The Last Legion (5 page)

‘Twenty-four. Your mother’s room is twenty-four paces from ours, and may be on the other side of the corridor. We’re probably in the women’s quarters. I lived here for a while a couple of years ago, and your mother also knows the place well. This could be an advantage for us.’

Romulus nodded, accustomed as he was to following his tutor’s elaborate reasoning even when he could make neither head nor tail of it, but was not particularly convinced. The door to their room was bolted from the outside and guarded by a warrior armed with an axe and sword. What chance was there that he’d ever see his mother again?

He lay on the bed, exhausted by too many emotions and by enormous fatigue. Nature took its course and Romulus soon fell into a deep sleep. Ambrosinus covered him with a blanket, patted the boy’s head softly and then lay down himself, hoping for some rest. He refrained from extinguishing the lantern because he was sure that the darkness would have aroused images from which he might not be able to defend himself. He wanted to stay vigilant on such a night, teeming with vengeful shadows.

He couldn’t say how much time had passed when a sound struck his ear, followed by a dull thud. Romulus was deeply asleep and apparently hadn’t heard anything: he was still in exactly the same position as when he had first lain down. Ambrosinus got up and heard another noise, a sharp metallic click this time, directly outside the door. He shook the boy: ‘Wake up, quickly. There’s someone at the door.’

Romulus opened his eyes without realizing at first where he was. He became painfully aware of his surroundings as he looked around at the walls of his prison. The door had opened, creaking, and a cloaked, hooded shape appeared in the doorway. Ambrosinus’s glance fell to the tip of the sword in the figure’s hand and he instinctively moved to shield the boy, but the man uncovered his face.

‘Quickly,’ he said, ‘I’m a Roman soldier. Nova Invicta Legion. I’ve come to save the emperor. Now! We’ve no time to lose.’

‘But how can I—’ began Ambrosinus.

‘It doesn’t matter. I promised to save him, not you.’

‘I’ve never seen you, I don’t know who you are . . .’

‘My name is Aurelius and I’ve just killed the guard.’ He turned around and dragged in the body.

‘I won’t come without my mother,’ said Romulus at once.

‘Then move, in the name of the gods,’ replied Aurelius. ‘Where is she?’

‘Down that way,’ offered Ambrosinus. Then, grappling for some proof that he was indispensable to the escape effort: ‘What’s more, I know how to get out of here. There’s a passage that leads to the women’s gallery in the imperial basilica.’

They headed to the door of the room where Flavia Serena was being held prisoner. Aurelius inserted his sword between the door and the jamb, prised the bolt and managed to draw it out. At just that moment a guard appeared on his rounds: shouting in alarm, he ran towards them with his sword drawn. Aurelius faced the barbarian, knocked him off balance with a feint and ran the man through from side to side. The guard collapsed without a moan and the legionary entered Flavia’s room: ‘Quickly, my lady, I’ve come to free you. There’s not a moment to lose.’

Flavia saw her boy and Ambrosinus and her heart skipped a beat: destiny had unexpectedly come to her aid.

‘This way,’ said Ambrosinus. ‘There’s a direct passage to the women’s gallery. Perhaps the barbarians don’t know about it.’ They hurried down the corridor, but the shouting of the guard that Aurelius had killed had drawn the attention of the others, who were appearing at the end of the hall. Aurelius managed to close an iron grating behind them, just in time, then ran on with his fleeing companions. Shouts sounded from every direction, torches lit up the courtyard and the windows, clanging weapons and excited cries seemed to surround them. Just as Ambrosinus was about to open the hidden door that led to the women’s gallery, some soldiers sprang out of a side staircase. A giant of a man – Wulfila! – flanked by two others.

Ambrosinus had gone on ahead of his companions and found himself cut off from them. Consumed by anguish, he crouched behind the arch that concealed the door to the gallery, and helplessly watched the attack. The three warriors hurled themselves at Aurelius, who stood shielding Flavia and Romulus. Ambrosinus closed his eyes and grasped the pendant hanging from his neck with his left hand. It was a twig of mistletoe set in silver. He concentrated all the powers of his spirit in Aurelius’s arm, which struck lightning-swift and chopped off the head of one of the barbarians. It rolled between the man’s legs and for a moment the last contractions of his still-beating heart twitched through his body, spurting blood copiously through his neck before he fell backwards.

Aurelius halted Wulfila’s blow with the dagger he held in his other hand, then abruptly leapt aside, tripping the third man who was about to attack. He spun back around with fierce energy and his dagger cleaved the air, landing between the shoulder blades of his fallen aggressor, and nailed him gasping to the ground. Aurelius turned then to face his most formidable adversary. Their swords clashed with deafening force as both delivered a sequence of deadly blows, sparks spraying all around them. Both swords were crafted of fine, hardened steel, and the frightful strength of the barbarian threatened to best the skill and agility of the Roman.

The shouts of the other barbarians were drawing closer, and Aurelius realized that he would have to rid himself of his adversary or face a horrible death at their hands. Swords locked tight between the chests of the two warriors, each tried to cut the other’s throat, hands clutching each other’s wrists. At that moment, so close that they were staring each other down, Wulfila’s eyes widened in sudden surprise: ‘Who are you?’ he cried. ‘I’ve seen you before, Roman!’

All he had to do was immobilize Aurelius for a few more moments and his comrades would be upon them, ending their fight and answering that question, but Aurelius managed to free himself by butting him hard in the face. He drew back to lunge at the barbarian, but slipped on the slick blood of his fallen enemies and fell to the ground.

Wulfila was about to finish him off, but Romulus, who until that moment had been holding on tightly to his mother, frozen by fear, recognized his father’s murderer. He twisted free, grabbed the sword of one of the dead men and hurled himself at Wulfila. The giant could see him coming out of the corner of his eye and threw his dagger, but Flavia had moved forward to protect her child and took the blow full in the chest. Romulus began screaming, horrified, and Aurelius took advantage of his adversary’s momentary distraction to strike. Wulfila jerked back his head, but his face was slashed from his left eye to his right cheek. He howled in rage and pain, continuing to wave his sword.

Aurelius pulled the boy off his mother’s body and dragged him down the staircase that his aggressors had emerged from. Ambrosinus shook off his fright and made to follow them, just as a squad of guards appeared. The old man backed into the shadow of the arch and then slipped behind the door that led to the gallery.

*

Ambrosinus found himself on the inside of the long marble balcony that faced the basilica’s nave. The apse was dominated by a large mosaic of Christ the Almighty, its golden reflections shining with pale light. He walked swiftly to the balustrade and crossed the presbytery and the sacristies, where he found the narrow corridor built into the church’s external wall that led outside. He tried to imagine where Aurelius might come out and how they might try to escape. He trembled at the thought of the boy exposed to such deadly peril.

*

Only one escape route remained for Aurelius, and it led directly through the palace baths. He emerged into a large room covered by a barrel-vaulted ceiling, dimly lit by a couple of oil lamps. The huge pool built into the floor was filled with water, once crystal clear, that the negligence of the palace’s new owners had allowed to become filthy and algae-coated. Aurelius tried the door that led to the street but it was locked from the outside. He turned to the boy: ‘Can you swim?’ he asked. Romulus nodded as his eyes focused with disgust on that smelly cesspool.

‘Then you get in after me. We have to swim down the drainage pipe that connects the pool with the canal outside. My horse is not far from there. The water is going to be very dark, and cold, but you can do it, and I’ll be helping you. Hold your breath and let’s go.’

He lowered himself into the pool and then helped Romulus in. They ducked under and Aurelius began to make his way up the water drainage pipe. He put his hands forward to feel for the bulkhead that separated the pool from the canal. It was closed. His heart sank, but he was determined to find a way. He could feel the boy’s panic through the black water and realized how close he was to drowning. Aurelius succeeded in slipping his hands under the base of the bulkhead and slowly pushed it up with all his strength until he could feel it yield, little by little. Blindly he grabbed the boy and shoved him past the obstacle, then made it through himself and let the bulkhead drop shut behind him. His lungs nearly bursting, he surfaced along with Romulus. The child seemed about to faint; he was livid with the cold and his teeth were chattering helplessly. He couldn’t leave the boy in the water while he went for his horse. He pushed him up on to the bank, soaked and shivering, then hoisted himself up, dragging Romulus quickly to shelter behind the southern corner of the palace.

‘The fog is rising,’ he said. ‘Lucky for us. Don’t lose hope, we can make it now, but you stay here and promise me you won’t move.’

The boy did not reply at first; he seemed to have lost every contact with reality. Then, with a barely perceptible voice, he said: ‘We have to wait for Ambrosinus.’

‘He’s old enough to take care of himself,’ responded Aurelius. ‘We’ll need all the luck we have to get out of here ourselves. The barbarians are already searching the grounds.’ They could hear the uproar as men on horseback rushed from the stables at the northern wing of the palace, heading out to patrol the roads. Aurelius ran off to retrieve Juba from the old rundown fish warehouse where he’d hidden him.

He took the horse by its halter and retraced his steps, careful not to make the slightest sound. When he was not far from where he had left the boy, he heard a voice cry out in Herulian: ‘Here he is! I’ve found him! Stop!’ Romulus scurried away from his hiding place, running along the eastern side of the palace. They had flushed him out!

Aurelius jumped on to his horse and burst into the vast open space in front of the facade of the imperial palace which was illuminated by a great number of lit torches. He saw Romulus racing at breakneck speed, chased by a group of Herulian warriors. Aurelius spurred on his horse and stormed into their midst, running through a couple of the barbarians from behind, one to his left and the other to his right, before they understood what was happening. He overtook the others and reached Romulus. Grabbing the boy under his arm, Aurelius urged on his horse: ‘Go, Juba. Go, boy!’ Just as he was about to hoist Romulus up on to the saddle, one of their pursuers sent an arrow flying. It hit Aurelius full in the shoulder. He tried to resist, but, as a painful spasm racked the muscles in his arm, he had to let the boy go.

Romulus tumbled to the ground but Aurelius refused to give up. He tightened his legs against the horse’s flanks and swiftly twisted Juba around so he could yank up the boy with his good arm, but just at that moment Ambrosinus burst forth from a side door and threw himself on the emperor, flattening him to the ground as he shielded him with his own body.

*

Aurelius realized that he didn’t have a chance. He swerved down a narrow side street, jumping his horse over the canal that crossed it and proceeded at a mad pace towards the city walls where an old breach which had never been repaired allowed him to career up the side as if going up a ramp. He came down on the other side without great difficulty.

A group of barbarian warriors on horseback erupted from one of the doors, brandishing torches and intent on stopping his escape. Aurelius raced to the embankment that crossed the lagoon and tried to put as much distance as possible between himself and his pursuers. The fog would do the rest. But the unbearable pain in his shoulder interfered with his control of the horse, who was losing speed. Through the darkness he could see a thick grove of trees and bushes growing alongside the swamp. He pulled up on the reins, and slipped to the ground. He tried to hide in the water, sliding down the bank, in the hope that his pursuers would ride on, but they immediately realized his intent and drew up short. There were at least half a dozen of them; they would soon see him and he would have no chance against them.

He unsheathed his sword and prepared to die like a soldier, but at that very instant a whistle pierced the air. One of the barbarians crumbled to the ground, struck by an arrow. A second was hit in the neck and fell backwards, vomiting blood. The remainder realized that with their torches lit they were clear targets in the darkness and they were about to toss them away when a third arrow pierced the stomach of another horseman, who howled in pain. The others fled, terrified, from that invisible enemy hidden by the fog of the swamp.

Aurelius tried to climb up the bank, pulling his horse after him, but he slipped backwards, completely drained of strength. The pain was insufferable, his vision clouded over and he seemed to be sinking into the fog in an endless fall. In a brief flash of consciousness he thought he saw a hooded figure bending over him, and there was the slow gurgling of water sliced by an oar. Then nothing.