Rome 64 AD
Dragus ran through the smoke filled courtyard towards the inner Temple. All around him flames were spewing out of the doorways and windows as the curtains and soft furnishings fed the inferno.
‘Rubria,’ he shouted, ‘Where are you?’
As no man had ever been privileged to enter the inner Temple he had never seen the layout with his own eyes though had heard the stories about what lay within. He recognised the central alter and glanced at the ironic sight of the small sacred fire still burning at its heart, whilst all around the building was ablaze.
‘Rubria!’ he shouted again, and stumbled through the Temple. The hole in the dome of the roof, designed for the lighter smoke of the sacred fire meant that some of the thicker black smoke escaped but the sheer volume caused by the burning fabrics meant that the room was quickly filling up with poisonous fumes.
‘Dragus,’ came a cry, ‘Help me.’
He spotted an archway at the rear of the Temple and ran towards it. Inside was a small, but ornate circular room with several niches built into the marble walls, each containing a wicker basket. To one side Dragus saw Rubria sat on the floor, cradling the head of the collapsed high Priestess in her lap. The old woman was completely motionless and her head was covered in blood.
‘What happened?’ he asked crouching down besides Rubria.
‘She fell!’ sobbed Rubria, ‘And hit her head on the pedestal.’ Dragus looked at the pedestal at the centre of the room. The tell tale sign of blood lay along the edge and on the floor at the base of the plinth. On top of the pedestal stood a jet black wooden statue that he knew, could only be the image of Pallus Athena. The Palladium!
‘She was trying to save the treasures,’ cried Rubria, ‘And fell trying to retrieve the image of the Goddess herself. Oh Dragus, What did she do to earn the mothers scorn? She was the most holy person I have ever met.’
Dragus looked at the entrance where the smoke from the outer Temple had started to roll across the ceiling of the treasure room.
‘Rubria,’ he said. ‘There is nothing we can do, she has gone. Come on, we have to get out of here.’
‘Why?’ she asked. ‘There is nothing left. My Sisters are safe and I have no future here. Leave me to travel to the Great Mother. My life is done.’
‘No,’ shouted Dragus. ‘Come with me, we may still make it. Once this fire is out they can rebuild the Temple. It has burned before but always arises out of the ashes. It will do so again.’
‘It may well do so, Dragus,’ she said, ‘But I will not be part of it. Nero has seen to that.’
‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
She looked up at him and wiped the tears from her eyes.
‘Do you want me to spell it out, Dragus?’ she sobbed, ‘Do you want to hear every sordid detail of how our glorious Emperor tore away the very innocence that makes a Vestal Virgin? He raped me, Dragus. What you see before you is no longer a Holy Priestess, pledged to serve the Goddess but nothing more than a mere woman, soiled and used by a madman. You see, Dragus, I cannot go with you. Either way lies death. At least in here I will end my days alongside the Goddess I love.’
Dragus glanced at the smoke now billowing into the room and realised he had little time. He grabbed her by the shoulders.
‘Now you listen to me, Priestess,’ he said. ‘I care not for what that bastard did, and I don’t know where your future lies. What I do know is that it does not end here. Do you think she would want this?’ he said pointing at the dead Priestess. ‘She fought to the end but fell short. You still have a chance and can carry out what she failed to do. Take this chance to save yourself and honour her name in the process.
Rubria looked up at him with doubt in her eyes.
‘But the treasures,’ she said, ‘She wanted to make sure they were safe. If I go with you, we have to take them with us.’
Dragus looked at the baskets in the alcoves.
‘There are too many,’ he said, ‘But I don’t think the flames will reach into the alcoves. There is nothing else in here to burn but we will die from the smoke if we don’t move.’
‘What about the Palladium?’ she asked, ‘It is made from wood and if the flames come it will burn. We cannot allow that to happen.’
‘Okay,’ said Dragus, ‘We will take the statue with us but we have to go now.’
Rubria looked fondly at the high Priestess and removed her own headdress to make it into a pillow for the dead woman’s head.
‘Forgive me, mother,’ she said and kissed her forehead gently.
‘Come on,’ said Dragus grabbing her arm, and led her out of the room, coughing the smoke from his lungs as he went. His left hand held Rubria’s arm, while his right, dragged the statue of Pallus Athena.
Outside the Forum, the sound of running soldiers echoed down the cobbled streets and a full Century of Praetorian guard appeared out of the darkness.
‘Make way!’ shouted the Optio in charge, and led the squad through the gathered throng to the gates of the Forum. Within minutes he had organised the civilians into a human chain from the nearest working faucet in the next square. Bucket after bucket of water was thrown on the nearest flames until they managed to get access to the courtyard.
‘First five contubernia,’ shouted the Optio, ‘Get into the Temple and find Dragus, the rest of us, let’s get this fucking fire out!’ Fifty men ran into the courtyard and they spread out to find their Centurion. Twenty minutes later the Optio kicked aside the smouldering remains of the wooden gates and led the rest of the Century into the compound to join their comrades. He spotted one of the Decurions and called him over for an update.
‘Any news?'
‘No, sir,’ came the answer. ‘There’s a body of some old crone in the inner Temple but apart from that, nothing.’
‘Impossible,’ said the Optio. ‘He has to be here somewhere. Check again.’
‘Yes sir,’ said the Decurion and turned to continue the search.
The sound of confusion came from behind him and an armed guard came through the gates, along with a Tribune, an officer from the palace.
‘What are you doing?’ he barked.
‘Putting the fire out, sir,’ answered the Optio, springing to attention.
‘On who’s orders?’
‘Nobody, sir, but Centurion Dragus is in here somewhere. We are trying to find him as we speak.’
‘Forget him,’ said the tribune. ‘Gather your men and return to the barracks.’
‘But sir…’
‘But nothing, just do as I say.’ He turned to his own squad. ‘You men, retrieve the treasures and take them to Nero’s quarters. He will look after them until the Temple can be restored.’ He turned back to the Optio.
‘You’ve had your orders, soldier. What are you waiting for?’
‘Nothing sir,’ said the Optio and turned to gather his men.
Dragus moved his cape from over his face and took a much needed breath. He moved his cramped position and kicked open the door of the store cupboard. Outside, in the slave quarters, the smoke had cleared though still stank of the fire.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘They’ve gone.’ He crawled out and stood up to stretch his legs. He had been in the tiny wine store for several hours, holding Rubria in his arms as they waited to either be burnt to death or choke on the stinking smoke. At one point he had covered their heads with his cape and prayed to Vesta when it had seemed impossible they were going to survive.
Rubria stayed where she was, her head held in her hands.
‘Why didn’t you call them?’ she asked quietly, referring to the soldiers they had heard in the room, hours earlier.
‘You know why,’ he said
‘Do I?’
‘If what you say is true, and I have no reason to disbelieve you, you would have been taken straight back into the custody of Nero. After that there would have been only one outcome.’
She looked up
‘Don’t you think I knew that before I came here?’ she asked. ‘I was well aware that I was signing my own death warrant but was willing to pay the price. I have done what I came to do. The treasures are safe, and the Sisters are all alive.’ She stopped suddenly and looked down in grief. ‘Well, most of them.’
‘You did what you could, Rubria,’ said Dragus.
‘It was not enough,’ she answered.
‘No matter,’ said Dragus, looking around the room. ‘What is this place?’
‘Servant’s quarters for the Pontifex Maximus.’
‘Is there a clothing store?’
‘I think so,’ she said, ‘Why?’
‘You are getting out of here.’
‘But there is nowhere to go.’
‘I will think of something,’ he said. ‘I am not going to stand back watch that maniac bury you alive.’
‘You are wasting your time,’ said Rubria, ‘I have spent most of my life in Vesta’s service. I wouldn’t last five minutes out on the streets.’
‘I know,’ he said, ‘That’s why I am coming with you.’
‘You, but you can’t,’ she said, ‘You are a Centurion in the Praetorian Guard. That would be desertion. You would be executed.’
‘It’s too late for that,’ he said, the die is cast. Whatever happens, our fates are sealed if we stay here, but first things first, we need to change our clothes.’
‘Why?’
‘How far do you think we would get like this?’ he asked.
Rubria looked at her filthy robes and then at his grubby armour.
‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said, ‘But there will only be slave tunics down here.’
‘Perfect,’ he said, ‘Come on, we have to get moving before they return.’
‘What about this,’ she asked, turning her gaze to the Palladium standing in the corner of the cupboard.
‘Leave it,’ he said. ‘The fire seems to be out, your task is complete.’
‘No,’ she said, ‘The Temple is a ruin and there is no sign of the sisters. If we leave it here who knows what will become of it? We have to take it with us.’
‘Rubria, it will be hard enough to stay alive, If we take this with us it will be impossible.’
‘I don’t care,’ she said, ‘I am not leaving it here for some passing thief. Either it comes with us or I stay here to make sure it reaches the hands of the Sisters.’
Dragus stared at Rubria for an age before realising she was deadly serious. Finally he picked up the Palladium and wrapped it in his cape.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘Have it your way, but can we get a move on? They could be back at any time.’
Rubria stood up and searched the store cupboards before finally returning with a couple of greying togas.
‘Best I can do,’ she said and they turned their backs to each other to get changed.
Finally they stood before each other, both dressed as servants. Dragus threw their old clothes in the wine store and shut the door.
‘May buy us some time,’ he said, ‘Now, how do we get out of here?’
‘Can’t we just walk out?’ she asked.
‘Can’t risk it,’ he said, ‘There may still be soldiers out there. It doesn’t matter how we are dressed, they won’t be expecting anyone to be walking out of here.’
‘No, I mean through the servant’s door,’ she said.
‘There’s another entrance?’ he asked.
‘Of course,’ she said, ‘It’s not common knowledge but how do you think the servants carry the supplies in? We couldn’t have them soiling the Forum with their dirty feet now, could we?’ she asked ironically.
‘Right,’ he said, picking up his sword from the floor, ‘Let’s go.’ He placed the palladium under his other arm and followed Rubria out of the slave’s quarters and into dark streets of Rome.
The madness of the night continued as they slipped unnoticed into the crowds. Groups of citizens ran this way and that, panicking as they tried to save what precious few possessions they may have from the unrelenting flames. Soldiers joined peasants and freemen stood alongside slaves as human chains passed leather buckets from hand to hand. They barged their way through the throng, trying to find a way out of the confusion, but everywhere they went seemed to be affected by the fires sweeping across the eternal city. A soldier appeared out of the smoke, leading a group of slaves to some unknown destination. He grabbed Dragus by the arm.
‘You two,’ he ordered, ‘Come with me.’
‘We can’t,’ said Rubria, ‘We have to be somewhere else.’
‘I don’t care where you have to be,’ he said, ‘This is more important.’
Dragus kept his head turned slightly away, but despite this, a look of recognition crept into the soldier’s face.
‘Do I know you?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Dragus, ‘Like the lady said, we have to go. Now let us pass.’
‘Yes I do,’ said the soldier, ‘I have seen you in the barracks. You are a legionary, but why are you dressed like a slave?’ Suddenly the soldier’s eyes widened in shock.
‘Centurion, Dragus,’ he exclaimed, ‘I don’t understand. I was told you were dead. Perished in the Temple of Vesta along with…’ He stopped and stared back and fore between Dragus and Rubria before taking a step backwards.
‘Look, I don’t know what’s going on here,’ he said, ‘But I think you should come with me.’
‘Decurion,’ said Dragus. ‘There are things happening here you don’t understand. Now let us pass.’
‘I can’t do that, sir,’ said the soldier.
‘Yes you can,’ said Dragus, his tone lowering menacingly. ‘I still outrank you. Now step aside before this goes too far.’
The soldier went to draw his sword but before it had cleared the sheath, Dragus threw himself forward and tackled him to the ground. Although both soldiers had undergone similar training, only one had undergone any active service and there was only one possible outcome. All the stomach churning terror and self preserving battle rage he had experienced back on the killing fields of Britannia washed over him like a waterfall. Within seconds Dragus had overpowered the soldier and smashed his opponent’s head, over and over again onto the cobbled floor. Only the fact that the soldier was wearing a helmet prevented his head from being caved in.
‘Stop it!’ screamed Rubria, grabbing the back of his tunic, ‘You’re killing him.’
Dragus came back to his senses and let the man’s head go.
‘Shit,’ he murmured, ‘I’m sorry, I thought…’ He stepped back and Rubria crouched down besides the unconscious soldier.
‘He is still breathing,’ she said, ‘But needs a Medicus.’
Dragus turned to the group of slaves who had witnessed the scene in horror.
‘You there,’ he said, pointing at the nearest man, ‘Go and get help.’
‘Now!’ he screamed when the man didn’t move immediately. He turned to Rubria. ‘Priestess,’ he said. ‘Leave him. We have to get out of here.’
‘We can’t leave him,’ she said, ‘He is bleeding.’
‘He will be okay,’ said Dragus, ‘I have seen many such injuries on the battlefield. He will have a headache he will remember for the rest of his life, but he will live.’
‘Promise?’
‘Trust me,’ he said, ‘But we have to get out of here. As soon as he is able, he will tell the garrison we are alive and a search will be instigated. We have to make use of every minute.’
‘Okay,’ she said standing up. ‘If you’re sure. Which way?’
‘I just realised where we are,’ he said, ‘We need to go down here.’ He pointed down a side street.
‘Why, what’s down there?’
‘The river Tiber,’ he said. ‘It’s our only hope.’