Rome's Sacred Flame

by Robert Fabbri

  ‘It’s just the Capitoline and the Quirinal that are safe,’ Gaius said, relief in his voice. ‘That’s very lucky for us; and for Caenis.’

  Vespasian shook himself out of the morbid fascination that had held him spellbound in a way that the flames of the hearth-fire can entrance on a winter’s night, multiplied a hundredfold and then again. ‘We must try to get over there as soon as we can get away from the Emperor. Flavia will be beside herself with worry; I told her that I’d be back yesterday.’ He looked back out over the city and shook his head as the heat seared his face. ‘I never thought that a fire at the southern end of the Circus Maximus could end up threatening the Quirinal; it’s almost as if it’s been helped on its way.’

  Gaius thought for a few moments. ‘What did Nero mean when he said that the Palatine was supposed to be safe and that he’d given orders that it was to be protected at all costs?’

  ‘Just that. He’d told me, as leader of the senatorial delegation, to send orders back to Rome to do everything possible to protect his property.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Gaius took Sabinus’ arm and pulled him close. ‘When did you receive your brother’s message to make sure that the Palatine was preserved at all costs?’

  ‘At what passed for dusk yesterday.’

  Gaius looked back at Vespasian. ‘You see.’

  Vespasian saw immediately. ‘Of course; Nero would have known that my message would not have got back to Rome before Tribune Subrius left with the news that the Palatine was going to burn.’ Vespasian glanced over to the Emperor aghast. ‘He must have been referring to a previous order, one given earlier, before we arrived, before I told him that there was a fire. Which means ...’ Vespasian could not bring himself to say what the implication was.

  ‘It would look that way.’

  Vespasian was incredulous. ‘He wouldn’t, would he?’

  ‘Why not? He’s done just about everything else.’

  ‘I mean, why would he?’

  Gaius shrugged. ‘The gods alone know.’

  Sabinus looked between his uncle and brother. ‘Are you accusing Nero of starting this?’

  ‘Not of starting it,’ Vespasian replied, still in shock at the magnitude of the crime that had been committed. ‘He personally couldn’t have started it as he was in Antium.’

  ‘But he could have ordered it.’

  ‘Yes, Sabinus; and we know he’s perfectly capable of doing such a thing if it suited his purposes.’ He slapped his palm on his forehead as a thought hit him. ‘On our way up to see you on the evening of the fire we passed Epaphroditus receiving an offspring of Vesta’s Flame from the Vestals. I didn’t think much of it at the time.’

  ‘But then, Epaphroditus was down at Antium when we arrived the following afternoon,’ Gaius said.

  ‘To report to his master that the fire had been set in a new bakery that had been opened solely for that specific purpose; which is why he was so calm about us not giving Nero the news until he had finished the performance: he knew that Nero was already aware of the fire and didn’t intend to do anything about it, so therefore why disturb him?’

  ‘Nymphidius was in on it too,’ Sabinus said. ‘Which is why he gave conflicting orders to his Vigiles. You’re right; this was arson on a massive scale only it’s gone wrong as the Palatine caught. When I went up there after you had left with the delegation, yesterday morning, I found almost half the full force of the Vigiles just keeping as much water on the buildings as possible. Nymphidius was there shouting and kicking; I couldn’t get any sense out of him. I certainly couldn’t get him to use his men to help make fire-breaks. And, come to think of it, Tigellinus only ordered the Praetorian Guard to help when the Palatine was threatened and not before. He’s burnt my house down and for what?’ Sabinus leant closer to Gaius and Vespasian. ‘Now what are you thinking about Piso and the rest?’

  But Nero coming to a decision prevented them from answering. ‘Prefect Sabinus, clear everyone out of the city below equestrian rank who is not a member of a senatorial or equestrian household or is in the Praetorian Guard, the Urban Cohorts or the Vigiles; we must prevent looting. No man is even to search the ruins of his own house on pain of death.’

  ‘And the fire, Princeps?’

  Nero pointed down to the figures struggling in the smoke. ‘Leave that to Nymphidius and Tigellinus; they know what they’re doing. I will make this my base; send your reports here. I want to know the extent of the destruction for we must plan a new city, one that will rise out of the ashes of old Rome; a city that will be worthy of my greatness where I can live with space and beauty all around me and not cooped up on a hill. The city I shall build will be the wonder of the world and it shall be called Neropolis.’ He flung his arms in the air as if he was expecting a huge ovation but his entourage just stared at him, rendered speechless by the monstrosity of the thought: to change the sacred name of Rome was unthinkable and yet the Emperor had just mooted it.

  Nero stared at all the horrified faces looking at him and chose to misread the expressions. ‘I astound you with my vision, I can see, my friends. Leave me now to formulate my plans to bring about the birth of Neropolis.’

  ‘I thought you were dead; burnt alive!’ Flavia flung herself at Vespasian as he came through the vestibule of his house and on into the atrium. ‘Where have you been? Why didn’t you send a message? I don’t know what to do; the fire’s getting so close and the city is full of cutthroats and looters.’

  Vespasian held his wife as she sobbed onto his chest, relieved that she had not chosen the more violent reaction that he had been prepared for as he came through the door. ‘We’ll take everything that we can and go to the Aquae Cutillae estate if and when the fire starts to threaten the Quirinal. I’ll have Cleon get the horses and carts ready in the yard at the back.’

  ‘I’ve already done that,’ Flavia said, her voice muffled by his toga. ‘And I’ve also had all our precious things loaded on, as well as your library.’

  ‘My library?’ Vespasian felt unusual affection for his wife. ‘That was very considerate of you, my dear. Thank you.’

  ‘Domitilla and Cerialis have already gone to their estate; they just stayed here for one night. We’re all ready to leave; I was considering leaving earlier seeing as I didn’t know what had happened to you, but there is a problem.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Domitian’s missing again. He disappeared soon after the fire started.’

  Vespasian sighed; his youngest son’s behaviour had always been an issue. ‘I imagine he’s enjoying the chaos. The Quirinal isn’t in danger of being threatened yet; we won’t be thinking of leaving for a while. He’s got plenty of time to turn up; although when he does he’s going to wish he hadn’t.’

  Flavia looked up at Vespasian. ‘Why? What has he done now?’

  Vespasian paused, unwilling at first to share what he knew with his wife and then deciding that she had a right to know. ‘Tigran questioned Decianus’ freedman, the one who did the transaction with the pearls; he also organised the burglary. Before he died he admitted that the person who told him where in the house they would be concealed was our own son, Domitian.’

  ‘Why would he do such a thing?’ Flavia asked for at least the tenth time, wiping her eyes as much against the fumes in the air as to stem her tears. ‘He’s twelve; he surely knows that loyalty to the family is the most important thing in life?’

  ‘My dear, stop going on about it,’ Vespasian said, sharper than he meant to, as he sorted through legal documents in the tablinum with an eye to what needed to be saved and what might be better being lost, should the worst occur. ‘The fact is that he did and I like it no more than you do, but, at the moment, there are far more important things to worry about than the hideous betrayal of trust by our youngest son. Did Domitilla and Cerialis manage to save much?’

  ‘Only what they and their household could carry and that they very nearly lost to muggers in the cha
os; apparently the city is full of gangs taking advantage of people fleeing with their valuables. Cerialis, along with some of his freedmen and a few friends of Magnus’ who were helping them, fought them off and killed a couple. They were fortunate in that respect but they had to leave all their furniture behind so that’s all gone. Domitilla was in tears as she had only recently redecorated and some of the pieces were very valuable; she’d also just had new frescoes done in the triclinium at great expense.’

  ‘Yes, well, at least they got out in time; furniture is a small expense when compared to the cost of rebuilding the house.’

  Flavia wrung her hands and looked up at Vespasian. ‘How will we afford it if the fire reaches us?’

  Vespasian put down the document he was perusing. ‘We’ll manage somehow. I’ll just have to try to squeeze more out of the estates and, with luck, Hormus’ business will do well in Africa; just before I left he wrote to tell me that he had negotiated the purchase of one hundred breeding females and a dozen males from Egypt. They should have arrived by now. Once the locals see just how better suited to the conditions in Africa they are compared to horses, the business should flourish.’

  ‘But that could take years.’

  ‘What can I say, Flavia? The city is burning down around us; people are losing everything. At least we have two estates and a burgeoning business in Africa.’

  There was a discreet cough at the entrance; Vespasian looked up. ‘What is it, Cleon?’

  ‘Magnus is here, master.’

  ‘Show him in.’

  Cleon bowed and a few moments later a very blackened Magnus appeared; the normally luxuriant hair on his forearms had been singed away and his glass eye was smeared with ash. ‘I’ve got good news, sir.’

  Vespasian felt his heart jump. ‘You’ve got the pearls!’

  ‘No, not quite; but I know where they are. Decianus wouldn’t have moved them yesterday when he left his house, just before the fire took the Aventine, simply on the basis that they were safer in the pond than anywhere else and he could reclaim them once the fire was out.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because it’s the obvious thing to do, what with all the lawlessness at the moment. It’s not too bad here but on the Aventine and the Caelian anyone who looks wealthy was being attacked as they tried to save their possessions; there were huge gangs going around taking anything they wanted; no one was in control. Decianus got mugged like the rest of them. I watched it and he gave up his strongbox happily, which means that there was very little in it. So I think that we might find more than just the pearls at the bottom of his pond.’

  ‘You’re right, Magnus; we just have to get there first.’

  ‘Exactly, sir. But I’m afraid that it’s going to have to be just you and me; Tigran can’t spare any of the lads as the flames are getting very close to a lot of South Quirinal Brotherhood property.’

  ‘Where’s Decianus now?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly, but he’s certainly left the city.’

  ‘In which case, I’m staying, whatever happens. We’ll wait for the blaze to die down and beat him back onto the Aventine.’

  Smoke hung in the air that had become still since the intensity of the flames had diminished. Whether the flames had eased due to the wind fading or the other way around, no one either knew or cared; the plain fact was that on the evening of the third day of the fire, it seemed to be under control. The destruction was confined to an area not much larger than the sea of fire that Vespasian had witnessed from the Gardens of Maecenas two days previously. Two days in which he had watched the progress of the fire either from his house or Caenis’ as it crept closer to the Quirinal, gradually making its way from the Subura, up the Vicus Longus, but, thankfully, never managing to cross the Alta Semita, on the northern side of which lay Pomegranate Street. The combined efforts of the Guard, the Urban Cohorts and the Vigiles, over twenty thousand men in total, had been enough to turn the tide against the fire by pulling down hundreds of buildings and denying it the sustenance it needed. But still there were pockets burning, although they were small and manageable, and Vespasian and Magnus passed many bucket-chains as they made their way through the ruined city as a false dusk dwelt upon it.

  Vespasian could but marvel at the completeness of the destruction in certain areas: blackened, smouldering masonry lay on the ground as if it had been levelled by a huge earthquake. Nothing remained intact of the Circus Maximus as all the beams that had supported its huge mass had perished in the flames and the building was now so much rubble in the shape of the circus.

  The fire itself had not managed to make it across the Forum Romanum; the Senate House and the Aemilian Basilica next to it were both safe, as were the Tabularium and all the buildings on the Capitoline Hill behind it as well as the Quirinal, and it had been with great relief that Vespasian had watched the threat to his property recede.

  The Aventine was a wasteland of jagged forms, charred and wreathed in a pall of smoke and steam. Glowing piles of embers still emitted substantial heat and added to the fumes as the blackened corpses of the old, weak or plain unfortunate began to exude the reek of death and decay. Live human forms flitted here and there through the dim light, sometimes in groups and sometimes singularly or in pairs; none threatened Vespasian and Magnus, as they picked their way through the detritus, for they openly carried, contrary to the law, swords that were forbidden to all in the city other than members of the Praetorian Guard or the Urban Cohorts.

  ‘The Emperor’s injunction against all but the élite and their households leaving the city doesn’t seem to be holding,’ Vespasian observed as a group of feral youths, sacks over their shoulders, appeared out of the miasma, took one look at their unsheathed weapons and scampered off.

  ‘Everyone’s too busy fighting the fire to patrol the streets.’ Magnus looked about at the rubble strewn all about, underfoot. ‘Not that we have streets any more in the real sense of the word, if you take my meaning?’

  And Vespasian did, only too well. ‘To rebuild this you would have to start right from the beginning; you wouldn’t have to keep to the original plan.’ The audacity and ruthlessness of what had been attempted struck him with a mixture of shock and wonder. ‘You could build anything you wanted in all the areas around the Palatine. Nero’s going to have his wish.’

  ‘What’s his wish?’

  ‘Neropolis.’

  ‘Neropolis? Do you mean to say that he started this so that he could build his own city on the rubble?’

  ‘That’s what it looks like, except that the Palatine was meant to be an island in the flames; although how Nero expected that to happen the gods only know.’

  ‘Well, that explains the strange things that me and the lads witnessed over the last couple of days. After we left you and Sabinus at the Senate House we came back here to wait for Decianus to make his move and also to help your daughter and her husband get to the Quirinal, and all I can say is that there were almost as many people trying to hinder people fighting the fire as there were tackling the flames themselves.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ Vespasian muttered as they passed between the remaining stumps of the Appian Aqueduct, clambering over the still hot rubble of its fallen channel, shattered and brought to the ground, after almost four hundred years, by extreme heat.

  ‘Yeah, well, they was running around saying that they had orders from very highly placed individuals that the blaze was to be allowed to spread in certain directions. I even saw one group preventing some Vigiles from pulling down a couple of buildings for fire-breaks. They were all men of military age and had more than the whiff of the Praetorian Guard about them. Anyhow, once the fire had really caught and the Aventine was completely alight as well as the Subura all these groups started to disappear and, instead, we seem to have more men fighting the fire.’

  ‘Or containing it to the extent that Nero wanted.’

  ‘That’s what it seems to look like, now.’

  Vespasi
an knew it to be the truth and wondered just how the Emperor thought he would cover up his atrocious crime, or was he, perhaps, arrogant enough to think that he did not have to? What was certain was that whatever Nero thought would have no grounding in reality as had become abundantly clear with his growing list of outrages.

  The shadowy sight through the fumes of a group of half a dozen spectral looters scrambling over the ruins of Decianus’ house focused Vespasian and Magnus’ minds back to the task in hand. ‘We need to get rid of them sharpish,’ Magnus said, ‘before one decides to have a nice little cool off in the fish pond.

  Vespasian did not argue; he strode forward to the rubble and, brandishing his sword in one hand, began to climb using his other to steady himself. Magnus followed, cursing under his breath as the heated masonry scalded his exposed flesh. With smoke oozing from various smouldering piles within the burnt-out house, Vespasian and Magnus’ approach went unnoticed as the looters rummaged in the ruins of what had once been a dwelling way beyond their means.