘I thought you said you hadn’t been here before?’

‘No, I said I had not been through the tunnel. I hoped this was where it would emerge and God favoured me.’

Serpentius pushed at the door and peered through the opening into the street.

‘Looks like we’re on our own,’ he whispered. ‘Which way?’

They’d broken into the besieged city of Jerusalem. The question was whether they’d ever get back out again.