Rome's Sacred Flame Read online

  No one could deny Nero.

  The judges were evidently of the same opinion and awarded the victor’s crown to the Emperor as soon as the applause, almost as long as the ode itself, had died away; and it was with an assumed air of humility and extravagant gestures of relief that Nero congratulated and commiserated with the other performers as he made his way towards the senatorial delegation now waiting for him in the orchestra.

  ‘My friends,’ Nero rasped, his weak voice stretched by such a long recital, ‘you do me honour to come all this way to witness my triumph. You must stay, there is plenty of room now that my villa has been completed; there are two more days of competition and I intend to enter both of them and would appreciate your support to help alleviate the nervousness of an artiste before a performance.’

  ‘Princeps,’ Vespasian replied, ‘would that we could. I’m sure that I speak for all here when I say that nothing would give us more pleasure having arrived just in time to witness your performance; none of us has seen the like.’

  Nero made a show of modesty. ‘You do me too much kindness; I must insist that you stay.’

  ‘Of course we shall if you insist, Princeps. However, before that is decided I must tell you that we are a delegation sent by the senior consul and the Urban prefect to beg you to return at once to the city where we have urgent need of you. I have to tell you, Princeps, that the Circus Maximus, the Aventine, parts of the Caelian, the granaries and the emporium are all burning.’

  Nero looked confused. ‘What is that to do with me? Surely that is the responsibility of the Urban prefect and the prefect of the Vigiles? Besides, I can’t come now. I’ve got more competitions to enter.’

  ‘I understand, Princeps, but we need your advice and leadership to tackle the blaze; it’s spreading out of control. And the prefect of the Vigiles is being less than clear with the orders that he’s been issuing.’

  Nero was unconcerned. ‘My advice is not to let it spread to my property on the Palatine and the Esquiline as well as over the river on the Vatican; that’s the best advice I can give. Then once you’ve secured them I would advise you to make sure that your own properties don’t suffer too much damage. Send orders back to Rome to that effect. Epaphroditus!’

  ‘Yes, master,’ the freedman said, his voice unctuous as he stepped forward and bowed his head.

  ‘Have rooms prepared for the senators; they will stay for the next couple of days to watch my performances.’

  ‘Yes, master. And what should I say to the Jewish delegation waiting to see you?’

  Nero waved the idea away. ‘Tell them they’ll have to wait now until I have more time to listen to their whining. Procurator Florus had good reason to imprison those twelve priests they’re pleading for seeing as they refused to pay a new tax for religious reasons. They were lucky that he didn’t order their execution.’ Nero turned back to Vespasian. ‘You can go back to Rome after the competition, by which time I’m sure that the fire will have burnt itself out.’

  ‘But Princeps,’ Vespasian began but then stopped as Nero held up his hand.

  ‘My mind is made up, senator; there is no need to rush. My art must come first; I cannot deprive the people of the town of my birth the chance to share my talent. Rome can wait until my song is sung.’

  The food was exquisite, the music soft and sublime and the wine delicate and fine, chilled by snow brought down from the north and stored in the ice cellars beneath the villa.

  Vespasian, along with the rest of the delegation made a show of eating and drinking copiously, laughing at Nero’s jokes and trying to ignore the fact that he was wearing women’s clothes and was more often than not rubbing his buttocks against his new husband’s groin as he reclined on the couch behind him. Of Poppaea Sabina there was no sign; however, Sporus, he too dressed in stola and palla and wigged extravagantly, waited on Nero, looking remarkably like the Empress.

  ‘It’s bizarre in the extreme, don’t you think, dear boy?’ Gaius whispered in Vespasian’s ear as the boy bent down to serve Nero more wine.

  ‘What, feasting as Rome burns?’

  ‘No, no, although I grant you that shows a remarkable lack of concern on the Emperor’s part. No, I was talking about that young lad’s resemblance to the Empress. Ravishing.’

  ‘I would have thought that the Empress wouldn’t be to your taste, Uncle?’

  ‘That goes without saying, dear boy; but that lad, on the other hand, is completely to my taste. It’s what’s in the loincloth that counts.’ Gaius tore his eyes away from such tempting but dangerous beauty and concentrated his attention on a dish of seafood served with a thick cumin sauce.

  ‘You have an interest in my slave, Senator Pollo?’ Nero asked.

  Gaius spluttered a half-eaten prawn onto the napkin spread on the couch before him. ‘Indeed not, Princeps; at least not a personal one. I was just admiring his ... er, his countenance.’

  ‘Is that what you call it? I call it his arse.’ Nero slapped the item in question, causing Sporus to squeal, and broke into a raucous laugh followed by all present, even Gaius who was only too pleased to have a diversion from his embarrassment.

  ‘But that reminds me,’ Nero said, controlling his mirth at last, ‘coveting things that are not your own.’ His eyes went to Vespasian. ‘I believe that you still have those pearls that I gave you to secure the release of all the citizens enslaved in the Kingdom of the Garamantes. Is that not so, Vespasian?’

  ‘I do, Princeps; and I shall return them to you at the first opportunity. I have only just returned from Africa, as you know, and you have been so busy celebrating your joyous marriage and covering yourself with glory on the stage.’

  ‘Yes, yes; I understand. Bring them to me when I’m back in Rome.’

  ‘I shall also bring the two former Suphetes of Leptis Magna who sold legionaries into slavery.’

  ‘Have you proof?’

  ‘Yes, Princeps; two of the legionaries in question made it out of the kingdom and are ready to testify against them.’

  ‘Then why bring these Suphetes to me? They should be dead already.’

  ‘They are citizens, Princeps, and claim the right to be tried by Caesar.’

  ‘Then advise them, instead, to claim their citizen’s right to suicide, unless they would prefer me to condemn them to the beasts as they should be for such a crime. And as for the two legionaries who became slaves, they’re released from service as we can’t have the taint of slavery in the ranks. Just bring me the pearls.’

  ‘It will be my pleasure, Princeps.’

  This seemed to satisfy Nero and he returned his focus to his wine and some energetic spooning with his husband.

  ‘Was that a wise promise to make, dear boy?’ Gaius asked in a whisper.

  ‘What else could I do, Uncle?’

  ‘Nothing, I suppose; you’ll just have to pray to your guardian god that Magnus is successful.’

  ‘I’m praying to all of them.’

  ‘As shall I, dear boy, as shall I.’

  Vespasian’s concern over his predicament was put to one side as Epaphroditus hurried through the door with a Praetorian tribune, dusty from travel, close behind him.

  ‘Master,’ the freedman said, ‘Tribune Subrius has been sent from Rome with the latest report; he asks to speak with you alone.’

  ‘Alone? Nonsense. Tribune, say what you have to say in front of all. There is nothing to hide; we’re certain that all is being taken care of.’

  Subrius snapped a very smart salute. ‘Yes, Caesar. I’ve been sent by the prefects of the Praetorian Guard, the senior consul and the Urban prefect. The situation has deteriorated considerably since that delegation left at dawn this morning. The wind has veered around to the northeast and the fire has now taken the whole of the Circus Maximus, parts of which are now collapsing. The entire Aventine and Caelian Hills are burning as is the lower part of the Esquiline.’

  ‘The Palatine?’ Nero almost shouted the question.

  The Tribune cle
ared his throat. ‘It was still safe, Caesar, when I left but—’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘But Prefect Sabinus told me to tell you that despite all their efforts the Palatine would be burning by the time I reached you. The fire is now threatening the heart of Rome, Caesar; that was his message.’

  Nero jumped to his feet, his face a study in horror. ‘But that can’t be; the Palatine was supposed to be safe. I gave orders that it was to be protected at all costs.’

  ‘It’s the wind, Caesar; it fuels the flames.’

  Nero looked about him, his chest heaving with barely repressed sobs, tears welling. ‘My beautiful things: my clothes, my jewellery! Out! Everyone, out! We leave at dawn tomorrow. I must save my things.’

  CHAPTER XI

  IT WAS NOT so much the fury of the flames or the strength of the wind that the furnace was sucking into its blazing heart on the Aventine that shocked Vespasian and all who accompanied the Emperor, it was the intensity of the heat. Even with their river craft keeping to the west bank of the Tiber, the senators flinched at the wrath of it as it pounded their faces, forcing them to squint and shut their mouths, such was its might as they passed the granaries and warehouses now lost to a storm of fire.

  Nero whimpered and cowered behind his husband, even though he himself was now dressed as a man. Peering out from behind Doryphorus as the boats cleared the Aventine and approached the Forum Boarium, Nero shaded his face with a hand and looked beyond the Circus Maximus, its shape now indiscernible, to the Palatine; but there was nothing solid to be seen. Flame blended with flame so that the imperial palaces seemed to be no more than a hill of fire extending up from the conflagration consuming what had once been the biggest construction in Rome. Thus the Aventine and Palatine Hills burned; and then beyond this terrible sight the Caelian, too, was completely afire.

  At the same time hypnotic, magnificent and terrifying, the combined fury of the blaze on the three southern hills of the city captivated Vespasian and he could not tear his scorching eyes away from the sight. It was with some relief that the boats passed beneath the two bridges crossing the Tiber from the Forum Boarium for the heat lessened and the eyes were rested. But as they once again came out into the open the scale of the tragedy could not fail but draw them back. No one said a word as the flotilla of twenty small river vessels rowed against the current up the Tiber; all just sat and stared at the horror.

  It was not just the visual but also the aural that horrified: above the rush of the wind, the rumble of collapsing masonry, the crackling, spitting and hissing of thousands of tons of timber being consumed together, there was another sound; a sound Vespasian did not notice at first but one that soon insinuated itself into his consciousness: the wail of a million people. Once he was aware of it, Vespasian could not ignore that wail as it seemed to soar above all other sound such was its rawness and desperation. And the people issuing it were everywhere that there was not fire, fleeing from its path; they swarmed over the bridges, they rushed across open ground, they stampeded through narrow alleys and pushed through the city’s gates, trampling the frail, infirm and young underfoot. All the while every man, woman and child wailed in despair for the fire was gaining, leaping from one building to the next so that it had now claimed the southern end of the Forum Romanum, and within it, at the foot of the Palatine, the Temple of Vesta was now ablaze.

  It was this that had confirmed to all who saw it or heard of it that Rome was lost, for should the Sacred Flame be extinguished then the city would most certainly fall; and where was the flame now if not consumed by the fire, melded with it so that its potency now added to the blaze that incinerated the city it was meant to protect? Who could fight such a fire imbued as it was with the power of Vesta? What was there left to do other than flee?

  The whole city wailed in despair; the whole city, that is, with the exception of the Emperor and the senators who accompanied him; they could do nothing but stare in silence. And it was in silence that they arrived at the landing stage on the Campus Martius whence they had departed the previous dawn. There, standing, grim and covered in ash, was Sabinus; gone was any marking of rank for he wore nought but a pair of sandals and a singed tunic; the left-hand side of his hair had been seared away and there were raw blisters on his arms and legs. Mucianus stood next to him, his appearance much the same; their fatigue was evident to all. They caught ropes flung by the crews and the boats were hauled in and secured.

  ‘Hail, Caesar,’ Sabinus croaked, his voice dry with fumes and the issuing of orders. ‘You return to us not a moment too soon. We have all the Vigiles, the Urban Cohorts and almost the entire Praetorian Guard at work tearing down firebreaks and dousing important buildings in the fire’s path with water in an attempt to prevent them from catching. What are your orders, Princeps?’ He reached down, extending his arm to help the Emperor disembark.

  Nero looked around; panic flickered in his eyes, and he said nothing as he heaved himself up onto the jetty. Vespasian followed, helping Gaius lever his bulk out of the boat as the rest of the party landed. Although there was, as yet, no fire on the Campus Martius, smoke clouded the air. The Capitoline Hill, to the right, was hazed so that only the faint outline of the Temples of Jupiter and Juno, both still untouched, could be made out; they were framed by the glow of the flames beyond. Indeed, the whole sky above the city glowed red as Vulcan’s furnace.

  ‘Your orders, Princeps?’ Sabinus repeated.

  Nero opened and closed his mouth a few times, evidently unable to think of anything practical that could be done that was not already in action. ‘I need to see for myself the extent of the flames; we will go around the city to my gardens on the Esquiline Hill. I shall observe from the tower there.’

  It was without imperial dignity that Nero made the journey across the Campus Martius through throngs of refugees. There was no imperial litter and no time to fetch one; accompanied by the senators and the dozen Germanic Bodyguards who had travelled with him from Antium, Nero walked through his people, who stretched out their hands in appeal for they had nothing, no food, no shelter and no hope.

  Nero made a show of weeping as he walked, displaying his tears to all. ‘Your Emperor is amongst you now; he will share your grief and hardship. My home on the Palatine has been destroyed as have yours. I understand your woes.’

  ‘What are we going to do with all these people, dear boys, eh?’ Gaius asked as he looked around in amazement at just how many there were; every open space, every temple step, the Theatre of Pompey, the Flaminian Circus, the baths, everywhere, there were people. Nowhere was without a group of wretched humanity, the lucky ones clutching a few possessions but many had nothing; and to have nothing in a city burning to the ground was a very bleak prospect indeed.

  ‘I’ve no idea, Uncle.’ Vespasian was equally astounded by the multitude. ‘I thought the Circus Maximus held a lot of people but this is far more.’

  Sabinus rubbed his eyes, trying to blink the caustic fumes from them. ‘The Subura caught this morning and what with all the southern quarters on fire the people had no choice but to come this way. I think it’s the first time that we have become aware of just how many people are crammed into the Subura, seeing them all together.’

  ‘I just don’t believe that there could be so many people; where do they all live?’

  ‘Four or five people to a room in four- or five-storey tenement blocks and you soon get the numbers up,’ Sabinus pointed out.

  ‘Prefect Sabinus,’ Nero said, stopping and turning. ‘I must do something for the people.’

  ‘Indeed, Princeps,’ Sabinus said, unable to conceal his surprise.

  ‘I will open my gardens by the Vatican Hill and my circus next to them; have a proclamation to that effect read out as soon as possible.’

  ‘Yes, Princeps.’

  ‘That’s an uncharacteristic display of compassion from the man who has lived entirely for himself,’ Vespasian muttered to Gaius.

  ‘Haven’t we all, dear boy, haven�
��t we all; at least for ourselves and our family.’

  ‘There’s the difference: we tend not to kill our families.’

  Nero resumed his progress. ‘I will have a cohort of the Praetorians stationed there to keep order and to make sure that there isn’t any damage done and evict those that cause any.’

  Gaius chuckled. ‘Ahh, that’s better.’

  *

  It had taken two hours to push through the scores of thousands of refugees and make their way around the Servian Walls, across the Via Nomenata at its junction with the Via Salaria, where Vespasian had first set eyes on Caenis on the day of his arrival in Rome. From then on the going became easier and they soon passed between the almost deserted camp of the Praetorians and the Viminal Gate and then, passing the Praetorian Cavalry stables, arrived at the Esquiline Gate; smoke from the fire burning on the lower part of the Esquiline thickened and made breathing unpleasant. But that was nothing to the shock of direct heat as they came through the gate and forwent the protection of the city walls. It slammed into Vespasian as if it were a physical thing and he almost staggered at its impact. Nero shrieked as the force of it hit him and held onto his husband’s arm. The party quickly turned to the right and, following a street between two lavish villas whose owners were in the process of loading their contents onto many wagons, came to the gardens.

  The Praetorian duty centurion unlocked the gates at the sight of the Emperor. Up through the terraced levels they went, past Maecenas’ Auditorium and Library and to the tower at the summit of the garden. With rasping breath they mounted the wooden stairs, Nero in the lead, each too busy with thoughts of what they would see to make conversation. Out into the open they came at one of the highest points in Rome and the sight took Vespasian’s already laboured breath away. Below them was a sea of fire, far larger than Vespasian had imagined when he beheld the Aventine, Palatine and Caelian conflagration from the river; then it had seemed like a hill of fire rising high into the sky, impressive in its height but revealing nothing of its true scale. Up here that scale was laid out for all to see, from the granaries and warehouses next to the Tiber all the way to the lower Esquiline where hundreds of silhouetted figures could be seen working within the swirling smoke, pulling down buildings and creating a break. But even as they watched, flames straddled the rubble, blown by the strong wind of the inferno, and attached themselves to a rickety tenement block whose dry timbers welcomed them and submitted to their power. That was the scale from west to east; from south to north it was of a similar size, reaching from the extension of the city outside the city walls to almost the Capitoline Hill. The Subura burned, as did the lower Viminal whilst its upper reaches smouldered.