The warehouse was too stocked with combustible material for any realistic attempt to douse the fire there. At full strength, the vigiles in Rome numbered seven cohorts, each of seven centuries, each of around seventy men, about 3500 in total. However, when recruiting difficulties, sickness and working shifts were taken into account, only a third to a half of that number were available at any one time. The first to arrive at the fire, the closest who had responded to Vespillo’s plea for help, were the cohort who manned the fire station on the Caelian, with their colleagues from the nearby excubitoria. They numbered a couple of hundred men, soon reinforced by another two hundred from Vespillo’s own second cohort from the Esquiline.
It wasn’t nearly enough.
Aided by a strong wind and the intense heat of the inferno that Elissa had so carefully prepared, the fire jumped from building to building with a staggering speed. Few citizens were at home, most being out watching the games, so the vigiles had little of the local aid that they usually relied on as the self-interested tried to save their property. On the other hand, there were fewer panicky crowds, and fewer people trying to prevent the destruction of their houses for firebreaks.
Carbo escorted Rufa and Fabilla through the narrow streets, heading back to Vespillo’s house. In several places they had to turn back, to navigate around routes blocked by houses which were strangely collapsed, despite not yet being touched by fire. Carbo thought of the fire that he and Vespillo had attended, the oddly collapsed buildings then, and saw Elissa’s hand at work. Fortunately, the blockages were not frequent and Carbo guessed that they had thinned out Elissa’s followers in the raid on the temple enough to reduce their impact.
Dusk was descending and the glow of the fire was visible over the rooftops. Most of the people he met in the streets had stopped to point, muttering in alarm at the apparent size of the conflagration. He bustled past them, delivering the shaken mother and daughter into Severa’s care.
Severa had endless questions, not least concern for Vespillo. Carbo assured her Vespillo was well and safe, and begged her to look after Rufa and Fabilla again. He warned all three to watch the skyline closely, and if they felt the fire was approaching the Esquiline they should leave the city by the nearest route, taking nothing with them.
‘Do you understand?’ asked Carbo sternly, fixing Rufa and Severa with a stare. Both strong women looked cowed and anxious, and nodded agreement. With a crushing embrace of Rufa, Carbo left them.
The Esquiline was only half a mile north of the Caelian Hill and in that direction the dusk sky was flickering and glowing like an angry volcano. Carbo hesitated, then thought of his tavern and his slaves. The Subura was a short distance to the west and he headed in that direction. The streets were filling with people coming out to gaze in fear at the obviously expanding blaze. As he reached the familiar territory of the Subura, people who recognized him stopped him to ask what was happening. He ignored most, pushing through, but one young man blocked his path.
‘Hey, Carbo. Where is your friend Vespillo and his little bucket boys when we need them?’
Carbo stopped, then without a word pointed to the horizon. The man followed the direction of his finger to the blaze. A low, angry sound was coming from that direction now, and even from this distance they could hear screams carried by the strong winds. The man nodded respectfully and stepped back.
When Carbo reached the tavern Philon and Marsia were waiting for him anxiously.
‘Master, what is happening?’ asked Marsia.
Carbo looked at Philon in disgust. ‘His mistress’ plans,’ he replied.
Philon looked down, shamefaced.
‘Are we safe?’ asked Marsia.
‘I don’t know,’ said Carbo. He looked around the tavern. Vatius sat in a corner, a bandage around his head, calmly sipping from a cup of wine and fussing Myia. Otherwise the tavern was empty.
Marsia noticed his gaze and answered his unspoken question. ‘We were quiet anyway because of the games, and everyone who was here went home once it became obvious this fire was a bad one. Well,’ she said, looking at Vatius, ‘almost everyone.’
‘Good,’ said Carbo. ‘I’m going to find Vespillo and do what I can to help.’ He looked at Philon pointedly. ‘And you are coming with me.’
Philon paled. ‘Master, no, please. I’m just a humble eunuch. What help could I be?’
Carbo stepped forward and gripped him under the chin, looking angrily into the slave’s eyes.
‘This is your fault, Philon, you and your mistress and your cult. I still haven’t decided whether or not to have you crucified for your betrayal. Maybe if you help your master and the people of this city today, I will be inclined to leniency.’
Philon trembled and bowed his head. ‘Yes, Master.’
‘Marsia, you are to stay here, bar the doors, and do keep watch for the fire. Flee if it comes too near.’
‘No, Master.’
Carbo looked at her in amazement.
‘What did you say?’
‘I’m coming with you, Master. My place is at your side.’ She reached behind the bar and picked up a small bucket which she had clearly stored earlier in preparation for the coming fire.
Carbo shook his head. ‘Fine, I don’t have time to argue. Vatius, would you mind keeping an eye on things here?’
Vatius raised a hand in acknowledgement and Carbo led his slaves out into the night.
The crowds had grown, the streets more clogged now, all streaming away from the Caelian, away from the growing fire. Carbo, Philon and Marsia fought their way past panicking, fleeing people. Some had left everything, bringing only their families and any slaves they possessed with them. Others struggled with carts laden with possessions, jewellery, crockery, clothing, lamps. It was foolhardy. They made little progress and the jostling crowds caused the contents to spill or the carts to overturn.
Only Carbo’s bulk allowed them to make any progress at all. He thrust cursing men and wailing women out of the way as he continued through the crush. As they approached the Caelian Hill, he encountered some people trying to make their way towards the flames. He presumed they were games-goers, trying to get to their houses, to save family and possessions. As they neared the spreading flames, the crowds thinned, and making quicker time they soon encountered a group of watchmen. Their centurion held a hand out, forbidding him to pass through.
He sighed, frustrated at the delay in getting back to help Vespillo, but was able to see the little bucket boys proving their worth. The fire was still a distance away, but he could see that it now encompassed a large area of the Caelian Hill. Under the direction of their centurion the vigiles were demolishing houses. Although brick was being increasingly used in the construction of houses and insulae since the reign of Augustus, most dwellings still remained of shoddy wood construction, crammed together, interspersed with more warehouses of the type that Elissa had started the fire in. Although they weren’t as deliberately incendiary as Elissa’s firepit, they still contained flammable materials such as grain, wool and lumber, and when the fire reached one, it redoubled in intensity.
A few people protested the destruction of their homes and businesses, but the protests were half-hearted. Romans lived in constant fear of fire, had all experienced it, and knew that this was a bad one.
Carbo watched as the vigiles wheeled up a ballista towards a tall insula that was next in the path for demolition. With swift efficiency they lined the bolt thrower up, aiming it at the top of the building, and at the order of the centurion, fired. A bolt shot out, its attached rope snaking out behind it, and lodged in the wood of the uppermost floor. Repeated four more times, there were soon five ropes dangling from the top floor, firmly anchored by the bolts that had struck deeply into the walls.
The centurion organized the men to attach the ropes to the yokes of two mules. He gave the order for everyone to stand well back, then had the mule drivers whip their mules forward. The mules kicked and whinnied, but reluctantly did as they were bid, straining against the ropes. One pulled through, the bolt whizzing dangerously back through the air, causing two watchmen to jump to one side.
The other four ropes held and with a series of cracks, and then a long groan, the top two floors of the building toppled down into the street. As soon as the dust and debris had settled, the vigiles were moving forward with ropes on hooks and axes to bring down the remaining two storeys. With the centurion distracted, Carbo beckoned his slaves and they sneaked on down the street.
It was easy to find the general direction of the fire, by the brightness in the darkening sky and the thick smoke, but the conflagration had spread to such an extent that knowing where Vespillo and his men would be situated would be guesswork at best.
The people they saw now were a desperate collection. Many were injured, badly burned, coughing. Some reached their blistered hands out piteously towards him for help. He ignored them and walked on. Many of the taller buildings that were on fire had crumpled bodies at their feet, lying still, many with hair and clothes still smoking and smouldering. At one corner sat a man with tear tracks starkly pale against his soot-blackened face. In his arms he cradled a small body, so badly burned Carbo couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl. Philon stared at the tableau in horror as they passed.
They came across another group of vigiles. These were operating a sipho, a big water pump, soaking a temple that was obviously deemed sufficiently important to be worth attempting to save, rather than demolish. Carbo located the centurion.
‘I’m looking for Vespillo. Tribune of the second cohort. The Esquiline branch.’
The centurion studied him for a moment, then nodded in the direction of the blaze.
‘He was in the centre of that, last I heard. Him and his men. Idiots. The Caelian Hill can’t be saved.’
Carbo thanked the man and moved on. He had to ask two more groups of firefighters before he finally located Vespillo.
Face blackened, hair full of ash, the set of his shoulders showing how weariness suffused him, Vespillo nevertheless looked resolute. They were at the outermost edge of the fire. A large part of the Caelian had already been devastated, but Vespillo and the second cohort fought on.
‘Get that soaked blanket on the lower walls. Aquarii, direct the water from the sipho to the upper floors. You, reinforce the bucket chain, the buckets are coming too slowly.’
‘Vespillo, how can I help?’
Vespillo turned and saw his friend, and a look of gratitude passed over his face. He clapped him on the shoulder.
‘I don’t know if anyone can help, but we are going to do our best. I’m not going to let that witch win.’ Vespillo’s gaze fell on Philon and his expression hardened. He nodded to where a man was sitting against a wall, nursing an obviously broken and scorched arm, attended by a medicus.
‘Pinarius there had a burning timber fall on him. Carbo, grab his axe and help the men pulling down the building next door. You two,’ he said, indicating the slaves, ‘help with collecting the water.’
They did as they were told, Carbo taking the short axe and joining the watchmen who were attempting to make a firebreak. The one-storey house they were working on already had a smouldering roof, but they were making progress, hooks pulling at beams, axes hacking at pillars. Carbo swung his axe, gaining grateful comments from the men he was assisting. The wooden pillar he was working on gave way, but several thick pillars remained. He looked up. The wooden roof was starting to burst into flame and the flames had raced along so they endangered the next house, nestled up close alongside.
Looking around him, Carbo spied a ladder and a broom made of thick twigs attached to a wooden handle, both standard firefighting equipment. He threw the ladder up against the building and quickly scaled it.
The roof creaked under his weight, weakened by the flames that were starting to eat into it. Carbo wheeled the broom like a hammer, smacking the flames as they sprouted up. The flames were shooting out sparks, threatening to jump across the narrow gap to the next roof. If they did so, the firebreak they were creating by destroying this property would already have been bypassed.
Carbo extinguished a small flame, then another. He recalled the legend of the Hydra, two fires seeming to spring up for each he defeated. He fought furiously, regardless. Another pillar went, and part of the roof collapsed.
‘Carbo! What in the name of Vulcan are you doing up there?’ Vespillo’s voice was angry and concerned.
‘Buying time,’ Carbo yelled back, breathing heavily with effort.
A row of flames sprang up, racing towards the next house. Carbo leapt on them, flailing around him with the broom maniacally. The twigs on the broom themselves were starting to smoulder now and the heat from the fire that was consuming the last building it had reached was intense. Sweat poured down his face, smoke stung his eyes, and he worked on. Another pillar gave way to the watchmen’s axes and now a large swathe of roof collapsed in on itself.
Carbo judged the time was right to abandon the roof. He turned round to get on the ladder, but found his way was blocked by new flames. He looked around, seeing flames closing in on him, feeling the heat. He looked over the edge and his heart fell at the thought of another jump.
A ladder smacked against the edge of the roof on the last remaining part that wasn’t burning.
‘Get down here, you idiot!’
Carbo gratefully slid down the ladder. Strong hands pulled him away from the building, and the instant he was clear, men heaved on ropes attached to the remaining beams. The rest of the building came crashing down, the last flames extinguishing in the debris.
The vigiles cheered loudly, their success having temporarily arrested the spread of the fire in this direction. Vespillo gave them a brief moment to celebrate and regain their breath as he looked around him, surveying the situation. Fire was starting to work its way down the opposite side of the street and Carbo sighed, getting ready for Vespillo to send them back into combat. He looked around and saw Philon and Marsia approaching from down the street, both carrying buckets of water. The effort seemed pitiful, hopeless in the face of the raging anger of the fire, but he felt proud of them both for their effort. Philon looked resolute, seeming to have finally found some inner strength from his desire to make amends.
As Carbo watched them, he saw the building they were passing start to list. A burning beam split and the wall of the upper storey bowed outwards into the street above his two slaves. He cried out a warning and pointed frantically. Marsia was partially obscured from his view by some of the vigiles and could not see him waving, but Philon noticed and followed the direction of his gestures. He looked up just as the upper wall gave way and a pile of bricks tumbled downwards.
Time froze. Carbo’s heart seemed to stop. Philon barely hesitated. He thrust Marsia hard with both hands, propelling her across the street and out of harm’s way. A fraction of a heartbeat later, the falling rubble buried Philon.
Marsia sat on her backside, buckets upended, looking in horrified amazement at the pile of cement, wood and bricks that lay on top of her fellow slave. Carbo and some vigiles arrived a moment later and started pulling away debris frantically. Marsia joined in and soon they had Philon uncovered. Marsia held him, looking down into his unnaturally white face. His breathing was laboured, his chest caved in. He coughed and a fine spray of blood covered Marsia’s face.
Philon opened his eyes and looked up at Marsia.
‘I’m sorry for… everything.’
The effort of speaking caused him to cough more. Carbo noticed a section of his chest where the ribs were broken, moving in and out like the sail on a boat flapping in the wind.
‘Don’t speak,’ said Marsia.
Philon was struggling for breath now, his lips and tongue turning blue.
‘Think… kindly… of me…’
‘I will,’ whispered Marsia.
Philon nodded gratefully. Marsia held him as consciousness rapidly left him and the laboured breathing stopped. She buried her face in his hair and wept.
Vespillo and Carbo exchanged glances. Vespillo shook his head sadly, then turned back to direct his men.
A breathless young man appeared around the street corner and came running up to Carbo.
‘I’m looking for Tribune Vespillo,’ he gasped.
Carbo gestured to Vespillo. The man took a couple of breaths, then spoke.
‘I bring a message from Prefect Quintus Naevius Cordus Sutorius Macro.’
Vespillo stiffened at the name of his commander, the equestrian-ranked Prefect in charge of the entire vigiles.
‘Go on.’
‘The Prefect commands you to withdraw.’
‘What?’ Vespillo protested. ‘We are winning this fight.’ He gestured at the firebreak they had just made. ‘We need to create another break across the street, that will arrest all spread in this direction for long enough to enlarge the break and allow us to start bringing water and acetum grenades to bear on the burning buildings. We can save all these houses, and who knows how many lives of those too slow and infirm to flee.’
‘The Prefect was firm, Tribune,’ said the man. ‘He fears that all Rome is threatened. He wants every available man creating a break around the Caelian Hill, to isolate the conflagration here.’
Vespillo looked aghast. ‘He is abandoning the whole of the Caelian?’
The messenger looked uncomfortable, but nodded. Carbo put a hand on Vespillo’s shoulder.
‘Come on, Soldier, you have your orders. Both of us have obeyed countless commands we didn’t agree with over the years. And who is to say the Prefect is wrong? Elissa intended to destroy Rome. If the fire is confined to the Caelian, Rome will cope. If it consumes the whole of Rome, who knows what the consequences may be?’
Vespillo looked defiant, then his shoulders slumped. He looked around at his men.
‘Vigiles,’ he called. ‘You have fought bravely. You have made me proud and brought honour on the cohort. But we have orders to withdraw. Grab your equipment, follow me.’
Carbo put an arm around Marsia as the watchmen formed up. Then Vespillo turned his back on the fire, and led his men away.