Armenia Capta

by William Kelso

  Shaking, Fergus reached out, grasped hold of his gladius from the ground where he’d dropped it and staggered to his feet. Around him, as if in slow motion, the street had descended into a nasty, bloody and desperate brawl as men hacked and lunged at each other and rolled over the ground, locked together in a deadly, vicious battle for survival. Flavius, clutching his sword and a discarded shield, was screaming in his native Germanic language as two temple guards lay dead at his feet and he battled to keep two more at bay. The attackers were keeping a respectful distance from him and were trying to stab him with their spears. Close by, Hadrian was shrieking as he tumbled and rolled over the ground, wrestling with an attacker clutching a knife. And as he stared at the scene in horror, unable to move, Fergus saw Adalwolf stagger to Hadrian’s aid, grasp hold of his attacker’s hair and coldly slit the man’s throat and toss his body aside. At his boss’s side, old Attianus was kneeling, staring at the ground, his hands pressed to a wound in his stomach, from which blood was pouring out. The man looked in a bad way. With a rising roar, reality returned and with a furious cry, Fergus launched himself at a temple guard who was hacking at one of the brothers, catching the man with a kick that sent him staggering backwards into Skula’s path who decapitated him with a single, slicing blow from his axe. Fergus’s eyes widened as he saw the head fly spinning through the air. Skula looked completely calm as his murderous, swinging axe drove three of the attackers backwards and with shock, Fergus realised that the bald Russian was singing to himself.

  A scream for help behind him made Fergus whirl round. Arlyn was in trouble, surrounded by three temple-guards who were lunging at him. The tall Hibernian looked like he had been wounded, for his left hand was pressed to his side as he feinted and darted away from his opponent’s attacks. But Arlyn was not going to last long. Springing forwards, Fergus stooped to pick up a discarded spear and with a roar, he flung it at one of the attackers, catching him full on in the chest and sending the man staggering backwards. But just as he was about to lunge at another attacker, a shout from behind him forced him to look back. Hadrian and Adalwolf were once more in trouble as two attackers closed in on them.

  “Shit,” Fergus hissed, as he abandoned his attempts to help Arlyn and rushed to Hadrian’s aid. He had to keep the boss alive. That was his job. Nothing else mattered but that.

  “Protect Hadrian, protect Hadrian,” Fergus roared, as he leapt to his boss’s defence, crashing sideways into one of the attackers, tackling and bringing him down in a tangled mass of arms and legs. Fergus landed heavily but the blow was cushioned by his attacker’s arm and hand. The unfortunate man underneath him screamed, as Fergus’s weight crashed down on him and with a distinctive crack, broke his hand. With a desperate flurry of kicks and punches, Fergus freed himself, rose unsteadily to his feet and, ignoring the searing pain in his leg, furiously kicked the man in the head with his heavy army boots until he stopped moving. Hadrian, clutching a spear was jabbing it at the second man, forcing him to keep his distance. His boss’s fine white toga was torn and smeared with blood, guts and dirt.

  “Come on then you bastard,” Hadrian was screaming, as his eyes remained fixed on his opponent. “I am here, come and get me, come and get me.”

  But just as the attacker was about to lunge again he hesitated, straightened up, dropped his sword and then slowly collapsed to the ground, with a knife sticking out of his back. Fergus gasped, as from the trees he suddenly saw Saadi staggering towards him. The girl’s face was badly bruised, stained with dried blood and she was limping. But in her hand, she was holding another of her throwing-knives and as he stared at her, unable to look away, she coldly and calmly flung the knife into the back of another temple guard.

  With a shock, Fergus suddenly realised that the fight was over. And as the noise and screaming started to die down, he swayed on his feet and turned to stare at the hellish scene that surrounded him. Sixteen temple guards lay dead, strewn across the road and surrounded by pools of blood, broken limbs, decapitated heads, mutilated bodies and discarded weapons and shields. His team had killed them all. But Alexander and Korbis were dead too and Attianus, Arlyn, himself and one of the brothers were wounded. Arlyn looked seriously wounded and, as he stared at him, Skula calmly but hastily crouched beside the tall Hibernian and began to examine his wounds. Staggering towards Hadrian, Fergus looked down at his boss. Hadrian was sitting on the ground, breathing heavily and he had dropped his spear but he looked unharmed. They had kept Hadrian alive; they had done their job, Fergus thought. Adalwolf was crouching beside old Attianus trying to help him, as the old man groaned softly in pain. Slight dazed, Fergus turned to stare at the mess around him and as he did so, the pain in his leg came back with a vengeance and he grimaced. Opening his eyes again he saw Saadi limping towards him. The girl’s face looked horrendous and she seemed close to tears.

  “They caught me Sir,” the girl whispered, as she looked up at Fergus with large staring eyes. “They knew who I was. They knew that I was working for you as one of Hadrian’s bodyguards. They told me. One moment I am moving through the crowds just like you had ordered me to, and the next these two bastards in temple guard uniforms were dragging me away, telling anyone in the crowd that I was a thief.” Saadi struggled to contain her emotions. “They dragged me down this alley. They said they were going to kill me Sir. Then they decided they were going to rape me before they killed me. That’s when I managed to break free. I killed them both Sir,” the girl said, her eyes growing cold. “I killed them and then I mutilated them. Their bodies are still down that alley but not every part of them. They will never be whole in the afterlife. They will bear their mutilation for all eternity.”

  Fergus stared at Saadi in silence. Then he reached out to her, clasping a hand around her neck and pulled her into an embrace against his chest.

  “You did well, you did very well,” Fergus muttered. “Shit, you did a brilliant job.”

  “Who were they? Who were they after?” Adalwolf snapped furiously, as he rose from Attianus’s side and came across to Fergus and Saadi, his chest still heaving from the exertion and his bloodstained hands trembling with emotion.

  “This was an assassination attempt,” Hadrian hissed angrily as he remained sitting on the ground. “What else can it be? And I think we know what they were after. They wanted to kill me. That first spear was meant for me. If Fergus here hadn’t knocked me to the ground, I would have been dead now.”

  “Sixteen fucking men, armed and clad in the uniforms of Athena’s temple guards,” Adalwolf snapped with rising fury in his voice. “This is not some amateurish plot. This doesn’t feel like the thing an enraged husband or a thwarted merchant would do. No, someone carefully planned this. Someone with access to resources, connections and intelligence on our movements did this. They planned this very carefully. None of these fuckers ran away. They knew exactly what they were doing. Hell, they even knew about Saadi.”

  “Fergus,” Flavius suddenly cried out, and as his deputy beckoned him over, Fergus let go of Saadi and grimacing in pain, staggered towards the big German. Flavius was down on one knee, gazing at one of the slain temple guards and, as he approached, Fergus suddenly saw that the man was still alive, but barely. He had taken an axe blow to his chest and his tunic was stained in blood. Seeing that the man was still alive, Fergus swore as he hastily crouched beside Flavius and peered down at the dying assassin.

  “Who ordered you to attack Hadrian?” Fergus hissed as he pressed his finger into the man’s forehead. “Tell me and we shall end your pain quickly.”

  On the road, the man groaned softly and his eyelids fluttered a little as he stared up at the sky. Then he seemed to whisper something but it was too faint for Fergus to catch. Leaning forwards Fergus pressed his ear towards the man’s face.

  “Laberius knew,” the assassin whispered.

  With a frown, Fergus raised his head and stared down at the dying man. The assassin was not making sense.

  “What do you mean?” Fe
rgus snapped, “Laberius knew, what does that mean?”

  But on the ground the man’s breath had stopped coming and his eyes were staring up at the sky without seeing.

  Chapter Ten – A Changed Man

  The bow of the Liburna plunged, rolled, and then rose through the waves, sending a sheet of fine, white spray flying across the deck as the ship struggled on across the choppy sea at a fast fourteen knots. The ship’s timbers groaned and creaked from the slapping crash of the waves against the hull and the wind wailed along the deck. From the single-mast the square, white sail bulged outwards filled by the strong western wind that was driving the vessel due east. A reddish morning sun had just risen over the horizon. Fergus tightened his cloak around his body. He stood at the prow of the vessel, steadying himself against the hull as he gazed out to sea and allowed the fresh, sea-breeze to strike his face. His leg still felt stiff and sore from the grazing wound he’d sustained during the attempt on Hadrian’s life. But under Galena’s careful supervision, the wound was healing rapidly. They were three days out from Athens and there was no sign of land. The rough conditions had forced the oarsmen to retract their oars and the crew now sat, huddled together on their benches, resting, sleeping and sheltering from the elements. The ship’s captain had not wanted to raise the sail, calling it dangerous in these conditions, but Hadrian had overruled him, telling the captain that he was in a hurry to reach Antioch.

  As he gazed out across the sea, Fergus thought that Hadrian seemed to have become a changed man since the assassination attempt and his brush with death. The casual talk, gossiping and drinking had stopped and he’d become quieter, more serious and sober. He had thrown himself into his work. Everyone had noticed that. It was all the boss did and talked about these days. Work, work, work. And there seemed to be a new urgency and impatience about everything, Fergus thought with a frown. To transport Hadrian and his entourage to the east, emperor Trajan had assigned Hadrian one of his own, personal trireme’s and a small naval escort. The trireme was a larger and more luxurious ship but it had been delayed by a storm. However instead of waiting for it to arrive, which would have meant a few more days in Athens, Hadrian had chartered this fast but small, crowded and uncomfortable Liburna; packed his staff and entourage onto it and had set sail as soon as possible. He’d justified his decision by saying that he needed to reach Antioch and get on with his job as fast as possible and he’d stubbornly refused to change his mind.

  Fergus turned his head as he noticed Galena cautiously picking her way towards him over the pitching, rolling and slippery deck. Her face was pale and she looked miserable and exhausted. As she reached him, Fergus held out a hand which she grasped and quickly he pulled her into a tight, secure embrace.

  “How are the girls?” Fergus asked as Galena clung onto him tightly on the tilting deck.

  “Not good,” Galena groaned. “All five are sea-sick and can’t stop vomiting. The cabin stinks like a sewer and Adalwolf and Attianus are most annoying and unhelpful. They blame me for the smell. When are we going to reach land, Fergus? Please tell me that it will be soon. I don’t know if I can take much more of this.”

  “I am sure it will be soon,” Fergus replied.

  “You don’t know do you,” Galena sighed miserably as she turned to look out to sea.

  Fergus did not immediately reply. Galena was right. He hadn’t a clue where they were and the Captain had stopped answering anyone’s questions in bitter protest at being overruled on his own ship. Fergus took a deep breath and sighed. There was nothing they could do but endure the misery of the crossing. Forcing himself to think of something else, he gave his wife a weak encouraging smile.

  “When we reach Antioch,” Fergus said, “I am sure you and the girls will love the place. Syria is a rich province and they speak Greek there too.”

  “Maybe,” Galena replied tiredly. Then fondly she looked up at Fergus and ran her fingers gently across his cheeks.

  “You must be worried about Kyna,” Galena said. “It must be hard not knowing what has happened to her. I wrote to her just before we left Athens and gave her our new address in Antioch but it will probably be a couple of months before we receive a reply. You should know that I pray for her health every night, as does Briana and the others. The girls are most anxious about her.”

  “I know,” Fergus replied in a stoic voice. “There is nothing that we can do but pray.” Then Fergus stopped, his face suddenly looking troubled.

  “What is it?” Galena exclaimed.

  “My father’s letter,” Fergus replied with a sigh. “I have been thinking about it again. In his letter, Marcus urged me to leave Athens immediately and to come to Rome. But there is something that doesn’t feel right. Think about it. If I had followed my father’s instructions I would not have been there to protect Hadrian when the attempt on his life took place. Now is that just coincidence or did Marcus not want me there because he knew about the assassination attempt.” With a troubled expression, Fergus turned to stare at Galena. “Did my father write that letter because he wanted to warn me about the assassination plot?”

  “Do you think he knew about the plot to kill Hadrian?” Galena replied, as her eyes widened in shock.

  Fergus’s expression darkened as he turned away to look out across the sea. “If he was trying to warn me,” Fergus snapped with sudden anger, “he did a poor job. Nowhere in that letter did he actually warn me about what was going to happen. There were no details, no names, no timings, nothing. If he knew about the plot then he did not spell it out for me. The fucking attack was a complete surprise and those arseholes killed two of my men and put two more into hospital.”

  “But at least Marcus cared about you,” Galena said hastily. “He tried to get you out of the way so that you would be safe. Surely you can see that Fergus.”

  Fergus however shook his head in growing anger. “No,” he snapped. “Marcus may have tried to get me out of harm’s way but he was not prepared to reveal the details of the plot, which means he couldn’t or didn’t want to share that information. He didn’t care enough to tell me. It means that he has an interest in seeing Hadrian dead. It means my father’s loyalties remain with the War Party. Nigrinus and Hadrian’s are rivals for the imperial throne and this is bad news, very bad news.”

  “Why is this bad news?” Galena asked, gazing intently at Fergus.

  Quickly and carefully Fergus glanced back down the ship to make sure that no one was listening in. Then he took a deep breath and turned to Galena.

  “Don’t you see,” he said in a gentler voice, “Nigrinus is the boss’s main rival and his supporters in the War Party, are locked in this huge struggle, with Hadrian and the Peace Party, to become emperor Trajan’s successor. The victor of this struggle will become the next emperor and what do you think will happen to the losers and their supporters?”

  For a moment, Galena’s face remained expressionless. Then suddenly a little colour shot into her cheeks and her eyes widened.

  “Surely not,” she exclaimed in growing horror.

  “A new emperor will not tolerate any rivals to his power,” Fergus said quietly. “He will kill them or banish them; hunt down the supporters of his enemies; strip them of their wealth, positions and property and most likely do away with them. That is what the loser can expect. Hadrian told me that himself. In this struggle, the winner will take all and the losers will be lucky to escape with their lives.”

  “You mean that our girls, my daughters are in danger,” Galena exclaimed.

  “Only if Hadrian loses the struggle to become the next emperor,” Fergus said grimly. “But he is not going to lose. The War Party are the ones who are going to lose. It’s their heads that will roll. I have faith in the boss.”

  “But if that does not happen and Hadrian loses,” Galena gasped, raising a hand to her mouth. “This is not our fight. What do I care who becomes emperor? You must do something about this Fergus. Our girls are the most important thing in this world.”


  “I know, I know,” Fergus muttered looking down at the deck, “and I have been thinking about an idea for some time. Something that should get us away from all of this. Something that will keep us and the girl’s safe.”

  * * *

  Hadrian was standing on top of the deck-house holding the steering bar of the ship as Fergus gingerly made his way towards him across the moving deck. It was late in the day and to starboard, an island was visible on the horizon. There was not much privacy aboard the packed Liburna but Hadrian had somehow managed to find some, for he had dismissed the helmsman and was steering the ship himself with his advisers, Adalwolf and old Attianus at his side. Attianus’s wound, sustained in the attempt on Hadrian’s life, had in the end not proved too serious and he’d been back up on his feet after a few days. Hadrian made a heroic figure, standing on top of the roof of the deckhouse as he gazed steadfastly at the horizon, the wind tugging at his beard and tunic. As the Liburna pitched and rolled through the waves, Fergus scrambled up onto the roof of the deckhouse and steadied himself against the balustrade.

  “Sir, if I may have a word,” Fergus said.

  And as he spoke both Adalwolf and Attianus turned to look at him. Hadrian however kept his eyes on the horizon.

  “What is it Fergus?” Hadrian said at last.

  “Sir,” Fergus cleared his throat and looked down at his boots. He was taking a gamble with what he was about to say for if Hadrian didn’t like it there would be consequences; negative consequences. But it was time. It was time that he revealed what had been on his mind for a while now. Hadrian needed to know. He needed to be told.