by Brown, Nick
Asdribar nodded at the departing Eborius. ‘If he won’t help, what can I do?’
‘Can’t we even look for them?’
‘My men are sailors, not soldiers. I’ve asked enough of them over the last week as it is.’
‘We cannot leave.’
Asdribar looked at the crowd. ‘Everyone else is.’
He strode away towards the harbour.
Noster handed Simo the three weapons, then gripped his arm.
“Don’t give up. I’ll work on the centurion – bring him round. He won’t just leave them to die, I know it. But you must do your part.’ He pointed at Asdribar. ‘Persuade him to stay – until sundown at least. If your friends aren’t back by then, they aren’t coming back.’
The legionaries of the First Century were horribly impressive. Cassius had expected an ill-disciplined mob of misfits and criminals, but Carnifex’s men were orderly and well turned out, with only the thick beards and excessive number of tattoos suggesting an unconventional regime. Many of them wore sleeveless tunics to better display the single ‘I’ etched in green ink on their upper arms. The emblem of the Third Augustan was Pegasus, so winged horses were also popular; the ever-present eagle too. Of the phrases detailed on the leather shield-covers in yellow or white paint, as many honoured Carnifex as the gods.
The soldiers looked on as the three prisoners were taken out through the mansion gate and across the road. There were mocking smiles and muttered jokes and an air of jubilation about them; they were glad to have their centurion back.
The Via Roma ran right through the centre of Carnifex’s headquarters. Cassius took a brief glance back over his shoulder at the mansion. It was a huge, luxurious villa flanked by towers and surrounded by a ten-foot wall. The building and grounds appeared well maintained and Cassius spied a dozen local servants – men and women – gathered by the main door.
To the south the Via Roma ran down to a plain several hundred feet below. A thin haze hung over the yellow expanse; mile after mile of barren ground interrupted only by a few scattered pockets of date palms. In the distance was an unending sea of low, rolling hills.
Opposite the mansion were the barracks: a low, red-brick building built at ninety degrees to the road. The legionaries were lined up outside, holding spears and helmets as well as their shields. Cassius was near the front, behind Procyon; and when he didn’t keep up, he got a spear-point in his back from the man guarding him. He glanced at some of the more amenable-looking legionaries (they were few and far between) and briefly considered appealing to them, telling them who he was. But – apart from the thought of the spear point slicing into his flesh instead of pricking it – he was certain he would be wasting his breath. Carnifex had had a long time to make the First Century his own.
Though his hands were still tied, Cassius was able to reach up and touch his nose. He felt the drying blood beneath his nostrils, then dared to reach higher. But as soon as he felt bone moving under the skin, he cried out, provoking chuckles from the men.
Then there were whistles and jeers as the legionaries turned their attention to Annia. Cassius was surprised to find he could barely summon any anger towards the girl now, even though her actions had probably cost him his life. His guts churned as he thought of what awaited her. Death would be better.
Procyon led the way past a smaller building and a deep hollow in the ground filled with refuse. Cassius looked back again. The legionaries were all following and he noticed the long-haired Maseene guide, Sulli, amongst them. Indavara was walking with his head down, Mutilus right behind him. Annia was further back, with Carnifex.
The well-trodden path traversed a low ridge, then ran along the right side of another, far larger hollow thirty feet across and ten deep. This, Cassius presumed, was ‘the pit’ Carnifex had mentioned. At the far end, behind a hefty iron gate, was the dark mouth of a cave. Chains ran up from the gate to a joist mounted at the pit’s edge.
Procyon turned and held up a hand. Cassius stopped. The pain from his nose was tolerable now but he felt bereft, utterly drained of physical and mental strength. The day was bright, the sun warm on his face, but he was shivering. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t connect one thought to another. He wished he was closer to Indavara.
Procyon turned him round so that his back was to the pit.
‘On your knees,’ ordered the bowl-haired optio.
The soldiers filed round the edge of the pit. Mutilus pushed Indavara down next to Cassius and stationed the guard with the spear behind them. Indavara’s bloodstained brow and eyelids seemed almost pink in the sunlight. Cassius was glad to be beside him again. He looked at his face, desperate for some sign of hope, but Indavara just gazed blankly down at the muddy ground.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Cassius. ‘You were right.’
The bodyguard didn’t seem to hear him. He looked up as another soldier brought Annia towards them.
The men parted to let Carnifex through.
‘Spread out there!’ he ordered. ‘Right the way around.’
The centurion still had his muscle cuirass on and was now armed once more with dagger and sword. His sturdy bronze helmet hung from a strap on his shoulder. Ignoring the captives, he looked on, arms crossed, as the men swiftly followed his instructions. He then raised a hand. Every last man became silent.
‘Morning, First,’ he growled.
‘Morning, sir,’ came the rumbling reply.
‘You’ve had a long night thanks to these two. Mercenaries – paid to kidnap me by an old enemy.’
‘That is a lie!’ blurted Cassius. ‘I am an—’
Procyon was quick. His boot caught Cassius in the chest; a weak blow, but enough to send him backwards into the mud.
Carnifex continued: ‘But luckily old Carn got the better of them.’
He turned to Annia. ‘Grabbed this bitch too. A keeper, don’t you reckon?’
Shouts and grunts from the men. Carnifex picked strands of hair away from Annia’s face, gently tucking them behind her ears. She wiped her eyes.
The guard let Indavara help Cassius back on to his knees.
‘Now,’ said Carnifex, ‘I’m thinking it’s about time Chief had himself another meal. There’s slim pickings on Streak, but One Ear here’s got plenty of beef on him. Time for a wager or two, boys.’
Carnifex waved at the men standing above the cave. The chains rattled as they hauled the gate upward. Someone began a chant.
‘Chief! Chief! Chief!’
Cassius and Indavara turned in time to see the soldiers tie the chains off. The men closest to the cave cheered and the noise grew.
‘Chief! Chief! Chief! Chief!’
Two orange eyes glinted in the shadows, then the lion padded out into the light. It was a lean, long-legged beast, with a jagged scar down its left haunch and a heavy, golden mane that turned to black at its shoulders. The lion yawned – exposing two long, curved, yellowing incisors – and looked around at the soldiers, blinking. Then it licked its lips.
The men cheered again.
Cassius had just about recovered himself. He turned to Indavara. ‘You did say you’d always wanted to see one.’
‘I think I changed my mind.’
‘Took him a while to get used to man flesh,’ Carnifex told them, scratching at the arrow hole in his forehead as he spoke, ‘but once he realised that was all he’d be getting he got to like it well enough.’
He held up a hand again and the chant ended. ‘First Century, make your bets!’
There was a flurry of activity as opinions and coins were exchanged and wagers made. From what Cassius could gather, most of them seemed to centre on how long they would survive and which part of them ‘Chief’ would eat first.
He forced himself to block out the noise and looked at the man kneeling next to him. How long since he’d come to his aid at that inn at Palmyra? No more than three months. It seemed like years.
Indavara was once more staring down at the ground. Even he couldn’t do a
nything now. They were going to die here, and what a sordid, terrible death it would be.
‘You might as well tell me now.’
Indavara looked at him.
‘Who you are,’ continued Cassius. ‘Where you come from.’
Indavara hardly seemed to think about it.
‘I took a blow to the head somehow. I was still delirious when the slave trader sold me for the contests in Pietas Julia. The only man who knew me was killed in the arena the next day. All they could tell me was my name. I remember only the last six years of my life. I don’t know who I am.’
Before Cassius could even absorb what he’d heard, Annia dropped to her knees. Too far away to hear their hushed conversation, she was just looking at them, her contorted, tear-streaked face a reflection of the suffering within. She fell forward, arms covering her head.
Carnifex hauled her back to her feet. ‘No, no, Beautiful. You’re going to watch every last moment. That way you’ll be nice and obedient from the start.’
Indavara was glad to have said it. Even though he knew death was close, it felt good to have told Corbulo the truth.
He also knew there was no way he was going to let Carnifex live. He scraped dried blood out of his eyes and looked up. The centurion was directly ahead of him, Annia to the right. The closest soldier was Mutilus, a couple of yards to the left.
‘All right,’ shouted Carnifex. ‘Finish up now, lads.’
He tilted his head towards the pit. ‘Put ’em in.’
Procyon unsheathed his knife and came towards Indavara, who had bowed his head again.
‘Don’t worry,’ added Carnifex. ‘We won’t leave you completely defenceless – we’ll let you use your hands.’
‘Why don’t you try punching him?’ suggested Procyon, giggling as he cut through the ropes.
Indavara let his hands drop by his sides, then rubbed his wrists to get the blood flowing.
‘Hands,’ said Procyon.
As Cassius offered them, he sliced the blade down, cutting the ropes. The optio turned away and replaced his dagger in the sheath on his belt.
‘Now then,’ said Carnifex. ‘Who’s first?’
Before the last word was out of his mouth, Indavara had already sprung to his feet. He plucked the dagger from Procyon’s belt and charged at Carnifex. Some enterprising legionary got his shield up and drove it at him, but managed only a glancing blow to the shoulder.
Mutilus was also moving. With no time to go for his sword, the one-eyed optio came out swinging. Indavara was already under the punch when he drove his left elbow into Mutilus’s chin. Bone struck bone. Mutilus’s head snapped up and he tottered backwards. Ignoring the pain shooting up his arm, Indavara raised the dagger as he bore down on Carnifex. But Carnifex was ready for him.
The centurion slammed one hand into Indavara’s chest, stopping him dead. The other huge paw clamped around his fingers and the dagger handle. Indavara felt one of his fingers slide across the other, then heard a crack. The pain came a moment later. Carnifex let go. The dagger fell to the ground.
Carnifex spat in Indavara’s face and gripped his tunic. He stomped three steps forward and drove him bodily into the air, flinging him straight over the still-kneeling Cassius.
Indavara hit the ground hard and slid towards the lip of the pit. Only by turning at the last moment did he ensure he fell feet first. His boot caught the side on the way down, breaking his fall, and he rolled to a stop, covered in mud. The roar from the legionaries was so loud that he got to his feet in an instant, fearful that the lion might already be coming at him. But for the moment it was just watching, eyes half-lidded, tail idly swinging.
Indavara looked down at his right hand. The shattered little finger was hanging at an unnaturally acute angle.
Carnifex came up to the edge of the pit and glowered down at him with a triumphant grin. ‘You think you’re the first to try and do for old Carn, One Ear? You ain’t even the hundred and first!’
The men were in raptures, jumping and whooping at the old centurion’s every word.
‘Looks like you’re first up. Don’t reckon this’ll take too long.’
‘Chief! Chief! Chief! Chief!’
The lion was prowling from side to side now, head low, eyes fixed on its prey.
Cassius glanced back at Annia. She was standing completely still, hands over her eyes, mouthing something to herself.
Indavara watched the lion; the dead eyes, the open, expectant mouth. He fought off an image of the broad paws pinning him to the ground, the huge head blocking out the sky as the teeth tore at his neck …
It’s just an animal.
Though he’d never seen one, gladiators talked a lot: about tricks, methods, techniques. He’d only ever heard one piece of advice when it came to lions. Don’t take a single step backwards. He didn’t have a lot else to work with.
Indavara took off his belt and slid the buckle up to one end.
It’s just an animal. It’s just an animal.
He took a long breath, then marched across the pit towards the lion, the belt in his left hand.
‘Is he insane?’ said one of the men.
‘By Mars,’ said another.
Cassius looked up at Carnifex, who was standing next to him, brow now heavily furrowed. ‘Bet you never saw that before, did you?’
The lion was still shifting from side to side, swinging its head and pawing the ground. Indavara kept his feet well apart and stretched his arms high to make himself big. When he was ten feet away, the lion shifted again – a couple of inches backwards.
Indavara accelerated into a run. The lion held its ground. When he was just two yards away, Indavara whipped the belt down at the beast’s head. The buckle caught it right on the nose, ripping out a sliver of black flesh.
The lion jumped back with a yelp.
‘By all the gods,’ said another of the soldiers.
Cassius wiped his wet face with his sleeve and yelled at the men around him. ‘See that, you miserable whoresons? He’s survived worse than this and he’s a better man than every last stinking, criminal, bloody one of you!’
This time Procyon’s boot struck Cassius between his shoulder blades, sending him sprawling face first on to the ground. He lay there at the edge of the pit.
Indavara whipped the belt from the left this time, narrowly missing the lion’s head. The beast roared and Indavara caught a whiff of rotten breath. It sunk its front paws into the ground and lowered its head, ready to leap.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
The four arrows embedded themselves in the lion’s flank in quick succession. The animal’s back legs gave way first, then it keeled over on to its side. Clawing at the mud, it let out a weak moan. Indavara watched the pink stomach expand only three times more before it became still. He turned to where the arrows had come from.
So did Cassius, Carnifex and the men of the First Century. They had been so intently focused on the action below that no one had noticed the twenty or so figures now getting to their feet on the ridge separating the pit from the barracks. A deep voice rolled towards them, clear even over the legionaries’ shouts and the drawing of swords.
‘The games are over, Carnifex,’ said Eborius, whose sheer size would have identified him even without the crested helmet. He was flanked by his men, Noster included. At least half were wielding bows and every one was now aimed at the old centurion.
Carnifex took a sour look at the fallen lion but was quick with his reply. ‘Seems to me they’ve just begun.’
Eborius addressed the men: ‘First Century, I don’t want any trouble. I ask only that you hear me out.’
‘Manius,’ replied Carnifex smoothly, ‘let’s discuss this like officers.’
‘No. Your men will know the truth, Carnifex. I don’t want a fight, but be in no doubt. If you try anything, I’ll give the order. One of the bolts will hit you.’
‘And then you’ll all die.’
‘We’ll see. Legionaries, I don’t know what t
he centurion’s told you, but that man next to him is named Corbulo, and he is an agent of the Imperial Security Service.’
Cassius glanced up again at Carnifex, who was looking less sure of himself by the moment.
Eborius pointed at Indavara. ‘That man is his bodyguard and the girl is the daughter of Augustus Marius Memor, deputy commander of the Service. Carnifex had him assassinated. The four people found dead yesterday were his accomplices and he killed them too, at the quarry last night. I saw it with my own eyes.’
‘You won’t have any eyes when we’re done with you!’ shouted one of Carnifex’s men. There were a few cheers, but only a few. Cassius looked around; some of the legionaries seemed concerned by what they’d heard.
‘How many jugs of wine today, Manius?’ said Carnifex calmly. ‘Your imagination’s running wild.’
Eborius continued: ‘I know some of you won’t care what he’s done, but know this: if they don’t return to their ship, the captain will sail to Egypt and Corbulo’s man will make contact with the Service there. It might take weeks or even months, but Carnifex’s rule will come to an end. All I can offer you is a choice. I know that most of you weren’t party to these crimes. Side with me, and you might still have a future with the army.’
‘Anyone who takes a single step towards that lying son of a bitch will have me to deal with!’ yelled Mutilus.
‘You’ll hang alongside your master, Mutilus,’ replied Eborius. ‘But the rest of you have a way out.’
Some of the legionaries were talking, especially those well away from Carnifex and the optios.
But beyond the low hum of their voices was a distant thrumming Cassius knew well: horses on the move.
Procyon suddenly looked around him, examining the faces of the men. ‘Where’s Sulli?’
Carnifex looked around too.
Cassius glanced up at the ridge. Some of Eborius’s men had turned to the south.
‘Maseene!’ shouted one.
Without waiting for an order, several of them ran back down the ridge, away from the pit and towards the road. Eborius looked south. Despite the distance, Cassius saw his features freeze. The centurion hesitated for a moment, then waved the rest of his men after the others.
