The Eternal City
César Farah
Geminius Celsus entered a popina and looked for a secluded place where there was little light and it was difficult to see. The popinas were taverns and there was first, second and third category. They were bars for the people, with a wide record in terms of their customers. Therefore, it was possible to find from the humblest workers to businessmen; sometimes, one might even run into a senator or a praetor, although it was not the rule. Often the wine and food sold were of dubious origin, the dishes were washed in a bottom with water that was not changed and, apart from the tables inside the premises, there was a bar that opened directly onto the street to deliver food and drinks on the go.
In this particular popina Geminius Celsus had confidence, because he knew the owner, a woman named Tinitia, who about eight months previously she had been widowed with six children, of whom the youngest had eight and the largest twenty-five. So, the mob of Galerius Crassus, who before charged her late husband for "protection" (a protection from dangers that Galerius himself was in charge of producing), tried to seize women's business through pressure, threats, violence against her, the local and even about some customers. Tinitia, with six children, of the which the two oldest, adults, were women, he had no way to defend himself.
Theft, fraud, violence in general, did not fall within the criminal offences, but were civil, which meant that people they had to defend themselves and however they could. Geminius Celsus, then almost newcomer to the Cohort, he was in charge of protecting the woman, to stop the minions of Galerius Crassus and, in fact, was point of disrupting his organization and although he did not succeed, at least he did that he would get away from the woman and her popina, from the neighborhood and from himself. Nope he did it alone, but together with Graco and some companions of the Cohort, but it was he who mobilized the group and the main manager of the aid that received the widow. Tinitia's daughters were adults, they were twenty-five the eldest and fourteen the youngest, and they were the ones in charge of the business. The women who worked in the popinas —generally— were tacitly considered prostitutes: for the same price as the of a cheap pitcher of wine, you could have sex with them in the second floor of the establishments or in an attached room. To solve this problem, the eldest daughter of Tinitia, called Sulla, who did not give this service, hired
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two other women: Ambusta and Corvina, who they waited tables and served customers on the second floor; a practice for true, notoriously widespread, that it was not even considered adultery or established prostitution, was rather an idiosyncratic custom.
Geminius Celsus had never slept with any of them, but he knew them and got along well with them. Sometimes they even served as informants: in general, the Roman whores handled an enormous amount of money.
information on the most diverse and strange subjects, those whores of a fourth-rate tavern, they could often know as much about the business of petty criminals as well as high-ranking senators close to Caesar himself.
The popina was almost completely silent, interrupted only by the rhythmic creaking of a cot and some groaning on the second floor, where one of Celsus's two informants made a living. if it was of Corvina, reflected the policeman, who was the older of the two, the sound it would fade very quickly.
Siesta time was the time of day when only whores, the criminals and the police stayed awake.
Sneaky lovers too, by the way.
Murena took another drink and concentrated on her interlocutor.
"Good Celsus," he said, "we have known each other for many years, we have I've been through so much, so I'm not going to lie to you, it wouldn't make sense either. You already know what is coming, what the next days and weeks will be like... the murder of this girl is a scandal, there will be a storm, this little girl is not a Subura whore or a recent freedman, not even a working citizen.
"The girl was from a wealthy family," Geminius Celsus interjected, "I know, there will be pressure."
With a certain resigned sadness, Licinius Murena stared some scratched on the wall of the popina: "Faustina sweet as a bride gives herself as you wish for eight sesterces", "Petronio is the best lover of Nero” and “Gabinius Bulbo of the IX has it great as a horse". The latter Murena, who had been a legionnaire, doubted; especially if he was a soldier of the IX legion, the "Hispania", a horde disordered of cowards, so slow that they called it "The snail" and that had needed as much help in the Britannia campaign as a child who learn to walk… the biggest, ¡ha!
“Everyone deserves justice” Murena sighed, resuming the conversation. “All: the whore, the freedman, the merchant, the legionnaire and the senator, even Caesar is sometimes pressured. We have laws even for slaves, Celsus, we are civilization and, in Rome, in its fair measure, everyone deserves—and receives—justice”
"But some deserve more than others” the policeman said wryly.
"Each in his fair measure, Lucius Geminius Celsus." Rome gives the justice that each one deserves, we are not barbarians, boy” .
“No, we're not, but we're not a perfect society either”.
“Of course not! We never have been and probably never have been.
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we will be and I hope that the Goddess of a thousand works, don't let us try. It would be disastrous, because after all, to believe that a society is perfect or that a culture is the best or the only one possible, makes us lower guard over the vices of that society. No, Rome is not a perfect civilization and the good Romans, the responsible Romans, we know it´s not. Like any legionnaire, you can read, Celsus, have you read Plato ever?”
"No, sir, never."
Murena hesitated. Celsus' fondness for reading came from his early youth, he had worked in a bookstore in the Argiletum as bookbinder's assistant, there he learned to read and, indeed, he read how much was produced in the text factory. Plato was a very popular author, for sure he knew him, but for some reason he was pretending never have read it.
“You should. It's crazy, but it's worth reading”
"Why should he read it, if he's crazy?" Celsus asked, surprised. Or maybe, pretending to be surprised, Murena thought.
“Because all the Greeks are crazy and still worth reading” .
"Is he a poet?" Celsus asked. Now, Murena was sure that the legionnaire had read it and was playing with it.
"Well… he says no, but he is," Murena smiled.
"¿Is he a poet who doesn't think he's a poet?"
Murena replied somewhat annoyed:
“He claims to be a philosopher, but he writes as a poet. Stop touching my balls, Geminius Celsus, it's obvious you've read it. With intelligence, then you will understand why I say that promoting an ideal civilization it is nonsense” .
'I don't like philosophy, sir”
"It almost makes me want to order you to read it. Can't you temporize, at least?”
"I try, sir."
"Celsus, you don't know anything... well, I want you to pay attention to me: we must find Scribonia's murderer as fast as we can. We must not commit bungling and justice must be done, Act soon and don't miss details. Marcus Sallustius Crispus is a man of fortune and very well connected: he is going to move heaven, sea and earth to find his daughter's killers. It is essential that we find the culprits, furthermore, this year has been difficult. The Praetorian Prefect has died” .
"Burro" said Geminius Celsus, "he was a good man."
“It was. He was an excellent man, he always advised Nero well, but with the years it was losing influence on him. They say the same thing has happened with Seneca: despite the ugly business of Agrippina, they were good advisers to the emperor, but who does he have now? To Rufus...”
"That has no character," interrupted Celsus. Murena nodded with eyes closed “And Tigellinus,” continued the soldier.
'Tigellinus, exactly. I do not know if Burro´s death was natural or not, but it would not be strange if Tigellinus or Nero himself had helped poor Burro to pass to a better life. They say Seneca is thinking of retiring from the public world” .
“¿It's a politically difficult year, isn't it?” Celsus said.
"Besides," Murena went on, "¿what can I tell you? This is not just a political problem for me, it is also a moral problem. We can't let those sons of bitches walk free on the streets of Rome, if not, ¿what kind of Sub-prefect would I be? ¿And you? ¿What kind of legionnaire would you be after all, we would not be worthy to call ourselves citizens, so we must find the culprits. This may be the move you need to become a Centurion before your longawaited retirement he pronounced the word “longed for” with an ironic tone, since Murena he disapproved of the idea and hoped that Geminius Celsus would make more of a career- And if Ocella can be of any help to you," he continued, "don't hesitate to ask.
contact her and ask her anything. As you may have already seen, that woman is unbearably bright” .
Nero had been a handsome, slender, deep-eyed boy who had been passionate about art for as long as he could remember. blonde, from abundant hair, with a straight nose, beautifully centered on her face and of abundant musculature arrival the youth. At sixteen years old, when he became emperor, in the eyes of the populace he was the very incarnation of Apollo.
Eight years had passed since then. Caesar had put on weight, but he still looked strong: his neck was as thick as a bull, arms and legs were not only turned by the muscles, but they were endowed with enormous strength. An incipient baldness beginning to show on the top of his head, however, the curly beard that left sometimes, according to the Greek fashion, was abundant and as golden as her hair. The rictus of his mouth had tightened slightly, his grimace it was something crueller, however, the intensity of his blue eyes had made brighter and more penetrating.
He entered the room where his guests were, followed by Tigellinus, the Praetorian Prefect, plus two gigantic, brilliantly clad Praetorians.
armor. He, for his part, was dressed in a loose tunic, without belt and barely embellished with simple embroidery. He smiled and waved all displaying his fame as a good host.
Immediately, he commented that Gabinius Albus, one of the guests that night, he was excused due to a terrible matter. The senator had dutifully sent a personal emissary to justify his absence in the face of the death of the daughter of one of his great friends, Sallustio Crispo. This was a risky move, not only did he decline the emperor's invitation, but he did so by virtue of his friendship with someone who, moreover, was not very close to Caesar.
However, the latter considered the case to be exceptional. In fact, in front of Tigelino, he referred to the murder of the girl as a "great misfortune".
Nero knew Sallustio Crispus and, indeed, the relations with the father of the deceased Scribonia were not good at all. Even so, wrote in his own handwriting a tablet of condolences that he sent even the mourner. The message was highly conceptual and poetic,
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with a very well finished style. Nero was a remarkable poet, an accomplished sitar player, and against his own wishes just a good singer.
He commented, over dinner, that Scribonia's death seemed a most terrible event, he deeply regretted an event like that and remembered having met the girl: a being charming and beautiful, he said, it is impossible to imagine what kind of beast evil might have enough hate inside him to kill her.
Immediately afterward, he asked Tigellinus if, in fact, Flavius Sabino, Urban Prefect, would be investigating.
“Of course, Caesar, the investigation is in the hands of your former colleague from the XIV legion, the Gemina, Licinius Murena”
Nero nodded, pleased.
"Murena's reputation precedes him," the Emperor said. “I hope that this horrendous crime is cleared up as soon as possible. What kind of Emperor is he who cannot give security to his citizens? What kind of government is the one that allows a girl like that to die no justice?”
The rest of the guests were amazed at the greatness of Nero, of his dignity and the concern he felt for his beloved subjects. There were even approving murmurs and laudatory phrases to the Caesar.
Gaius Ofonius Tigellinus, Nero's Praetorian Prefect, smiled complicitly at the emperor, who returned the same smile.
Actually, Nero thought that Rome was a savage and brutal city and that, as emperor, he should take care of his subjects, but the dimension he had gone in another direction. Sallustio Crispo was not a friend of his government, among the guests there were also friends of his and the comment did not would go unnoticed. The lament for the death of the girl would be mentioned and Nero would remain as an emperor who, even in the face of political differences, he was capable of feeling concern for each and every one of his subjects, without being carried away by petty discrepancies.
While the guests gorged themselves on oysters and wine, Caesar barely touched a couple and devoted himself to discussing the attributes of a good tragedy and a good comedy. He
discussed how, in the first, catharsis was reached through feelings such as compassion and fear, while pleasure and laughter produce catharsis in comedy; Connoisseur, as he was, of Greek thought, he also delighted in expounding the various types of poetry and mimesis that could be defined. A Nero liked to show that he was not only a great artist, but also a connoisseur of the subject.
Rome burned for seven days. The fire, seemingly random and brutal, destroyed almost everything. He advanced through the poorest neighborhoods in first place, where people, crowded together, died prey to the flames and smoke and, when they managed to save their lives, it was almost the only thing they rescued, since it was impossible for them to save belongings or objects from worth.
The Velabra, the Subura and later the Palatino were burned and a good part of the Aventine. Whether it was because of the wind blowing contradictorily, as some citizens reported, or because of people who started new bonfires, as others said, they also burned a large part of the constructions next to the wharves. In the same way, and without mediating coherent explanation, the fire resumed in the Caelio, from where it would advance, relentlessly, towards the Esquiline, the Viminal and the Quirinal. The last two certainly did not burn completely, but the damage in the rest of the Regio that constituted Rome they were terrible. To him south, the Emporia burned frantically, causing millionaire damage merchants, not counting the loss it meant in terms of consumable goods for citizens, which would be in short supply for a long time from the accident.
The deaths followed one after another, generating fear and crying. The cries of those trapped by the flames were a chant tragic that accompanied the city for days and nights. The Cohorts Vigiles, whose commander was Ninfidio Sabino, fought hand to hand with the Urban Cohorts commanded by Flavio Sabino. They knocked down buildings to prevent the fire from continuing to spread, rescued people from the flames and rubble, released sources of water and they worked endlessly, with scarves over their faces and axes (or whatever they had by hand), knocking down flammable buildings, or breaking beams, windows, and doors that trapped people. They also tried to keep order, as pillage, robbery and violence were savagely unleashed on the streets. Many of them died in the process and barely slept during their frantic fight against the flames, though in the long run it was all in vain. The fire defeated both Cohorts who, actually, there was little they could do.
In this desperate proceeding, Celsus and Licinius Murena lost sight of each other and were reunited almost two days later, at some point of that madness, when between two groups of the Cohort they knocked down an insula to prevent the fire from spreading further. At
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that time, Murena told Celsus that she had received news (delivered by a third party) that Ocella's house had not been destroyed. At least not until now. But he knew nothing about his family. Although uneasiness, Celsus continued steadfast in his duty, fighting to save the city, indulging in the misery of a little water and a crust of bread from time to time. He lost sight of Murena again hours later, when the flames reached new sectors of Rome. After several days having slept only a couple of hours, Celsus felt exhausted, without strength for anything else and, contrary to what he would have liked, he slept as he always had, that is, heavily.
