by Tanya Bird
They sat on the floor, legs crossed, eating coarse bread with goat’s cheese and slices of pear. Then, with their stomachs full, they had a final game of Rota before she finally convinced the boys to lie on the bed with the lure of a story.
‘A scary one,’ Atilius insisted, nestling into the crook of her arm.
‘If it is too scary you will not sleep.’
‘We will,’ Caius insisted. ‘Promise.’
She told them the story of the hero Aenieid, who visited the underworld. It was one Nerva had told her when she was eight, but she had been much easier to scare than the twins. They lay either side of her, restless but listening. She knew if she could just get them to lie still for long enough, sleep would eventually take them. They resisted for as long as they could, but eventually their little bodies began to twitch, and they drifted off to sleep. Trapped beneath them, and exhausted from the drama of the past few days, Dulcia drifted off also.
It was late in the afternoon when Dulcia’s eyes snapped open. Her vision was blurry, and her heart pounded against her ribs. Something was wrong.
She felt for the boys on either side of her, finding them still there. She coughed, her throat dry, then blinked again, her vision not improving. Then she realised why—the room was filled with smoke. She sat up with a gasp and looked around.
‘Wake up,’ she said, shaking the boys. Atilius merely stirred, and Caius coughed. ‘Now,’ she said, louder that time, but trying to keep the panic from her voice. ‘We have to go.’
Caius coughed again, then began to cry. Atilius sat up, rubbed two fists into his eyes, then looked around the room, confused.
Scooping them up awkwardly in her arms, Dulcia stood with one on each hip. ‘I need you to hold on, all right?’ She coughed into her shoulder and headed for the door. Fear danced up her spine when she realised the smoke was much thicker in the communal room.
‘Fire,’ Atilius said.
Dulcia kissed his bewildered face. ‘You are safe with me.’
Making her way over to the front door, she awkwardly pulled it open. Heat hit her like stone, and black smoke poured into the room. Orange flames licked the stairwell. Kicking the door closed with her foot, she leaned against it for a moment, but the temperature of the wood forced her upright. Her mind raced, and panic tore through her. She knew how quickly fire could spread through structures like this. The wall-to-wall wood was the perfect fuel for blazes, which could last for weeks. She also knew people disappeared in fires—entire families, never to be seen again.
Caius began to cry, then Atilius.
‘It is all right,’ Dulcia soothed, rushing towards the balcony and nudging the shutters with her foot. She slipped through the narrow gap.
The air was more breathable outside, but she knew it would not remain that way for long. The fire was beneath them and would eventually consume the balcony they stood on.
Peering over the banister, she called, ‘Help! Help us! Please!’ She paused to listen for voices, but all she could hear was the crackle of fire climbing the walls below.
Placing the twins on the ground, she crouched to their height. ‘I need you to stay here. I will be right back. Do not move.’ Before they could object, she held her breath and ran back inside. She went to one of the bedrooms and snatched up a blanket—Nero’s blanket. Returning to the balcony, she found the boys wailing, their tears forging black paths down their puffy cheeks. She wrapped the woollen blanket around them and leaned over the balcony once more. ‘Help! I have children up here! Please!’
Coughing, she crouched down to the boys, gathering them in her arms and pulling the blanket over the three of them. She peered through the gap in the banister, trying to judge the distance to the ground. Even if they managed the drop, there was no guarantee they could escape the courtyard. The only thing she knew for certain was that they had a higher chance of survival on the ground. ‘I am going to need you both to be very brave.’
Caius continued to cry, but Atilius stopped to listen. ‘Like a gladiator?’
‘Yes.’ She nodded enthusiastically. ‘Exactly like a gladiator.’ Seeing he was the most together of the two, she focused on him first. ‘I am going to lower you over the balcony, and then you are going to do a big jump to the ground. We are only one floor up. Can you land like a cat?’
He peered out from the blanket, his three-year-old brain ticking over. ‘On my feet?’
‘Yes. Then I want you to go straight to the water pump and get yourself nice and wet while you wait for me. Do you think you can do that?’
She could barely hear her own voice over Caius’s crying. Atilius did not respond, just continued to stare through the gap in the blanket. They had no time to waste, so she stood and fixed the blanket around Caius, her bare feet growing hotter. Snatching Atilius up, she peered over the edge and wondered how far she could lower him before she would be forced to let go. With no time to think on the matter, she swung him over the rail, her chest squeezing when he began to whimper. He stared up at her, eyes wide, and she attempted a smile. ‘It will be all right.’ Then she prayed to any god listening that it would be.
Atilius clung to her arm as she lowered him. When she could stretch no farther, she peeled off his hands and, holding him by one arm, reached her other hand through the gap in the banister to catch him. She would be able to get him closer to the ground that way. Lying flat on the hot floor, with Caius wailing next to her, she lowered Atilius as far as she could, her entire body sweating and trembling with the effort. She peered through the narrow gap in the banister, the one Remus had intentionally narrowed to ensure little bodies could not slip through. His feet were around five feet from the ground thanks to the added length of her arm. While she had seen him jump from that height before, she knew this was different.
‘Look down,’ she called to him. ‘Look how close you are. I am going to let go, and you will land on your feet, like you always do.’
The whimpering ceased. Holding her breath and praying, she let go. He landed on his hands and knees. Tears ensued.
‘Well done,’ she called. ‘You are so brave. I am so proud of you.’ She could barely see him through the smoke.
‘My knee,’ Atilius cried.
‘It is just a graze. Go to the water pump. Nice and wet, remember? Go! I will be there in a moment.’
He scrambled to his feet and ran off.
Dulcia faced Caius, who looked terrified.
‘Right, your turn.’ Despite her best smile, he began to cry harder. ‘Quickly now.’ Getting to her feet, she picked him up. Arms and legs went around her, clinging for dear life. She tried to peel him off, one limb at a time, coughing violently as she did so, but it was no good.
‘I stay with you,’ he screamed in her ear, then gasped for air.
She tried again, managing that time to get both his arms off her. But he became so hysterical she found her arms going around him instead, his body trembling against her chest. Covering her face with one hand, the soles of her feet nearly melting where she stood, she broke down.
They were going to die.
Chapter 15
Judging by the smug look on Gallus Minidius’s face, he knew exactly why Nero was there. Gallus sponsored the games in Caelimontium, a small arena that Nero had been fighting at for a number of years, despite Dulcia’s blatant disapproval. He also had a lot of contacts and ties with other venues.
Not knowing his true family name, Nero had long ago adopted Latinius, and all that was associated with it. It was a fighting name, two generations of gladiators who would not be forgotten any time soon, and a name Gallus liked to exploit.
Nero did not mind the exploitation when it was convenient, or put another way, when he needed the coin—and there he was, a new height of desperate. He was not content relying on Remus for a wage, even though he knew the business and could offer hard work in return. He helped because he was family, not for coin.
‘You made quite a mess of Manius Liberia’s face.’ Despite the disappr
oval in Gallus’s tone, there was glee in his eyes.
It amazed Nero how quickly the news had travelled. ‘I might’ve lost my temper. That’s not to say the man didn’t deserve it.’
‘They usually do.’ Gallus rocked on his feet and winced, his arches suffering under the weight of him. ‘Though I am surprised you acted on the fact. Most men are not that brave—or foolish,’ he added, studying Nero. ‘I gather Nerva Papias was less than pleased by the report.’
That was putting it mildly. It was made worse by the fact that he had shown up to discuss the matter, only to find his sister in Nero’s arms. He cleared his throat. ‘He has suggested some time away from the sport.’
‘He sent you marching.’ Not a question, a statement. ‘That is why you are here, is it not?’
No point wasting time on discretion. ‘You once told me you could organise a biga chariot, make me a charioteer.’
Gallus waved a plump finger at him. ‘I said I could make you an essedarius. There is a big difference.’
‘Both put me in a chariot.’
‘True, but the latter requires you to hold a weapon instead of a whip, and your opponent will likely be on foot.’
‘Sounds like an act that pays well.’
Gallus laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘So much like Remus.’
‘It’s just until I find something else.’
Gallus tapped his nose. ‘That is what they all say, until they realise they can earn more from one spectacular fight than most men make in a week.’
‘It’s just a performance, right? No one is going to die?’
Gallus grinned. ‘The valuable ones do not die. Certainly no man trained by Remus Latinius himself.’
‘Actually, I was trained mostly by his wife, Mila.’
Gallus stared blankly back at him.
‘Libertas,’ Nero said, offering her gladiator name.
‘Ah.’ A smile stretched across Gallus’s face, his cheeks rising like mountains. ‘The slave girl rescued by our hero. I was there that day.’ He sat with the memory for a moment. ‘She fought her first fight in this very arena, you know.’
Nero had heard the story before. ‘If my memory serves me correctly, she fought Felix.’
‘Won too. Started her career, I did. Albeit short.’ His expression turned serious, and he sniffed the air. ‘You smell smoke?’
Nero’s brows came together as he looked around, spotting black smoke rising in the distance.
‘Oh dear,’ Gallus said. ‘Let us hope they contain it before it spreads.’
Nero narrowed his gaze. ‘What region would you say that is?’
Gallus looked around, getting his bearings. ‘Ten? Eleven?’
His home was in region eleven. ‘I have to go.’ He wanted to make sure Mila and the children were safe.
‘Come by later,’ Gallus said, but Nero was already jogging for the exit. ‘Where are you running to?’
Nero dashed around the corner without replying and ran towards the smoke. A part of him knew Mila could handle herself and the children in a crisis, but he was also painfully aware of how quickly fire could move through the city.
When he reached his region, he was forced to slow down as people fled in the opposite direction. He clipped the shoulders of men hustling their families away from the danger and merchants loaded with whatever they could carry. The closer he got, the more anxious he became. Not only was the fire near his home, but the smoke was sitting directly above their residence. When he turned that final corner and stepped onto his street, he saw his insulae alive with flames. Black smoke spilled like liquid from doorways and windows. The Vigile Urbani were out front armed with men, buckets, hooks and levers to tear down buildings either side in an attempt to contain it. The men shouted, pushing back spectators who were forced to watch their belongings burn.
Surely Mila would have gotten out in time. She was probably far away by now. Still, he pushed forwards, searching the street for familiar faces as he did so.
‘Nero!’
He turned to see Remus jogging towards him. ‘Where’s Mila?’ Remus asked as he came to a stop in front of him.
Nero forced himself to remain calm. ‘She would’ve fled at the first sniff of smoke.’
Remus leaned on his knees and tried to catch his breath. Wherever he had come from, he had come at a run. His eyes searched the crowd.
‘Remus!’
Both men turned at the sound of Mila’s voice. Whatever relief Nero felt vanished when he caught sight of her. Something was wrong.
‘Father!’ Asha shouted, appearing from behind her mother. She ran to Remus, and he caught her.
‘Where are your brothers?’ he shouted over the noise.
Mila finally pushed through the people blocking her. ‘They were in the apartment.’ She struggled to catch her breath. Wherever she had come from, she had come at a sprint.
‘The twins?’ Remus asked.
Her gaze went to the burning building. ‘Dulcia has them.’
Nero’s heart stopped beating for a moment.
Remus put Asha on the ground. ‘They were inside?’
Nero turned to stare at the flames climbing the insulae walls, his heart drumming wildly as the pieces came together.
Mila spun in a full circle, searching. ‘They must be here.’ She pressed a hand to her forehead. ‘She would have smelled the smoke.’
Remus took off, tearing through the crowd, head jerking side to side as he went looking for them. Mila went in the other direction, screaming her sister’s name. ‘Dulcia!’ Asha ran after her mother, grabbing a handful of skirt before they were swallowed up by bodies.
Nero’s hands went into his hair as he tried to think logically. Where would she go? If anyone could get into her mind, surely he could.
‘Move back!’ a uniformed man shouted. ‘Unless you want to be crushed.’
The Vigile had the ballistae ready to smash through the building. It was the most effective way to prevent it spreading.
‘Wait!’ Nero had taken care of the twins enough times to know they usually had a sleep in the afternoons. Perhaps she had fallen asleep also. Maybe she had not learned of the fire until it was too late. He groaned, the realisation that she might be in there almost knocking him down. His eyes met Remus’s across the crowd.
‘I can’t find them,’ Remus shouted over the noise.
Mila had returned, horror frozen on her face. ‘What if they didn’t get out?’ It came out like a whisper. She turned to the building, then moved to run off, but Nero caught her arm.
‘Hold off the Vigile, and stay with Asha.’ Before Mila could object, he took off at a run, shoving aside anyone who was in his path. The heat repelled him, but he pushed against it, knowing nothing could stop him at that point.
‘You can’t go in!’ a soldier shouted, grabbing his arm.
He shrugged out of the soldier’s grip and kept running. There was no time to waste. What would she do if she woke mid-blaze with no way out?
The balcony.
She would get to the ground and try to exit via the archway. But the archway was a cave of black smoke. He prayed there was reprise on the other side, some air—just enough to keep them alive.
He did not pause to think it through, just drew a lungful of filthy air and charged through.
Running blindly, he stretched one arm in front of him so he would not collide head first into something. The hair on his body wilted beneath the heat, the air sucking all the moisture from his skin.
One, two, three, four, five. Six. Six strides before the air cleared enough to see his own hand. He stopped and looked around, trying to get his bearings. ‘Dulcia!’
Nothing.
He took a few steps in the direction of the apartment. ‘Dulcia!’ He thought he heard crying. A child, perhaps. ‘Atilius! Caius!’
It was definitely crying that time. It sounded like Caius. He had come to recognise their unique cries over the years. ‘Caius!’ Coughing, he stumbled through t
he smoke, spotting the two boys by the water pump. He ran to them, snatching them up one in each arm. Their clothes were soaked, and they shook violently as he crushed them against him. ‘Where is Dulcia?’
Caius just cried, but Atilius pointed to a pile of debris ten feet away—ablaze. Nero recognised shapes from their balcony. It had collapsed.
Dulcia.
He ran for it, the thought of her buried beneath burning planks of wood propelling him forwards. He tripped over something, stumbled, but managed to stay upright. Looking down, he found a barely recognisable Dulcia unconscious on the ground. He went to her, dropping to his knee as the boys coughed violently in his arms.
‘Dulcia!’ He shouted her name, but she did not move. There was a gash on her hairline, blood running the length of her brow.
He turned to Atilius first, as Caius was still clinging to his neck, like he had done so many times. ‘I need you to climb onto my back. Do not let go, no matter what.’
The boy looked ready to fall down, but did as he was told. Nero knew he had little chance of removing Caius. He reached an arm either side of the boy to scoop Dulcia in his arms. She was limp and unresponsive, her head flopping like one of Asha’s dolls.
‘Wrap your legs around me,’ he said to Caius.
Nero blinked, his vision blurring and eyes stinging. Where was the arch? He rose to his feet and looked up to get his bearings.
‘Don’t let go,’ he said again. ‘No matter what.’
Wood snapped behind him, and he heard something crash to the ground, sending dust and smoke twisting around him. Debris hit his leg, the sting instant. He cursed but did not slow to see what it was.
The outline of the archway rose in front of him. He drew a breath, but his throat closed in protest. One, two, three, four, five, six strides. The archway went on forever that time. Seven, eight. The three people he was carrying slowed him, as did the smoke, the lack of air. He tried to draw breath, desperate. Blurry shapes and shadows appeared—people, perhaps. He blinked, spotting Mila struggling against two men holding her. Four men had Remus pinned to the ground, a knee pressed to his neck. Asha was crying nearby while strangers attempted to comfort her.
