– chapter i –

Fire! Fire!

 

How did the fire begin? No one seemed to know. Some people believed it was started deliberately. Others said it was an accident, when a cook dropped a pan of oil, or a child was careless with a candle. It wouldn’t be the first time. During the hot summer months, outbreaks of fire were quite common in the city.

But this was no ordinary fire. This was the great fire of Rome.

Like everyone who was there, I can never forget the day it happened – 18 July in the tenth year of the Emperor Nero.

All day a hot, dry wind had been blowing through the streets. It had been unbearable in the baker’s shop where I worked, and I was thankful when closing time came.

‘What’s the matter? Can’t take the heat?’ Crispus said, grinning. ‘You ought to be used to it by now, Bryn.’

I’d been working in his shop for two years. Crispus and his wife, Marcella, had been very good to me. They gave me a home and treated me almost like a son, though they had two young children of their own.

Crispus had a round, cheerful face, always ready to smile. Marcella was thinner and more serious-looking. Unlike most Roman women, who loved make-up and jewellery, she dressed very simply. Their home was plain and simple too – a couple of rooms opening off a narrow street in a crowded part of the city. It had nothing unusual about it, except the sign of a fish scribbled like a child’s drawing beside the door.

The fish was a secret symbol. It stood for the name of Jesus Christ, and showed that Christians, his followers, lived there.

Indoors, Marcella was preparing a meal. ‘How many are we expecting tonight?’ she asked.

Crispus didn’t know. Because of the summer heat, many rich people had left the city. Not that many of our Christian friends were rich, but some were slaves to rich men. Tiro, for instance, had gone with his master and his family to their country estate. We probably wouldn’t see him for weeks.

Tiro was an African slave who had helped me when I first came to Rome, three years earlier. I’d been captured, along with many others of my tribe, when we tried to rebel against the Romans who had conquered our land. I was sold as a slave. But Tiro bought my freedom, using money that he had been saving up to set himself free. He was the best friend I’d ever had.

If it weren’t for Tiro, I would have left Rome long ago, heading for my homeland, Britain. In the city heat, I often felt a stab of homesickness. I longed for summer nights in my own village . . . cool breezes from the forest . . . stars as bright as a fox’s eyes . . . and total stillness, unknown in the bustling city.

I didn’t know if my village still existed; I couldn’t tell if my mother, brother and sisters were still alive. The only way to find out would be to make the long journey home.

If it was God’s will, one day I would go back there. One day, when I had repaid Tiro for his gift of my freedom, I would leave Rome behind me for ever.

Someone tapped quietly at the door – three knocks, a pause, and then another knock. It must be one of our friends. Just to make sure, Crispus looked out through the small barred window before unlocking the door. These were dangerous times. As Christians, we couldn’t meet openly, because the Emperor Nero hated us. He wanted everyone to worship him as a god, and grew angry when Christians refused to do it. Some of our leaders had already been arrested; a few had been killed.

The only way we could meet together was in secret, in the homes of believers. People arrived quietly after dark. They came in ones and twos, hoping not to be seen.

Then came a louder knock; I went to answer it. The new arrival was Felix. He looked excited, but that wasn’t unusual – Felix was always getting excited about something.

Felix had dark hair and mischievous brown eyes. He was fifteen, two years older than me, although I was just as tall as him. (My people, the Celts, are mostly tall and fair-skinned.)

‘There’s a big fire at the Circus Maximus,’ he announced. ‘A really big one! The whole Circus is on fire.’

The Circus was an enormous place, large enough for chariots to race inside it, with seating all around for thousands of people. I couldn’t imagine the entire place being alight. Felix was probably exaggerating.

‘Don’t you believe me? Come outside and see,’ he said.

By now the sky was almost dark, apart from a red glow above the rooftops to the south. At first I thought it was the remains of the sunset – but the sun doesn’t set in the south. That was where the Circus Maximus lay, in the next valley. It must be a bad fire if we could see the light of it from where we were.

‘Do you think it will spread?’ I asked.

‘It will if this wind keeps up,’ said Felix. ‘They won’t be able to contain it – it’s too big.’

‘I’m glad the wind isn’t blowing this way,’ I said, feeling sure that we were in no danger. After all, the fire was some distance away, on the far side of the hill. ‘Come inside, Felix.’

Felix didn’t want to. He longed to go back and see the fire – I could tell. Sometimes he acted more like five than fifteen. He followed me in, though, and started telling everyone about the fire.

‘It’s God’s judgement,’ said old Cassius, who had a solemn view on everything. ‘I expect the whole city will perish in flames and destruction.’

‘Do you think we’ve come to the end-time?’ Felix said eagerly. ‘The time when Jesus will return?’

‘Nobody knows when that will be,’ said Crispus. ‘Even our Lord himself didn’t know. It might be tomorrow. It might not be for thousands of years.’

Felix looked disappointed. Then he brightened up. ‘If the fire is a judgement from God, maybe we should be out there helping to spread it! We should set fire to the temples of the false gods!’

‘No, Felix! It’s not up to us to judge other people or punish them,’ said Crispus. ‘Only God himself can do that.’

One or two people were looking anxious. Titus and Livia, who lived near the Circus Maximus, decided they ought to go home and make sure their belongings were safe. Others followed them. The few of us who remained said prayers for their safety.

After a while, we began to hear sounds from the street outside – hurried footsteps, voices shouting, and the cry of a baby. I looked out through the window bars and saw that the narrow street was crowded with people, all heading northwards. Many were loaded down with bundles and bags.

Then I looked up – and caught my breath. That red glow in the sky was much brighter.

Marcella gave a frightened cry. ‘It’s getting closer! What should we do?’

Crispus said, ‘Get ready to leave if we must. Wake the children up, but don’t leave yet. I’ll go and find out what’s happening.’

Felix and I followed him. We had to push through the crowds who were heading the other way – frightened people, clutching their children and their few possessions. They looked like poor families from the crowded streets around the Circus Maximus.

Near the top of a hill, we found a scene of destruction – but not from the fire. Men were working frantically with hammers, mallets and even their bare hands. They were demolishing buildings, trying to make a gap that the fire could not cross.

We went further, until we could see the fire itself. The valley below us was a bowl of flame. We could hear the roar of it, and smell the charred, bitter smell of burning buildings.

Suddenly my mind leaped back to the day when I was captured. I remembered running through a village that was on fire – Roman soldiers had burned it after the battle where my father had been killed. If I had known then that I would live to see Rome itself blazing like a bonfire, I would have been glad.

But not now. Now I felt anxious for my friends, and sad to see the ruin of so many people’s lives. I was frightened, too – I’d never seen a fire like this.

Was there any way to stop it? Would the whole city be destroyed – burned up like a dried leaf in a candle flame?

‘Maybe it is the end-time.’ Felix’s voice was full of awe. ‘The end of the world.’