by David Blixt
The torchlight at the window brought the rain to life, making it dance before her. But the window was high above, and the light could not find her. Whoever it was stalked away with an audible sigh, one that Perel shared. O thank you, thank you, Lord. Thank you.
Emerging, she made her way slowly down between the houses, watchful for any Vitellians, or anyone else. There was no one. Reaching street level, she placed her feet on the Clivus Argentarius, the alley running along the north end of the Capitol. Here she passed a small shrine she knew well. It was the Iseum where her mistress worshipped. Perel was often given the chore of placing salves on her mistress' back after the ritual flailing – Isis' worshippers mortified their own flesh in honour of their goddess.
There was a statue here, one that had nothing to do with whips or cats or any other dark nonsense. It was of Isis as mother, giving suck to the infant Horus. Though devoutly against the worship of any graven image, this carved figure always moved Perel. There was something tender and wonderful in the simple depiction of mother and son. Perhaps that was why the followers of Isis revered their goddess as Mother of Heaven.
About to thank the image for her deliverance, Perel caught herself. Here in Rome it was too easy to thank one of the many gods in place of Yahweh – everywhere she turned, there was another god. Or else a stone phallus, lucky depictions of sex or war. Closing her eyes, Perel gave thanks to the one true Lord. She then stepped out into the street to merge with the bustle of Saturnalian reveling.
She had traveled about ten yards when a hand grabbed her elbow. Gasping with fear, she turned. “I was just—just—”
But it wasn't a Praetorian. It was Seth.
“Oh, thank the Lord!” cried the scarred older man, embracing her.
“Seth!” squeaked Perel, still shaking. “Mother said you'd be here. But how did you..?”
“I was watching the Iseum,” said Seth softly, “in case our mistress tried to hide there. Oh, thank heaven.” Hugging her again, he led her across the busy thoroughfare and around the corner into the shelter of a shop. Here others waited, including Linus. As they hugged her and expressed their relief, she told them, “You shouldn't all be here. It's too dangerous to gather…”
“Not today,” said Linus, wrapping his arms thankfully around her. “Tonight we are protected by the festival of Saturn. Servants are allowed in the street, even Jews – freedom is a legal, not religious, state.” He smiled, gesturing to their heads. Each one wore the cap of liberty. “It's not sacrilege. We always cover our heads.”
Seth had no time for smiles. “Where is your mother?”
“Still upon the Capitol.” Briefly she told them what had happened, and of her mission.
Seth scoffed. “They let you take the risk, and expect a miracle? Let them whistle!”
Perel objected. “Titus Flavius Sabinus helped me escape.”
“For his own ends.”
“It does not matter. He helped me. I can do no less for him. I owe him,” she added. Seth bowed his head – he and Abigail were the only ones who knew what the Roman senator had done for her. “Besides, if they rescue the Romans, they'll also rescue my mother.”
“That's very true,” said Linus. “But let one of us carry the ring to this woman's house. You've been through enough.”
“Linus, I gave my word.” Perel's voice was firm. She was no longer a child, but a full-grown woman. Her father's daughter. “But there is one thing you can do for me.” She explained, then ignored their protests as she turned towards the northeast corner of the city, leaving them with nothing to do but follow in her wake.
* * *
In the very dead of night, Sabinus paced the wall-tops, huddling inside a cloak taken from a stone god. I should have sent other messengers. What if the girl is caught? Or worse, just flees for her life? What if Domitian is already dead, Tertius and Clemens with him?
Oddly, he consoled himself with the prophecy. Of them all, Clemens was likely safe. Unless Vitellius is the despot Clemens will thwart.
In the last two years, Sabinus had always focused on that last part of Pythia's prophecy. Now he realized that the beginning had urgent meaning.
Old gods lament the coming Time,
As Flavians grasp the Great Divine
To the despair of yours and mine.
Today his family had seized the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, center to nearly all the religions of the world. Clearly that was the 'Great Divine.' Which meant that today – tonight! – marked the beginning of the prophecy.
To the despair of yours and mine. Slowly, almost unwillingly, Sabinus recalled the next part:
The Sabines take revenge on Rome,
Not content with rapine alone,
Shall deny the Great God a home.
Turning his gaze to the great Temple he felt a well of foreboding. Until now he had thought the words referred to the Jew's temple in Jerusalem. He had never even dreamed that the Great God in question might be Jupiter Best and Greatest.
As if he were peering through the veil of rain to see the future, Sabinus felt events hardening around him. Nothing he could do would change the coming events. As Seneca said, 'Fate leads the willing and drags along the reluctant.'
He mentally ran through the rest of the prophecy.
Eastward the ilk of Chronos flies
To where the Lonesome God resides
Three years more, then too denied.
Two Brothers born, two more apart
Shall suffer each a Broken Heart.
Three shall Mended be, none through Art.
United shall these powers be
In worship of a power free
Of Monumental Cruelty.
Titus was in Judea, as predicted. This was the end of the third year, so the Lonesome God was safe for another month at least. There were no brothers on this hill, and he had no notion of broken hearts or monumental cruelty.
But there was the final part:
In Colossus' shade, far beneath,
Three men, three Gods, one true Belief,
Clemency's heir shall bring Relief.
The only 'Colossus' Sabinus could think of was the massive statue of Nero in the Domus Aurea. The three men could be anyone. Jupiter's temple housed three gods, the trinity of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva. Were they the gods in question?
The only certainty was Clemency's heir. I hope the girl got through, and Clemens is safely on his way out of the city. His aim was partly selfish. If this was indeed the start of the prophecy, then he had been wrong – Clemens had not yet received his teaching sacrifice.
In his heart, Sabinus had long suspected what that referred to, and he wanted to put it off as long as possible. Yet he could not help thinking about the final lines the Pythia had offered, the ones pertaining to Sabinus himself:
As cure to Clemency's lone vice,
There comes a teaching Sacrifice,
One emulated for great Price.
Alone, unsung, all but Forgot,
Save by the Jew who lays a plot
To defeat a dreaded Despot.
I am to be forgotten by all but a single Jew? It cannot be a mistake that this girl, Perel, has twice entered my life in a dramatic way. I thought the tyrant she would overthrow was Nero, but clearly not. Is it Vitellius? Do she and my son somehow…?
So lost in thought, he almost missed it. But a glow in the middle of a dark patch of Rome's cityscape caught his eye through the rain. A torch glowing on the Campus Martius, reflecting off the water of the small artificial lake there. He sighed. The girl had gotten through. Help was coming. And no matter what befell, his sons were safe. His line would continue.
Shaking the raindrops from his face, he turned to go tell Perel's mother the good news, and share with the rest the real hope they might survive this madness.
But upon entering Jupiter's confines, the first person he saw was his father. Old Sabinus seemed dazed, and he talked as if just words would rescue them. “We had an arrangement. It was agreed to
, a contract, as one makes with the gods. How can they break it? It is not theirs to break. It was between us and Vitellius. How can they break another man's words?”
Stepping past his father, who did not even seem to see him, Sabinus found Perel's mother. Her hands were clasped before her as she stood, straight and tall as a spear. “Lady – forgive me, I have forgotten your name.”
“Abigail,” she said, fear and hope mingled in her eyes.
“Abigail, there is a light on the Campus Martius, reflecting off the pool. She is free.”
The Hebrew slave tottered as her knees buckled. Sabinus caught her and helped her to sit upon the floor. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
“It is I who should be thanking her. Now we may survive this.”
She looked up at him with shining eyes. “But still – thank you, Titus Flavius Sabinus. Thank you for saving her, both tonight, and two years ago. She told me what you did for her. I have been remiss, and I thank the Lord that He saw fit to allow me to thank you in person.”
Sabinus coloured. “Not every man is a beast. Not even every Roman.”
Abigail smiled at him. “So I see. Thank you.”
Sabinus was struck with a thought. “Abigail, if you wish, there may be a way to repay me.”
“And what is that, Titus Flavius?”
Sabinus glanced at his sire, still stamping about the great god's confines, talking, talking, uncaring if anyone was listening. “Would you sit with my father? Look after him? This day seems to have shaken him. I would, but—”
“You have duties. Of course, Titus Flavius. I would be more than happy to do so. Though my mistress might object…”
“I'll speak to her,” said Sabinus. “And thank you. I'll feel better knowing someone is with him.” With that, Sabinus stood and gathered everyone to tell them their messenger had gotten out. Help was coming.
* * *
At the Flavian house on the Quirinal, it was a restless night. Tertius, Domitian, and Clemens felt as though they were under siege as well, shut up within doors. They stood in their goodly-sized central garden with swords close at hand, waiting and wondering.
Outside the house, they were watched by Vitellians. Inside, they were watched by Flavia and Julia, huddled beneath a stone bench. The nurse Phyllis was lying down inside, declaring herself overcome with the stress of the evening. The girls had only avoided being sent to the nursery by promising to be silent, a promise so far Flavia had kept, shushing her younger cousin.
“We should be doing something!” declared Domitian.
“What do you suggest?” demanded Tertius. Just turned twenty, he was eager to fight alongside his father. “You know they're watching us. The moment we stick our heads out of doors we'll be arrested and sent to the Tullianum. And more than likely strangled.”
“We could split up,” offered Domitian, “cause a distraction – one of us would get away.”
“And do what?” said Clemens. “There has to be a point.”
Their pacing was interrupted by a rap on the front door. All three jumped, then raced to stand beside the porter, swords in hand.
Their visitors were a pair of drunken old slaves, a man and a woman, offering treats and blessings. “Off with you, fools,” said Domitian. “Don't you know what's happening?”
“I do,” said the woman, whose voice was familiar. “Io, Saturnalia!”
The porter tried to shut the door, but the male slave was big, and leaned his shoulder against it. Meanwhile the old woman pressed a woolen doll into Clemens' hands. “Here, this is for you, dearie.”
Gnashing his teeth in frustration, Clemens was about to slam the door himself when he felt something dangling on a cord from the doll's neck. He held it up to the light and his eyes widened.
As the porter pushed against the door, shouting for the pair to be off, Clemens interposed himself. “Very well,” he said loudly. “Come in and have a cup of mulsum. It's the least we can do for Saturnalia.”
Confused, Tertius and Domitian stepped aside as the two slaves in their caps of liberty trudged in, shaking off their wet cloaks. The moment the door closed, the woman pulled off both the cloak and the cap.
“Oh, it's you,” said Domitian ungraciously.
“And good evening to you,” said Antonia Caenis, pressing her lips together. “Young Titus Flavius, thank you for letting us in.” Her freedman Aglaus grunted, sending Domitian a withering glance as he collected his mistress' sodden cloak.
“Avia!” cried Julia Titi from the other end of the hall. She rushed into Caenis' embrace, followed immediately by Flavia, who almost bowled the older woman over. “Avia!”
The title of grandmother only increased Domitian's disgust. “What are you doing here?”
“She has a message from father,” said Clemens.
“What?” asked Tertius and Domitian together. In answer, Clemens held up the object tied to the doll. It was a gold senator's ring with the image of a tree engraved upon it.
From either perplexing or annoying, Caenis' presence became welcome. Everyone clustered around as she explained: “A slave belonging to a woman trapped with your father escaped the Capitol at his request. His first concern is to be sure Domitian is not taken hostage. With that in mind, he urges you, Domitian, to flee Rome.”
“He wants me to run away?” gasped Domitian. “I'll be branded a coward. It will ruin my career! You're lying! Trying to ruin me again!”
Aglaus looked as though he wanted to box Domitian's ears, but Caenis carried firmly on. “You may send for the slave herself, if you wish. I thought she had already been exposed to enough danger tonight.”
“What else?” asked Clemens.
“If possible, Domitian is to alert Marcus Antonius Primus of the situation. You two, Tertius and Clemens, are to go with your cousin and keep him safe. He instructed the girl to say, 'Ferae pericula quae vident fugiunt.'”
That made Clemens snort. 'The beasts flee the dangers they see.' “Seneca. Of course.”
Tertius was incredulous at their instructions. “Run? He wants us all to run?”
“How do we know she's not selling us to the enemy?” demanded Domitian. “For all we know Sabinus is dead and this whore is trying to save herself by—”
“Domitian!” snapped Clemens and Tertius together.
Domitian pointed an accusing finger. “What if she's in league with Vitellius?”
“Too far-fetched,” said Clemens. “Even if you're loathe to admit it, cos, she would never betray your father, or his cause. No, that's father's ring, those are his orders. Even the Seneca. It's him to the core. So we have to obey. We need to get you to where you can't be a hostage, and at the same time inform Antonius of events.”
Domitian closed his mouth, glaring. Of them all, only Caenis understood. It had been her suggestion that he stay with Nero as a hostage. He would never forgive her that, let alone trust her.
Unaware of his cousin's justifications, Clemens turned back to Caenis. “Forgive him. It's a tense night. Now, father's instructions are all well and good. But how do we get out?”
“I've thought of that,” said Caenis. “Perhaps we should remove the girls from this house – for their safety, of course. What could be more natural?”
“Go on,” said Clemens.
“They're young, and must have companions. And they should be loaded into a litter – it is raining and cold out, and they're very young. Now what if, while we load them into the litter, we switched the normal slaves for some handsome young Flavian men.”
Clemens shook his head. “I don't think your plan will work. They'll be looking for us to try something just like that.”
Caenis shrugged. “I'm open to suggestions.”
Clemens thought. Slowly a smile crossed his face. “Domitian, you suggested splitting up and causing a distraction. What better distraction than showing them what they're waiting to see?”
“Which is?”
“Us.”
* * *
An hour later Sabinus was again patrolling the Capitol walls when he was summoned by one of the other men. “I heard a sound at the gate facing the Arx,” the man said. “Knocking. Very faint.”
Racing down the rampart stairs, Sabinus reached the gate at the same moment as Mamercus. Drawing his sword, Sabinus said, “Open it.”
Mamercus nodded to the wary defenders, who unbarred the doors and swung them heavily open. The veil of rain parted to reveal Domitian and Clemens, both grinning from ear to ear.
Horrified, Sabinus nearly dropped his sword. “What are you doing here?!?”
“Where better?” answered Clemens cheerfully. “They'll never think of looking for us here. Besides, we thought you could use these.” Opening his hooded cloak, he began handing out skins of wine.
Mamercus took a wineskin for himself. “May the gods favour you, boy!”
Sabinus dragged the young men under cover of Jupiter's roof. “I told you to flee Rome! Not come here!”
“Really?” said Clemens innocently. “The message must have been garbled. We heard that we had to prevent Domitian from becoming a hostage. Here, he can't.”
Full of thoughts of doom and destiny, Sabinus was fully ready to weep. “How did you come? Were you seen?”
“Seen, but not noticed. They're preventing people getting out, not in. And the guards aren't careful with their passwords. Once we had one, we were able to call it out to anyone who questioned us.”
“All two of them.” Domitian laughed. “These Praetorians aren't used to real duty. They're clustered around fires and pretty much ignoring the world.”
“What about Tertius and the girls?”
“We left the girls with my father's whore.” Domitian smiled. “Phyllis went, too. Caenis is about to endure a very unsubtle kind of siege.”
