A little noise behind him made Marcus whirl round, his sword ready to strike. Amongst the debris and broken household goods that lay scattered across the floor was a table that had been thrown onto its side. As he stared at the table, two small children’s faces appeared from behind it, staring back at him, rigid with terror. For a moment Marcus was unable to move as he stared at the children. Then slowly he raised his finger to his mouth in a gesture that they should remain quiet.
“The mob’s gone Sir,” Indus whispered as he took a quick peek out into the street.
Marcus wrenched his eyes away from the terrified children. The coast seemed clear. Swiftly he emerged from the looted shop and started out down the street at a half run with Indus close behind. Ahead, the Forum seemed to be half-shrouded in smoke and somewhere nearby he could hear shouting. Keeping close to the edge of the street, Marcus moved forwards. Up ahead he suddenly caught sight of a dead man lying in the street. The man was clad in a fine toga, and as he drew closer Marcus recognised the purple stripes on the clothing. A senator. Close by was another corpse - a slave perhaps, judging from his clothing. Both had had their throats cut. In the middle of the street, lying on its side was a rudely abandoned litter with the body of a high-born woman lying half in and half outside it. It looked like she had been raped before her throat too, had been cut. A few people were scavenging amongst the corpses, pulling the rings from fingers and searching for valuable items.
One of the scavengers, catching sight of Marcus and Indus, raised a cry and without warning came at Marcus wielding a knife. But before he’d gone more than a few yards an arrow thudded into his chest and the man crashed sideways onto the paving stones.
“Get out of here, scum,” Marcus roared as he menacingly lifted his sword in the air. The few remaining scavengers did not seem to have the stomach for a fight and fled down an alley, their boots pounding the pavement.
Hastily Marcus crossed the street and rolled over the senator’s corpse, but he did not recognise the dead man. Gesturing to Indus he turned and headed into the Forum. The temple of Saturn was close now. He could see its great columns and sharply slanting roof standing at the base of the Capitoline hill. The building looked solid, a haven in the midst of bloody chaos. In the Forum and amongst the magnificent government buildings there was a dreadful silence. In the nearby deserted market places, nearly all the street stalls had been smashed and looted and a few of them were on fire, belching out plumes of smoke. Amongst the debris and corpses strewn across the ground, a few people were picking through the ruins, hunting for valuables and food. They paid Marcus and Indus no attention as the two of them raced towards the huge doors into the temple of Saturn.
“Friends, we’re friends. I must speak to Paulinus,” Marcus cried out in a loud voice as a few armed temple guards appeared at the top of the broad steps, leading to the temple entrance. The guards were armed with shields and spears and they looked very nervous. They said nothing, nor did they do anything as Marcus quickly slid his sword back into its sheath and showed them the palms of his hands.
“I must speak to Paulinus,” he cried out again, as the guards showed no sign of allowing him into the temple. “I am his friend. Tell him that my name is Marcus. I am the prefect in charge of the grain supply. He knows me. Do it.”
“Marcus, Marcus,” a voice suddenly cried out and a few moments later a figure suddenly came thrusting through the ranks of the temple guards. It was Paulinus. Catching sight of him, the finance minister slowly shook his head, as a relieved look appeared on his face.
“I heard you were here,” Marcus gasped as he strode up the steps and quickly embraced his colleague and friend. “I heard you were trying to protect the gold and silver reserves. Who is in charge in the city? Who is leading the response to the rioting?”
Paulinus looked grim.
“I think it’s just us,” he said.
Chapter Seven - Fight-back
“We need to restore order,” Marcus insisted as he quickly followed Paulinus into the temple of Saturn. Dominating the inner sanctum, the huge, veiled image of Saturn, its legs covered with bands of wool, stood holding a gigantic scythe as it gazed serenely into space. A cluster of treasury officials had gathered around the base of the statue. They looked frightened and unsure of what to do. Further back in the gloomy, torch-lit recesses of the building, groups of civilians, including children, were huddled together sitting on the floor. Refugees from the rioting. Some of the children were crying whilst the adults were gazing at Paulinus in desperate hope.
“Yes, yes,” Paulinus nodded hastily, as behind him the few nervous temple guards retreated to the doorway with its huge doors, which were still open.
Paulinus paused and then gave Marcus a cold, determined look. “The temple must not fall,” he said sharply. “The public treasury is kept here. We have tons of gold and silver in our vaults and I have only twenty guards. And then there are all these people who have sought shelter here. I must protect the treasury. I must protect these people, Marcus. If the state treasury is looted it will be a crime against the millions who have faithfully paid their taxes.” Suddenly Paulinus looked angry. “The mob may be moving around randomly in the streets but how long do you think it will be before they realise that this temple, the state treasury, is unprotected. How long do you think it will be before they realise that they can help themselves to all that gold and silver? It must not happen Marcus. It will not happen, not on my watch.”
Marcus grunted, as he turned to look at the solid stone walls of the temple. For a long moment he said nothing as he examined his surroundings.
“You may be able to hold out for a day or two,” Marcus said at last, keeping his voice deliberately low, “but no more than that; not against a determined assault; not with just twenty men. Close your doors and barricade them. Your walls are solid stone but then, after a while the mob will figure out that if they set fire to your roof they will be able to smoke and burn you out. Retreat to the vaults and the lack of water will eventually force you to surrender.” Marcus looked grim as he stared at his friend. “One or two days,” Marcus nodded. “That’s all you have got. We can’t hold this place against a determined assault. We have to think of something else.”
“What then?” Paulinus snapped in an irritable voice. “What can we do?”
Marcus took a deep breath and for a moment he was silent.
“What do you know about what is happening out there?” he said.
Paulinus looked up at the huge image of Saturn and, as he did, he seemed to calm down a little.
“I know this,” Rome’s finance minister replied with a sigh. “The senate seem to have either fled the city or are holed up in their homes. They are incapable of action.” Calmly Paulinus reached out to steady one of the young treasury clerks whose hand was trembling uncontrollably. “Law and order have completely broken down. Similis and the bulk of our security forces are a hundred miles away and the prefect of the night watch is dead, slain in the streets. The mob is in control of the whole city. Packs of them are roaming the streets at will, looting, murdering, raping. It seems that people are using this opportunity to settle personal scores and grievances and to enrich themselves. No one is stopping them. And it’s all because of news that the Egyptian grain fleet has been destroyed by a storm. Is that true Marcus? Are these rumours really true?”
“I think so,” Marcus muttered. “The last news that I received from Portus was that some of the survivors of the storm have managed to make it into the harbour. They seem to confirm the news.”
“Shit,” Paulinus swore, as he turned his eyes to the ground.
“What about the three urban cohorts that remain in the city?” Marcus said. “Where are they? Why are they not out on the streets trying to restore order?”
“I don’t know,” Paulinus said, raising his hands in exasperation.
“The fourth cohort is being besieged in their barracks by the mob,” a woman said suddenly. Marcus grunted in surprise
as, from the gloom Lady Claudia suddenly appeared. She looked calm and dignified as she came towards him, followed closely by a troop of frightened looking children and, amongst them Marcus caught sight of Ahern. The seventeen-year old youth looked out of place amongst the rest of Claudia’s school children who were much younger than himself. Catching sight of Marcus, Ahern blushed with sudden embarrassment.
“The mob believe there are food supplies within the barracks,” Claudia continued, as she glanced quickly at Paulinus. “They are demanding that the food is handed over to them, but the guards have no food. It’s a standoff. No one is getting in or out of those barracks. That’s the last I heard. As for the first and second cohorts,” Claudia sighed, “I think they are still in the praetorian barracks, Castra Praetoria, on the edge of the city near the Colline gate. I don’t know what they are doing. Similis allowed them to move in after most of the praetorian cohorts were sent east to join Trajan in Syria.”
“Sir,” an urgent sounding voice suddenly called out and a moment later one of the temple guards came hastening towards Paulinus. “Sir, looks like the mob are moving into the Forum. There are more and more of them out there. Shall I close the doors Sir?”
“Only at the last moment,” Paulinus snapped. “Only at the last moment damn it. There may still be people out there who need refuge.”
“But Sir, the mob…,” the guard stammered.
“Do as I say,” Paulinus said irritably, and without further protest the guard turned and hastened back to his post.
“All right,” Marcus said in a low and urgent voice as he glanced from Paulinus to Claudia. “We have to act. Our only hope of restoring order lies with those urban cohorts. They are the only trained, disciplined and equipped force that can handle this situation. Someone needs to get to the Castra Praetoria and lead those thousand soldiers back here to the Forum. Once here,” Marcus said, as his eyes gleamed in the light from the oil lamps, “we secure the Forum and the government buildings. Then if all goes well, tomorrow at dawn we start to clear the city, one district at a time until order is fully restored. The mob may have the numbers, but they are not a disciplined or organised force. We can handle them if we isolate them into small groups. Solid training and discipline always beat numbers.”
Paulinus nodded as he listened to the plan.
“We should proclaim a curfew,” Claudia snapped. “A city-wide curfew. Anyone caught out on the streets will face summary execution. I know its harsh, but these are extraordinary times.”
“Agreed,” Paulinus snapped, “and issue a call for all loyal and able citizens to come to defend the temple of Saturn. For the moment, the treasury will have to be our command post. We will lead the fightback from here.”
“That’s going to be easier said than done,” Marcus growled. “How are you going to get those messages out whilst under siege?”
“Leave that to me,” Paulinus said with a glint of sudden hope in his eyes.
“Sir, the mob, they are starting to get close Sir,” one of the guards suddenly cried out from near to the temple entrance.
“All right, all right,” Marcus said hastily, as his two companions turned to look at him. “Then I suppose the only thing left to decide is on who will go to the Castra Praetoria. It can’t be just anyone. The urban cohort commanders will only listen to someone in authority, so I will go.” Marcus paused. “As a senator and prefect of the grain supply this mess is my responsibility. Hold the temple Paulinus,” Marcus said, reaching out to lay a hand on the finance minister’s shoulder. “I will be back with those soldiers. And one more thing Claudia,” Marcus said as he turned, raised his finger and pointed at Ahern. “I am taking him with me.”
***
Marcus shot out through the temple doors and didn’t stop running until he’d reached the entrance to the Forum of Augustus. As he slowed to a walk, Indus and Ahern did the same. To his right the Senate house, the meeting place of the senate, stood abandoned and forlorn, its door closed and out in the Forum the mob seemed to be growing larger and larger. But no one paid them any attention, as he and his two companions slipped away. Snatching a glance over his shoulder, Marcus was just in time to see the great doors to the temple of Saturn slamming shut. Then he was through the entrance and into the large, enclosed and rectangular space of the Forum of Augustus. Hurrying into the shade of the colonnaded and covered walkway to his right, Marcus paused behind one of the massive columns. In the market place there was no one about, but he could see that nearly all the shops and stores that occupied both sides of the Forum had been looted and ransacked. Debris of all kinds lay scattered across the paving stones. In the middle of the Forum and open to the sky, more than a hundred marble and bronze busts of famous Romans stood on plinths, with the inscriptions of the men’s deeds and achievements recorded on them. And right in the middle of the market place, as if to remind everyone of who had built this Forum and who it was who was honouring Rome’s illustrious ancestors, was a statue of Augustus, the first emperor, clad in full military outfit. But Marcus was not looking at the busts. Hastily he turned his eyes towards the magnificent temple of Mars Ultor, Mars the Avenger that dominated the Forum. There was no one about. The coast seemed clear. The doors to the fine-looking colonnaded temple were closed and the solitary body of a man lay sprawled across the stone steps, that led up to the entrance. The priests of Mars would have been the first to close their doors for they had a special and unique responsibility. For in their care, inside their temple, were kept the precious Eagles, the legionary standards, from the disgraced legions that had been lost under Crassus and Varus at Carrhae and the Teutoburger Forest and which had all been recovered some years later.
Turning sharply to look at Ahern, who was crouching behind him, Marcus pulled his army pugio knife from his belt and pressed it into Ahern’s hand.
“Follow me and stay close,” Marcus hissed. “Use the knife to kill if you have to. Today you have permission to kill. Understood boy.”
Ahern looked utterly terrified as he silently stared at the knife in his hand. Dumbly he nodded, not daring to look Marcus in the eye.
“We will get out over there,” Marcus said, quickly turning to gesture down the covered walkway towards the triumphal arch of Germanicus to the right of the temple. “Beyond is an alley that will lead to the Subura. Once we get to the cross roads we will turn into Long street, Vicus Longinus. Longinus will take us to the Colline gate. From there the praetorian barracks are not far.” Marcus paused as he glared at his companions. “Stay close to me. We don’t pause for anything and try not to attract attention. With a bit of luck, the mob will not notice us. All right, let’s go.”
Rising to his feet, Marcus started down the covered walkway, his boots crunching over the shattered pottery shards and broken glass. As they passed on through the triumphal arch, Marcus turned to glance back at Ahern. The boy’s face was as white as a sheet and the hand clutching his knife was shaking with fear.
As the three of them reached the end of the alley, Marcus paused. The cross roads up ahead looked deserted. A wagon lay on its side - its content of wood and building materials ransacked and strewn across the street. From somewhere out of sight a dog was barking. Carefully Marcus glanced up at the tall, cheap-looking apartment blocks that were packed close together. The Subura was a poor, densely populated neighbourhood filled with seedy bars, brothels and cheap accommodation. From behind a closed window shutter he could hear the muffled screams of a baby. Turning his attention back to the street, he saw that every shop was either closed or had been trashed and looted.
With a grunt Marcus left the cover of the alley and started out down the street towards the overturned wagon, keeping close to the edge of the street with Ahern and Indus followed closely behind him. He’d just made it to the intersection with the Vicus Longinus when behind him, Ahern tripped over a piece of discarded wood and with a startled cry went tumbling to the ground. And as he did, a shower of coins went flying from his pocket and clattered onto
the paving stones. As the youth hastily scrambled to his feet a man suddenly poked his face out of the doorway to a looted store and stared at Ahern.
“Heh you,” the man cried, pointing at Ahern. “What you got there?”
Ahern stood rooted to the ground staring at the man with growing horror, completely unable to move or respond. Slowly the man left the doorway and came towards him carrying an axe.
“I said what have you got there,” the man growled. Then he stopped as he caught sight of the gleaming coins lying scattered across the paving stones. “Well what have we here,” the man cried out, as a crooked grin suddenly appeared on his face. “Got anymore treasure like this?”
Ahern’s lower lip was quivering uncontrollably, and he looked like he was about to break down completely. Then before anyone could react or say anything, Marcus came striding past Ahern and calmly thrust his sword straight through the man’s neck. A spurt of blood fountained through the air as the man dropped his axe and collapsed, hitting the ground with a thud.
“Run,” Marcus roared as he turned to his two companions.
Moments later an enraged cry rose from further down the street and a mob of ten or twenty armed men and women appeared, and came charging towards Marcus. Grabbing Ahern, Marcus yanked him out of his petrified state and the three of them shot away down the street with the mob in pursuit.
In the narrow street there was no place to hide and the tall tower blocks hemmed them in on both sides. Dimly Marcus was aware that Ahern had found his voice and was screaming in pure terror, as he legged it down the deserted street. Fear seemed to give the boy added strength and stamina. But they weren’t going to outrun the mob behind them. Spotting an open doorway into a tall, crumbling tenement block, Marcus yelled a warning at Indus and, swerving across the street, he stormed into the dark entrance of the building. Nearly tripping over a lifeless body, Marcus leapt into the stairwell and charged up the stairs to the first floor. Ahern was still screaming in pure terror as he and Indus followed Marcus up the narrow stairs. Bursting onto a small landing, Marcus saw that all the doors to the rooms were closed. Without bothering to check them, he twisted and started on up the stairs to the second floor. Below him he could hear feet pounding on the stairs. As he reached the fifth floor and the top of the building, Marcus turned grimly to face the stairwell as Ahern, followed by Indus rushed passed him onto the small landing.
Rome and the Conquest of Mesopotamia (Book 8 of the Veteran of Rome Series) Page 6
