by T. A. Uner
Less than a handful of mercenaries had survived the ordeal; they were closely guarded under the watchful eyes of Celestra. Fortunately none of the Troupe was killed, but Vulcan had suffered an arrow wound to his arm, and Gansu was busy sewing it up with stitches. Anna inspecting the battlefield, littered with the corpses of their opponents, while a gaggle of ravens were already feasting on strewn body parts.
“I count twenty-six dead,” Anna said. Gansu finished sewing up Vulcan’s wound and applied ointment to it.
“How do you feel?” Tullus asked Vulcan.
“Ready for another battle.”
“Good. The war is young.”
Masego brought over five captured foot archers, whose torn black tunics were stained with specks of blood. Their headdresses had been removed, revealing long strands of black, twisted hair that fell past their shoulders. “What do you want done with these fellows, Tullus?”Masego asked.
“Let them crawl back to their homelands.”
Masego uttered some harsh words to the mercenaries and they scurried off like field mice.
After the Troupe caught their breath they opened the various caskets and trunks from the howdahs and found a small fortune in rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. They also found a small cache of swords and ornate daggers–their pommels inlaid with precious gemstones.
“Why does one man need so much material wealth?” Tullus asked before shaking his head ruefully at the hoard of riches before them.
“Let us spend it for him then,” Vulcan said. He picked up one of the swords and inspected its blade.
“These jewels will be disseminated amongst the merchants as compensating for their losses,” Tullus said. “We can sell the elephants for currency, in order to procure food and supplies for the war. As for the weapons, we’ll hang on to them for now.”
“These are fine swords,” Vulcan said, looking impressed as he inspected one of the blades, “fashioned by a master craftsman.”
They set fire to the mercenaries’ corpses, much to the dismay of the crows, who cawed angrily from the sky as the rank smell of burning flesh flooded the air–an odor Tullus had grown accustomed to over the years.
Masego brought their standard, and planted it next to the pile of smoldering corpses before a stray breeze descended upon the battlefield. The banner atop the standard fluttered, revealing the sigil of a bloody Leopard claw.
{II}
“I told you this would happen, but you never listened to me Camus,” Kletus Spearthrower complained. Camus Scorpio’s eyes burned like angry torches. Inside the hall, his lieutenants and footmen had gathered to confront the greatest threat their criminal organization had ever encountered.
“What are your orders?” Blackcat Barros asked. Terror emitted a raspy growl.
“We cannot let these attacks go unpunished, Camus,” Evol Mur said. The other men roared their assent.
Camus Scorpio sat atop an ornate wooden throne, carved in the shape of a scorpion situated on a large dais. Scorpio wondered what his rivals thought of him now, his criminal empire targeted by a man who dressed like a Leopard. When Kletus Spearthrower had returned from Pimpus Robarius’ brothel with his story of the Leopard King, he thought it foolery from the lips of a drunkard. But now the foolery felt real, yet Scorpio did not feel like laughing.
“We will respond, in due time,” he replied sternly. “This, Leopard King and his Troupe will not escape our fury.”
“But when?” Spearthrower replied.
Camus Scorpio rose from his throne and cast a grim look at Spearthrower. “The next time you question me in an insolent manner I’ll rip your tongue out and feed it to Terror.”
Terror growled and licked his dagger-like teeth, while Blackcat grasped the chain leash attached to the panther’s spiked collar.
“What have I done to deserve your distrust?” Scorpio said to his men as he descended the dais with arms outstretched. “Have I not filled all your coffers with enough gold? Have you not drunk enough wine and mead from my larders? Have you not shared in the spoils of my victories?” His men grew quiet and many of them lowered their heads.
“May I speak openly, Camus?” Evol Mur asked.
“Of course, but make sure insolence doesn’t frame your words.”
“The men and I are with you, but…this ‘Leopard King,’ as he calls himself, always knows exactly where to hit us–perhaps, we have an informant within us.”
“Or perhaps our overconfidence has weakened us,” Blackcat Barros added.
Evol Mur nodded in agreement and was about to speak before the men started grumbling amongst themselves.
Scorpio motioned with his hands for silence so Evol Mur could continue.
“It is true, Camus. The other day, I walked into a tavern to find one of our footmen drunk, and discussing our organization with the innkeeper.” A few of the footmen looked around at each other diffidently, wondering who Evol Mur could be talking about. Camus noticed the fear in their eyes, but he couldn’t cut out all their tongues to ensure silence. That would turn the men against him. And he needed them now, more than ever.
“Make your point, Evol Mur,” Scorpio said.
“What Blackcat said is true. We have grown overconfident in our rise to power; we thought we were untouchable. This Leopard King has exploited our weaknesses and plundered our spoils. The merchants are reclaiming their livelihood, while the people look upon the Leopard King as a demigod. I say we tighten our tongues. It is the only way to ensure we aren’t caught off guard again. Even now rumors circulate of our Collegium rivals planning to attack our hall: it can only mean they’ve sensed weakness in us.”
“Well spoken Evol Mur,” Scorpio said. He reseated himself on his throne. “What do you propose?”
“This Leopard King likely has spies working for him. We should start by killing a few merchants. Rumor has it this Leopard King is their champion. We should also stop hiring unreliable mercenaries to escort our shipments, as they have proved ineffective.”
Scorpio considered Evol Mur’s words. “I agree with your recommendations, except for killing the merchants. Doing so may bring the wrath of this Leopard King down on us even harder, and right now we cannot afford to go to war without enlisting more footmen.”
The men voiced their dissent. Evol Mur said: “But Camus, surely we can kill a few merchants? It’s the only way to strike fear in their hearts.”
“No, there is another way,” Scorpio said. He rubbed his palms together and smiled. “Now everyone, listen closely to what I have in mind.”
{III}
Despite the fervid late-summer heat of September, Camus Scorpio wore a hooded cloak as he walked through the streets of Rome flanked by Blackcat and Terror while two bodyguards protected his rearguard. The presence of his bodyguards did little to calm Scorpio’s nerves; still, he was well protected, should one of his rivals attempt to assassinate him.
Scorpio knew a time when he could walk the streets alone, without concern for his safety. Before the Leopard King’s attacks blotted his reputation within the Collegium, his mere presence was enough to strike fear in the hearts of his opponents. Even thieves and murderers who prowled the night were wary of approaching Camus Scorpio, unless it was to inquire for a position within his organization.
Now things had changed, and his position was threatened by an enemy who had targeted him for Paullus’ death. Scorpio racked his brain to think of someone who Paullus might’ve considered a friend or an ally, but no name came to mind. Whoever it was, Paullus’ friendship must’ve meant something to this Leopard King.
Scorpio and his small procession passed through the Palantine district and found themselves at the foot of the Caelian Hill: home to most of Rome’s wealthiest citizens. As they climbed toward their destination, Scorpio could not help thinking about his family. He had hidden them safely within a heavily-guarded villa, in one of the Aventine district’s secure neighborhoods. He yearned to visit them, to see his beloved wife and children, but in his heart
he knew this was impossible under the current circumstances.
They arrived at the villa they were seeking. It was situated within one of the Caelian’s highest slopes, far away from the clamor of Rome’s plebian masses. An imposing iron gate surrounded the villa which housed a splendid garden that welcomed admirers. Scorpio had no time to admire its beauty; he had important business inside with its owner.
Two heavily-armed sentries stood guard in front of the gate. Upon seeing Scorpio and his bodyguards one of them headed toward them, lantern in hand. “What business do you have here?” the guard asked. Scorpio lowered his hood.
“I am here to see the Tribune,” he said. Terror growled at the guard. “Kindly inform your employer that Camus Scorpio wishes to speak with him.”
The lantern’s dim yellow glow highlighted the guard’s blank expression. “Wait here,” he said before disappearing through the gate, while the other guard pointed a spear at Scorpio and his party. Scorpio wondered if this guard was overtly brave or simply anxious to fight–perhaps, a bit of both, since he probably spent most of his time on sentry duty, itching for combat. Moments later the first guard reappeared. “You will follow me,” he ordered Scorpio.
“What of my men?” Scorpio asked. Terror growled again while both guards eyed the panther with contempt.
“They must wait here.”
“I don’t like the sound of this,” Blackcat Barros said.
“Wait for me here, I’ll be alright.” Scorpio was led through the gate before it clanged shut behind them. After he was inside the villa’s grounds he found himself walking along a cobblestone path that cut through the large garden. The sweet smell of flowers filled the air before they stopped at the entrance of the villa where two more guards were posted. The guard escorting Scorpio turned around to face him. “I must search you.”
“What for?”
“Security.”
“Very well; if you must.”
The guard patted him down and found a small dirk hidden inside Scorpio’s left boot. The guard studied the weapon for a moment before shooting him a bitter glance. “It’s for protection,” Scorpio said defensively, not pleased he had to explain himself to this guard, “I’m an important man in Rome.”
After eying Scorpio suspiciously, the guard handed the dirk to one of the other sentries and took Scorpio through an anteroom. Norbanus waited for him inside the atrium. The Tribune lay comfortably stretched out on a couch while a female slave fed him grapes. The young girl wore a single-shouldered white gown which exposed her left breast.
“For a betrothed man you seem to enjoy the life of a bachelor, Norbanus,” Scorpio said.
“Leave us,” Norbanus ordered the guard, who nodded obediently and left the room.
“And why shouldn’t I be enjoying female companionship, Camus? My betrothed has yet to move into my residence, and I’m feeling lonely tonight.”
Scorpio watched as Norbanus leaned over and bit on the slave girl’s nipple. She moaned softly before dropping a cluster of grapes on the floor.
“Don’t let Senator Remus see you like this, he might call off the wedding.”
“Nonsense,” Norbanus replied as he waved the girl away and stood up from the couch wearing a white tunic and sandals. “Tell me Scorpio, what brings you to my home at this late hour?”
Scorpio removed his cloak and laid it on a marble pedestal table across from Norbanus’ couch. “Problems. There’s a madman on the loose targeting my organization.”
Norbanus sniggered before he placed a grape into his mouth. “Making more enemies are you Scorpio? Why trouble me with this?”
“It affects us all, Norbanus,” Scorpio said, “if me and my boys go down, the city will be plunged into turmoil while the other Collegium members fight it out for control of my territories. There’ll be blood in the streets. None of us can afford that.”
Norbanus’ furtive eyes narrowed as he digested Scorpio’s words. “Do you know who this madman is?”
“A fool calling himself The Leopard King. He and his pet attacked one of my people at the Moaning Maiden a fortnight ago. He told my man that he’s determined to avenge the death of Paullus Gabinius.”
Norbanus’ face turned pallid as he reseated himself on the couch. “Paullus is dead?”
“It would appear so,” Scorpio said. Another female slave brought him wine. Norbanus’ face twitched, and Scorpio wondered what was running through the young man’s mind.
“This is all your fault, Scorpio,” Norbanus said, “and now you come here asking for my help?”
Scorpio ran his finger along the stem of his goblet. “My footmen are already stretched thin, trying to guard me and my family—not to mention my holdings. Rumor has it that the other Collegium members plan on attacking my territories throughout Rome. If I go down, I swear, I’ll take you with me.”
“Is that a threat Camus?”
“No. I’m only asking for assistance from a valued business partner. Besides, I’ve held this poisonous secret of your uncle’s far too long, Norbanus. If things worsen for me I might reveal it to your superiors, and that would effectively end your career as Tribune.”
Norbanus laughed. “Do you think the senate, or the Emperor for that matter, would listen to the prattle of a known criminal?”
Scorpio’s resolve tightened despite Norbanus’ rebuke. He’s scared that a new scandal involving his family name will damage his budding political career.
Scorpio decided to press his advantage.
“Whether or not they choose to believe me, can you afford to take that chance?”
Norbanus stared at Scorpio like an owl eying a vole. Now it was up to Fortuna to determine their fates. “You would’ve made an excellent politician Scorpio, why you settled for a life of crime amazes me.”
“It pays better,” Scorpio said, before gulping down his wine, “and I get to work the hours of my own choosing. So…will you help me?”
Norbanus nodded; Scorpio could see the reluctance in his eyes. “I would’ve hoped to avoid involvement in your problems but you’ve left me little choice.”
“Thank you.” Scorpio took his cloak and turned to leave.
“Wait,” Norbanus said. “Remember Scorpio, we must tread carefully. I will not allow my uncle’s failure to continue haunting me. If I see that aiding you is putting me at risk I shall withdraw my assistance, immediately.”
Scorpio raised an imposing forefinger at Norbanus. “I don’t give a horse’s cock about your precious reputation Norbanus, all I ask of you is to make sure you kill this Leopard King, and quickly.”
Scorpio wrapped his cloak around his shoulders, turned on his heels and swaggered out of the atrium.
Eleven/Undecim
Decimus stood at attention in front of Tribune Norbanus, next to his new Optio, Titus Fabius.
“The reason I have summoned you to my office is tied to a matter of great importance,” Norbanus said. “I have a mission for you Centurion.”
A mission. Decimus couldn’t believe his ears. It was almost too good to believe since the Praetorian Guard rarely ventured out of the palace grounds to hunt down foes. The first real mission since his assignment to the Guard. While he enjoyed the generous amounts of free time his position brought, gambling everyday with his fellow Guardsmen had grown trite. Even whoring did not hold much appeal anymore: especially since Decimus had bedded almost every harlot in Rome.
“What type of mission?”
Norbanus smiled. “One that should prove challenging enough to one with your talents. I have been getting reports of someone calling himself ‘The Leopard King’ terrorizing certain wealthy individuals both inside the city and in the surrounding countryside. This man is often accompanied by a Leopard, and small group of bandits, who call themselves ‘The Troupe’ who assist him on his raids. Your assignment is to take a cohort of Guardsmen, and put an end to their attacks. You have my permission to use whatever means necessary to stop them.”
Decimus said: “Begging you
r pardon sir, but isn’t this Leopard King fellow a circus performer?” Why would he be targeting Roman citizens?”
“It appears he and his allies are bent on avenging the death of one of their friends whom they believe was killed by one of our leading citizens. It’s all foolery, really,” Norbanus said. “I’m confident you’re more than capable of defeating a group of unruly savages.” Norbanus handed Decimus a map. “Use this map to piece together a plan to capture, or kill, these barbarians. That is all for now Centurion. Dismissed.” Norbanus waved away Decimus and Titus.
The two Guardsmen saluted their Tribune before leaving the office. As they exited the palace Decimus rolled up the map and stuffed it inside his tunic.
“Something here doesn’t make sense, Titus,” Decimus said. They crossed the palace courtyard and headed for the stables.
Titus looked confused. “What do you mean sir?”
“This Leopard King fellow is a circus performer and quite a popular one too. People all over Rome are talking about his magnificent performances. I’ve been itching to go watch his show—life in Rome doesn’t hold the same appeal it once did.”
“Getting tired of the whores, sir?” Titus asked. They mounted their horses and rode out of the palace grounds.
“I never thought I’d hear myself say this but, yes, my visits to brothels have grown a bit trite. Perhaps this assignment will serve as a tonic, Titus.”
They rode toward their barracks, situated in the northwest corner of Rome. Since his promotion, Decimus often thought about Tullus. It had been almost four months since his friend left Rome, and wherever Tullus was, Decimus hoped his friend was happy. They approached the Praetorian barracks, known as Castra Praetoria: its great palisade, with imposing dual watchtowers filled with armed sentries flanked the main gate. As Decimus and Titus drew closer, the immense gate swung inward to admit them. They rode into the barracks and passed through the inner keep where their fellow Guardsmen were conducting training exercises. After dismounting, they entrusted their steeds with the stable boy.
