by Alex Gough
‘Yeah, well. Some fool needed rescuing.’
Atius let out a humourless laugh. ‘Well you’re doing a great job of it so far.’
‘Give me a break. I’ve left a luxurious island in the Mare Nostrum, warm weather, beaches, no one trying to kill me. And I’ve come halfway across the world on the off chance you aren’t dead and that I can find you.’
‘You fucking idiot.’ He grinned. ‘It’s good to see you. You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve wished you were here.’
‘Instead of you, you mean?’
‘Ha. You know what I mean. But now you’re here, I wish you weren’t. I wish you were safe on Lipari with Issa and Tituria.’
‘Well, we are where we are, and we need to come up with some way of getting out of here.’
‘Damn right,’ said Atius. ‘What’s the plan?’
Silus hesitated. This was the point where he was supposed to come up with something brilliant.
‘Um. Have you tried untying the ropes?’
‘No, Silus,’ said Atius. ‘I’ve been here for the Christos knows how long, being beaten black and blue every day, and it never occurred to me just to untie the ropes. Of course I’ve tried untying the fucking ropes! They aren’t stupid. They tie them dry, then wet them so they swell. And with your hands bound, it’s impossible to work the knot free. It takes them long enough when they want to move you for them to do it themselves, with two hands free.’
Silus looked at Eustachys, who was trembling and moaning quietly to himself. ‘Well, you have four hands between you now. I can’t reach you from here, but maybe the two of you can work together.’
‘That’s… not so stupid,’ said Atius. ‘I can’t reach my own knots, but I can reach Eustachys’. Eustachys, hey. Give me your hands.’
Eustachys didn’t respond.
‘Eustachys,’ hissed Atius. ‘Look at me. This may be our only chance.’
Eustachys started to rock back and forth. ‘No, no, no. She won’t be happy. It will make her angry.’
The words gave Atius a chill, and he looked over at Silus. ‘He’s right, you know. If we get caught trying to escape, the priestess will…’ He couldn’t finish the sentence.
‘Are you fucking kidding me? You’re scared of that little girl?’
Atius gestured at Eustachys. ‘Yes. And so should you be.’
‘Pull yourself together, Atius. You’re an Arcanus!’
Atius shook himself and gave a short nod. ‘Sorry, Silus. It’s been… hard. Eustachys, give me your hands. Trust me.’
Slowly Eustachys extended his shaking hands. It was too dark for Atius to see what he was doing, and as he had told Silus, the damp ropes had made the knots tight, as well as slippery. He worked away at them doggedly, and though he could hear Silus tutting impatiently, he kept a steady pace. Slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, the knots loosened, and then suddenly they parted. Triumphantly, Atius threw the ropes aside.
‘They’re off, Eustachys. Now, you untie me.’
Eustachys turned his lone eye on Atius and held up his hands. The skin of all pads of all five fingertips on each hand had been cut away, leaving raw, scabby flesh.
‘I… I don’t think I can.’
Atius stared at the disfigured digits, and looked across at Silus. Silus glared back at Atius. Atius clenched his jaw.
‘Eustachys, I’m sorry to ask this of you,’ he said. ‘But you have to do this. Not just to save our lives. But for Rome. We need to tell Festus that Erhard is dead, that he can’t rely on a Chatti civil war to keep them away from our borders. You have suffered so much, Eustachys, to keep Rome and your Emperor safe. Just a little more suffering, and we will be free.’
Eustachys swallowed hard. He reached out and took Atius’ proffered wrists, and started to work on the knots. His breathing came harsh through his broken teeth. A whimpering sound came from somewhere at the back of his throat, and the ropes became even more slick with pus, blood and other juices for his suppurating wounds.
But he kept on, and though anxiety threatened to overwhelm Atius, he gave no admonishments to hurry, in acknowledgement of Eustachys’ bravery. Silus too was quiet, trying to make out what was happening in the half light provided by the moon when it came out from behind dark, scudding clouds.
Eventually the knot began to come undone. Atius fought every instinct to wrench his hands apart, knowing that if he did so, he risked tightening the bindings once more and undoing all that Eustachys had done. More excruciating time passed, as Atius strained his ears for the return of their guards, come to check on them. But the ropes fell free with the door remaining firmly closed.
Atius gently rubbed his chafed wrists, flexed his fingers to work blood into them to combat the numbness and the pinpricks of pain from his returning circulation. He went quickly to Silus and began the process of freeing him. With both hands completely at liberty, he progressed more rapidly, but it still took an acutely anxious length of time before Silus was finally untied.
As soon as he was loose, Silus stood and threw his arms around Atius, and they hugged, tears welling up on both sides. Atius had to bite his tongue to stop himself from sobbing aloud.
Silus stepped back first.
‘What now?’ asked Atius.
Silus looked at the window. It had no bars, but was too small for any of them to fit through, even after the weight that Atius and Eustachys had lost. He turned to the solid oak door.
‘It’s barred?’
Atius nodded. ‘I always hear them drop a heavy bar in place when they leave.’
Silus touched his fingers to the door and traced the frame. ‘This will come down,’ he said. ‘Especially if we shoulder-barge it at the same time.’
‘And then what? Even over the noise of the festival, they will hear. Do we fight our way out past dozens of drunk, angry Germans?’
‘I… don’t know. Will we be worse off than we are now?’
‘You don’t know how bad things can get yet, Silus.’
They both turned back to the door, looking at it in indecision.
Then there was a noise. The scrape of wood on wood and metal as the bar was lifted free. The door creaked as it opened a crack. Silus and Atius moved automatically to either side. Unarmed, fatigued, damaged as they were, they were still Arcani, and they were dangerous with or without weapons, whatever state they were in.
A head poked around the door, and Atius reached out, grabbed the collar beneath it, and hurled the intruder across the cell. The slight figure rolled, gracefully at first, but with such momentum that he thumped hard into the opposite wall.
Silus was on him in an instant, grasping his shoulders, slamming him again against the stonework, pulling his fist back, ready to slam it into the intruder’s face hard enough to break his skull.
‘Silus, wait! It’s me.’
Silus held his fist in place as he stared into the face before him.
‘Odo?’
‘Who?’ asked Atius.
‘It’s Odo,’ said Silus. ‘He was – is – my guide. He is an Alamanni.’
‘A German? Break his neck, and let’s go.’
‘Break his… what are you talking about?’
‘Believe me, Silus, you can’t trust a German. Kill him now, or you will regret it.’
Silus gaped at his friend. Atius kept his face firm. ‘I know you’re thinking it is my captivity and torture talking, but it’s not that. I’ll explain later. Just do it.’
‘No!’ exclaimed Silus. He stood and held out a hand for Odo, who took it and leapt nimbly to his feet. ‘You came back,’ he said to the young guide.
Odo grinned. ‘Of course. I swore to help you find your friend. Besides, you have been a guest in my house.’
Silus smiled back. ‘Thank you, Odo.’
‘Thank me when we are well out of this place.’
Atius shook his head. ‘You’re dooming us, Silus.’
‘We don’t have time to discuss this. We need to work out how to get out of this place
without being caught. There are still a lot of warriors out there, and drunk or not, we will likely be spotted if we just walk out of here.’
‘A diversion?’ suggested Atius.
‘Yes, but who, and how?’
‘Where’s your friend?’ asked Odo.
Atius and Silus looked around in surprise. The door was wide open, and Eustachys was gone.
* * *
They crept along a short corridor between rooms of uncertain purpose, stores or living quarters, they didn’t know. Each had a closed wooden door, and they tensed, expecting one to fly open at any moment. Silus considered opening one and seeing if it had a way of egress to the outside, but as the size of each appeared similar to that of the cell they had been in, he guessed their windows would be similarly small, and any one of them could hold a sleeping warrior or servant who could set off the alarm. Besides, Atius refused to abandon Eustachys, and they presumed he had continued onward.
They reached the end of the corridor, and Silus and Atius peeped around the corner so they could see into the great hall. The numerous torches lit the scene well. Some of the warriors were rutting with servant girls who showed varying degrees of enthusiasm, from those clearly enjoying themselves to those who were clearly distressed. Others were arm wrestling, or engaging in drinking contests. As with any drunken crowd, some were being over-friendly, some were angry and violent and some were morose.
But slowly they all stopped what they were doing as they turned to stare in bemusement at the figure who had got up on to the long central table and shuffled along, kicking plates and cups aside.
‘Oh shit, Eustachys,’ breathed Atius.
At the far end of the table, in the seat previously occupied by Erhard, sat the priestess Romilda, who had been surveying the misbehaving men with amusement. Wigbrand was absent now, maybe away with a girl, maybe passed out, or maybe just content to leave his men to their feasting.
Eustachys reached the end of the table and sat on the edge in front of Romilda. She looked at him and gave him a pitying smile.
‘My little toy has come to join us,’ she said in heavily accented Latin, and gave a little laugh. But this time Eustachys did not flinch away. ‘Could you not bear to be without me?’ She leant forward and kissed him full on the lips, and though his traumatised mouth must have protested, he did not pull away. Romilda lengthened the mocking kiss as the warriors roared with laughter.
Then she stiffened. She looked down.
A red stain appeared on the front of her hitherto spotless white robe.
The hilt of a knife was protruding out of her abdomen, just under the ribs, angled so it was clear the blade was buried deep in her liver. Silus presumed Eustachys had picked the knife up from the table, where it had been discarded by a carousing warrior after using it to slice meat into bite-sized chunks.
Romilda clutched the hilt, her mouth open, the colour draining rapidly from her face. The hall fell deadly silent as the confused, drunken warriors tried to understand what they were looking at.
Eustachys made no attempt to flee. He stepped forward, pressing his face close to hers.
‘This is for every slice of your knife,’ he said, voice calm and even. ‘For my eye. For my skin. For every sadistic torture you inflicted on me. I vowed I would watch you die.’
Romilda dropped to her knees, her eyes still fixed on Eustachys. Her robe was soaked in crimson now. Her mouth worked and it seemed for a moment she had no breath to speak. Then she managed to whisper:
‘Every single moment… was a pleasure.’
Then she pitched forward onto her front, ramming the knife even further home as her weight landed on it.
The spell that had been binding the Chatti warriors broke. They roared their outrage as one, and rushed Eustachys, who still stood calmly over the body.
Odo squeezed Silus’ wrist.
‘Now’s our chance,’ he hissed.
Silus knew Odo was right, though he hated the fact. Then he saw Atius preparing to rush forward to help Eustachys. He grabbed his friend’s arm.
‘Atius. Let’s go.’
Atius watched Eustachys disappear under a pile of warriors, all punching, kicking, biting, tearing, weapons forgotten in their animal fury to rend and kill. He turned to Silus with a look of anguish, but Silus gripped him harder. ‘He knew what he was doing. He did it for himself. But he also did it for us. As a distraction.’
They remained unnoticed for the moment, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Silus gritted his teeth in anxiety, fighting a desire to flee, not willing to move until he knew Atius was with him.
‘Fuck them,’ said Atius after a few heartbeats which seemed like a lifespan. ‘They are going to pay.’
‘They will, but first let’s survive.’
Atius nodded, and Odo hurried away, skirting the hall, sticking to the shadows. Silus thrust Atius after him, making sure he was ahead of him so he could prevent him changing his mind and running back to help Eustachys. They reached a side door and Odo eased it open, then slid through. Silus pushed Atius through the narrow gap, then took one last look back.
Eustachys could not be seen, but some of the warriors were stepping back, looking around them in confusion. One walked over to Romilda’s body and lifted her reverentially. Another swept plates and cups off the table, and Romilda was laid gently upon the surface.
Wigbrand suddenly appeared, emerging from one of the side rooms, his imposing body stark naked.
Silus ran, the Chatti chief’s roar chasing him out.
Odo and Atius were already a dozen yards ahead, and he put his head down and sprinted after them, pumping his fists as he tried to put as much distance as possible between himself and the hornets’ nest Eustachys had just punched.
There were no Chatti men out and about in the settlement – they were all at the feast. Nor were there any women. Those that the men wanted there were already in the hall, or had been taken somewhere for a warrior’s amusement. The rest were out of sight, probably thankful to be left unmolested.
But as they reached the edge of the settlement one boy stepped into their path. He was tall but skinny, and looked to have barely reached adolescence, younger even than Odo. He held a spear before him, pointed forward and levelled at their chests. They skidded to a halt.
‘Get out of the way,’ growled Atius, but if the boy understood he showed no sign of obeying. The spear tip did not waver.
Odo spoke to him in German, and the boy replied angrily.
‘We don’t have time for this,’ said Silus, looking anxiously behind him for signs of pursuit. There was still uproar coming from the hall, but no one had emerged from it yet.
‘Fuck this,’ said Atius. He took a swift step forward, and slipped his forearm underneath the spear. With a sideways and upwards motion, he flicked the spear tip away and followed through with a hard punch into the centre of the boy’s face. The force of the blow knocked the juvenile warrior out cold, and he lay on his back, eyes rolled into his head, blowing bloody bubbles from his broken nose.
Atius grabbed the spear midway down the shaft and lifted it high above his head. His body tensed as he prepared to thrust down into the unconscious child.
Silus caught his wrist.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’
Atius looked at him in surprise.
‘He’s a fucking German. He deserves to die.’
‘Odo is a fucking German too, and he saved our lives.’
Silus wrenched the spear out of his friend’s hands.
‘I know you’ve been through a lot, Atius, but you’re better than this.’
‘You don’t know me any more,’ replied Atius, and Silus’ heart fell at the bitter reproach. But Atius made no further move against the boy.
Odo had watched the exchange with obvious concern, but now it was resolved, he urged them into flight again. They ran for the nearby forest, and the dark shadows beneath the trees felt like a mother’s embrace.
But then they heard t
he shouts and cries from the settlement as warriors emerged angrily from the hall, and Silus knew their escape had been discovered.
Now, it was a straight race.
Chapter Eleven
Running in almost complete darkness through forest undergrowth with low branches, scrubby bushes and roots liberally scattered throughout is fraught with risk. But when you are running for your life, you have to accept that risk.
Odo was light on his feet, his night vision was excellent, and he knew the terrain, so he picked a way through for them that minimised the likelihood of them stumbling, tripping and falling flat on their faces. Silus was fit and fast, and also used to moving quickly through forest from his time as a scout in the north of Britannia, although the spear he had taken kept snagging. But Atius was less familiar with this type of landscape, and furthermore he was far from fit. Malnourished and unable to exercise, the meat had dropped from him, leaving him a mere skeleton when compared to the muscular physique that he had possessed when Silus had waved him goodbye from the shores of Lipari all that time ago.
Still, Atius had willpower and fear driving him on. Though Silus and Odo had to slow their pace to let him keep up, he didn’t stop and he didn’t give up, even as fatigue started to bite, legs started to burn, breath was drawn in through wide open mouth with great heaves of his chest.
Their pursuers of course also knew the terrain, and were mainly fit and strong warriors, some of whom were also young and quick. They were numerous too, able to cover a lot of ground by spreading out, not needing to pause to track them, just flooding the area with bodies.
But in the escapees’ favour, all those chasing them were drunk, which impaired both their speed and their reasoning. So although Silus had heard a lot of commotion uncomfortably nearby at first, most of the noise receded as they retreated further into the interior of the forest.
Most but not all. The quickest, youngest warriors could easily outstrip their pace, and if just one was lucky enough to get sufficiently close to hear or see them, they could raise the alarm for the rest of the tribe. Silus’ relief at escaping, amplified by finding Atius and getting him out alive, was rapidly receding as the perilousness of their position sank in.
