The Last Legion

by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

  Orosius volunteered for the job; he bundled some branches together and brought up the rear, wiping away all their tracks. Livia had gone around the dense thicket which had interrupted their path until she found herself at the base of a hillock blanketed with creepers and ivy. She dipped her sword into the thick vegetation here and there until it sunk in all the way to the hilt. ‘Here we are,’ she said. ‘I’ve found it.’ She moved aside the creepers and uncovered a passage carved into the sandstone, which led deep inside the hill. Her comrades followed her one by one. Orosius was last, and he rearranged the vines so that the opening of the chamber was camouflaged once again. When he turned around to face the others inside, they were all looking around in astonishment. The light of day filtering through the leaves relieved the darkness, making the outlines of the cavern visible.

  ‘It’s an old sanctuary to the god Mithras which hasn’t been used for centuries. This Mithraeum was once patronized by sailors from the east who came ashore at Fanum,’ explained Livia. ‘I used it once before as a hideaway. It’s a miracle that I remembered its position. God must be with us if he’s shown us the way to salvation like this.’

  ‘If your God is with us he has a strange way of showing it,’ commented Vatrenus, ‘and if I must be honest with you, I wish he’d forget about us in the future and worry about someone else.’

  ‘Gather all the horses together at the darkest part and try to keep them quiet. Our pursuers will be here any moment, and if they find us this time, it’s all over.’

  She hadn’t finished speaking when the sound of hooves was heard on the road. Livia neared the entrance and peeked outside: Wulfila had arrived at the head of his men and raced by at great speed. Livia breathed a sigh of relief and was about to let the others know that the worst was over when she suddenly had to reconsider. The noise of the galloping stopped all at once and she could now hear the slow shuffling of the horses as they turned back. Livia signalled for the others to remain completely silent and turned to face the entrance. Aurelius joined her after leaving Juba’s reins in Batiatus’s hands.

  Wulfila was no further than twenty paces from the opening to the chamber, his chest and shoulders protruding from the thick brush that hid the original course of the road. He was a horrible sight to see: his face was black with soot, his eyes were red and his scar stood out on his cheek as he sniffed the air like a wolf who has scented his prey. His men were right behind him, fanned out to patrol the forest all around in search of footprints. Inside the cave everyone held his breath, sensing the imminent danger, and gripped the hilt of his sword, ready, as always, to fight to the death with or without a reason – but then the squad dispersed. Wulfila had had to acknowledge the failure of their endeavour and he called them off. They retraced their steps, back to the mansio.

  *

  Livia was finally able to explain to the others what had happened. ‘I met Stephanus before dawn,’ she said. ‘He told me that Antemius has sold us out. I won’t have the money I promised you, at least not yet.’

  Ambrosinus drew close: ‘But . . . I don’t understand.’

  ‘It’s simple,’ replied Livia. ‘Emperor Zeno has regained power in the East by ousting Basiliscus and he wants to maintain good relations with Odoacer. Zeno must have learned of Antemius’s plotting, leaving him with no alternative but to sacrifice Romulus to the new political situation.’

  ‘What will we do with the boy?’ asked Vatrenus.

  ‘We could take him away with us,’ proposed Aurelius.

  ‘Wait a moment . . .’ Livia attempted to make herself heard.

  ‘Take him where?’ retorted Demetrius without letting her speak. ‘Odoacer will send every last one of his men after us. We don’t have a chance. It’s no use fooling ourselves into thinking they’re gone. They’ll be back all right, when we least expect it, and they’ll make us pay. No use pulling the wool over our eyes, is there?’

  ‘Well then, what do you say we should do?’ shot back Aurelius. ‘Negotiate a reward and turn him over to the barbarians ourselves?’

  ‘Hey! I want to understand what the devil is happening!’ protested Batiatus. ‘Will someone explain . . .’

  ‘If you would let me say something, confound it . . .’ burst out Livia.

  Romulus, bewildered and distressed, listened to their arguing, their comments flying back and forth as if he weren’t even present: once again his fate rested in someone else’s hands. Now that there was no more reward to be had, he was just a burden for these people, a nuisance. Aurelius noticed the dismay and humiliation in the boy’s eyes and tried to patch things up: ‘Listen, they don’t . . .’

  Ambrosinus’s voice rose loudly above all the others, a voice which had never spoken before with such anger and indignation. ‘That’s enough!’ he exclaimed. ‘You listen to me now. All of you! I came to this country from Britannia many many years ago, as part of a delegation sent to speak to the emperor. We were to ask him for help in the name of the people of our island, oppressed by ferocious tyrants and tormented by continuous barbarian onslaughts and plunder. I lost my companions during the journey, to the cold, to disease, to the ambushes of brigands. I arrived alone, and was never received by the emperor. He was nothing but a cowardly puppet in the hands of other barbarians: he simply would not hear me. In no time I was reduced to utter misery and I had to live by my wits for years, using my knowledge of medicine and alchemy, until I became this boy’s tutor. I have followed him through good times and bad, in moments of joy and of despair, of humiliation and imprisonment, and I can tell you that there is more courage, compassion and nobility of spirit in him than in any other person I have ever met.’

  They all fell silent, dominated by the voice of the improvised orator, who put his hand on Romulus’s shoulder and set him at the centre of the group, as if to call everyone’s attention upon him. In a quieter but more solemn tone, he continued: ‘Now I am asking him to heed the call of his subjects in Britannia, abandoned to their destiny for years, and to succour them in their hour of need. I’m asking him to face more danger with me, and more hardship – with or without your help.’

  They all gazed at him in astonishment, and then exchanged glances as if they could not believe their ears.

  ‘I know just what you’re thinking, I can read it in your eyes,’ persisted Ambrosinus. ‘You think I’ve lost my mind, but you’re wrong. Now that you’ve been deprived of your reward and of the successful completion of your mission, you have but two choices. You can deliver Romulus Augustus to his enemies and perhaps obtain an even bigger reward – you can betray your emperor and stain yourselves with this disgraceful crime – but I am certain that you will not do so. I’ve come to know you in this brief time we’ve been together and I’ve seen something alive in you that I had thought long dead: the bravery, valour and loyalty of the true soldiers of Rome. The choice is yours: you can turn him in, or you may allow us to go on our way as free men.’ His gaze fell on the hilt of the sword hanging from Aurelius’s side. ‘That sword will be our talisman, and we shall be guided by the ancient prophecy that only he and I know.’

  Complete silence fell over the vast hidden chamber. They were all overwhelmed by his wise words, and by the dignity and courage of that little sovereign without a kingdom and without an army.

  Romulus was the first to speak up: ‘I’ll come with you, Ambrosine. Wherever you take me, with or without the sword, God will help us.’ He took his tutor’s hand and they started off towards the exit.

  Aurelius blocked their way: ‘Can I ask you how you think you’re going to get all the way up there?’

  ‘On foot,’ replied Ambrosinus tersely.

  ‘On foot,’ repeated Aurelius, with the tone of someone who isn’t sure he can trust his ears.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And when you get there,’ picked up Vatrenus with a hint of sarcasm, ‘if you get there, how are you going to defeat these bloodthirsty tyrants with all their fearsome barbarians that you were talking about? The t
wo of you, an old man and a . . .’

  ‘Child,’ Romulus finished. ‘I’m just a boy, right? Well, wasn’t Julus, the son of the hero Aeneas, just a boy when he left Troy in flames and came to Italy? Yet he became the founder of one of the greatest nations of all time . . . I have nothing to give you. I have no possessions, nor money to pay my debt to you. I can only thank you for what you’ve done for me. I can only say that I’ll never forget you, and that you’ll always be in my heart, even if I live to be a hundred.’ His voice trembled with emotion. ‘You, Aurelius, and you, Vatrenus, and Demetrius, Batiatus, Orosius, and you too Livia, don’t forget me. Farewell.’ He turned then to his tutor: ‘Come on, Ambrosine. Let’s get started.’

  They reached the entrance of the Mithraeum, pushed aside the vegetation and began walking down the path. Aurelius took Juba by the reins, looked his comrades in the face and said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world: ‘I’m going with them.’

  Vatrenus tried to shake off his shock. ‘You can’t be serious,’ he said. ‘Wait, blast you! Wait, I said!’ He set off after him. Livia smiled, as if she had been waiting for just this, and started walking out herself, pulling her horse behind.

  Batiatus scratched his head: ‘Is this Britannia very far?’ he asked the other two.

  ‘I think so,’ replied Orosius. ‘I fear it’s the farthest of any known land, at least from what I’ve heard.’

  ‘Then we’d better get moving,’ Batiatus concluded, whistling to his horse and moving through the curtain of creepers, towards the light of the sun.

  Ambrosinus and Romulus, already walking along the path, heard snapping twigs and scuffling hooves behind them but resolutely continued on their way. Then, seeing that they were all taking the same road after all, Romulus tugged at Ambrosinus’s arm to make him stop and turned around slowly to find all six of them before him. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked, looking at them one by one.

  Aurelius took a step towards him. ‘Did you really think we would abandon you?’ he said. ‘From now on, if you’ll have us, you can count on an army – small, but valiant and loyal. Hail, Caesar!’ He unsheathed his sword and held it out to Romulus. At that very moment a ray of sun emerged from behind a cloud and penetrated the branches of the pines and holm oaks, illuminating the boy and his miraculous sword with a magical, unreal light.

  Romulus handed it back to Aurelius with a smile. ‘You take care of it for me,’ he said.

  Aurelius held out his hand and helped Romulus up into the saddle in front of him. The others brought Ambrosinus his mule. ‘We have a long and dangerous journey before us,’ said Aurelius. ‘In two or three days we’ll reach the Po river valley; it’s all open terrain, and it won’t be easy to stay hidden. We’ll have to find some way to stay out of sight.’

  ‘We’ll have a powerful ally,’ replied Ambrosinus.

  ‘We will?’

  ‘Certainly. The fog,’ he answered.

  ‘Perhaps Stephanus can still do something for us,’ said Livia. ‘When he came to warn us, he said he had a boat, and he offered to take us to safety. Maybe he can give us some of the money they promised, or at least some provisions. The Po valley is big, and the days are short and foggy; it won’t be that easy to spot us, after all.’

  ‘Agreed,’ nodded Aurelius, ‘but then we’ll have to cross the Alps, in the dead of winter.’

  22

  STEPHANUS WATCHED WULFILA’S squad regroup at the edge of the forest; there were only half a dozen of them in all. He walked towards them, doing his utmost to appear natural. ‘Where are the others?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve divided them into groups and sent them out to search. I’m sure we’ll find them in the vicinity. They can’t have got too far with that old man and the boy.’

  ‘Yes, but the weather is worsening, and that won’t help matters,’ replied Stephanus. A front of dark clouds was coming in from the sea, and a freezing rain mixed with sleet began to fall.

  The fire had consumed the stubble and straw and had burnt itself out, leaving behind a blackened, smoking expanse. The tree trunks that hadn’t lodged against obstacles had rolled all the way to the coastal plain or into the river.

  Stephanus’s teeth were chattering from the cold and he was trembling like a leaf, but he found the strength to speak up. ‘Odoacer won’t like this, and neither will Zeno’s emissaries. I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes when you have to tell them about it – and don’t expect me to come to your defence and put my own position at risk. You let an old man and a boy get away from right under your nose, with seventy guards at your command. It just isn’t credible; someone might think that you let yourself be bought out.’

  ‘Shut up!’ growled Wulfila. ‘If you’d informed me earlier, I would have taken them all.’

  ‘You know that wasn’t possible. Antemius’s contact in Naples organized their escape so well that I’d lost track of them myself. What could I tell you? The only certain place of encounter was here, at their appointment with the ship. I had no other information to give you.’

  ‘I don’t know whose side you’re really on, but you watch out! If I find out that you’re double-crossing me, I’ll make you curse the day you were born.’

  Stephanus didn’t have the strength to refute his accusation. ‘Give me something to cover myself with,’ he said. ‘Can’t you see I’m freezing to death?’

  Wulfila looked him up and down with a sneer of disgust, then took a blanket from his saddle and tossed it on the ground near him. Stephanus picked it up and wrapped himself head to toe.

  ‘What are you planning to do now?’ he asked Wulfila when he’d caught his breath.

  ‘Capture them. At any cost. Wherever they’re headed.’

  ‘Who knows how long that will take. If you didn’t manage to get them when they were right at hand, how do you think you’ll succeed now? Time is on their side, and in the meantime, rumours are bound to start leaking out of Capri. That’s where your troubles will truly begin.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ Wulfila asked, deciding to get off his horse. Stephanus’s neck finally assumed a more normal position.

  ‘It’s simple. If the news gets out that the emperor has escaped, someone may want to take advantage of the fact, with dire consequences.’ Wulfila shrugged. ‘Odoacer himself expressly willed that the boy spend the rest of his days on that island,’ continued Stephanus, ‘and he must not be disappointed. No one must realize that the emperor has disappeared.’

  ‘So what am I supposed to do?’

  ‘Send someone you trust to Capri. Have Romulus Augustus replaced by a double, a boy of his age dressed in the same clothing. Make sure no one sees him up close, at least for a few months, until you’ve had time to replace all the personnel, including his personal bodyguards. For the powers that be – as well as for the common folk – he’ll never have left the villa. They’ll assume that he’s still on the island, never to leave it. Have I explained myself?’

  Wulfila nodded.

  ‘Then you will report to Odoacer. Personally.’

  Wulfila nodded again, holding his temper in check. He detested the scheming courtier, but realized that this drenched and shivering excuse for a man, all bundled up in a horse blanket, was certainly in a better position than he was. He signalled for Stephanus to follow him, and they made their way to the mansio, which, thanks to its position, had not been touched by the fire. There they waited for the men to return from the hunt.

  Stephanus, recalling an episode he’d heard about, beckoned for Wulfila to listen closely. ‘Antemius had informers in Capri, even on the ships that went out in pursuit of the fugitives, and one of them told me a strange story . . .’ he began. Wulfila eyed him with suspicion. ‘It seems that one of those men had a formidable weapon that no one had ever seen the likes of, a sword of immense power and strength. Did you see it by any chance?’

  Wulfila avoided his gaze with sufficient embarrassment to make it clear that he was lying when he answered: ‘I don’t know
what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Strange. I would have thought that you’d have joined personally in the fight to stop that meagre bunch from carrying off the emperor.’

  ‘People say anything. I know nothing about it. When you’re fighting you look your opponent in the eye, you don’t look at his sword. That reminds me, I asked you to get some information for me, and I haven’t heard a word from you yet.’

  ‘Oh yes, about that legionary. All I was able to find out is that he was part of that division that Mledo wiped out at Dertona, and that his name is Aurelius.’

  ‘Aurelius? Aurelius, you said?’

  ‘Yes, why?’

  Wulfila fell into silence, thinking, then said: ‘I’m certain I’ve seen him somewhere before. A long time ago. I never forget a face. Anyway, it’s no longer important. That man finished up in the sea that night, probably as fish food.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you. My informants tell me he may still be alive – and still have that sword with him.’

  *

  The first of Wulfila’s men arrived some time later, exhausted, horses steaming; it was clear from their dejected expressions that they’d had no success. Wulfila lashed out at them, beside himself with rage: ‘You can’t tell me that you didn’t find them. All those people on horseback don’t just vanish into thin air, damn it!’

  ‘We looked everywhere,’ one of them said. ‘They must have known about some hiding place. They’ve always lived in this land, and they know it much better than we do. Or perhaps someone gave them shelter.’