Caesar's Sword: The Complete Campaigns by David Pilling

Author:David Pilling [Pilling, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sharpe Books
Published: 2021-02-24T22:00:00+00:00

10.

I did as Procopius suggested, and rode out that same afternoon to inspect the remains of the aqueduct west of Naples, less than a mile from the boundaries of our camp.

Seen close to, the ruins of the Aqua Augusta were a great crumbling series of stone arches piled on top of each other, ivy-grown and decayed, and in places entirely fallen away. Part of the channel was still connected to the city, but there were gaps in the rows of arches above the surface. The surrounding land was a wet and stagnant bog, thanks to the water seeping out of the disused channel and polluting the ground.

I tethered my horse in a little wood and wandered among the ruins. The complexities of the design were beyond me, but I knew that the majority of the wells and cisterns were underground.

“There will be entrances to these subterranean tunnels,” Procopius told me before I left, “find one, and explore as far as you may. I trust you have no fear of dark, constricted spaces.”

In fact I did, but it seemed to unwise to say so. Procopius had sent me here with more than mere sightseeing in mind.

The ruins were silent. No birds sang nearby, and I began to feel I had entered a mausoleum. The Aqua Augusta had once been a glory of the Empire, but like the Empire it had fallen into neglect and disrepair. I was an ant, a pygmy, wandering haplessly through the remnants of a dead civilization.

At last I found a narrow rent in the wall, once a doorway, but partially blocked up by fallen masonry. It was still wide enough for me to squeeze through. For some time I stood irresolute, contemplating the darkness that lay beyond with fear and trepidation. My skin crawled at the thought of groping through the shadows beneath the earth, and of what might be lurking in those long-abandoned tunnels.

Turn back, or press on. Some residual sense of duty overturned my fear, and I scraped though the gap.

Beyond was a passage, wide enough for two men, and a stone floor that sloped sharply downwards. Gulping down a sense of panic, I shuffled carefully down the passage, keeping one hand pressed against the damp wall. The floor was slimy, but my way was guided by the light streaming through the entrance.

The light was snuffed out as I descended further. For a time I crept along in total darkness. The air was musty and warm. All was silence, save for the steady drip-drip of water somewhere close by. My breathing came hard and fast, and my heart fluttered in my chest like a trapped bird.

At any moment I felt certain the walls would close in, forcing me into a steadily shrinking space, until I was crushed inside a stone box. I almost soiled myself at the prospect of being buried alive in this dreadful vault. Only the reassuring weight of Caledfwlch at my hip prevented me from turning back.

Blessed light returned, slanting through collapsed sections of the ceiling, far above my head.

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