Historic Roman yarn spellbinding
SOME years ago I drove from one side of Rome to another.
I was staying with friends on the south-east outskirts of the Italian capital – which sprawls over seven hills and the River Po – near Fontana Candida, a sunny spot.
It took me no fewer than four hours to reach Braccano, a park a few kilometres north-west of the city.
The traffic and pedestrians were horrendous. Of course, I could have taken a major bypass to skirt the city, but I wanted to savour the feel of the tortuous route I chose.
Today’s Rome is the eighth-most populous European city by population within city limits (2 879 038); behind Istanbul, Moscow, London, St Petersburg, Berlin, Madrid, Kiev, but ahead of Paris and Bucharest. But why am I telling you all this? Because I have just read a book by an Oxford history don about Marcus Clodius Ballista, a Romanised barbarian officer of German origin, who in AD265 must somehow negotiate his way across Rome (it then had a population of about one million souls) as a marked man, to warn the emperor – Licinius Egnatius Gallienus (authentic in real life) – of an assassination plot.
What happens to him on his perilous journey makes the antics of the heroine in The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo, Jack Reacher or James Bond appear irrelevant.
If Ballista fails his family will die; many involved in the assassination plot have orders to arrest him; others want him dead. Basically, Ballista has just 24 hours to save the emperor… can this resolute warrior do it? (The definition of a ballista is an ancient military siege engine in the form of a crossbow. Typically, it was used to hurl large bolts and was more accurate than a catapult at the expense of reduced range.) It is a tale full of danger, twists, violence and betrayals – perfect material for a blockbuster film?
Too many authors forget to begin by advancing the plot of their work as far as they can; thankfully, not Harry Sidebottom.
From the moment Ballista stands on the roof of the Mausoleum of Hadrian as the book opens, in perhaps the centre of the then-known world, with the mighty River Tiber below him and the city pancaked on its far bank, his task is threatened as metalled footsteps echo up towards him. Compromised, nowhere to run he… ? Sidebottom uses great knowledge of the period and the topography (with a few tweaks) of Rome in this dash-againsttime thriller.
Ballista’s enemies include no less than the Praetorian Guard and the muchfeared frumentarii, the Roman Empire’s MI6.
The very custodians of the “free world” are themselves implicated; who should whistle-blow on them?
The book certainly epitomises Roman poet Juvenal’s famous line – Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? – loosely translated as “who will guard the guardians?”
In The Last Hour, Sidebottom’s Rome uses recognisable iconic streets and landmarks, making this tantalising journey even more entertaining and relevant.
But this is no tourist tour. It’s a heart-stopping ancient times spectacular for 21st century readers. I loved every page.