The crowds were excited and the chatter was about what sort of games the young Emperor had laid on for them today. Corbulo came round a corner and there looming over the apartment buildings rose the magnificent Coliseum. It was immense, dwarfing everything around it. The largest building in the empire. Corbulo craned his neck to get a better view even though he had seen the building many times before. He could not help but be impressed every time. It made one feel fucking proud to be a Roman. Eight years it had taken to build. When Emperor Titus had declared the Coliseum open there had been one hundred days of continuous games. Corbulo smiled sadly. Vespasian had been an excellent Emperor, Titus his eldest son had been a good emperor but Domitian, the youngest son was a tyrant. Domitian had none of his father and older brother's qualities. He had never served as a soldier on campaign. Vespasian had left him behind in Rome where the young man had been brought up at Nero's court with its intrigue, corruption and vice. The rumour on the street was that the young Emperor stalked through the rooms of his palace afraid of his own shadow.
The crowds seemed to converge on the Coliseum from all directions and as they drew closer the noise increased. Thousands of people were already queuing to get into the building. Corbulo struggled through the crowd towards the entrance reserved for serving soldiers and veterans. Four men from the Urban Cohorts, clad in armour and holding spears stood checking men into the entrance.
"Soldiers and veterans only," one of the men shouted.
Corbulo made it to the entrance. One of the Urban policemen shook his head.
"I served with the Twentieth Legion," Corbulo exclaimed. "I am a veteran. Let me through."
But the policeman blocked the way.
"You are not a soldier or a veteran," the policeman growled. "Read the fucking sign." He gestured to the sign above the gateway.
"I served twenty five years with the Twentieth. I was a soldier before you were even born," Corbulo cried angrily but the policeman just laughed.
"Go on, get out of here," another policeman snapped, "You are holding up the queue grandpa."
It was his clothes and appearance Corbulo thought as he reluctantly moved off into the crowd. He looked like a homeless man. He blinked. He was in fact homeless. He gave the soldiers entrance a final wistful glance. The veterans would get better seats but it didn't matter. He would have to go to the entrance reserved for the poor and the unemployed.
He clambered up to the very top ring of seats in the arena. From here it was a very long way down to the middle of the arena where the gladiators would fight. But he didn't mind. It was still a magnificent view. Fifty five thousand people could fit into the Coliseum. What a show. The noise when the gladiators came out would be deafening.
"Not afraid of heights are you?" the man sitting beside him said grinning. The man's mouth was missing several teeth.
Corbulo shook his head and then rose to his feet as slaves started throwing loaves of bread into the crowd. The men around him scrabbled around wildly and when it was over Corbulo had managed to get hold of two loaves. Hungrily he devoured the first one tucking the second away for later. As he finished off the bread he stared down at the Imperial box. Domitian was standing before his throne taking the applause of the crowd. Beside him stood another figure wearing victory laurels on his head. The man was saluting the crowd. Corbulo frowned.
"Who is that man, standing next to the Emperor?" he asked his neighbour spitting some crumbs into the air in the process.
The man peered down into the arena.
"Have you not heard the news?" he replied looking at Corbulo in surprise. "Agricola returned from Caledonia a few days ago. They say that he has won himself a grand victory. Domitian may give him a Triumph."
"Agricola has returned from Britannia," Corbulo exclaimed. He stared down at the man who was saluting the crowd. When had this happened? He must have been too drunk to have noticed.
"I know him," Corbulo said.
"Who, Agricola?" his neighbour looked startled.
Corbulo nodded slowly, "The prick made me watch commander in the 1st Cohort. That was the highest rank I ever obtained."
The masses cried, shouted and hooted when the Emperor signalled for the games to begin and they went wild with excitement when the first gladiators appeared. Corbulo however hardly noticed. He seemed sunk deep in thought. He hardly watched the gladiatorial contests and when the first batch of fighting was over he stood up and made his way out of the Coliseum.
***
He had been hiding in the doorway of the alley for nearly an hour before she emerged from the bar. Quickly he checked to see if no one was following her before he stepped out into the street. He knew where she was going. Her routine did not vary and nor did her job. As she approached the apartment where she lived he made his move. She squealed in alarm as he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her into an alley.
"It's me," he said pressing his finger to her mouth. "Look I am sorry about the other day. I shouldn't have tried to hit you. I was drunk."
The old whore with the fake blond hair stared up at him with a mixture of shock and anger. For a moment she was lost for words.
"Well don't ever come up behind me like that," she snapped. "Scared me nearly to death. I have a weak heart you know."
He nodded.
"Well what do you want Corbulo? I am not doing any more shagging today."
He shook his head, "I am not here for that."
"You don't find me attractive?" she replied raising her eyebrows.
"You are a beautiful lady," he lied. "But I need my money. It's important. Can you get it?"
She leaned forwards and sniffed at his breath. "Well at least you are not drunk anymore. How much do you need this time? There isn't much left you know."
"All of it," Corbulo replied. "I am going away for a while."
She studied him carefully but Corbulo looked deadly serious. When he had first come to live in the Subura and the whore had become his friend he had given her his army pension for safe keeping. It wasn't safe to leave the money in his apartment when he was away, nor was it wise to carry it on him and the woman had some wonderful hiding places.
She sighed and for a moment he thought she looked sad.
"I will fetch it for you. Stay here," she said avoiding his gaze. Then without another word she was gone. A few minutes later she was back carrying a small leather bag and a sword wrapped in leather. She handed them over and Corbulo peered inside the bag.
"Fuck," he muttered gloomily.
"I told you there was not much left."
She sighed again and looked around her. "So are you going to tell me where you are going?"
He unfolded the leather wrapping and gazed at his old Legionary sword. He'd had this sword for nearly twenty three years. The metal looked in good condition although the pommel was showing some signs of wear and tear. He took some coins from the bag, then closed it and slipped the purse into his tunic.
"It's better that you don't know," he said quietly. "There are some thugs after me. If they come asking tell them that I have gone back to Falacrinae." He pressed the coins into her hand and closed her fingers around them. "This is for you old friend. Thank you for everything that you have done. Look after yourself."
The prostitute opened her hand and looked down at the coins. Her face had grown resigned. She looked up and managed a faint smile.
"Alright Corbulo, I won't ask. But wherever you are going. Make something of yourself. You are still young enough."
"Bless you Aphrodite," he said as he pecked her on the cheek and slipped away into the street.
Chapter Eighteen - The waters of the Tiber
The temple of Aesculapius, the Greek god of healing, stood on Tiber island occupying the middle of the Tiber river. Corbulo paused on the Pons Fabricius and gazed across the green waters of the Tiber towards the temple. The Vestal had been right. He needed to heal his mind. He had been putting it off for far too long. There were few people about at this hour in
the afternoon. The sun was high in the sky and he felt her heat on his face. The temple was nearly four hundred years old, built in the time of the Republic when Rome still only controlled parts of central Italy. It was one of the oldest buildings still standing in the city. Once when a plague had struck Rome the city fathers had asked the priests what they should do and the answer had been to build the temple of Aesculapius. When the ship carrying the sacred statue of the god arrived in Rome from the Greek city of Epidaurus, a snake was found onboard and promptly swam ashore on Tiber island. The temple had been built where the snake had rested.
Corbulo stared at the temple. His mind seemed faraway. Then he started out across the stone bridge. Inside the temple he halted before the statue of the god. The stone manlike figure seemed to be leaning on a staff that resembled a snake. A few priests were polishing the temple floor and a real snake lay coiled in a circle in one corner. He seemed to be the only visitor. Corbulo looked up at the statue and then slowly got down on his knees and lowered his head.
"Here me honoured Aesculapius," he murmured. "I know that I do not deserve your attention. I have not once visited your temple. I have not once made an offering to you so if you will not help I will understand." Corbulo paused. He was staring at the ground as he struggled with the words. "But please hear me now. I need your help. I have not been a good father nor have I been a good husband. I beat my son, I drank away my pay and pension, I was unfaithful to my wife." He took a deep breath. "She killed herself because of me. I am responsible for her death and I am responsible for driving away my son. I do love them and for what it is worth, I am sorry."
The stone statue of Aesculapius was silent. The priests were still busy scrubbing the floor. Corbulo suddenly gasped. He took another deep breath. Marcus would be twenty by now. He had not seen his son in three years, ever since Marcus had told him to his face that he never wanted to see him again. I was more of a man to her than you ever were! The boys furious retort had struck deep and the wound had never properly closed. The drinking, the fighting, the whoring, it had all been to try and forget that pain, that searing, burning guilt. Corbulo's hand trembled as he ran his fingers across his face. He had been so wrapped up in his own affairs that he'd hardly had any time for the boy. He hardly knew his son.
He looked up at the statue with moist eyes. "Forgive me Marcus, please forgive me for what I did to you and your mother. I beg you."
He rose to his feet. The priests paid him no attention as he left the temple and walked down to the river bank. He looked up at the blue sky. Life had not much more to offer him. He was too old to serve in the army. His teeth were starting to fall out and he was nearly broke. Death was not too far away. He had maybe a couple of years left, maybe five if he looked after himself. He paused at the river's edge. Then slowly he began to undress. When he was stark naked he carefully piled his clothes together and stepped out into the water. The current was strong and he had to brace himself. On the Pons Fabricius a few people had stopped to watch. When he was neck deep in the river he halted. Then he pitched forwards. His head went under and everything turned murky. He was in a cool, dark world. He felt the tug of the current and the sharpness of the stones cutting into his feet. He opened his mouth and started to shout. The shout echoed of the temple walls as he erupted from the water sending droplets flying in all directions. He spluttered, sucked more air into his lungs and roared and bellowed as he allowed the pain and guilt of many years to finally burst through into his mind. When it was over his eyes were large and scary and his hands and body were trembling.
"Forgive me Marcus," he whispered.
Chapter Nineteen - A Roman triumph
Corbulo stood on the steps of the Capitoline hill staring down into the forum. It was mid morning. He looked like a new man. His untidy stubble had gone and he was clean shaven and his hair was neatly trimmed. In a bath house he had given himself a proper wash, cut his finger nails and had rubbed ointments into his body until every muscle was aching and glowing. Now as he stood waiting he hardly felt the fabric of his new dark grey tunic or his new leather shoes. He had burned his old clothes and shoes beside the Tiber. His old army sword that the whore had returned to him hung from his belt in a new sheath and he had tied his money pouch around his neck. He stood looking down into the crowds, searching the faces of the expectant populace. The forum was packed and they were all waiting for just one thing.
In a corner a man was standing on a barrel addressing the crowds in a loud voice. He was predicting the end of the world but the crowds were not listening. A group of bankers were trying to attract business by holding up bags of coins and rattling them in the air but no one was interested. The dozens of small market stalls were the only ones doing a brisk trade as the people bought refreshments as they stood waiting. All eyes were on the Senate House. The doors to the building had been closed for nearly an hour. The debate was still not finished.
Looming behind Corbulo was the great temple of Jupiter, the patron god of Rome. White marble pillars stood like sentries in a long row and on the highest point of the roof a chariot drawn by four horses glared down upon the eternal city. In the temple itself white bulls would be sacrificed after each triumph to beg Jupiter to sustain Rome's military victories. To Corbulo's right, the great imperial palace of the Emperor sat high upon the crest of the hill flanking the forum below. Beyond the Palatine would be the Circus Maximus and to the south along the Sacred Way he could see the towering Coliseum.
As he stood waiting he remembered the last triumph through the city. It had taken place just under a year ago. He had stood beside the Triumphal gate in the city's wall, the gate that was only ever opened for a triumph. First into the city had been the Senators and the Magistrates of Rome. They had walked into the city dressed in their fine togas followed by the prisoners of war. At the sight of the prisoners the crowds had started to laugh. Corbulo had not joined them for he could not bring himself to mock a Roman triumph. He had known too many men who had died to give Rome her glory and power. No, making a mockery of Rome was best left to the new Emperor Domitian who had followed the prisoners, riding in a golden chariot drawn by four horses and surrounded by his Lictors. Domitian had returned from campaign against the Chatti in Germania claiming great victories whilst he had achieved nothing of the sort. His triumph had been a publicity stunt, nothing more and it had angered Corbulo for it insulted the honour and dignity of the city. The prisoners paraded through Rome, that day, had been German slaves purchased in the markets and actors dressed up to look like wild Germanic warriors. The show had been a farce. The crowds that had lined the streets had not been fooled and some bold spirits had even jeered the Emperor as he had ridden past.
Suddenly his attention was drawn to the Senate House. The doors had been flung open and the Senators in their purple striped Toga's were pouring out. An expectant hush descended on the crowd.
"No triumph, there will be no triumph," a Senator cried. The crowds groaned in disappointment and here and there a few voices cried out in protest. The crowds always loved a Roman hero and Agricola was such a man. His splendid victory at Mons Graupius had been the talk of the city. Corbulo pushed his way through the crowds and down the steps leading to the forum. He had spent the morning asking anyone who looked like they knew something, for details on the great battle that had been fought in Caledonia. But the details had been sketchy. His old Legion the Twentieth had been there and so too had the Ninth but most of the fighting had been conducted by the Batavian auxiliary Cohorts. Casualties appeared to be light and the enemy army had been annihilated. Caledonia had been conquered and hostages had been taken. Agricola should have had his triumph Corbulo thought as he struggled through the crowds. Domitian had no doubt vetoed the idea because he feared that the people of Rome may compare his own achievements unfavourably with those of Agricola who had after all managed to win a proper, glorious victory. If the people of Rome sensed that Domitian was vulnerable and weak there would be riots. Up ahead the crowd sudden
ly began to part.
"Make way for the Emperor," a Lictor cried out. Corbulo stepped quickly aside as the first troop of Praetorians marched by. The crash of their hob nailed sandals on the paving stones was enough to scatter the crowd. They were followed by a few Senators and then finally by slaves from the imperial household carrying a closed litter. The litter was protected on all sides by stony faced and full armed and armoured Praetorian guards. The procession did not pause but swept passed quickly as if Domitian was eager to get back to his palace.
"He doesn't even dare show his face," a man beside Corbulo muttered shaking his head.
Corbulo rejoined the throng of people in the forum. Suddenly the crowd cheered and raised their arms in the air. A man had appeared in the Senate House doorway. The man raised his arm in salute and the crowds cheered him again. It was Agricola. He was clad in a simple white toga and accompanied by a single slave. Agricola smiled and stepped out onto the Sacred Way, the road that led from the Capitoline hill to the Coliseum. As Agricola made his way through the crowds the people closest to him reached out to touch his toga. An old man shouted a blessing and a woman held out her baby for the victorious general to kiss. Following on behind their patron was a large group of Agricola's clients.
Agricola had nearly left the forum when Corbulo stepped out in front of him and barred the way. Agricola halted in surprise. He stared at Corbulo and then his mouth opened and he grunted in astonishment.
"I know you," Agricola exclaimed as he tried to recall a name.
"My name is Corbulo, watch commander of the 1st Cohort, Twentieth Legion Sir. We shared a boat at Mona during the battle with the druids. You were a young Tribune then."
"That's right," Agricola's eyes gleamed as he remembered. "We were the first boat to land on the enemy beach if I remember correctly."
Caledonia Page 8
