Emperor Vitellius replaced men of the Praetorian and City Guard, loyal to Otho, with his own troops. Sabinus as city prefect, found himself in command of frontier troops, alien to city life and of dubious loyalty.
At least Eleyne, who was still in Rome, came under Sabinus’s protection. She stayed in seclusion at our home on Vatican Hill.
Within three months after Vitellius took the throne, Sabinus’s younger brother, Vespasian, commanding the legions fighting Jewish rebels in Judea, proclaimed himself emperor. Three years before, when the Jews revolted and nearly destroyed three legions, Nero had recalled Vespasian after he had earlier forced him into retirement. A soldier’s soldier, Vespasian was the only general the mad Emperor Nero had trusted to crush the rebellion. Now, leaving four legions under his son, Titus, who commanded the siege of Jerusalem, Vespasian commandeered the legions of Syria, Egypt, and the Danube garrisons, and marched to the west.
I had known Vespasian for many years as a no-nonsense man and leader. If anyone could restore order to the empire, it was him.
*
69 AD
On the first of December, Admiral Bassus, commander of the Ravenna Fleet, relinquished control of his ships to the forces of the self-proclaimed Emperor Vespasian. The fleet of Misenum, based at the northern end of the Bay of Neapolis, quickly followed in swearing its fealty.
The admiral sent me to southern Italy as inspector general on tour of Misenum, to affirm the loyalty of the fleet for Vespasian. In reality, Bassus wanted me out of the way. Because Sabinus was Vespasian’s brother and my patron, Bassus feared I would ingratiate myself and replace him as commander of the Ravenna Fleet—an absurdity. Sea duties reaffirmed my preference for the cavalry and infantry. I love the ocean but only when gazing upon it from a beach.
I had sent a message to Eleyne that I would be coming to Misenum but told her to stay in Rome. Even though I missed her, the times and roads were too dangerous to make the long journey down the Italian coast.
My inspection of the Misenum Fleet ratified their loyalty to Vespasian. But on the fifth day, as I completed the final review of the fleet’s condition and the fitness of their command officers, I received a secret dispatch from Sabinus. Breaking the seal, I read the message. Sabinus wrote of intrigue, executions, assassinations, and political power plays threatening the safety of Vitellius. Finally, he had induced the obese ruler to abdicate after the defeat of his forces outside of Narnia, forty miles north of Rome by advance units of Vespasian’s army. But the troops marched no further, and Sabinus didn’t understand why. He was still in grave danger.
Puzzled, I wondered why he hadn’t summoned me to Rome.
I reflected on why I was still loyal to Sabinus even though he had not always reciprocated that trust. Our friendship went back to when, as a newly promoted centurion, I became his retainer many years before when he brought me to Rome from Britannia. I appreciated the trust he placed in me and the leeway he allowed through the years. When others doubted my loyalty, Sabinus backed me when I had proved the elder Gallus conspired against the Emperor Claudius. Sabinus sponsored my admission to the Equestrian Order.
I would be forever grateful to him for clearing the way for my marriage to Eleyne after he thwarted Vitellius the Elder’s attempt to take her for his mistress. Sabinus’s influence allowed me to be promoted to the rank of military tribune. And later, when I failed to control the Seventh Cohort during the Augustan Naval Arena riots and was exiled, he saved me from taking my life.
He had ignored my pleas when Eleyne was imprisoned during the persecution of the Christians under Nero—unforgivable. But I knew something beyond his control halted him from coming to my aid, which forced me to seek Gallus’s assistance. I swore one day I would learn the reason why Sabinus failed to get Eleyne released. But right now was not the time to turn my back on him.
I burnt the letter. Knowing that any reply to his message could be intercepted by Sabinus’s enemies, I didn’t send a response. Instead, not waiting to learn why Sabinus failed to recall me, I decided to cut short the inspection tour. His letter convinced me he was in grave danger. I bullied and persuaded Admiral Claudius Apollinaris, the Misenum Fleet commander, of the political necessity for me to sail his thirty ships and six hundred marines to Ostia. A detachment of City Guardsmen was still posted at the bustling seaport, and again, Casperius Niger was in command. But I had no idea to whom he had pledged his allegiance. If he remained loyal to Sabinus, I would land unopposed. If not, I was prepared to fight. I had not informed the admiral, but if need be, I would take his marines with me to Rome and protect Sabinus.
More than a tempest brewed on the dark sea horizon on that bleak December day. Risking the chance of encountering a winter storm, I sailed the fleet north to Ostia. A northwesterly wind bloated the sails of my ship and carried us directly to meet the fate of Rome.
*
The following morning at high tide, the fleet entered the harbor of Ostia, passing between the arms of its circular mole.
As I leaned against the ship’s railing, I said to Admiral Apollinaris, “Looks like a reception’s waiting for us.”
“Aye, the question remains,” the grizzled-faced admiral said, “are they still Vitellius’s men, or did they swear to Sabinus and Vespasian?”
In the distance, the Ostian Cohort of the City Guard stood upon the curving stone quay. Assembled in full battle dress, the iron-plumed helmets and javelins of the port’s detachment of four hundred men glistened in the noonday sun.
Despite the cold and my heavy armor, I perspired freely. “No matter,” I said, “we’re prepared for battle, but let’s pray they’ll stand down.”
“If there’s opposition, we can maneuver well enough to safely land the troops.” The admiral paused, rubbed his hawk nose, and snorted. “And when they do, my marines will punch right through their ranks like a dagger through shit.”
Well within the glassy water of the harbor, beyond the curly haired Colossus of Neptune, scows, barges, and grimy merchant vessels hugged the face of the dock like barnacles to a ship’s hull. On the cool afternoon breeze, a mixture of sweet and sour spices and reeking sewage wafted towards us. Its source floating aimlessly in the turgid waters. Seagulls swarmed, dived, and fought over scraps of garbage dumped by smaller boats. The last hundred yards of dockside was cleared. Tiny boats, called lighters, were swatted away by scouting craft of the fleet to make room for our landing. With no intention of being caught between opposing forces, merchant crews of larger ships re-boarded and prepared to sail out of harm’s way.
I dreaded the sentence fate dealt me. To order the ship’s captain to sail away was within my powers, but clearly impossible. I considered the idea but discarded it.
“Signal the ships to prepare for battle,” I said to the admiral.
“Hoist the battle flags!” Apollinaris ordered. On his signal, the main fleet within the harbor and the few remaining ships on the outside suddenly broke from a trailing formation and sailed into a flanking maneuver on both sides of the pier. A squadron of ten triremes, armed with balistas, stood ready to clear the pier of troops. Capable of firing spear-length shafts bearing two-foot-wide razor heads, the giant crossbows could slice through ten men at a time. For a moment the pier bustled with activity as soldiers formed into lines of interlocking shields bristling with javelins and swords.
As the ship’s crew raised oars and the vessel drifted towards the pier, I grabbed the hilt of my sword. Suddenly, I recognized the powerful stance and erect shoulders of Casperius Niger. Would I be his commander once again or an enemy? The next few minutes would tell.
Dressed in chain-mail-covered blue tunics and breeches and wielding swords, shield-bearing marines crowded the triremes’ decks. At a signal from our flagship, the galleys would dock in four lines, five deep. Four gangways placed between the decks of each ship would turn them into one big pontoon bridge allowing marines to charge across each gangway to the wharf. Relying on my past friendship with Casperius, and
his strong loyalty to Sabinus, I hoped to avoid bloody confrontation. Everything weighed now upon our mutual faith and trust in one another.
Casperius barked a command, and dock workers hastily moved forward to the wharf’s edge and hailed the ship’s crews to toss mooring lines. I looked about the vessel’s deck and saw the narrowed eyes and scowling faces of suspicious sailors and marines. Was this part of a welcome or a trick? Yet, if he intended to fight, would Casperius have called for the ship’s lines? I stepped up to the admiral, who stood amidships. After a brief discussion, I turned in Casperius’s direction and leaned over the oak railing. Cupping my hands to my mouth, I shouted to him on the dock. “Tribune Casperius Niger, this is Commander Marcellus Tiberius Reburrus! What are your intentions! Do you come in peace or to fight?”
“We are the peacekeepers!” Casperius shouted. “We’re here to welcome you. Jupiter’s balls, Commander, don’t you know me by now?”
I grinned and whispered a sigh of relief. This sounded like the Casperius I knew. “Stand your men at ease, and I’ll do the same.”
Casperius signaled, and with a clang of shields his troops snapped to parade rest. I commanded the marines to do the same.
“I’ll go one better, Commander,” Casperius said, “I’m coming forward alone.”
Casperius marched crisply to the gangway. He clutched his right fist to his chest. “Greetings Commander Marcellus Tiberius Reburrus,” he bellowed. Without waiting for me to return his salute, he nodded to a flagman who thrust the cohort’s red and gold streamers smartly into the crisp air.
The roar of the four hundred men deafened all with their cries. “VESPASIAN!! SABINUS! REBURRUS! VESPASIAN! SABINUS! REBURRUS!”
A chill ran down my back. The men had pledged their loyalty to the new emperor, Sabinus, and me. There was no turning back.
The marines followed suit. Between the two fighting forces, the banging of swords and shields rocked the ships and shook and threatened the very pier upon which the guard stood.
When the cheering and clattering subsided, I stepped from the gangplank onto the dock, relieved that we had avoided needless butchery.
Casperius Niger, squinting his dark eyes against the glaring sun, spoke in a voice that only I could hear. “You won’t find this bunch to your liking, Commander.”
“What’s wrong with the lot?”
“Used to be Vitellius’s men—dung eaters, every last one of them.”
“How did you persuade them to Vespasian’s cause?”
“When I received news Vitellius abdicated and Sabinus administered the oath of allegiance to Vespasian, I promised them they’d receive a bonus for their new loyalty.”
I took a deep breath, glanced to the men, and then Niger. “Then it’s official?”
“Aye, but there’s more. You arrived too late.”
“For what?”
His leathery face darkened. “Haven’t you heard? Sabinus is trapped on the Capitoline.”
My heart caught in my throat. “How could I have heard? I’ve been at sea. When did that happen?”
“This morning—four or five hours ago.”
“Do you know the circumstances?”
He frowned, glanced to the men, and back to me. “I don’t know all the details, but the Praetorians wouldn’t let Vitellius abdicate. Sabinus went to the Forum to persuade them to change their minds, but he and his men were chased to the hill and encircled by the mob and the Palace Guard.”
My chest tightened. Good gods, are we too late?
I would not stand idly by and leave Sabinus to his fate. The odds were against us, and even though the cohort had shouted their allegiance as our ship docked, I needed to make sure they would still follow me to Rome. We stood a chance of saving Sabinus’s life if they did.
“There aren’t enough of us,” Casperius grumbled. He paused. “And I don’t trust the men. Then again, if things boiled down to a fight, my men are as good as any. Even if they’d sell their own mothers for a few pieces of gold.”
“We’ll have to chance it. I’ll promise them a bonus of five hundred gold pieces—one I’ll pay myself. I’ve received word Vespasian’s advance units, under General Antonius, are not more than two or three days away. Our best bet is to enter Rome after nightfall. All reports I’ve received indicate Vitellius’s personal troops are a slovenly, undisciplined lot.”
“At least mine are better,” Casperius said. “I’ve flogged them into shape. When I received word the fleet was flying your pennant, I assembled the troops because I figured you had a plan for using them somewhere.”
“That’s right, but for a moment I thought you intended to fight me.”
“After all these years? Are you mad?”
“Maybe, but politics and civil war make strange bed fellows. Now, it’s time to address the troops.”
I surveyed the men behind Niger. Although still at parade rest, they appeared more casual than I would have liked. Several gawked about instead of looking straight ahead. They needed a flogging, but there wasn’t time. I had to work with these troops.
The rescue of Sabinus would require the support of the Ostian Cohort. Whether they fought for gold or Caesar, the only crucial point was that they fight—to the death, if necessary. Keeping their dubious loyalty in mind, I returned to the ship’s forecastle, where I could be better seen, and addressed the men.
Silently, I scanned the men on the dock below. The ship gently rocked back and forth at its mooring. Quickly, I surmised what most likely would appeal to their vanity.
“When I last landed in Ostia,” I began, “Rome was strong, and I had the power to command your allegiance. Now, Rome is in peril, and I’m asking you as patriots to follow me. We win or lose with Sabinus. Whether we stand here or go to his rescue, our fate is his fate.
“Years ago, city troops like you wanted to swear allegiance to me, alone. I ordered them first to swear to Sabinus. I’m asking you take the same oath, not only to me and Sabinus, but one to our new emperor, Titus Flavius Vespasian, who now rules Rome—your Rome. Break the link in that line, and you are nothing but outcasts and traitors.”
I pointed to the northeast and shouted, “At this moment our commander, Sabinus, is besieged on the Capitoline. Without your help, he will be slaughtered by Vitellius’s Praetorians. Are we going to allow the Praetorians to murder our commander—the brother of the new emperor?”
A loud murmur rumbled from the men.
“For sure that’s what they’ll do,” I continued. “No, we shall not let that happen!” I waved a clenched fist. “We will march to Sabinus’s rescue and hold the city until the emperor arrives. The risks are great, but rewards are greater. Outcasts and traitors? Or duty, honor, and glory?
“One is rewarded by flogging and death, the other is crowned with gratitude of our new emperor. Not only does a large reward in gold await each of you—five hundred gold aureii—but one greater than any treasure. The glory of Rome, the glory of the emperor, and the undying gratitude of the people.”
There was an overwhelming quietness, except for the lap of waves and seagulls cawing. I gestured for the cohort’s standard bearer to come forward. He hiked up the gangplank, crossed the ship’s deck, and halted before me. I took the standard from his grip and thrust it high above me, its battle streamers snapping. Knotting my other hand into a fist, I commanded, “For the glory of Vespasian!”
Then Casperius struck out a cheer. “VESPASIAN! SABINUS! REBURRUS!”
“VESPASIAN! SABINUS! REBURRUS!” the troops resounded. Like a tidal wave, their clamoring grew louder and louder until they roared to the rhythmic beat of swords striking shields.
When the troops quieted, I debarked from the ship and issued orders for the march.
Admiral Apollinaris, caught up in the spirit of the war cry, stepped forward from behind me. He said he would sail his marines north and attempt to link up with Vespasian’s march and join it.
We began the journey to Rome on the Ostian Road.
As we entered the Ostian Way, Casperius and I advanced to the head of the troops. The first mile was lined with mausoleums and poplar trees. Four hundred men, wearing chain-mail armor, carrying short swords and javelins, marched at a route step in columns of three, stretched down the lane behind us. The loud clatter of armor and hob-nailed sandals echoed through the countryside.
Casperius looked about and moved his head closer to mine. “Do you really believe all that shit you spouted?”
I grinned, glancing toward the brooding peak of Ficana Hill and again to Casperius. “They’re marching aren’t they?”
“For a minute you had me worried. And by the way, thanks for scaring the piss out of me with your dramatic port entry!”
*
Late in the afternoon as the cohort passed the fallow truck gardens lining the highway, the temperature dropped rapidly. Thunder from the north erupted through black clouds, followed by heavy rain.
A half hour later we received a dispatch from one of Casperius Niger’s couriers. The rain-drenched messenger had managed to escape Rome through a hail of javelins. The thick jaw messenger spouted, “Three Praetorian cohorts repelled the advance units of Vespasian’s cavalry, north of the city.”
“What about General Vespasian’s army?” I asked.
“His main force is about a three-day march to Rome. When the Praetorians learned Sabinus had fled to the Capitoline . . . ,” the messenger said. He turned his head in the direction of the city and back to me. “They returned to Rome and surrounded the hill and ordered a dawn-to-dusk curfew, upon pain of death.”
“Now, we must to rescue Sabinus,” I said. “It’s more important than ever.”
Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Early in the evening, after force-marching a hard twenty-two miles in the drenching torrent, we reached the outskirts of Rome. Expecting to be challenged at the Ostian Gate, I signaled the cohort to prepare to fight, but there were no guards. We entered the desolate city. Slogging our way through the flooding streets and past boarded-up shops, we did not encounter the usual lamp-carrying pedestrians or noblemen returning home from dinner parties, accompanied by armies of retainers. The death-enforced curfew was confirmed by the occasional sight of bodies sprawled in the overflowing gutters. Even criminals sought sanctuary from swords of marauding troops.
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