The Last Legion

  ‘Crowded here, isn’t it?’

  Aurelius spun around and Ambrosinus found his sword at his throat, but he did not flinch.

  ‘Good boy now,’ he said, ‘Everything’s all right.’

  ‘How—’

  ‘Quiet. We only have the time for a crap.’

  ‘By Hercules—’

  ‘I’m Ambrosinus, the tutor of the emperor.’

  ‘That much I know.’

  ‘Don’t interrupt me, just listen. Surveillance is heightened because we’re approaching our destination. They won’t even leave me alone to take a shit any more! You must also know, I imagine, that they’re taking us to Capri. How many of you are there?’

  ‘Two. Me and . . . a woman, but—’

  ‘Yes, the water vendor. Well, for heaven’s sake, don’t try it again on your own, it would be suicide. If they catch you, they’ll flay you alive. You need someone who can give you a hand.’

  ‘We have money. We plan on recruiting—’

  ‘Be careful! A mercenary is always ready to change his master; be sure to find someone you can trust. The other night I heard a couple of Wulfila’s officers talking about Roman prisoners sent to Misenus to serve on the fleet. It might be worth your while to try there.’

  ‘I certainly will,’ replied Aurelius. ‘Can you find out more?’

  ‘I’ll try. In any case, stay close behind us. I’ll leave traces whenever I can. I see that you can read the light code. Can you use it as well?’

  ‘Of course, but how did you know that I would see you?’

  ‘The cup: I realized it was a signal, so I answered by scratching our destination into the bottom of the bowl. Then I thought that if you weren’t stupid you’d be following us from the hills and your vantage point would allow you to see my light – just as I’ve seen your fires. Now I must go. Even if I were constipated, I’ve taken too long!’

  Ambrosinus moved off, recovering his lantern, his cloak and his companion, who was still waiting to escort him back to camp.

  *

  He found Romulus leaning against a tree, looking off into nothingness.

  ‘You must react, my boy!’ admonished Ambrosinus. ‘You can’t go on like this! You’re just at the start of your existence and you must begin living again.’

  Romulus didn’t even turn. ‘Living? What for?’ and he slipped back into his silence.

  Ambrosinus sighed, ‘And yet, there is hope for us . . .’

  ‘Hope scribbled on the bottom of a cup, right? Once hope was kept in a box, if I remember correctly. Pandora’s box.’

  ‘Your sarcasm is out of place. That soldier has already tried to save you and he is more determined than ever to free you.’

  Romulus nodded without enthusiasm.

  ‘That man has risked his life for you, and he’s willing to do it again. He considers you his emperor, and this is so important for him that he won’t give up such a desperate endeavour. He deserves much more than just a nod from you.’

  Romulus didn’t answer at first, but from his look Ambrosinus realized that he’d struck a chord.

  ‘I don’t want him to risk his life again, that’s all. What’s his name?’

  ‘Aurelius, if I remember well.’

  ‘That’s a common name.’

  ‘You’re right, but he is not a common man. He behaves as though he is commanding an entire army at your orders, and yet he’s all alone. Your life and your liberty are the most precious things in the world for him. His faith in you is so blind that he’s ready to face any danger, although the wound he suffered in his last attempt to save you hasn’t even healed yet. Think about this when you no longer have the courage to take your life into your own hands, when you behave as if your life were not worth living. Think about it, little Caesar.’

  He turned and walked towards the tent to prepare some dinner for his pupil, but before entering he turned his gaze to the shadowy forested hills and muttered between his teeth: ‘Hold fast, miles gloriose! By all the devils and all the gods, hold fast.’

  *

  ‘He called me miles gloriosus, can you believe it?’ panted Aurelius at the top of the hill. ‘Like I was some character from a play. I was about to cut his throat.’

  ‘The old man’s, I suppose. Was it him?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘He’s read Plautus, that’s all. And so have you, I see. You’re quite an educated man. Rare for a soldier, especially these days. Haven’t you ever asked yourself why?’

  ‘I have other things to think about,’ Aurelius cut her short.

  ‘Can you tell me what’s happening or is that too much to ask?’

  ‘He confirmed that they’re going to Capri, but there’s something else. He has heard that some Roman prisoners have been sent to Misenus, near Naples, to serve on the fleet’s galleys. If only I could find them!’

  ‘That shouldn’t be so difficult. A little money gets a lot of information. What’s our next move?’

  ‘I was thinking about that on my way up. He was sure of their destination, and there’s no sense in us risking exposure by going down to the plain. We should get there before them and prepare our raid as well as possible.’

  ‘But first you want to find your comrades.’

  ‘It’s in everyone’s interest. I need men that I can rely on completely, and there was not one man in my entire division who I could not trust. We’ll put together an assault unit and plan our attack.’

  ‘What if they change destination as we’re headed for Naples?’

  ‘I don’t think they will, but it’s a risk we have to run. The longer we remain within sight of them, the greater our chance of making an unfortunate encounter, especially on open ground. I think we should break away from them tomorrow. We can set off after we see which road they’re taking and precede them. We’re much faster than they are.’

  ‘As you wish. Perhaps you’re right. It’s only that . . . oh, I don’t know, as long as we were nearby I felt that he was safe.’

  ‘Under our protection. That’s true. I’ve felt the same way, and I’m sorry to go, but I must say we’re leaving him in good hands. That crazy old man surely cares for the boy very much, and he’s smarter than all those barbarians put together. Let’s rest now. We’ve been riding all day and we’ve only eaten biscuits and a piece of cheese.’

  ‘I can promise you we’ll eat well in Naples. Do you like fish?’

  ‘I’d rather a side of beef.’

  ‘You’re a meat eater, so you must come from the plains. A farm in the countryside.’

  Aurelius didn’t answer. He detested Livia’s digging into his past. He took off Juba’s saddle and bit, leaving on his halter, so that he could graze freely. Then he laid out his blanket.

  ‘I’d eat nothing but fish,’ said Livia.

  ‘I was forgetting that you are an aquatic creature yourself,’ replied Aurelius, stretching out. Livia lay down beside him as they silently watched the stars glittering in the immense vault of the night sky.

  ‘Do you ever dream at night?’ asked Livia.

  ‘The best night is passed without dreams.’

  ‘You always answer with someone else’s words. Plato this time.’

  ‘Whoever he is, I agree with him.’

  ‘I can’t believe that you never dream!’

  ‘Never dreams. Only nightmares.’

  ‘What do you see?’

  ‘Horror . . . blood, screaming . . . and fire, fire everywhere, an inferno of flames. Or a sensation like freezing, as if my heart were turning into a piece of ice. And you? You have a dream, I remember you telling me about it. A city in the middle of the sea.’

  ‘It exists.’

  ‘So this little Atlantis really exists?’

  ‘Oh, it’s only a village, with lots of huts. We fish and sell salt, but that’s enough for us. We’re free and no one dares to hazard into our waters: sandbanks and quagmires, shoals made treacherous by the tides. The coast mutates from day to day, from hour to hour
actually.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘It was founded by my companions in misfortune, the refugees of Aquileia. Others came afterwards: from Gradus, Altinum, Concordia. We arrived the very night of the onslaught. We were frantic, hopeless, exhausted. The fishermen knew about a little group of islands in the middle of the lagoon separated by a wide canal, like a bit of a river which was lost in the sea. The ruins of an ancient villa stood on the biggest island, and that’s where we took refuge. The men gathered dry grass for us to lie down on. The younger women stretched out to nurse their babies and someone managed to light a fire amidst those tumbledown walls. The next day the carpenters began to cut down trees and build houses, the fishermen went out to fish. Our new homeland was born. We were all Veneti, apart from a Sicilian and two Umbrians from the imperial administration: we called our town Venetia.’

  ‘That’s a nice name,’ said Aurelius. ‘Sweet. Sounds like the name of a woman. How many of you are there?’

  ‘Nearly five hundred – and the first generation born in the city is already growing up, the first Venetians. So much time has passed that even our accent sounds different from the way they speak on the mainland. Isn’t that marvellous?’

  ‘And no one has ever bothered you?’

  ‘Several times, but we’ve defended ourselves. Our realm is the lagoon. From Altinum to Ravenna, our men know every corner of it, every shoal, every beach, every little island. It’s indefinable, ambiguous: neither land nor sea, nor sky; when the low clouds merge with the foaming waves, it’s all three things together – invisible, often, foggy in the winter and misty in the summer, flat like the surface of the water. Each one of those islands is covered by thick woods. Our children sleep cradled by the song of the nightingale and the cries of the gull.’

  ‘Do you have a child?’ asked Aurelius suddenly.

  ‘No, but the children of each one of us belong to everyone. We share everything we have and we help one another. Everyone’s vote is counted when we elect our leaders. We have revived the old republican constitution of our ancestors, of Brutus and Scaevola, Cato and Claudius.’

  ‘You talk about it as if it were a real nation.’

  ‘It is,’ replied Livia, ‘and like Rome at its start, it attracts fugitives and refugees, the unfortunate and the persecuted. We build flat-bottomed boats that can go anywhere, like the one that carried you that night you were fleeing Ravenna. We’ve begun to build ships that can face the open sea. New houses spring up nearly every day, and the time will come in which Venetia will be the pride of the earth and the lady of the sea. This is my dream. That’s why I’ve never had a man, nor a child. I’ve been alone, ever since I lost my mother to a sudden disease.’

  ‘I can’t believe that a girl so . . . beautiful, has never had . . .’

  ‘A man? Why not? Maybe I’ve never met the one I have in mind. Maybe because everyone feels honour-bound, or empowered, to protect a girl left all alone. I had to prove that I could be self-sufficient, and that kind of attitude doesn’t attract men. Quite the opposite. You know, every one of us in my city has to be ready to fight. I learned to handle a bow and a sword before I ever learned to cook or sew. We women take up arms when the need arises. We learn to distinguish the sound of a wave driven by the wind from a wave pushed by an oar. And we urinate standing up, like men, when we stand guard.’

  Aurelius smiled at this, but Livia continued. ‘In any case, we need men like you to build our future. When we’ve finished this mission, would you come to settle with us?’

  Aurelius did not answer, confused by her unexpected proposal. After a moment of silence, he replied: ‘I would like to tell you how I feel, but it’s as if I were trying to walk in the dark over unknown territory. I have to take one step at a time. Let’s try to free that boy, that will be something in itself.’

  He brushed her lips with a kiss. ‘Please get some rest,’ he said. ‘I’ll stand guard first tonight.’

  11

  AURELIUS AND LIVIA ARRIVED near Pozzuoli two days later as evening approached. The days had become very short and dusk came early, in a halo of reddish mist. This, the most beautiful region of Italy, showed few signs of the devastation of the north or the desolation and poverty of the central regions. The extraordinary fertility of the fields allowed two harvests a year and provided food for all, with enough left over to sell at a high price in less fortunate places. There were still vegetables and flowers in the gardens, and the barbarian presence was not nearly as strongly felt as in the north. People were kind and solicitous, the children noisy and a bit exasperating, and the strong Greek accent of the Neapolitans could be heard everywhere. They bought food at the Pozzuoli market which was held on alternating days of the week inside the amphitheatre. The arena, once soaked with the blood of gladiators, now played host to stands selling turnips and chickpeas, pumpkins and leeks, onions and beans, cabbage, greens and seasonal fruit like figs, red, green and yellow apples and bright red pomegranates, split in two on display, the pips inside gleaming like rubies. A true feast for the eyes.

  ‘It’s like coming back to life again!’ exclaimed Aurelius. ‘Everything is so different here!’

  ‘You’ve never been?’ asked Livia. ‘I have. A couple of years ago, I helped Antemius’s men to escort the bishop of Nicaea to Rome.’

  ‘I’ve never been further south than Palestrina. Our division was always stationed in the north; in Noricum or Moesia or Pannonia. The climate is so mild here, the earth so generous, the people so gracious. It’s like another world!’

  ‘Now can you see why people who come to this land never want to leave?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Aurelius, ‘and to be honest, I’d much rather settle down here than in your swamp.’

  ‘Lagoon,’ Livia corrected him.

  ‘Lagoon, swamp, what’s the difference? Where do you think they’ll sail from?’ he asked, abruptly changing the subject.

  ‘The port of Naples. Without a doubt. It’s the shortest route to Capri. They’ll be able to stock up on everything they need for their stay at the warehouses as well.’

  ‘Let’s get moving then. We want to get there as soon as possible and this land is too tempting. Even Hannibal and his army went soft with the pleasures to be had here.’

  ‘The indolence of Capua . . .’ nodded Livia. ‘You’ve read Titus and Cornelius Nepos. An education typical of a good family from middle if not high society. And if the name you bear is your own—’

  ‘It’s mine,’ Aurelius cut her short.

  *

  They reached the port of Naples late the next morning and blended into the crowd thronging around the market and the wharves to listen in on the local gossip. They ate bread and roast fish at a peddler’s stand and admired the beauty of the gulf and the impressive mass of Mount Vesuvius with the plume of smoke that the wind carried eastward. Towards evening, they saw the imperial convoy arrive: the armour, shields and helmets of the barbarian soldiers seemed like monstrous contraptions in the peaceful, festive and multicoloured atmosphere of the port. Children scampered between the horses’ legs, trying to get close enough to the warriors to sell them sweets, toasted seeds and raisins. When Romulus descended from his carriage, they swarmed around him, fascinated by his embroidered robes, his aristocratic features and his despondent expression. Neither Aurelius nor Livia could resist catching a glimpse of him. They covered their faces, he with a wide-brimmed straw hat and she with a shawl, as they walked along the wharf, sheltered under the shade of the portico that flanked its entire length. The boy emperor was quite close, surrounded by his young subjects.

  ‘Won’t you come and play with us?’ demanded one.

  ‘Yes, come, we have a ball!’ exclaimed another.

  A child handed him a piece of fruit: ‘Want an apple? It’s good, you know.’

  Romulus smiled at them all, a bit awkwardly, not knowing how to respond. Wulfila got off his horse and chased them all away with his booming voice and terrifying appearance. A group of porters
finished unloading the goods destined for Capri, the last prison of the last Emperor of the Western Roman Empire. A couple of large ships drew up alongside the pier and began to board the men and the goods. The last to embark was the boy accompanied by his tutor.

  Ambrosinus lifted the hem of his robe as he stepped aboard, revealing his bony knees. He was looking around as if he expected to recognize someone or something. For the briefest instant his eyes met Aurelius’s, in the shadow of the portico, under the brim of his hat, and the expression of his face and the fleeting nod of his head acknowledged that he had seen him.

  The ship cast off the moorings as the sailors called out orders for departure: as some weighed anchor and pulled in the lines, others set the sails to the wind. Livia and Aurelius came out of the shadows and walked to the end of the pier, keeping their eyes on the tiny figure of Romulus standing at the stern, which got smaller and smaller as the distance increased. The wind tousled his hair and puffed up his robes and perhaps even dried his tears on that melancholy, misty evening.

  ‘Poor little boy,’ said Livia.

  Aurelius continued to stare at the boat, quite far away now, and he thought he could see Romulus raising his hand as if saying goodbye.

  ‘Maybe he saw us,’ he said.

  ‘Perhaps,’ echoed Livia. ‘Let’s go back now. We don’t want to be noticed.’

  They stopped in front of an inn called the Parthenope, as announced by a weather-eaten sign displaying what must have once been the figure of a siren.

  ‘There was only one room,’ said Aurelius as they climbed the stairs. ‘We’ll have to share it.’

  ‘We’ve slept under worse conditions and I’ve never complained,’ she said as if daring him to disagree. ‘And we have a pact, don’t we? So we run no risk sleeping in the same room. Isn’t that right?’

  ‘Of course,’ replied Aurelius, but the look in his eyes and the catch in his voice said otherwise.

  Livia took the lantern and went in. The room was small and unadorned, but decent enough. The furnishings consisted of two cots and a chest. There was ajar full of water in the corner and a basin. A bucket stuck in a niche in the wall was covered by a metal lid. A tray with a piece of bread, a small whole cheese and two apples had been placed on the chest. They washed their hands and ate in silence.