The Last Legion (13 page)

‘Rome is behind us now,’ said Ambrosinus. ‘We’re approaching our destination.’

‘Rome!’ murmured Romulus, thinking of when he had entered the senate-house in his imperial robes, accompanied by his parents. It seemed like a century had passed, rather than just a few weeks. His youth and his adolescence, the most beautiful age of man, were opening up for him while his heart was oppressed by grief and by dark imaginings.

W
HEN
W
ULFILA NOTICED THE
water vendor, she was still some distance away. She stood on the right side of the road, a wineskin strapped over her shoulder and a wooden bowl in her hand. She looked much like a number of other beggars and wretches they had met along the way, but the sun had become hotter, and the noonday hour and absence of springs alongside the road had whetted the thirst of both the men and their horses.

‘Hey, over here,’ he said in his own language when they were close enough. ‘I’m thirsty.’

The girl understood from his gestures and attitude that he wanted a drink, and she passed him a full bowl. Although she was awkwardly bundled up in a worn cape, her beauty shone through, inciting the salacious comments of the barbarians.

‘Hey, let’s get a better look at you!’ one of the warriors yelled, yanking the cape from her shoulders, but she dodged him with a swift twist of her torso. She gave a little smile anyway and held out her hand to have a few coins in exchange for the cool water she poured into the bowl.

‘Since when do we have to pay for water?’ shouted another man. ‘If I pay a woman I want a lot more!’ He managed to grab her around the middle and pull her close. He could feel her slender waist and shapely hips, muscles taut under her skin. ‘What firm flesh! You’re not as starving as you look,’ he exclaimed in surprise, but at that moment another voice piped up: ‘I’m thirsty.’

The girl realized it was coming from the carriage, just a few steps away. She wriggled free and went closer, moving aside the curtain covering the window. What she saw was a boy of twelve or thirteen with light brown hair and big dark eyes, dressed in a white tunic, sleeves embroidered with silver thread. With him was a grey-bearded man of about sixty, balding at the top of his head. He was wearing a simple grey wool gown, with a little silver pendant hanging at his neck.

‘Get out of here!’ Wulfila immediately pulled the curtain closed and dragged the girl away forcefully, but the man sitting inside moved aside the curtain again and said loudly: ‘The boy is thirsty.’ At that moment, his eyes met the girl’s and he realized that she was not what she seemed. She was trying to tell him something or prepare him for something, and he gripped Romulus’s arm as if to alert him for an unexpected event. The water vendor leaned in and, momentarily hidden from Wulfila, passed a metal cup to the man, and the wooden bowl full of water to the boy. As he drank, she whispered in Greek: ‘
Chaire, Kaisar.
’ Hail Caesar! The boy managed to control his surprise while his companion responded in the same language: ‘
Tis, eis
?’ Who are you?

‘A friend,’ she replied. ‘My name is Livia. Where are they taking you?’

Right at that instant, Wulfila intervened, pulling her back again and putting an end to their conversation.

Inside the carriage, Romulus turned to his tutor wide-eyed, unable to interpret the strange encounter: ‘Who could she have been,
Ambrosine
? How did she know who I was?’ But the man’s attention was drawn to the cup he was still holding in his hand. He turned it over and discovered a seal in the shape of an eagle impressed on the bottom with the letters:
LEG NOVA INV.

‘Legio Nova Invicta,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Do you know what this means, Caesar? That the soldier is about to try again, and he’s not alone this time. I don’t know whether to be pleased or worried, but my heart tells me that this is a favourable sign of an auspicious event. We have not been abandoned to our destiny. I know that the premonition I had several days ago is true . . .’

Wulfila had pushed Livia to the side of the road, but she looked at him with a pleading expression: ‘My bowl, good lord! I need it.’

‘All right,’ agreed Wulfila. ‘But get moving!’ He accompanied her back to the carriage but after she had retrieved her bowl, he pushed her to the edge of the road, not leaving her side for an instant. She had just enough time to exchange a look with the two prisoners, without saying a word. She watched the carriage at length until it disappeared over a little hill, not moving until the sound of the horses’ hooves and carriage wheels had completely faded away. At that point she turned towards the mountain and saw a lone horseman, observing her from the top of a hill: Aurelius. She entered the forest then, following a winding path that led to the base of the hill. Aurelius was there, holding the second horse by its bridle. Livia jumped into the saddle.

‘Well?’ he asked. ‘You had me worried.’

‘I failed. He was about to say something when Wulfila pulled me back. If I had raised my voice he would have become suspicious and held me there, but at least they’ve realized that we’re following them, I think. The man who is with the emperor is impressive; his gaze is quite penetrating. He’s surely a man of great intelligence.’

‘He’s a damned troublemaker,’ replied Aurelius, ‘but he’s the boy’s tutor and we’ll have to include him in whatever plan we decide to act on. What about the boy: did you manage to see him?’

‘The emperor? Yes, of course.’

‘How is he?’ asked Aurelius, without hiding his anxiety.

‘I’d say he’s well, but there’s a great melancholy in his eyes. The loss of his parents must have been a terrible blow for him.’

Aurelius meditated in silence for a few moments, then said: ‘Let’s see if we can establish some kind of contact with him again. The guards don’t seem so cautious any more; perhaps they’re convinced that no one is interested in their prisoners.’

‘The others, perhaps. Not Wulfila. He’s distrustful, suspicious. He has the eyes of a wolf, that one; you’ll never catch him off guard. He has the situation completely under his control and nothing escapes him. I’m sure of it.’

‘Did you see his face?’

‘As clearly as I’m seeing you now. You’ve left him a nice souvenir, no doubt about it. If he’s seen himself in a mirror, even just once, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when he catches up with you.’

‘That will never happen,’ replied Aurelius. ‘He’ll never catch up with me . . . alive.’

They rode the whole afternoon until dusk, when they saw Wulfila’s column changing route near Minturnus. The old via Appia was no longer usable. The swamps which had once been cleared, at least partially, by the drainage canals built by Emperor Claudius, had again flooded vast areas of the roads and fields, due to a complete lack of maintenance. The stagnant water briefly mirrored the flaming sun, but then took on the leaden tone of the reflected sky. Far off, over the sea, storm clouds were gathering, and there was a distant rumble of thunder from the west: perhaps it would rain.

The atmosphere, charged with humidity and swamp vapours, was suffocating. Both Aurelius and Livia were drenched with sweat but they continued on so as not to lose contact with the imperial caravan which was again proceeding at a fast pace in an attempt to gain ground before nightfall. Aurelius stopped to drink from his flask, and Livia handed him her bowl, having used up all her own water reserves for Wulfila’s men. She brought it to her lips and drank in long gulps. As the bottom of the bowl was left uncovered, Livia’s face lit up.

‘Capri!’ she said. ‘They’re going to Capri.’

‘What?’ asked Aurelius, bewildered.

‘They’re going to Capri. Look, I told you that man was intelligent.’ She showed Aurelius the bottom of the bowl where a word was scratched in, using the tip of a stylus:
CAPREAE.

‘Capri!’ repeated Aurelius. ‘It’s an island in the gulf of Naples, bare and rocky and completely wild, inhabited only by goats.’

‘Have you been there?’

‘No, but I’ve heard it described by several of my friends who come from near there.’

‘I can’t believe it’s as bad as you say,’ objected Livia. ‘There must be some reason why Emperor Tiberius chose it as his residence. I’m sure that the climate is good, and mild, and I can imagine the scent of the sea mixing with the fragrance of the pines and broom.’

‘Even if you are right,’ replied Aurelius. ‘It’s still a prison. Come on, let’s look for some shelter for the night up towards the hills. The mosquitoes will eat us alive down here.’

They found a little hut of reeds and straw, perhaps once used by farmers to safeguard their harvest, now obviously abandoned. Livia toasted some spelt flour in the bottom of a metal bowl, and mixed it with a little water and crumbled cheese for their dinner. Sitting near a small fire made with dry branches, they ate without speaking, listening to the continuous croaking of frogs which rose from the swamp.

‘I’ll stand guard first,’ said Livia, hanging her bow over her shoulder.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. I’m not tired, and I prefer to sleep when night has set in completely. Try to get some rest.’

Aurelius nodded, tied Juba to the trunk of a sorb, and entered the hut where he stretched out on his cloak. He watched for a while as his horse ate the ripe red fruit, then lay down on his side and tried to fall asleep, but thoughts of his companion-in-arms intruded, making him feel restless and aroused. He would have liked to let instinct take over, but the fear of inevitable separation once the mission was over held him back.

*

Livia had screened off the fire and sat in the dark, watching the lights in the enemy camp down on the plain. Some time had passed, she couldn’t say how long, when she suddenly noticed the shadows of several barbarians on horseback riding alongside the swamp with their torches lit. A simple reconnaissance, no doubt, but that scene sparked off a memory that had long lain buried: a troop of barbarian horsemen galloping towards the shore of the lagoon, against a background of the sea in flames, rushing towards a lone man, who stood waiting for them. She shivered as if struck by a cold wind, and turned towards the hut. Aurelius slept deeply, worn out by their long journey and debilitated from lack of food. Livia was suddenly prompted to take a firebrand and creep closer. She crouched down next to him and reached out her hand to uncover his chest. Aurelius sprang up with his sword in fist and pointed it at her throat.

‘Stop! It’s me,’ said Livia, pulling back.

‘What in the name of the gods were you doing? I might have killed you!’

‘I didn’t think you would wake up, I just wanted to . . .’

‘What?’

‘I wanted to cover you up. Your blanket had slipped off.’

‘You know full well that that’s not true. Tell me the truth or I’ll leave straight away.’

Livia got to her feet and went to stand next to the fire. ‘I . . . I think I know who you are.’

Aurelius came close to the fire and seemed to be observing the little blue flames that licked at the embers. He looked straight into Livia’s eyes. There was a cold shadow in his gaze, as if his soul had sunken into a muddy tide of memories, as if an old wound had started to bleed again. He turned his back to her abruptly: ‘I don’t want to hear it,’ he said with a flat voice.

‘The night is still young,’ responded Livia. ‘We have plenty of time for a long story. You just said that you wanted the truth from me. Remember?’

Aurelius turned back towards her slowly, lowering his head in silence, and Livia continued: ‘One night, long ago, many years ago, my city – the city where I lived and grew up, where my house and my parents were – was suddenly attacked after a long, long siege. The barbarians gave themselves over to the sack and massacre. Our men were all run through on their swords, our women raped and taken into captivity, our houses plundered and set ablaze. My father died trying to defend us. He was chopped to pieces before our eyes, on the very threshold of our home. My mother escaped, holding me by the hand. We ran through the dark, on an old sentry road behind the aqueduct. We were completely overcome by panic. The streets were lit up by the fires. Shouting and moaning and cries of madness echoed from all around, raining from the sky like flaming hail. The city was full of dead bodies, and blood flowed everywhere. I was exhausted and frantic, and my mother had to pull me along. We reached the shore of the lagoon where a boat was about to put out to sea. It was filled to the brim with people trying to escape, and it was the last: other boats were already far out, and they were disappearing, swallowed up by the darkness, beyond the furthest reflection of the fires.’ She stopped for an instant, looking deep into Aurelius’s soul, her eyes brimming with tears. Nothing. Compassion, yes, pity, but no sign of recognition. Of remembrance.

‘Go on,’ he said.

Livia covered her eyes with her hands as if trying to protect them from those nightmarish images branded into her heart, memories that had remained confined for so long in the abyss of her mind. She forced herself to continue: ‘The boat was already pulling away and my mother started to cry, screaming for them to wait, the water was at her knees . . .’

A flash of anguish crossed Aurelius’s gaze and Livia moved even closer, until he could smell the salty fragrance which emanated siren-like from her body. A rush of heat enveloped him like a whirlwind of flames and he felt panic crushing his heart like a boulder.