Masters of Rome: VESPASIAN V (Vespasian 5)

by Robert Fabbri

  Vespasian got to his feet and was immediately called to speak since no one else had recovered from the shock at the idea of changing a tenet so old and enshrined in the ways of the ancestors.

  ‘Conscript Fathers,’ he began, feigning a look of awed surprise, ‘I did not know what my brother was going to propose when he stood to address you. But I, like you, have heard his words and have weighed them in my mind and have come to the conclusion that my brother has had an idea inspired by the gods; an idea so simple and obvious that no one here could see it until Titus Flavius Sabinus stood up and pointed us in its direction.

  ‘I have heard rumours of Lollia Paulina and Aelia Paetina being put about by various factions in the palace for their own personal gain; their own personal gain! How dare they play with our beloved Emperor’s wellbeing for their – own – personal – gain!’ Another rumble, this time of outrage, was emitted from the lines of seated senators. ‘But it took an intellect like my brother’s to see exactly where to look for a bride for our Emperor: as close to home as possible – closer even – so that finally the Julian and the Claudian lines in the imperial family are united by a doting uncle and his loving niece. Think, Conscript Fathers, think of the consequences of such a union.’

  Vespasian sat, watching the faces of his colleagues as they contemplated the security that the final union of both sides of the Julio-Claudians would bring. Only Claudius seemed to be envisioning a different aspect to that union and he twitched with visible excitement.

  ‘I believe that we should beg Caesar to make this match!’ Galba roared in his harsh, parade-ground voice, startling his neighbours. ‘For the good of Rome. Although marrying a niece is not the way of our ancestors and consequently there is no precedent for a woman to be escorted to the house of her uncle, we should not consider it as incest, which surely can only be committed by siblings or parents with their children.’ He jutted out his jaw as if defying anyone to gainsay him. ‘And if it is not incest then the gods will view the union with pleasure.’

  At the intervention of such a renowned conservative, the idea began to gain traction as Sabinus had predicted and one by one the senators began to implore Claudius to consent to the match if they changed the law to allow it.

  ‘That’s got them going,’ Gaius observed, as the senators vied with one another to be the most vociferous in support for Agrippina. ‘Even Vitellius looks as if he feels it safe to have an opinion.’

  ‘Which is one more than you’ve ever admitted to, Uncle,’ Vespasian quipped as the elder Vitellius got to his feet and dramatically held out his arms towards Claudius. ‘Still, his support will make the vote a formality.’

  Vitellius waited dramatically for silence. ‘Princeps, will you answer us? Will you take Agrippina as your wife if the law allows you?’

  Claudius made an attempt to look solemn but failed to conceal his eagerness for the proposal. ‘I am a citizen of R-R-Rome; I must accept the orders of the people and the authority of the Senate and cannot resist their united voice.’

  ‘Conscript Fathers, there we have the words of a true servant of the State. Our Emperor, upon whom such crushing labours are placed in the governance of the world, needs to be able to attend to the public good free from domestic worries. We, Conscript Fathers, can ensure that he is. I move that we vote to make it legal for an uncle to marry his niece.’

  Vespasian felt a hand touch his shoulder as the House erupted in agreement. He turned to see one of the public slaves used as messengers from people waiting outside. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Master, there is a man by the name of Magnus waiting for you and your brother; he says that you must come at once.’

  ‘Did he say why?’

  ‘Only that it’s a matter of the utmost urgency.’

  Vespasian leant close to Sabinus. ‘We’ve got to go, brother; Magnus needs us urgently.’

  ‘But the vote hasn’t happened yet.’

  ‘Look around, it’s a foregone conclusion now.’ Vespasian got to his feet.

  ‘In my experience,’ Gaius shouted over the uproar, ‘when Magnus says it’s urgent, it always is.’

  ‘But Pallas wants me to propose an auspicious day for the wedding.’

  ‘I thought that it was to be on the festival of the October Horse.’

  ‘No, that was just to goad Messalina into swift action.’

  ‘I’ll propose it for you, dear boy,’ Gaius offered. ‘What’s the date?’

  ‘The first of January.’

  ‘Why wait for two months?’

  Sabinus handed Gaius a list. ‘Because Pallas wants time to have all these men prosecuted properly in the courts and condemned to death for conspiring with Messalina, so that they can be executed on or before the wedding day. Read out the list after you’ve proposed the date, and have the Senate order their arrest; they’ll do anything for Claudius at the moment.’

  Gaius’ jowls wobbled. ‘But that’ll make me very …’

  ‘… conspicuous? Yes, but it will also gain you the favour of the man who has just become the most powerful person in Rome.’ Sabinus followed Vespasian from the chamber, leaving Gaius staring unhappily at the death-list.

  ‘We’ve got to hurry,’ Magnus told the brothers as they came through the Senate House door, ‘I’ve sent Marius and Sextus on to tell Clementina to get out of the house but I don’t suppose that she’ll listen to them.’

  ‘What do you mean: tell Clementina to get out?’ Sabinus asked, hurrying down the Senate House steps after Magnus.

  ‘I mean that I think she’s in danger.’

  Vespasian was surprised to see Magnus so agitated. ‘From what?’

  ‘I’m not sure exactly. A couple of hours ago we finally managed to get hold of one of the slippery bastards who’ve been watching Sabinus’ house and we took him back to the tavern for that chat we talked about.’

  ‘Did he talk?’

  ‘No, not a word, no matter what we did to him; I was really impressed.’

  ‘So we don’t even know where they come from?’

  ‘No, we don’t; but we do know one thing: he must have been a fanatic to endure what he did in silence.’

  ‘Either that or he’s more scared of whatever it is he’s protecting than of your knives and hot irons.’

  ‘Yeah, well, either way, they’re not just some hired thugs who’ve been paid to keep an eye on you; they evidently want something that’s in the house, so we need to get Clementina out.’

  Sabinus increased his pace, forcing passers-by to dart out of his way. ‘What makes you think that it’s her they’re after?’

  ‘Nothing for sure; but the fact is that they’ve been watching just your house for a few days now, which would mean that whatever interests them is in there. I would guess that once they notice the disappearance of their mate this morning they’ll be prompted into some immediate action.’

  A steady, thin drizzle from a heavy sky moistened the raised pavement as Vespasian, Magnus and Sabinus hurried up the Aventine Hill. A hundred paces to their left the massive hulk of the Circus Maximus towered above them, grey in the damp morning light. To their right the Appian Aqueduct carved its way across the hill to its final destination at its foot; turning towards it and passing under one of its diminishing arches, they skirted around the Temple of Diana and entered Sabinus’ street, which ran the last couple of hundred paces gently to the summit.

  Having been destroyed by fire a dozen years before, most of the residences on the Aventine had been rebuilt and, on a normal day, the area had an elegant feel about it, unusual in the residential quarters of Rome, most of which had grown shabby through age. But this did not seem like a normal day as they drew in sight of Sabinus’ house. It was not the oppressive greyness of the weather or the dampness of the paving underfoot and the plastered brick to each side; nor was it the continual dripping from overhanging vegetation splashing into puddles below or down the necks of passers-by. It was not even the cold that had suddenly descended with unseasonal hars
hness as they approached their destination.

  It was the emptiness and consequent quiet.

  No other person moved in the street; no stray dog or darting cat crossed their path, nor were there any signs of birds flitting across the dull sky or sheltering from the rain in trees or on windowsills or in other nooks. It was as if a plague had carried off every living creature and the fear of its return had dissuaded others from taking their place.

  Neither Vespasian nor his companions spoke as they approached the substantial façade of Sabinus’ house, painted ochre with dull, deep red outlines to the door and the few windows. They stopped at the foot of the steps and looked up at the door; it was intact and there was no sign of a forced entry, nor was there any sound of violence coming from within.

  Vespasian glanced up and down the street. ‘Well, either they’ve stopped watching your house or they’ve got what they came for and have disappeared.’

  ‘Either way, Marius or Sextus, or both of them, should be around,’ Magnus said, clenching his thumb in his fingers and then spitting. ‘This ain’t natural, this quiet at the second hour of the day. Where is everyone?’

  Sabinus took some tentative steps towards the door. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’ He knocked quietly on the wood and received no response; a slightly louder attempt also passed without notice from within. With a shrug he turned the handle and the door swung open, unbarred on the inside.

  Vespasian’s innards turned and he and Magnus shared an uneasy look as Sabinus stepped into his house before following him in.

  And then he felt it: it was the same cold sensation as the touch of the Lost Dead and yet he knew that they could not possibly be so far from the damp island that they infested; those spirits could not cross water. And then he remembered the cold malice of their masters and his stomach lurched.

  Sabinus sensed it too. ‘There’s something in here,’ he whispered, stepping carefully through the vestibule. ‘There’s a dread reminiscent of the Vale of Sullis.’

  Magnus sniffed the air as they entered the atrium. ‘Something’s burning and it don’t smell like it’s just the hearth—’ He stopped mid-sentence as they all three simultaneously drew breath and swallowed fast-rising bile. ‘Now that ain’t natural.’

  To the left of the impluvium lay a bloodied mess, steaming faintly in the cold atmosphere of the chamber. Even at a distance of twenty paces it was only just recognisable as human. Its surface glistened with fluids; here and there a twitch or a muscle contraction showed faint evidence of life. Reacting to the sound of the three men entering the room, the ghastly vision lifted its head, its lidless eyes making unfocused contact.

  ‘Magnus,’ it croaked in an undertone, ‘finish it.’ It lifted its left arm; there was no hand attached and the stump was old.

  ‘Marius?’ Magnus ran over to the bloodied wreck. ‘What happened?’

  Vespasian and Sabinus joined Magnus staring down in horror at Marius in his agony; the skin had been stripped from his head and limbs as if a Titan had sucked each in turn, scraping them with razor-teeth to remove the hide. His torso had received less damage but flayed strips of flesh hung from it in a surprisingly regular pattern as if it had been slashed by a mighty claw.

  Marius’ eyes rolled in their sockets and blood and mucus seeped from the hole where his nose had been. ‘Don’t … know. Torn apart.’

  Magnus knelt down. ‘Who by?’

  ‘I saw … nothing.’

  ‘Where’s Sextus?’

  ‘Gone. Finish me.’

  Magnus pulled his knife from its sheath, placed the point under Marius’ ribcage and placed a hand around his raw shoulders. ‘You’ll be remembered, brother.’ The two men tensed and then with a brutal thrust the iron sliced through the exposed flesh and on up into his racing heart.

  An agonised grimace set across Marius’ peeled lips. ‘Brother,’ he whispered with the last breath that left his lungs. His lidless eyes fixed and his body slumped; Magnus removed his arm and laid his crossroads brother down as a scream that curdled blood rang out and reverberated around the marble walls.

  ‘Clementina!’ Sabinus cried, spinning round and looking in the direction of the noise.

  ‘The garden!’ Vespasian shouted. ‘Have you any weapons handy?’

  Sabinus nodded and ran to a closed door; a few moments later he emerged with a sword and a long knife that he threw to Vespasian. ‘That’s the best I can do.’

  Vespasian caught the hilt in the air and, along with Magnus, rushed after his brother into the tablinum at the far end of the atrium and then on into the courtyard garden. They stopped, aghast at the sight that awaited them at the far end of the garden, forty paces away.

  Their long hair and beards were matted and their ankle-length robes were smeared with filth; their dark eyes fixed on Vespasian and his companions. All five druids stretched out an arm towards them.

  ‘Juno’s fat arse!’ Magnus exclaimed. ‘What the fuck are they doing here?’

  Vespasian stared in fearful disbelief at the Britannic priests, his heart chilling by the moment. Two held Clementina by the wrists, rigid with terror, and another two had Alienus, who shook and sobbed; his body was filthy and his hair and beard more disgusting than those of his captors. The lead druid stepped forward and Vespasian felt a jolt of recognition, and yet it could not be for the man was patently younger than when he had last seen him.

  ‘Myrddin?’

  The druid stopped and smiled without mirth. ‘No, not yet. I have been Myrddin in a previous life and I will be him again when my time comes; until then I serve the living Myrddin and he demands the life of the treacherous Alienus and the sacrifice of two brothers. Myrddin always gets what he demands. Heylel himself, the Son of the Morning, is present to witness this triumph over the fiends who unchained his captive Sullis and the death of the man who was destined to let the canker that will destroy the old, true ways grow in Rome’s belly. And here you are, Vespasian, come of your own free will.’

  Vespasian felt the same chill grasp at his feet as when he had faced druids before; the malevolent aura enshrouding them began to slip over him, his terror mounted and he could not move. To either side of him Sabinus and Magnus were also rooted to the spot.

  Alienus was brought forward and the chanting began; he looked around in dread, struggling feebly, his body weak and emaciated from his long captivity. ‘It was Theron,’ he shouted at the brothers. ‘They said it was Theron who told them where I was and where you lived; kill him for me.’

  The yet-to-be-Myrddin interrupted his chanting to laugh. ‘Yes, it was Theron who told us your whereabouts when he returned to Britannia in the summer; we had been watching out for him for a long time. He told us what we wanted to know with very little persuasion and then Heylel feasted on his skin; so it’s too late to claim vengeance on him – even if you could.’

  Alienus was brought to the fish pond at the centre of the garden; the chant rose and Vespasian watched appalled, unable to move as if a force, unseen, willed him to stay still. He tried to lift a foot but it felt as if it were made from freezing lead. Alienus’ head was pulled back and, as before with the young girl in the Vale of Sullis, something was stuffed into his mouth, which was then clamped shut whilst his nostrils were squeezed.

  Alienus’ body shook in weak defiance but he had not the strength to resist; soon he swallowed and, an instant later, convulsed. His mouth and nose were freed and immediately shot forth torrents of blood; blood oozed from his eyes and trickled from his ears. Blood flowed like urine from his penis and exploded from his anus in great bursts, splattering the lower areas of the druids’ robes. His head rolled back and he called in terror to the heavens, his cry dulled by the crimson mist that sprayed from his mouth as the blood drowned his gorge. His legs buckled and his captors released him to fall into the pond, jerking and twitching.

  With a massive effort of will, Vespasian fought against the cold fear gripping his heart and rendering his body immobile as Clementina was br
ought forward to the pond.

  ‘Pray to your god!’ he managed to say. ‘Cogidubnus and Yosef both defeated the druids using the power of their gods; we must do the same.’

  Vespasian heard Sabinus intone a prayer to Mithras whilst he invoked his guardian god, Mars, praying that he spare him for the destiny foretold at his birth; Magnus clenched his thumb and spat repeatedly. Clementina shrieked as the pond water churned and the body was sucked under briefly before it shot back up and stood, with its feet just below the surface, bellowing guttural malevolence.

  With each prayer he offered, Vespasian felt the cold power gripping him lessen and became aware again of the knife in his hand.

  The druids’ chant continued and the name of ‘Heylel’ could now be distinguished.

  Alienus’ head turned to face Clementina, rotating well past his shoulder before his body moved to catch it up. The druids released Clementina but she did not run; she could not run. She stared wide-eyed at the bloodless corpse before her that was now the vessel for a god of unspeakable malice and wrath.

  And its wrath was fuelled by its hunger.

  With preternatural speed, the god grabbed Clementina’s right wrist. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream. Sabinus cried out, imploring Mithras to hold his hands over his wife. Vespasian managed a step forward, raising his knife. The god outstretched its hands and pulled them down Clementina’s right arm; although there was no sign of claws at the end of the fingers, they shredded her flesh, flaying her as easily as skinning a ripe fig. Now she found her voice and it conveyed the full horror of helplessly watching her skin being torn away.

  The druids continued their chant, their voices growing more powerful as the god’s strength grew.

  Sabinus wept, still rooted to the floor; Vespasian, praying with all his will to Mars, managed another couple of steps forward. Magnus continued spitting and clenching his thumb.

  Another shriek as the god stuffed the gore-dripping feast into its mouth with a bass rumble of pleasure and then seized Clementina’s other arm with one pale hand whilst slashing the other across her face with hideous effect.