“With all due respect, sir, we’re going to hide?” Gabinius asked. “We’re going to barricade ourselves in like we’re under siege?”
Major Severus regarded Gabinius levelly. His voice was cool as he said, “Do you have a better suggestion, Optio?”
“Run them to the ground, sir,” Gabinius said. “Find them, kill them.”
“And how do you suppose we do that, Optio Gabinius?” Lieutenant Cornovius asked.
Oh, shut your gob. “I can do it, sir. Just give me a few good men and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“What…” Lucius’ stammered. “What if it’s like Remus said? What if it’s some kind of-“
“I don’t want to hear anything more about gods or demons or justice or any of that crap,” Gabinius snapped. “This here is the work of a man, right? And I am afeared of no man. Now I’m going to find this little bastard and I’m going to make them pay, got it? Permission to take a detail of volunteers and sort this out, sir.”
“Sir?” Lucius said. “Sir…if it is a man, then…”
“Yes, guardsman, spit it out, damn your eyes,” Major Severus snapped.
“Remus said…before he died he said that the slave girl Glauce had an Oretine accent that she was hiding,” Lucius said.
Callimachus spat on the ground. “Bloody Oretines. She must have been planning this all along.”
“I doubt that she has the strength to overpower one grown man, let alone two at once,” Cornovius said.
“Then she must have had help,” Callimachus said. “We ought to question her, sir.”
“Question, Optio, or torture?” Cornovius asked.
“Three of ours are dead, sir, we should do whatever it takes to get some answers.”
“This isn’t Oretar, Optio.”
And what would you know about Oretar? Gabinius thought. He remembered Oretar well enough, the cold, the frost, the battles, the ambushes. He remembered the burnings, the killings. None of it weighed on him. They had done what they had to do, to survive and to win. He’d do it again if he had to.
That being said he didn’t put much stock in this idea that the slave girl was responsible. If she wanted to kill them all and take some vengeance for her fellow savages then she could have just poisoned their wine or something like that. Why go around doing this? Someone was trying to send a message, and Gabinius meant to send them a message back when he cut off their head.
Still, Callimachus could question her if he wanted to. Probably he’d end up killing her. It didn’t much matter. What was one less Oretine in a world where so many Oretines had already died?
“Optio Callimachus, Guardsman Catilina, Guardsman Segestus, question the slave Glauce,” Major Severus said. “If you can get any answers out of her it will go some way towards redeeming you for this.”
“Sir-“ Lieutenant Cornovius began.
“Three imperial soldiers are dead, Lieutenant, I will handle this in a military fashion,” Major Severus snapped. “Optio Gabinius, you may take six volunteers and do what you must to resolve this situation.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Sergeant Major, the rest of the men will return to the house,” Major Severus continued. “And I will send for reinforcements to defend the position. Everyone, move.”
As the men carried out their orders, Sergeant Major Mezentius approached Gabinius.
“Are you sure you can do this?”
“As I said, Sergeant Major, I’m not afeared of any man,” Gabinius said. “And my grey lady has a terrible thirst.”
“Don’t get yourself killed.”
Gabinius snorted. “You should have let me give the boy what for.”
“He’s an officer, you know how it goes.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“You sound like the bloody girl, out to change the world,” the Sergeant Major said. “Just find this bastard, alright.”
“Don’t worry, I intend to.”
Miranda jumped a little when she heard the knock on the door.
Thankfully she wasn’t the only one who was a little nervous. Octavia leapt to her feet at the same sound, her hands out, the air distorting a little over her palms so that Miranda knew that she was gathering air magic to her in case she needed it. Octavia had a gentle soul, but she could be fierce as a mother bear when the situation called for it. Miranda would not forget how she had very nearly rescued Portia from all the swords and spears of Prince Antiochus’ loyal guardsmen; it had taken Metella and her spirit magic to best her.
It was humbling, really, to think that that same passion might even now be deployed in defence of her. Humbling…but inescapable. Octavia had made her choice. All that Miranda could do was be worthy of it.
“Who is it?” she asked, half afraid of what the answer would be.
“It’s Lieutenant Cornovius, ma’am.”
Miranda breathed an involuntary sigh of relief, a little of her anxiety falling away from her shoulders and rolling down her back to disappear from her. “Well, Lieutenant, you have the key to the door. I suggest that you use it.”
She heard the key rattle and clank in the lock, before the heavy wooden door squeaked open. Cornovius stood in the doorway flanked by three men: Lucius, Demophon and Turnus. They all looked shaken, Lucius especially looked as though he was about to faint.
“What’s going on?” Miranda asked. “I’ve heard shouting from in here, and a great deal of running about by the sound of it.”
“Remus is dead,” Cornovius said bluntly.
Miranda was silent for a moment. “I see,” she murmured. She had not known the man well, indeed she barely knew any of the men who kept her half a prisoner here, but he had not seemed a bad sort, and he had at least owned to the guilt of the things he had done. That was more than many here could say. “I’m sorry to hear that. Was it the same as before?”
“More or less, the differences are superficial at best,” replied Cornovius. “Gabinius and six men are still hunting the culprit, but the rest of the men have been pulled back inside the villa. Callimachus and two others are questioning Glauce.”
“Glauce? Why?”
“Because she’s an Oretine, ma’am,” Lucius said. “That’s what Remus said anyway.”
“And that is enough to make her guilty?” Miranda demanded, pushing herself upright on her stick. She wobbled a little, but Octavia grabbed hold of her before she embarrassed herself by stumbling.
“It’s enough to warrant an interrogation,” Cornovius said, but without much conviction in his voice. Clearly he didn’t like this any more than she did.
“Questioning,” Miranda growled. “Is that a polite way of saying torture?”
“I…I don’t know, ma’am,” Cornovius confessed. “The men are in an ugly mood, and Major Severus is keen to get some answers one way or the other.”
Miranda took a step forward. “I can’t allow that.”
Cornovius frowned. “I’m not sure you’re in much position to allow anything one way or the other, Filia Miranda.”
“Maybe not, but I’m not going to just sit here while a monstrous injustice is perpetrated,” Miranda replied. “Where are they holding her?”
“That’s not a good idea, ma’am,” Cornovius said. “Best to just wait here.”
“Wait here while they brutalise an innocent woman?”
“She’s only a slave.”
“Yes, only a slave, which makes her more of a victim in my eyes than any of you,” Miranda snapped. “Where are they?”
“That is a poor idea,” Cornovius said firmly. “The men are not in the mood to be moralised at, least of all by you. If you confront Callimachus and the others directly you’re liable to end up getting questioned yourself, unless you use your magic on them. And if you do that…”
“I’m well aware that I’ve used up my chances with Princess Romana, thank you, lieutenant,” Miranda said. “But I cannot wait here and do nothing.”
“Then go to Major Severus,” Cornovius said. “He can stop
it; the men will listen to him.”
“Will they?”
“He’s still their commander, and a commissioned officer.”
“Then why don’t you stop it, aren’t you a commissioned officer.”
“Yes, but…it’s different with Major Severus. He’s your best chance. Your only chance, really.”
“Then take me to him,” Miranda said.
Cornovius nodded. “This way, ma’am.”
“Has anyone noticed that some of these statues look new?”
“You’re imagining things,” Gabinius grunted as he stomped through the north garden, leading his six bold – though less so now than when they had first stepped forward – volunteers between the statues of the gods and princes and heroes. He kept one hand gripped tightly around the hilt of his sword, waiting for the moment when he could rip free his grey lady and feed her until her tongue ran red.
“I think he’s right,” Hortensius said. “I don’t remember seeing that one before.”
Gabinius rolled his eyes as he turned around to face the half-dozen gallant hearts behind him. “Which one?”
Hortensius and Lucullus both pointed at one particular statue, towards the back of the garden. It was a woman with wings like a bat, and he could only see the silhouette of it, it was too dark to make out any details.
Gabinius shrugged. “What about it? This place is full of monsters.”
“Aye, but I don’t remember seeing that one before,” Lucullus said.
“What are you suggesting?” Gabinius demanded. “That it’s a real monster? Look, there is no monster, there is no god, there is just a man and we are going to find them. Now are you still with me, or do you want to go back to the villa and cower like slaves and women?”
“Women fight in this country. We have to, after you’ve taken all our men away.”
“Who said that?” Gabinius yelled. “Who bloody said that?”
The men shrank from his anger. “We didn’t say nothing, Optio.”
Gabinius shook his head. “This place. Let’s keep going.”
“Wait,” Lucullus muttered. “I can hear something. Sounds like…someone screaming.”
“I can hear that too,” Hortensius moaned. “And baying hounds and all. This was a mistake.”
“The only mistake was giving an ear to anything you’ve got to say,” Gabinius growled, turning away impatiently.
He couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t hear screaming, he couldn’t hear dogs. And if he thought he could then that was just his imagination mingling with the night air.
It was a man. All three killings were the work of a man. And Optio Gabinius was afeared of no man.
Women fight in this country.
He furiously shook his head again, trying to shake the memory loose. Why was he remembering that now? The woman with the axe, the one who’d tried to split his head open. Women fight in this country. Maybe that were true, but she’d been outmatched against him, he’d been two and a half heads taller than she was and he was corded with muscle while she was a thin thing, with only desperation on her side. He’d made her scream by the time it was done, and then he’d helped put her village to the torch.
Some had protested that they’d starve with their stores on fire, so he’d put them out of their misery.
He’d done what he had to do. For victory. Men like Lieutenant Cornovius had no right to judge him for that, still less self-righteous harpies like Miranda Callistus, who had more blood on her hands than he could ever imagine. He’d done what he had to do, and he’d do it again if he had to.
He couldn’t hear them screaming. He couldn’t.
Something ran past him, a silhouette against the darkness, fast and fleeting, so quick he barely saw it. But see it he did.
Gotcha.
“Follow me!” he yelled, sprinting forward like a wolf on the hunt. He had the scent now. He could feel them just in front of him, one step ahead but no more. Not long now. He ran forward, deaf to his men crying out for him to wait, deaf to everything but the chase. He was so close. Just one more step and he would have them, one stroke more to make an end of it.
Now this ends.
He could see their silhouette in front of him, he could hear them running through the darkness, he could feel them so close, and he could smell their fear. He almost had them. One more step.
Gabinius tripped over something, and flailed wildly for balance or for something to grab hold of, for anything to arrest his fall flat on his fact on the ground. His armour took the blow, but his stiffened cuirass slammed into his chest and belly like a hammer blow. His wolf-pelt flopped a little; the head came down to partially block his view.
“Optio?” Lucullus called. “Optio, where are you?”
“Optio?” Hortensius yelled. “Gabinius, can you…oh gods, oh no, no!”
Their cries for him all turned to screaming, first screams of alarm, then horror, then pure pain. And then the screaming stopped, as swiftly as it had started.
Gabinius scrambled to his feet. “Lads? Do you hear me lads?”
He roughly pushed the wolf-pelt back so that he could see. As much as he could see in this darkness.
“Boys?” he shouted. “Anyone?”
Silence.
He thought he saw something to his left. With a roar he turned, his grey lady sliding free of her sheath to slice down…and take the arm off a statue.
“I know you’re out there!” Gabinius thundered into the night. “Come out! I’m not afraid. Gabinius Nemon Filius is afeared of no man.”
“But we are not men,” someone…something hissed into his ear from behind him, so close that their breath was a caress on his ear.
Gabinius was afeared of no man. But, as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, if he had been honest he would have admitted that he was afeared of this.
Callimachus backhanded Glauce across the face. “How did you kill them?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Glauce babbled. “Please, sir, I don’t know nothing, you have to believe me-“
Callimachus clenched his hand into a fist and rammed it into her stomach. “You’re lying! Stop lying to us!” He bent double, so that his eyes were level with Glauce’s though she was tied to a chair in the pantry. “Look, do you think I enjoy this? Just tell me the truth, tell me what I want to know and all of this can stop.”
Glauce’s eyes were wide. She had blue eyes, pretty, like the sea. Catilina liked blue eyed girls. He liked pretty girls no matter what colour their eyes were, but blue eyes most of all.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.
Callimachus sighed, and looked away with a look of pained discomfort, before he whipped round and punched her straight on the nose. Glauce’s head snapped back with a cry of pain and a crunch like a twig cracked in two, and blood sprayed from her nose to cover the bottom of her face.
“Do you have to do that?” Catilina asked. “You’re ruining her face.”
Callimachus looked at him like he was mad.
Catilina shrugged. “She’s got a nice face.”
In truth, Glauce had a nice everything. A nice face, a nice figure with all nice curves like, nice tits, nice hands with slender fingers, perfect for getting into hard to reach places. Catilina liked pretty girls.
Of course, the irony of it all was that there was nothing sweeter than when those pretty girls started to look all frightened and helpless and hurt, when the pretty, delicate girls started to cry for help, when they looked so terrified. But to get that, you had to break them, and then they didn’t look so pretty after that.
His sister had been pretty. Sergia with pretty blue eyes, eyes like the sea not far from their house. Pretty Sergia who all the boys wanted, while none of the pretty girls would look at him with his pimples and his jug ears.
She’d liked to walk by the cliffs, Sergia had. Father told her it was dangerous, but she did it anyway, walked by the cliffs looking out at the sea as blue as h
er eyes. Pretty girls were stupid like that; it was like they thought their beauty would keep them safe, like it was some kind of armour or something. It wasn’t, and it never kept them safe from him.
Sergia had looked very frightened when Catilina had pushed her off those cliffs she liked to walk along. She looked so frightened, clinging to the rock, yelling for someone to save her, begging him to pull her up.
He’d had to break her fingers before she fell, but he’d never seen anything so beautiful as the look on her face as she started to drop.
But Glauce…she hardly looked scared at all, and the way Callimachus was going he was going to ruin her face before they got to the scared expressions.
“Please,” Glauce said. “Please, stop. Why do you think I’d do something like this?”
“Because you’re an Oretine,” Callimachus said.
“I’m not,” Glauce said. “I’m not an Oretine, no matter what he said.”
“His name is Remus, and he’s dead now,” Callimachus snapped. “But you knew that already, didn’t you? Because you did it, or you know who did.”
“I don’t. I swear I don’t, I swear by all the gods.”
Callimachus smacked her across the jaw. “What did I tell you about lying to me?”
“Smacking her around won’t do you much good,” Segestus drawled. “Maybe we want to try something else?”
Callimachus’ eyebrow rose. “Do you think Major Severus would go for something like that?”
“Major Severus doesn’t have to know, does he?”
Callimachus’ lip curled in disgust. “We are not doing that.”
“’We’ don’t have to.”
“The answer’s no.”
“Why not?” Segestus whined.
“Because it’s wrong, that’s why!”
“So is killing, but we’ve done enough of that.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because killing is our business and they were trying to kill us.”
“What are you two talking about?” Catilina asked.
“You’re too young to understand, boy, stop listening.”
“He understands,” Glauce said. “I bet he’s done a bit of it himself, haven’t you?”
Short Swords: Tales from the Divine Empire (The First Sword Chronicles Book 3) Page 4
