‘It is not easy to be a defender of Rome.’ The softly spoken words came from the darkness. ‘You think us cruel? You are mistaken. It is not a matter of cruelty, but of duty. We would betray the Empire if we did not do what was necessary to counter this threat to our people. A cruel man might have exterminated every Judaean in Rome, man, woman and child. But we did not. Instead, we tasked our loyal Hero of Rome, Gaius Valerius Verrens, to seek out the leaders and the followers. The job is part done and, for that, we are grateful to him.’
Valerius shook his head. Was he dreaming? ‘The child…?’
‘It was not our intention to harm the child. The person who failed in his duty has been dealt with. Your work is not finished. Come.’ Nero emerged into the light, accompanied by his guards. Valerius raised himself to his feet and automatically fell in by his side. As they walked, he marvelled at the change in the man. The Nero of a few minutes earlier might never have existed. Which was the actor, the Nero of the arena or the Nero of now? Or were there many Neros hidden behind that single mask? Here was no capricious despot, but a ruler reacting to a threat against his people. Reasoned words spoken in honeyed tones. Crime must be punished. Disobedience must be deterred. The greater the danger, the more extreme the example that must be made. Rome would accept the worship of alien gods, but not to the exclusion of Rome’s gods. When he spoke of the paradox of power, Valerius might have been speaking to Seneca. When he spoke of his hopes for Rome, he might have been speaking to himself.
It made what was to come all the more shocking.
They had just reached the path back to the bridge when the first fire was lit and the screaming began. The victim had been tethered to a wooden stake and coated with gleaming black pitch from head to foot. In seconds all that was visible was a writhing column of flame with a tortured spectre at its centre emitting a sound no human had been born to make. Valerius steeled himself against the horror, knowing this was merely another part of the Emperor’s sadistic game, but he could not prevent himself from flinching as the first pyre was joined by another, then another, until ten of the ghastly pillars lit the way. The flames burned red, then gold, then red again as the fire consumed the final remnants of the human form. Then they came to Cornelius.
Nero’s executioners had left Cornelius Sulla’s face and head clear of the pitch, so Valerius instantly recognized the handsome features and golden hair. Bruises marked his flesh and blood flowed scarlet on to the shining black tar on his chest where he had bitten through his lip in his terror. The slight, youthful body shook uncontrollably in its bonds and he kept his eyes tight shut. Valerius thought he saw the aristocrat’s lips move and he asked the gods he didn’t believe in to grant a merciful end to the young man he, and he only, had placed on this stake.
Nero moved closer so he could study the bound figure. ‘He was braver than he seemed. He uttered only a single name when put to the question and he must have understood that name was already known to us.’ He nodded to an unseen presence in the darkness and a torch flared close to Cornelius’s feet. For a moment nothing appeared to happen before, with a soft, sputtering roar, an inferno engulfed the tethered body. Valerius saw Cornelius’s face twist and contort in the heat and the long golden hair was transformed instantly into a halo of golden flame. At last, the clenched teeth parted and his dying screams tortured the night.
‘He makes a better candle than a friend, don’t you think?’ Nero said almost absently. He turned so Valerius could see the flames reflected in his eyes. ‘Cornelius Sulla has a brother, Publius. Torquatus will give you instructions where to find him. You will bring him to us.’
He nodded and was gone, leaving Valerius to stare at a blackened skull with startling white teeth and burning eyes that were still alive.
XIX
‘Forget Cornelius Sulla. He’s no longer our affair.’
Marcus looked up, startled, but the raw edge to Valerius’s voice barred any further questions.
‘Can Serpentius and Heracles ride?’
The old gladiator eyed him suspiciously. ‘Of course. We’re all trained to fight on horseback as well as we do on foot.’
‘I want you to use the Emperor’s seal to purchase three horses, preferably cavalry trained, and two pack mules. We’ll need them in three days.’
‘Are we going to fight a war?’
‘I hope not, but we are going to join a legion.’
Marcus laughed in disbelief. ‘Which legion?’
‘The Seventh.’
A week later they stood on the dock at Aternum as the horses were loaded on to the merchant ship on which Valerius had arranged passage to Dalmatia. Sextus and Felix remained in Rome to watch Lucina Graecina. Cornelius Sulla’s death made it less likely she would provide them with a link to Petrus, but with so few leads Valerius couldn’t afford to ignore the possibility. The four-day ride over Italia’s mountainous spine had saved them at least another week’s sailing and had the added bonus of accustoming them to the saddle, which would be vital for what awaited them on the other side of the Mare Adriaticum.
‘Why is Publius Sulla so important?’ The question was from Marcus and Valerius’s reply had been simple: ‘Because he is the next link in the chain.’ But nothing in the clandestine world he now inhabited was so straightforward. The truth was that Cornelius had revealed under torture that his brother was an even more important figure in Petrus’s organization than Cornelius himself.
‘Publius Sulla is building a network of Christus followers in the legions,’ Torquatus had grudgingly revealed. ‘If he succeeds it will provide them with a platform to combine a military attack on Rome with a rising in the city itself. Their numbers may be small, but the one thing we have learned is that this cancer spreads quickly. It is possible that he has already involved the general of a legion. If so, we need to discover who this traitor is and destroy him. That is why it is so important to reach Publius Sulla and return him to Rome.’
‘Why not get the commander of the Seventh to arrest him? It would be much easier.’
Torquatus had tried to avoid the question, but Valerius persisted. ‘Very well. General Vitellius has the Emperor’s confidence, but we must be certain. A legion’s loyalty and its control lie in the hands of a few senior officers. If we are wrong, it could bring the traitors out into the open before we are ready to act. That would weaken the frontier, and, worse, open up the possibility that other disaffected or ambitious commanders might join the rebels. You have Rome’s future in your hands, and your own. Do not mistake me, Verrens, this is a test of your allegiance as well as your ability.’