themselves on.
Caligula, however, was not interested in military precision; as soon as the Celtic chariots were turned behind him he leapt onto his quadriga and whipped his team forward into the disorganised Praetorians, who had no option but to part and make way for their Emperor. Those still on the quay had little trouble doing so but as Caligula mounted the bridge, pressing his team ever forward, the cavalry struggled to make room for him in the closer confines of the relatively narrow road. Not wishing to be the trooper who delayed the Emperor, each man in his path pulled his mount forcefully to one side, pushing the horse next to him to produce a domino effect that sent whinnying horses and their riders tumbling or jumping off the side of the road and onto the decks of the ships, thankfully, only four feet below. Vespasian and the other charioteers followed Caligula through the shambles until he burst through the rearmost ranks and onto a clear road where he whipped his team into a canter and headed off, straight towards the carriages and infantry.
Vespasian’s ponies were blown as they reached the central point of the bridge where the causeway to the largest peninsula curled off to the south. Caligula had arrived there well before them but at the same time as the carriages, judging by the overturned vehicles still attached to screeching horses both on the road and to the decks on either side. He had abandoned his quadriga and, having unhitched Incitatus, he and his favoured horse were now leading the senators and their wives on foot along the curved, one-vessel-wide causeway at the end of which stood what looked to be a temple, complete with columns and steps on every side. In the harbour formed by the causeway and around the temple platform scores more small boats were moored, but unlike those in the first harbour these were manned and their furled sails were raised or their oars were already set in their rowlocks.
Vespasian, Sabinus and the rest of the charioteers hurriedly dismounted and ran to catch up.
‘Ah, dear boys, I was waiting for you,’ Gaius called out from beneath a parasol held by Aenor; the other boy was doing his best work with a fan to keep his master cool in the growing heat. ‘How was it? It looked spectacular from the other end.’
‘It was murder, pure murder!’ Vespasian spat, gratefully taking a water-skin from Magnus. He took a deep draught and passed it to Sabinus, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘And now we’re to give thanks to Neptune for allowing Caligula to slaughter half the population of Puteoli.’
‘He only slaughtered half?’ Magnus questioned. ‘He must be losing his touch.’
Vespasian scowled at his friend and stalked off down the causeway.
Flanked by eight of his German Bodyguards and Incitatus, Caligula stood in front of the temple, his arms covered in the blood of a bullock. ‘Fearful of my power, my brother Neptune has gratefully accepted the sacrifice so as not to cause me offence,’ he announced to the massed ranks of senators and their wives crowded onto the temple peninsula. The temple itself, Vespasian had noticed, was not a proper building but constructed of canvas cleverly painted as marble, with tree trunks, likewise coloured, as columns. ‘Seeing as he is so evidently terrified of me, we have nothing to fear from him, so before the victory feast we shall all take to the sea. To the boats, my sheep, to the boats!’
Leading his bodyguard he strode to the edge of the platform and jumped down into an eight-oared, flat- bottomed boat of a sleek design; his Germans got in after him and manned the oars.
‘I suppose a little boating before dinner could be convivial,’ Gaius commented as Vespasian, Sabinus and Magnus helped him down into a small sailing skiff crewed by a foul-smelling, weather-beaten old man and his grandson. He made himself comfortable in the bow with Aenor with his parasol and the other boy with his fan in close attendance. The brothers and Magnus settled amidships, while the grandson pushed off and the old man unfurled the triangular leather sail; the boat slipped slowly on the light breeze out into the bay.
As they embarked in various craft, the mood among the senators and their wives, who had not witnessed the slaughter at Puteoli, was jolly as most took Gaius’ view that some pre-dinner boating would indeed be convivial. Before long over a hundred small vessels, under either oars or sail, were bobbing around on the smooth water between the temple and the bridge upon which the Praetorian infantry and cavalry had formed up in long, dark lines. Those who had been unable to find a berth or thought that their constitutions were not up to braving Neptune’s element, strolled along the causeway, admiring the pretty scene and waving to friends who had been luckier or braver than themselves.
Caligula’s boat skitted around, turning left and then right, while he stood in the stern holding the steering oar, whooping madly. As he passed close to the Flavian party, Vespasian noticed him cock his head and look quizzical as if he suddenly did not know where he was. He sat down and looked at his German rowers. ‘Ramming speed!’ he ordered with a shrill shout. The lead oarsman responded immediately and his rhythm was taken up by his heavily muscled fellows. The boat accelerated forward towards a cluster of slow-moving sailing boats.
Unaware of the threat coming towards them the vessels did nothing to alter course. Within moments Caligula’s boat was upon them and its solid wooden prow cracked broadside into the hull of the nearest, overturning the flat-bottomed boat with remarkable ease, spilling its occupants into the sea. Caligula’s boat carried on at speed as with two hands he adjusted his steering oar so that it smashed into the next small craft with the same effect. On he went for another two successful rams as panic spread around him. Suddenly he turned the boat and aimed it back the way he had come.
Passing by his floundering and spluttering victims he took his steering oar from its housing and, two-handed, cracked it down onto their heads, laughing maniacally, as the unfortunates, both male and female, sank unconscious below the surface. ‘My brother Neptune deserves some dinner guests too, give him my regards,’ he shouted after them as his boat ploughed on, still at ramming speed, directly towards the Flavians’ small craft.
For a shocked moment they watched it approach and then all turned to the old man who, judging by the terror in his eyes, had seen it too. With no chance to manoeuvre quickly out of the way due to the light wind the old man sat paralysed, staring at the oncoming threat. It was pointless shouting at him to do something, there was nothing that he could have done; instead they grabbed on to anything solid and prepared for impact.
It came moments later with a shuddering jolt.
Vespasian hit the water as the boat rolled over. He had the presence of mind to dive deeper so as to avoid the thrashing of Caligula’s oar. He counted to thirty before considering it safe and then kicked for the surface. He and Sabinus appeared at almost the same time and quickly looked about. Magnus suddenly bobbed up.
‘Where’s Gaius?’ Vespasian shouted.
All three of them looked around in panic; from behind the capsized boat the old man and his grandson appeared, both swimming strongly. Gaius was not in sight; Vespasian dived. Although neither a strong nor natural swimmer, desperation lent force and co-ordination to his limbs and he swiftly descended, passing the body of Aenor with blood seeping from an oar-wound to his head. The water was clear and he soon saw the bulk of his uncle struggling weakly, his eyes bulging with the pressure of holding his breath, but being dragged down by the weight of his toga. He kicked out for him; Sabinus and Magnus both followed. Grabbing Gaius’ arm he began to haul him up, while Magnus and Sabinus struggled to undrape his toga. As the garment finally came free, Vespasian felt the drag lessen, but at that moment Gaius gave him a look of agony and copious bubbles of air escaped from his nose and mouth; he convulsed as his lungs filled with water.
Between the three of them they managed to propel Gaius to the surface; as they drew explosive breaths Gaius remained still, his lips pale and his eyes closed.
‘Get him ashore quick,’ Vespasian yelled at his companions.
The old man and his grandson came to their aid and with their strong strokes they dragged Gaius the twenty paces or so to the causeway as fast as they could.
There were many willing hands to help lift the heavy body out of the water as behind them Caligula continued to terrorise the pleasure craft.
Once Gaius had been hauled onto the road, Vespasian turned him onto his stomach letting his head loll down over the edge; water seeped from his mouth. ‘Magnus, remember what you said when we were dealing with Poppaeus? You have to wait a while before you get the water out of their lungs because they can come back to life.’
Magnus’ face lit up. ‘You’re right, sir,’ he said, getting astride Gaius’ waist and placing his hands on the back of his ribcage.
Vespasian and Sabinus knelt on either side.
‘Ready?’ Magnus said. ‘Now!’ Six hands squeezed the chest in unison. ‘Now!’ Then again. ‘Now!’ And again.
For half a dozen pumps they carried on until a gush of water erupted from Gaius’ mouth; after another couple
