The Last Temple Page 11

  Since that day in the marketplace of Caesarea, Vitas had every reason to believe he could trust Jerome with even his own life. Moreover, Jerome had been separated from his family for nearly two years and would not jeopardize a reunion with them.

  Vitas kept his head down as he moved through the crowd. In numbers, there was safety. Rome held men from all parts of the world, and the tan that Vitas had acquired in Alexandria gave him the air of a foreigner.

  Within minutes, he had reached the Curia Julia, where the Senate met, near the forum and the temple of Jupiter. He eased himself against a tavern wall and let the crowd flow around him as he waited for the senators to finish the day’s business.

  Huge buttresses adorned the Curia Julia. Its front wall was decorated with slabs of marble, but only the lower portion. The upper part was covered with stucco to imitate white marble blocks.

  Vitas well knew the austere interior of the hall, brightened only by the opus sectile of the floor, a Roman art technique with materials cut and inlaid into the floor to make pictures or patterns. The squares were interlaid with images of cornucopias, all in reds and greens and purples. In contrast, the walls were veneered with marble that went two-thirds of the way up. Aside from the Altar of Victory, there was not much else except three broad steps that fitted five rows of chairs to accommodate about three hundred senators.

  The Curia Julia had ample room. Almost a generation earlier, Augustus had reduced the size of the Senate from nine hundred to six hundred, but at any given time only a couple hundred were active.

  In normal times, during Senate business, the emperor sat between two consuls, acting as the presiding officer.

  These were not normal times. Otherwise, Vitas would still be in Alexandria.

  Three months earlier, Gaius Iulius Vindex, the governor of Gaul, had rebelled against the tax policies of Nero, declaring his allegiance to Spain’s governor, Servius Sulpicius Galba, and in essence had declared Galba the new emperor of Rome.

  On one hand, it had been a bold move. If Galba had rejected the allegiance and remained loyal to Nero, Vindex’s bid to overthrow the emperor would have ended immediately. But if Galba had added his legions to those of Vindex, the rebellion would have been difficult to stop.

  On the other hand, both Galba and Vindex understood the dangers for any popular governor or general. While Vitas was still hiding in Caesarea, Nero, afraid of revolt, had summoned to Greece a popular general named Corbulo and invited this general to commit suicide. Instead of intimidating other generals, it had done the opposite.

  Indeed, Galba had learned of earlier orders by Nero to have him assassinated and had accepted the title given to him by Vindex. A month later, the legions sent by Nero destroyed the army of Vindex, leaving Galba a decision to retreat or to attack Rome. Civil war had been narrowly averted, but the mood against Nero was such that the emperor dared not show himself in public and feared assassination traveling to the Curia Julia or even during a Senate meeting.

  The recent upheaval had also changed life for Vitas. Vespasian was one of Rome’s most popular generals, and he faced the same possible fate as Corbulo. Yet Vespasian could not return to Rome himself to reassure Nero of his loyalty, for Nero would surely see his arrival as an attempt to take power. Neither could Vespasian send Titus; Nero would see no distinction between a general and his son.

  Vespasian and Titus needed someone they could trust to help them navigate the corridors of power in Rome, for these were times when an emperor might regain support and crush all insurrection—or times when a new emperor might be crowned.

  Upon learning this, Vitas had seen his opportunity to serve Titus and had begun his own travels to the Curia Julia. This was a journey, then, where Vitas held not only the fate of his own family but also the fates of Vespasian and Titus.

  Knowing what was at stake, Vitas could not help but glance beyond the Curia Julia, at the eastern side of the hill that overlooked the forum. There, in an unassuming building, the bureaucratic offices of the state were maintained, along with all official records of Rome, dating well back into the years of the Republic. It was a building used to store state archives—deeds, documentary laws, treaties, and decrees of the Senate.

  The Tabularium.

  Somewhere among the mountains of scrolls inside that building, Vitas had been told, was a single letter that inspired terror in Nero’s court. And Vitas intended to uncover it.

  Hora Quarta

  As the senators fanned out from the forum, Vitas immediately saw the man he was seeking.

  Marcus Cocceius Nerva was a handsome, short, wiry man in his midthirties, with a square face and thick hair. He was from one of the most esteemed families of the empire, connected to the Augustan line of emperors through marriage and service.

  Nerva was an adviser to Nero, part of the same inner circle Vitas had belonged to until the fateful night when Vitas had set prisoners free from unjust punishment by Nero.

  The man walked with a confidence bestowed upon him by his lineage and position. Vitas began following and waited until Nerva entered a street that funneled the crowd into a compact mass, making it possible for Vitas to push through the people without making it obvious that he had targeted the man.

  Showing that same confidence, Nerva didn’t flinch with surprise or fear when Vitas came up behind him and spoke into his ear.

  Vitas remained just behind Nerva’s shoulder, jostling for position in the crowd. “Greetings from Vespasian,” he said. “But keep walking as if I haven’t spoken.”

  Nerva’s pace didn’t change, nor did he turn his head. Rome was such that intrigue was more common than pigeon droppings.

  “Vespasian sends more than greetings,” Vitas said. He named the tavern where Jerome was waiting. “If you are thirsty, the beer there is excellent.”

  Vitas dropped back before Nerva could turn to see his face, and the crowd filled the space between them.

  The next hour would be dangerous.

  As an adviser to Nero, Marcus Cocceius Nerva had been at the forefront of detecting and investigating the Pisonian conspiracy against Nero a few years earlier. For that, Nero had rewarded Nerva with triumphal honors—usually reserved for military victories—and given Nerva the right to have his statues placed throughout the imperial palace as a public reminder of Nerva’s power and closeness to the emperor.

  Nero wanted Vitas dead. And Vitas was about to put his life into the hands of one of the men closest to Nero.

  The smell of roasting pig in the tavern would have been pleasant, except the floor was dirt, and straw was used to soak up spilled beer that would have otherwise turned it into mud. Because the straw was changed so infrequently, the odor of rot overwhelmed the aroma of roasting meat.

  Vitas stood alone in a corner, clutching a clay goblet of beer, half-full. The other half he’d dumped into the straw at his feet. He needed a clear head.

  Waiting there gave him an advantage of sorts. Anyone entering from the full sunshine outside would take more than several moments to adjust to the relative darkness inside, while at the same time Vitas would clearly see each visitor’s face.

  Nerva arrived shortly, no longer wearing a senatorial toga. Still, his air of confidence marked him, and those who glanced up at his entrance quickly looked away, afraid to challenge him in the slightest way.

  As Nerva scanned the room, Vitas gave the slightest of nods.

  Instead of making his way directly to Vitas, Nerva first paid for a beer, then drank all of it where he stood.

  While he drank, three large men entered the tavern and ordered beer of their own, then found an empty table in the center of the room.

  He paid for a second beer before finally sauntering toward Vitas. Nerva leaned against the wall and pretended to lose himself in another couple chugs of beer.

  He wiped his mouth and, looking ahead, not at Vitas, said, “Vitas, you lied. This beer is anything but excellent. But to a dead man, I suppose anything would taste wonderful. Shame that Vespa
sian has sent you. You would be worth a considerable amount to bring before Nero.”

  While Nerva had said little, he’d spoken much. First, he wasn’t asking any questions about how Vitas had escaped the arena when all believed he was dead. Nerva was too smart for that and would want no involvement in the events. Nerva also acknowledged that Vitas had put him in a position of choosing between Nero and Vespasian and that, for now, he would not be calling for the three bodyguards who had followed him inside.

  “How is Domitian these days?” Vitas asked.

  “Subtle,” Nerva laughed. “And by that, I mean not subtle at all. I don’t need the reminder of my promise to Vespasian regarding his son, and I thought I’d made it plain—in my own much more subtle way—that I’m in no hurry to rush from this tavern to turn you over to Nero.”

  “Actually,” Vitas said, “I wasn’t trying to make a point. It’s the first question that Vespasian instructed me to ask. He’s a tough old general but loves his sons as much as any man can.”

  Nerva laughed again, with a trace of ruefulness. “Let me blame the times. Too much intrigue. Too many conversations of trying to hear intent, not words.”

  “Of course,” Vitas said. “I suspect this conversation will be one of them. Domitian?”

  “He fares well,” Nerva said. “I gave Vespasian the vow that I would treat Domitian as my own son, and I’ve kept careful watch. Not that Domitian needs it. He’s as aware as anyone how precarious it is to be the son of the empire’s most popular war hero and commander.”

  “And you’re aware of how precarious it is to be known as Domitian’s guardian while Vespasian is in Judea?” Vitas asked.

  “Don’t paint me as too noble. I’m aware of the immense political currency for taking that risk. It does not hurt to have a man of Vespasian’s power—and potential power—as an ally.”

  Again, little said but much spoken, underscoring Nerva’s reputation as a skilled diplomat and strategist.

  Nerva allowed a few moments, and when Vitas said nothing, he pushed harder. “It obviously does not hurt you either, putting Vespasian in your debt by risking your life with an appearance not only in Rome, but with me.”

  “While I have no intention of sharing it, I think you’d be surprised at my motivation. I promise it is not political currency. Remember, there was a time when you and I worked together at the palace. I had as much political currency as any man in Rome, and I walked away from it.”

  “Ironically, it now gives you even more currency, for it marks you as a man who can be trusted—and there are too few of those in Rome.” Nerva took another gulp of beer. “You said you suspected this conversation would be one of trying to hear intent, not words, and already I’ve begun down that road. Let’s save time and speak plainly. I’m committing treason simply by not calling for the nearest imperial guards to have you arrested. If you are here on behalf of Vespasian, he too has committed treason by shielding you from Nero, and the implications are manifold and staggering, especially given what has happened with the rebellions of Vindex and Galba.”

  “Even there you read too much into it. I am not here on Vespasian’s behalf to begin a bid for the throne. While Nero is emperor, Domitian is vulnerable here in Rome. Vespasian’s first concern is to protect his son. Vespasian wants you to ensure that his name is not put forth for consideration as a successor and that it becomes common knowledge that Vespasian will not declare his legions against Nero under any circumstances. In so doing, Domitian will be protected.”

  Nerva gave Vitas a thoughtful stare. “Vespasian is a shrewd man and chose well to allow you to speak for him, for Vespasian knows if those words came from anyone but Gallus Sergius Vitas, I would not believe them. It is a dangerous game you have entered on his behalf, Vitas. Especially with Vespasian making it clear he will not declare against Nero. When you are discovered here, as you surely will be, you have little leverage to protect your life.”

  “I’m aware of the dangers here,” Vitas answered and said nothing more.

  Nerva let a small smile play across his face. “If Vespasian will not set his legions against Nero, is he willing to pit them against another general on Nero’s behalf?”

  “Vespasian anticipated that question from you. I have been instructed to tell you that he is not willing to make enemies on either side of this revolt.”

  “Vespasian’s second concern?” Nerva asked. “You mentioned his first concern is the life of his son. The word first implies that he has a second concern. Or more.”

  “Tell me,” Vitas said, “would you agree that emperors can now be made outside of Rome?”

  “Yes,” Nerva responded without hesitation.

  It was a significant question and a significant answer. To this point, an emperor designated his heir. But with legions away from Rome for years and giving more loyalty to their general than to the emperor, the true power had shifted from bureaucracy to military.

  “Vespasian realizes this too. His second concern is the empire, and he fears that if Nero is deposed, generals will battle each other to be declared emperor and civil war will tear it apart.”

  “It is a valid fear,” Nerva said. “Far too valid. Both the threat of civil war and Nero’s difficult position. After months of indifference, Nero has finally woken to the dangers. Even when word of Vindex’s revolt first reached Rome, Nero simply went to the gymnasium to watch the athletics. He fainted dead away when he heard that Galba had joined the revolt but, a day later, was hosting extravagant banquets again. He believes the worst is over. But I’ve seen what is happening on the streets, and he’s lost his support from where it matters most: the populace. Nero was brilliant in keeping the masses happy. He plundered the estates of the rich after ordering their suicides but always provided grain and games for the poor.”

  Nerva shook his head. “He’s lost his touch with them, however. Nero’s been profiteering in grain during this shortage. Word got out that a ship came in from Alexandria—not with grain, but loaded with sand for imperial wrestlers. He is universally loathed.”

  “Yet,” Vitas said, “I understand that, after the defeat of Vindex, Galba is considering suicide. Nero has not necessarily lost the throne, has he.”

  “It depends on what happens here in Rome over the next few days,” Nerva said.

  “Do you have a prediction?”

  Nerva gave an enigmatic smile. “I haven’t rushed to call for imperial guards, have I?”

  Titus and Vespasian had gambled Vitas’s life on this: that it wasn’t clear if Nero would survive and that Nerva wouldn’t choose a side unless he knew which would prevail.

  Vitas wasn’t surprised when Nerva asked, “Does Vespasian have a prediction on what will happen to Nero?”

  “While Nero is emperor, Vespasian will continue his unshakable loyalty. I have been instructed to stress that if Nero loses the throne, Vespasian has no intention of using his legions to fight any other generals to gain the throne for himself. Vespasian does not want civil war.”

  “Thank you,” Nerva said. “As I get a chance to make this clear in my circles, it will have a calming influence. While naturally I am curious as to how it is you are alive, no one will learn it from me. We both know Nero would have his guards turn over every cobblestone in the city to find you, for your survival is yet more proof of defiance against him.”

  “I am grateful,” Vitas said.

  “It’s I who may owe you,” Nerva continued. “Soon it may become politically expedient to bring you forth in front of certain men. You are one of our war heroes, and Nero’s injustice against you and your family still outrages many. To have them hear from you what Vespasian has declared will have much more power than if I say it without declaring the source.”

  And perhaps tilt the votes against Nero. But Vitas decided not to express the obvious. As Nerva said, Vitas was playing a dangerous game, when a slight tilting in either direction would have such dire consequences.

  “That possibility has not escaped Vespasi
an,” Vitas said instead. “Vespasian trusts that you will know the time and place, if it becomes necessary.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I trust Vespasian.”

  “See there? The fact that you would risk your life for Vespasian will speak volumes for the truth of your message from him.”

  “There is more to it than that,” Vitas said. “I want something too.”

  “Good,” Nerva answered. “I like it when a man is obliged to me. What is it?”

  For a moment, Vitas was back in his cell below the arena, where he had been waiting to die until a man he did not know appeared and whispered a message: “There is an obscure matter that Tiberius once brought to Senate vote. You will find it somewhere in the archives. It will be marked with a number. . . . Remember this, for the life of your family may depend on it someday. . . . It is the number of the Beast. Six hundred and sixty-six.”

  “I want something from the Senate archives,” Vitas said.

  “Just tell me where to look.”

  “I don’t know yet. But when I do, I’ll get word to you.”

  “And how do I get word to you if I need your help?” Nerva asked.

  “Address a letter to a woman named Sophia, and leave the time and place as if it is a secret romantic meeting. I’ll come here at noon each day to see if it is waiting for me, and if I can’t make it, I’ll send my slave.”

  “Would he be the monstrous man on the opposite side of the tavern who has been watching my own three men as if he were a hungry lion and they were condemned prisoners in the arena?”

  Vitas did not smile at the attempted joke. “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

  “And neither do you,” Nerva answered. “By the gods, I would have needed a dozen men against him, had I actually decided to turn you over to Nero.”

  Hora Sexta

  Since Vitas was a fugitive and unable to inherit, at his brother’s death, Damian’s villa had been transferred to the name of Titus, who ran the estate in absentia. This essentially meant arrangements among the slaves were unchanged, including the presence of Jerome’s family.