‘Yes,’ Vespasian replied. ‘It was well done, if somewhat theatrical towards the end. We’ll see you later, Felix.’
‘Good. I’ll be in the boat below your terrace at the fifth hour of the night; the breastplate will be with me. I shall now procure the final two items that we need.’
‘That, my dear, was not theatre,’ Flavia informed him as Felix disappeared off into the fading light towards the geese enclosure. ‘That was done so that when those two men review the incident in their minds they will only see me. They won’t notice the fact that Ziri could never have been given orders by Magnus and then got out of the doors from where he was standing in the time between me fainting and Magnus saying that he’d gone, after you had so foolishly drawn attention to his absence.’
‘They would never notice that.’
‘They certainly won’t now, because I’ve made sure of it.’
Vespasian was not going to argue; she had shown spirit and they could not have achieved that part of the break-in without her. ‘And I’m sure that they will treasure the memory. Now, my dear, when we get back you should get your maids to finish packing and get them on board the ship as, with luck, we will be sailing at first light.’
‘I’ve already done that; I’m so excited about coming back to Rome with you.’
Vespasian looked at her and smiled. ‘I’m looking forward to it too, my dear.’
The night sky was aglow with flames as they approached the palace complex; the cries and screams of conflict could be heard rising from the Jewish Quarter beyond.
‘It seems to be getting worse,’ Hortensius called back as a gang of Greeks dragged a screaming Jew towards them. ‘I think that you should get out of the chairs and walk now, senator.’
‘Very well,’ Vespasian agreed, signalling his and Flavia’s bearers to stop.
‘Why must we walk?’ Flavia asked Magnus as he helped her down.
‘Because it will be easier to defend you if we’re attacked. We can’t have you getting hurt, can we?’ His estimation of her had greatly increased after her performance earlier that evening.
As they pressed on for the last few hundred paces to the palace, passing anarchic groups running to and from the fighting, Vespasian was unsurprised to see the streets bare of legionaries; Flaccus was evidently playing brinkmanship with the lives of the Jews and he was determined to win and bring them to heel.
Finally approaching the gates the street became quieter, the mob being wary of the heavy guard of legionaries in full battle order posted outside.
Hortensius saluted their centurion. ‘Optio Hortensius escorting Senator Titus Flavius Vespasianus.’
‘Ah, senator,’ the centurion said, ‘there’s a man here been waiting to see you this last half-hour, says his name is Nathanial — he swam along the coast from the Jewish Quarter.’ He pulled a bruised and bleeding man forward. ‘We didn’t believe that he knew you at first,’ he added by way of explanation for the man’s looks.
‘Senator, you must help,’ the man said, stepping forward into the torchlight.
Vespasian peered at him and recognised the man whose brother had been murdered on the Canopic Way a few days before. ‘What do you want, Nathanial?’
‘You said that you would bring my brother’s killers to justice because you owed a favour to the Alabarch. As you know, they were spared so you still need to repay that favour.’
‘What of it?’
‘The Alabarch and his sons are besieged in a temple not far from here; they have a few men with them but they can’t last much longer. That preacher has allied his followers with the Greeks. The Alabarch sent me here, just before the building was completely surrounded, to ask for your help; will you come?’
Magnus raised his eyebrows and looked at Vespasian. ‘Well?’
‘Well, I owe him and I’d hate the thought of Paulus making his sport with him and his sons; we’ll go. And besides, we may get the chance to finish off that odious little fanatic.’
‘If we’re going, you ain’t going like that; a toga never kept Caesar alive in Pompey’s Theatre.’
‘You’re right, we should get properly armed. Hortensius, wait here with this man and have your men sharpen their blades, we won’t be long.’
Hortensius snapped a salute.
‘You can’t take legionaries into the Jewish Quarter, senator,’ the centurion protested.
‘Why not?’
‘Because it would be going against orders; the prefect has forbidden it.’
‘I’m sure he has, but has he forbidden senators from going in?’
The centurion looked nonplussed.
‘I’m going, centurion, and if Hortensius and his men don’t come with me then he will be breaking the prefect’s direct order to him to accompany me everywhere I go in Alexandria.’
The sound of fighting grew nearer as Vespasian, now shielded and wearing his bronze cuirass, led Hortensius and his men at a quick jog through wafting smoke into the Jewish Quarter with Magnus and Nathanial at his side. Heat from the fires all around had already caused him to break out into a sweat and his scalp prickled beneath the felt liner under his plain legionary helmet. Marcus Antonius’ sword slapped against his right thigh and tension flooded through his body as he contemplated using it in anger for the first time in the city where it had taken the life of its first master.
The presence of a unit of armed legionaries probing into what had hitherto been an authority-free zone caused the groups of pillaging Greeks in their path to drop the larger items of their spoils, looted from houses before they were torched, and run for the safety of side alleys. The occasional rock hurled at the soldiers as they passed clattered harmlessly off their shields but told of hostile intent.
‘Two more blocks and then we turn left towards the sea,’ Nathanial informed Vespasian through gritted teeth as he struggled for breath in the fume-filled air. ‘The temple is at the end of that street.’
Mutilated corpses, body parts and debris were strewn around in an abundance that made the riot in Cyrene seem like a mere misunderstanding between neighbours: easily patched up and soon forgotten about.
‘I don’t know about you, sir, but I’m starting to think that just four
‘It’s pointless worrying about it because it’s all we have,’ Vespasian replied testily. ‘We just have to hope that Rome’s authority will prevail and we can order their release.’
Magnus scoffed but said nothing.
They quickly reached the end of the second block and turned left into a wide avenue; Vespasian faltered. The street was littered with corpses, some smouldering, illuminated by fires in the houses on either side; the smell of burned flesh hung heavy in the air, which was filled with rasping wails of agony emanating from within the mass of a huge mob fifty paces ahead. Beyond them Vespasian could see a Jewish temple being consumed by fire.
Nathanial groaned. ‘We’re too late, they’re flaying the prisoners alive.’
Vespasian brought his small unit to a halt. ‘Hortensius, have the men form a solid square, facing out on each side.’
‘We’re not going to charge into that lot, are we?’ Magnus asked disbelievingly, taking his place on Vespasian’s right shoulder as the legionaries quickly formed up.
‘Not if they know what’s good for them. Draw gladii; advance at the walk!’
With some men walking backwards and some sideways like crabs, the small square eased forward keeping shields tight together, the razor-sharp blades of their swords protruding between them flashing orange in the fire’s glow.
The screaming from within the mob kept up but gradually awareness of the Romans’ presence filtered through, and by the time the square was twenty paces from them hundreds of faces were turned their way.
‘Halt!’ Vespasian ordered.
The square stopped with a stamp of hobnails on stone.
The clamour of the mob died down, leaving only the anguished cries of the tormented men within it.
‘Who commands here?’ Vespasian shouted.
There was a brief pause before a group of four men pushed their way forward.
‘What do you want, Roman?’ their leader asked, a tall muscular man with short black hair and a full beard; he held a club with a long nail punched through its thick end.
