Chapter 3

“Open up!”

The harsh command shattered Longus’ troubled dreams. He had been swimming in the Tiber, but slowly going under. His toga was soaking up water, dragging him down. He was gasping for air when the shout from his front door awoke him.

“What?” he managed, sitting up and blinking. His back ached from his night on the floor. He shook his head. He could hear the soft sound of someone breathing not that far away. He glanced toward the door. Maybe the shout had been in his dream.

“Open up!” someone hollered again, pounding on the front door.

Longus sighed and started to rise. The young woman across from him sat up. Her eyes were wide open. She started shivering and making herself smaller, as if planning to join the mosaic on the wall. She almost disappeared into her tunic. Longus had never seen anyone so frightened.

“Open up!” The banging grew more intense.

Finally getting to his feet, Longus slowly tottered toward the door. His mouth felt stuffed with cotton. His belly growled in protest to its lack of food. He opened the door to find himself face to face with a tall, burly Roman officer. The man towered over him. His upper arms were bare, exposing enlaced muscles that seemed ready to burst through his skin. His eyes shimmered with anger in the early morning light, while his helmet reflected the rising sun like a fiery beacon. He had a sword in his right hand, and his stern expression said that he was more than willing to use it.

Behind him had to be a squad of soldiers, all equally armed and scowling, apparently unhappy to be there at that hour. They were clearly ready to battle something or someone.

Longus glanced at the sword and then up at the soldier’s grizzled face and grimaced. This was the result of dining regularly on garlic, leeks, cheese and coarse bread. That kind of diet could really ruin a disposition. The officer’s breath testified to every bite. Longus was going to say something appropriately cheeky, but any such comments quickly vanished as the soldier raised his sword and pressed the point into Longus’ chest.

Feeling a slight sting, Longus looked down at the thick blade. Was this how everything ended? He felt faint and put his right hand against the side of the door to keep himself upright. Hyperion had obviously changed his mind. No exile. Longus closed his eyes and whispered a short prayer to the gods, awaiting the thrust of the sword.

It did not come. “We’re looking for a girl,” the soldier thundered instead. His words rolled above Longus’ head like a summer storm moving across Rome with sudden fury.

Longus blinked rapidly, trying to understand the question. He wasn’t a pimp. He wanted to be one once. That seemed like a very good way to have plenty of sex and money simultaneously. On the other hand, he needed cash to stock his home with appropriate women. Since he was already devoting his inheritance to other pimps and related amusements, he was naturally undercapitalized. Then, he remembered his visitor. That girl? What did they want with her? What would they do to her if they found her in his house? What would they do to him? The fierce expression on the soldier’s face provided the obvious, gruesome answer.

“Any particular girl?” he quavered. The sword did not move. If anything, the officer pressed it further into his chest. The pallium cloth gave way easily. Longus had trouble breathing, but forced himself to continue. “I often frequent a very nice house with many available girls. I can give you directions,” he offered.

“Idiot,” the soldier stormed. He spat out the word along with a spray of saliva. “She has been walking around this neighborhood, asking for a Jew.”

“I’m not Jewish,” Longus countered. He tried to think. They wanted the girl in his house. If they found her, he would not escape Hyperion this time. Her presence would doom him. Thoughts spun wildly. What could he do? How could he hide her? The soldiers could not discover her inside. They might kill her on the spot, which was not his concern, but they also might not discriminate between host and guest.

To preserve himself, he would have to take her to Hyperion. That would prove his loyalty. All he had to do was say that she showed up after the soldiers came by. Then, Hyperion could do what he wanted with her. He brightened. Today was when he was to depart for exile, but if he presented Hyperion with the girl, he might be allowed to stay. He smiled at the officer, who did not reciprocate.

“She went to many homes,” the Roman barked, obviously exasperated. That was not a good sign either, Longus decided. A Roman soldier didn’t always hesitate when faced with the opportunity to kill an annoyance. He would face no penalty either for the exercise. Longus stepped back a few inches to get beyond immediate range of the sword, but the officer kept the point pressed forward. A little trickle of blood began to stain the pallium.

“See here,” Longus said as fiercely as he could. “I’m a Roman citizen. I belong to an old aristocratic family.”

“You will have a nice pyre then,” the soldier sneered. He showed his blackened teeth. “The girl?”

“I’ll let you know if I see her,” Longus offered. “What has she done?”

“She’s Jewish and may know who killed the Emperor. She arrived the day the Emperor died and has not been seen since,” the soldier huffed.

“Could that be a coincidence?” Longus tried.

“Bah,” the soldier snarled. “There’s no such thing.”

“I have an idea,” Longus said as an inspiration penetrated his troubled mind. “I would try Silanus next door. He is a drunkard and a complete scoundrel. His own mother detests him. He would probably harbor illegals, too.”

“He said the same about you,” the soldier retorted.

Longus played his trump. “Look in my house,” he said fiercely. The soldier peered into the murky darkness. “I have nothing. I don’t even have a candle. The thief Silanus took it all. I, a thief! Never. A Longus has never stolen anything.” The soldier gave a quick look at Longus and paused to consider the situation. “Did Silanus have an empty house?” Longus continued. “Why, just last night, he brazenly walked into my house and took my stool. That was the last thing left me. Now I have nothing.”

The soldier did not seem impressed.

“See for yourself,” Longus suggested, praying silently the soldier would not take him up on the offer. The officer took one step forward into the house and looked around. Then, he stepped back.

“What are you waiting for?” Longus pressed. “Silanus is the one you want. I’ll bet he even tried to bribe you. I would never do that.”

The officer hesitated and then waved at his men to follow him. They set off at a trot toward Silanus’ house. “Don’t let him get off so easily this time,” Longus called after them.

He quickly closed the door and hurried back to look for the girl. She was not in the atrium, but had found refuge in Perspectus’ old bedroom. She cowered against the wall with her legs drawn up against her chest. She looked at him with fear and pulled her legs closer.

“We have to get out of here,” Longus said. If the soldiers came back and actually searched the house, he and the girl would both be skewered.

“Do you know where my grandfather is?” she whimpered. “I found a letter to him here.” She held up the scroll that Longus had discovered earlier and discarded. Longus ignored the gesture.

“No, I have no idea where your grandfather is,” he replied. “I don’t know who you are either, but I know enough to get as far away as possible.” He grabbed her arm. “Come on.” He yanked her to her feet and shoved her toward the front of the house.

“I have to say my morning prayers,” she insisted, jerking her arm away. After a momentary hesitation, she stood by the south wall, facing the mosaic, and began to mumble something.

He wiped his forehead. She did not understand. “There were soldiers here, looking for you,” he interrupted her. “Either we get out of here or we are both dead.”

“I am not afraid,” she said stoutly and then resumed her prayers. “Jesus awaits me.”

“Then I’ll be frightened for both of us,” Longus told her. “Come on.”

“I am not done,” she insisted.

“Your god will understand,” he said. “Mine certainly does.”

“I have to find my grandfather,” she said, turning around.

Longus cringed. That again? The grandfather obviously was not there. The house was empty. Even she could see that. However, she had widened her stance and clearly not planning to move. He took a deep breath. He needed to try a different tack.

“I have an idea,” he tried. “Let’s get something to eat. We can look for him in the Jewish quarter by the river. He’s bound to be there.” She hesitated. “This is no time for a discussion,” he told her. “If the Guards find us, the next place you will visit will be the bottom of the river.”

“I’m not afraid to die,” she said firmly.

“Neither am I,” Longus countered. “But I prefer to wait a few years.” He put his arm around her waist and propelled her forward.

He peered outside. The soldiers were gathered around Silanus’ house, not more than 50 yards away. He could hear shouting. Silanus seemed to be holding a stool. Then, abruptly, the soldiers charged inside the home. “Now,” Longus urged. He sped down the front walkway with the young woman in tow and hurried down the edge of the road. It would soon dip down toward the Forum, hiding their presence.

The young woman stumbled along with him.

Just two days ago, Longus realized, he had walked proudly amid the horde of onlookers, wanting to be seen and admired. Now, he was trying to slink into the Forum invisibly, fearful that anyone would see him. How much had changed in such a short time, he thought.

They did not go far or that fast. Longus was in no condition for a wind sprint nor built for speed. Gasping for breath, he stopped a few feet below the crest. At least, the sun was not high in the sky. The gray shadows from trees and homes provided some cover. His feet hurt. The Via Sacra seemed so firm the other day. Now, small stones from broken concrete slipped into his sandals. He forced himself to continue. His knees objected to the gait, even though his speed would have barely outpaced a turtle.

The girl walked easily, keeping the scroll in her right hand. She was young, he thought. Give her a few years and a couple of children, and she’d be panting, too. Her back would be bent from washing clothes and carrying squalling youngsters.

She wouldn’t live that long anyway. He would go directly to Hyperion’s home. There, he would present the girl and get rid of her. Perhaps Hyperion would rescind the order to go into exile. She was the answer to his problems, he decided, as long as they reached Hyperion before the soldiers saw them.

“Come on,” he urged, noting the stirrings of life around him. The Forum was still empty, but a few vendors were setting up their stalls. They did not glance at the two of them, but Longus was well aware that they saw everything. In a way, he did, too.

Normally, if he were up at this hour, his eyes would be bleary from drink and his stomach full of exotic dishes. He would be stumbling along, staring directly only toward his house and blind to the sunrise and the stirrings of life in the big city. For the first time, he actually heard a few birds. Their sound was enchanting. He even appreciated the way the sun caressed the giant temples that surrounded the Forum, peeking over the top as though admiring the scene itself.

He would have stopped to appreciate the view if fear of the soldiers didn’t keep him moving.

He struggled toward the row of vendors now setting up their tables along the east side of the Forum. Shadows still covered their efforts. Already a few shoppers had arrived. He and the girl could mingle with them and disguise themselves that way. He aimed for a vendor in the middle of the row, not noticing a large man to the right until it was too late.

“You!” a voice said angrily.

Longus gaped. The ugly, misshapen man who sold grapes was pointing a finger at him. His booming voice thundered around the Forum. Heads turned. Longus shivered. He had appropriated some grapes from the man two days earlier and left only a promise behind. “I came to pay you,” Longus said hastily. “I told you I would.”

“You said you would pay me yesterday,” the vendor said, holding out a hairy hand. “Two sestertii.”

“I …” Longus started to protest, but gave up. He couldn’t afford to cause a scene. There was no place to run to; no one to save him this time. He produced his purse, carefully counted out the coins and painfully watched more of his meager cache disappeared. The man beamed at him.

“I guess people who said bad things about you don’t know you,” he said in a sardonic, kindly manner. “When they called you a mindless imbecile, they simply misunderstood you, right?”

Longus didn’t bother to answer. “I need something to eat,” he said, holding his purse as though it contained far more than its actual contents. The vendor responded immediately, producing cheese and coarse bread. He demanded his money first. “After we see how good the food is,” Longus countered. The vendor hesitated and then added a small bowl with honey it. Longus would never have eaten such rude bread before, but now he eagerly dipped it into the honey and ate. The young woman joined him. All the while, Longus kept a wary eye on the road. No sign of any soldiers.

The vendor beamed as his two customers devoured their simple breakfast.

Longus relaxed for a moment. His legs hurt. Those muscles weren’t used to this kind of exercise. He felt his pulse slow. After a few moments, he could speak normally. “What’s your name,” he finally asked the young woman.

“Rachel,” she replied, emphasizing the second syllable so there was a hard “k” sound in the name – “ra-kel.”

Longus proudly introduced himself. Rachel simply shrugged at the long, elegant name. He obviously was not her grandfather, and that was all that mattered to her.

“We have to keep going,” Longus said.

His intention was to take her to the Garden of Sallust, Vespasian’s old villa. Nerva had moved there rather than stay in Domitian’s mammoth palace. Hyperion no doubt joined his uncle there or in a nearby villa.

Feeling better, Longus told Rachel to finish eating. They would have to continue walking. He actually began to think the crisis was over. The palace was next to the Forum. The villa was a little further away, but they would arrive shortly. He would give Hyperion the girl, smile and receive his reward. There might even be prize money involved, he thought. Sending a squad of soldiers indicated how valuable she was.

The plan died immediately as Longus glimpsed the tops of helmets appearing on the Via Sacra.

“Hurry,” he said, grabbing Rachel’s arm. He couldn’t be caught with her. The soldiers would have no mercy since he had lied.

“Hey!” the vendor yelled. “Where’s my money?”

“Give them the bill,” Longus shouted, pointing at the soldiers. He hurried down the road. The vendor gaped, looking at the small military squad that appeared on the crest of Via Sacra and back at his two customers running north.

“Where are we going?” Rachel asked.

Longus couldn’t answer. He had no idea. There was no time to reach Hyperion. The soldiers were fit and would catch up quickly. Their corded muscles testified to that. The nearly empty Forum offered no place to hide. Longus doubted seeking refuge in a temple would help. Stories of man clinging to the altar and claiming divine protection were common, but always ended in hacked limbs and lost lives. Worse, Hyperion would soon know where they were. Even if Hyperion honored the sanctuary, he would wait. At some point, the priests would order them out.

Longus had no religious claims on them. They had no reason to protect him. He would have to find a safer haven.

Where could he be going? His daily activities were limited to his home and the villas of wealthy people nearby where he could feast and fornicate. He did know the Forum and the prominent buildings, but his world was narrowly circumscribed by food, women and vast quantities of wine. He was far removed from that environment. He glanced around widely. The vendors in the vicinity ignored him. He felt completely lost. Where could they hide?

He had a sudden thought. The astrologer. Longus almost smiled. He did know someone. He would seek out that neighborhood and immerse himself in the throng. The soldiers would have a hard time locating them in that teeming mass of people. Could he find the shop again? Longus didn’t know, but felt that was his only choice. No one else knew him. More importantly, he didn’t know anyone else here. He did not trust the old astrologer, but even that shyster was a better choice than a total stranger.

In a few moments, they were wandering amid the busy neighborhood he recalled from the day before. That part was easy. Many people had already risen. They lived their lives in companionship with the sun. Since it was up, so were they. No one had a kitchen but had to buy food for their meals. They filled the streets quickly.

This time, no one stared at Longus. He realized that with his disheveled clothing, stained now with dirt, sweat and blood that obscured the stripes, he was no different than any of them, other than their pace. Most were moving languidly, either setting up for business or on their way to a shop as he and Rachel hastened by. A few braziers glowed red, brightening the dank roadway. Several people had placed lighted faggots in exterior holders to illuminate work areas. Their flames licked at the receding darkness.

Searching the buildings, Longus looked for the alleyway that he had taken the day before. The building on the left had been leaning on the right to the right. That should have been a distinctive image, but most of the buildings leaned in one direction or another. The whole thing looked like a maze. He began to get desperate. Any second, the soldiers would come marching into this area. They would see him with the girl. Even Roman soldiers, not known for exemplary intelligence, could do the math.

“Astrologer?” he called desperately. “Anyone know where I can find an astrologer?”

“What?” Rachel asked.

“Never mind,” he told her. “Astrologer?” Blank faces glanced at him and then moved on. Where was the boy from yesterday? Longus wondered. He held up his purse and rattled the few coins in it. “Astrologer. I’ll pay.”

He heard a commotion behind him. Soldiers. He could see the helmets now. They were still some distance away, forcing a path through the crowd. His heart pulsed wildly. He had to do something. He needed to distract them.

“Grab one of the torches,” he told Rachel. “Throw it into the apartment.” Rachel gave him a puzzled look and languidly wandered to the closest one, which extended out from a wall bracket and was burning merrily.

Meanwhile, Longus brushed by a vendor who was preparing some meat on a brazier. He grabbed the handles.

“Hey!” the vendor screamed. He struggled with Longus, who used his large rear end to hold the man off. Longus flung the hot coals toward the wooden apartment. The torch joined it. In only a second, flames started to lick the soft wood. Fire quickly spread up the side of the building.

“Fire!” Longus shouted. “Fire!”

He grabbed Rachel as crowds started to holler and dragged her away. Behind them, people began grabbing buckets and filling them with water from troughs. The uproar filled the morning air.

Longus headed down the closest alley. It was unfamiliar, too wide and broad, but he didn’t care. Rachel reluctantly tagged along. In a moment, they emerged on the other side. Longus scanned the buildings. He did not recognize anything. Which way should he go? He couldn’t tell. He had an even chance of choosing the correct direction. Finally, lost, he turned south. Behind them, flames were visible along the skyline. Ashes fell around them. Sparks shot higher, creating fireworks that drew the curious sun further into the sky. Shouts cascaded over the buildings. More people were running toward the fire. Others had grabbed children and were hurrying in the other direction.

Longus studied the homes: more apartments and only a few houses. He could picture the villa he visited yesterday with the three shops on the ground floor. Had he gone the wrong way? He felt so tired. He could not give up. This was no different than that drinking game he had played a week ago: how many goblets could one person drink? His friend, now a distant memory, insisted he was a better drinker. Longus had disagreed. So, they had faced off as others counted. One goblet followed another. Longus wanted to quit. His friend would not. So, he forced himself to continue. Finally, the other man stopped. Longus had stared at that last goblet and then, with slow determination, had tilted it to his lips and won the contest.

He told himself that he could do no less now, although the resulting drunkenness was more pleasant than what would happen if he surrendered to the soldiers.

Finally, he thought he saw the villa. At least, it seemed the same as he recalled. He struggled to the closed door and grabbed the handle. It was sealed shut. He pounded on the wood. “Astrologer!” he gasped. He bent over, barely able to breathe.

Finally, he gestured at Rachel, telling her to knock. He grasped his knees. Breakfast appeared ready to make a re-entry. She tapped on the door.

“Harder,” he managed.

She banged half-heartedly with the side of her left fist. Her right hand stayed at her side.

“Astrologer,” Longus wheezed, constantly looking back over his shoulder at the chaotic scene of running people and flames soaring high into the air. Ashes rained about as if the sky were dissolving. He doubted anyone could hear him. A roaring sound filled his ears. He felt so light headed.

Rachel attacked firmly with both hands, drumming on the wood. That seemed to have an effect.

The door finally opened.

“I’ve been expecting you,” a voice from the shadows said.

Shoving Rachel inside, Longus slammed the door behind him. The old man retreated and then looked up expectantly from his pillow perch. Longus needed a moment to catch his breath. He even relaxed now that he was no longer exposed on the street, but the soldiers would go door to door. They would get here eventually.

“5 aes,” the astrologer said.

“You wish,” Longus retorted. “We need a place to hide.”

Olympus picked up his board. “Give me the necessary information, and I will help you,” he said calmly.

Longus angrily knocked the board from the old man’s hand and sent it flying across the room. “No more rubbish,” he said. “We need a place to hide.”

Rachel interrupted to say something in a strange language. “אתה יהודי?”

The old man stared at her.

“I asked him in Hebrew if he was Jewish,” Rachel translated for Longus.

“What diff …” Longus started.

“No,” the astrologer said excitedly. “Not me. No, no, no. I’m a true believer in the old gods. Yes, I am. They have preserved Rome. Down with the new gods who threaten our way of life. Jewish? No, no. Why would anyone say that? Did someone say that?”

“אני יהוד” Rachel replied. “I told him I am Jewish.”

Olympus seemed to lose air, collapsing into a tighter, smaller frame. “I thought you were here to arrest me,” he said. “So many others have been taken. They are beaten and whipped.” A tear dribbled down his aged cheek. “Many are in hiding.”

“We needed to find them,” Rachel said. “Can you take me there?”

“I don’t know where they are,” the astrologer whimpered.

“Then look it up on your board,” Longus told him angrily. “We need your help.” He stared at the old man. “Look at it this way, astrologer. If the Pretorian Guard finds us here, they will not ask about your religion before executing you.”

“It’s in my chart. I will die in two years when Mars crosses through the arc of Saturn,” the astrologer said. “I am ready to die.”

“That seems to be the consensus,” Longus said, gesturing toward Rachel, “but I’m not. I intend to die during a drunken orgy, and this definitely doesn’t fit that description.”

The old man stood up. “There is a back way,” he said. He led them through the archway into a small room. Then, he pulled up a trap door. Longus helped him. The door was heavy. He peered down into what looked like a well. A thought from Homer’s Iliad popped into his tired mind.

“No one can hurry me down to Hades before my time, but if a man's hour is come, be he brave or be he coward, there is no escape for him when he has once been born,” he recited.

Rachel smiled. “So we are always of good courage,” she recited. “We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord.” She grinned at Longus. “My sacred words.”

Longus shook his head and lowered himself into the hole. He barely fit and had to squeeze down. There seemed to be no bottom. Finally, he was forced to allow himself to fall. He landed on soft sand after only a few feet. He could see that a tunnel led off to one side, but there was little light. They would have to grope along the walls.

Behind him, he could hear a commotion.

“They are at the door,” Rachel whispered. Her voice echoed inside the well.

“Hurry up,” Longus urged.

She slipped down and fell. He was able to grab her. “Close the cover,” he yelled. In a moment, they were in darkness. He heard only one last comment from the astrologer.

“I’ve been expecting you,” he said calmly to the soldiers as they burst into the back room.

Longus heard no more. He felt the hard stone walls against his hands. They had been cut with a chisel, gouging out the rock. The sides were wet; he could hear the sound of dripping water somewhere in the distance. Moreover, the air was heavy and hot. He was forced to take quick breaths.

“Come on,” he urged Rachel.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but we cannot stay here.”

“God will be with us,” she said confidently. She tucked the scroll inside her dress.

Longus started to inch along the tunnel. “I hope he has a torch,” he said.