The Art of War

Chapter 73

Rome, 20 December AD 69

Caenis

You will know as much about our trip north across the river as I do: it was you who gave the order that we be taken across, was it not?

I didn’t know you then, behind your mask. It was only today, remembering, that I realized where I had seen you before. Your voice, of course, is instantly recognizable, although it has taken me until now to realize that it was you who spoke to the priests and told them to take us. I had heard of Hypatia of Alexandria, of course, but I had never met you.

Does Pantera know you were in Rome? I thought not. And I suppose we shall never know if he would have acted differently if he had believed he had your support. Perhaps it is better this way; we knew, in the end, the lengths to which he would go to get what he wanted. The gods work to their own design, but we are grateful to yours for her care of us, never think otherwise.

So, as you will have seen, we walked sedately across the river as part of the column of Anubis-priests and our disguise could not have been more complete.

We paid for our safety; the dog’s-head masks stank of glue and sweat and paint. It was as hot inside as the steam room had ever been at the baths.

I couldn’t see except in a line straight ahead, and even then sweat filled my eyes and blurred the road ahead. I carried a basket that clunked with every stride and felt as if it were filled with apples made of solid gold; I was never allowed to look inside.

Walking blindly, I followed the vermilion robes ahead, the high white ears of Jocasta’s mask. She floated the way the Vestals had floated. I stumbled in her wake, but did not dare veer aside: I had no idea why she had done what she had done, but she had, in effect, taken custody of Domitian and I dared not let her out of my sight for fear of what she might do.

We passed through the lines of Vitellius’ men, across the bridge — it echoed hollowly under my feet and we had to break step, as the legions do, not to cause it to collapse — and then through the lines of Antonius Primus’ men on the far side. They were in high spirits, and desperate to fight, but we were priests of a god respected by both sides in this war, and no soldier was keen to incur divine anger in the hours before battle.

Guards stepped aside to let us pass and I saw the shimmer of iron, smelled the leather, felt the tense, dry-mouthed waiting.

We left the infantry behind, passed through the horse lines and then the cooks’ lines, and finally turned off the road down a small dirt track that led, several tight turns later, to a temple built in the Alexandrian style, of white stone, with narrow, fluted columns and white-painted double doors that looked thick enough to withstand a year’s violent siege.

Inside, we were divested of the hateful masks, shed our robes and stood around feeling awkward while the priests set about hiding their treasures in hollowed spaces under the floor pavings.

I saw statues of the goddess carved in the likeness of a young woman, images of Anubis, of Osiris, of the warrior goddess Sekhmet, depicted in her guise as a lioness. Not all were solid gold, some were crystal, ivory, ebony and marble; all were exquisite.

The interior of the temple was high-roofed and airy, hung about with silk banners in the same midnight blue and vermilion as our robes.

The priests didn’t speak to us much. We had been offered sanctuary out of expediency, but now we were here, they didn’t know what to say to us or we to them. We were offered a place to sit on white marble benches opposite the carved marble altar and did so, primly, not speaking. What does one say in the presence of a foreign god? I thought that Jocasta was more at ease than any of us, but even she was quiet.

I heard the trumpets sound the advance at the bridge and knew the fighting had started. I twisted round in my seat, trying to see out of the door. It was closed, but opened as I looked, so that I heard the first shouts of command, the first roar of battle, the clash of weapons, and death.

And then I saw who had stepped in through the open door, and it was not a priest.

Trabo saw him too. He erupted off the bench beside me, blade already slicing forward for the exposed neck. The intruder took a fast, fluid step to the back, to the side, out and round, and was behind him. ‘Not me,’ Felix said, quietly. ‘I truly don’t think you want to try to hurt me.’

There was a moment’s shocked silence, then Jocasta said, ‘That’s true. We are your friends. Why would we hurt you? Trabo, if you please?’

Trabo was Jocasta’s in soul and sinew; however unhappy, he didn’t have the power to turn her down. He stepped away, half-formed oaths muddying the air about him.

Felix didn’t move, but the look on his face was one Pantera could have modelled, just as the swift, clean disengage had been. Evidently, this boy was his master’s apprentice.

‘Did Pantera send you?’ Jocasta asked.

‘Vitellius sent me. I am sworn to find Domitian and make him safe.’

‘Safe?’ I gave a hoarse laugh. ‘Vitellius wants to take him into custody so he can use him to keep the throne.’

‘Still, he said he wanted him kept safe and I said I would.’ The boy smiled, angelically. ‘I didn’t say I’d take him back. He forgot to ask me that.’

His uneven gaze roamed the benches, alighting briefly on each of our faces. He frowned. ‘Borros isn’t with you?’

‘Borros is with Pantera,’ Jocasta said. ‘Did you not see him as you came through the forum? He was just behind us.’

‘I didn’t come through the forum. There were too many people. I knew you must try to flee Rome, so I came straight to the bridge and waited for you there.’

‘And noticed us disguised amidst the group of priests.’ Jocasta favoured him with a smile that made Trabo’s bones melt. ‘That was well done.’

She didn’t ask him how he had picked us out when we had believed ourselves to be invisible. Clearly, she thought to let his pride do that for her.

But Felix was not like other men; he didn’t need her approval, and did not respond to her tacit invitation, just stood there, still frowning, chewing lightly on his lower lip.

It took Domitian to get an answer from him. Vespasian’s son said, conversationally, as to a friend, ‘What did we do wrong? We thought we were invisible to anyone Vitellius might send.’

‘You will have been.’ Felix shrugged, loosely. ‘But my lady Jocasta wears boots made by Leontus on the Aventine and there are few other tall women in Rome who do that, and none at all who walk side by side with a man of Trabo’s stature who strides like a legionary on the march.’

Jocasta maintained an admirable composure. Trabo was visibly upset. They had thought the boy stupid because he had a squint, and were only now realizing their mistake.

‘I’m sorry, my lord, lady…’ Felix offered a sad smile to their discomfort. ‘I don’t think Vitellius knows it. Certainly, he didn’t tell me how to pick you out when he sent me to look for you.’ His gaze cleared. ‘You will want to find Pantera? He was on the road north from the forum. I passed him.’

‘No!’ said Domitian.

But ‘Yes!’ said Jocasta at the same time. ‘We would very much like it if you could help us find Pantera. Most likely, he will know where Borros is. Perhaps the lady Caenis and I could come with you? Trabo can remain here with Domitian, Matthias and Horus. We can bring Pantera back when we have found him.’

Was I a hostage? It certainly seemed like that. In one stroke, Jocasta was separating me from Domitian, so that I could not know what was done with him. I looked at her and received only a bland smile, which I returned in kind, saying, ‘Certainly. That would be wise. Above all of us, Domitian must be kept safe.’

I could have challenged her, perhaps, but one of the things I learned in Antonia’s court is that things gather a power of their own when they are spoken aloud. Let her think me compliant; let her underestimate me as she had done Felix; let her make just one mistake

…

The priests came to see us leave, and to swear that their god would protect Domitian as long as he remained in their care.

The obvious corollary was that, in leaving the care of Isis, we three were putting ourselves in danger. We bowed and thanked them and promised gifts to the god on our return.

As we left the sanctuary of Isis’ temple, Felix threw me a dazzling smile. I found him really rather charming, in his own strange way. Then we stepped out of the door and all we could hear was the battle for Rome, and the sounds of men dying.