by T. A. Uner
The laughter rang inside his head. It chewed on him. It hurt.
Nobody laughs at me!
Gemellus puffed up his chest, his eyes alight like flagrant torches.
“Both of you goatfuckers will let me in now,” he yelled.
The guards stopped laughing and both looked at each other as if the Gods had spoken to them. Both Germans nodded nervously before uncrossing their spears.
“Yes, your highness, I mean, my Prince, please, forgive us,” the large guard said as they bowed their heads reverently and waved Gemellus through the doorway before closing the door softly behind him.
Inside the spacious room Gemellus took a deep breath and surveyed his surroundings. At the far end of the bedroom stood Caligula’s four-poster bed. He noticed Drusilla draped over the sleeping figure of Caligula like a bed sheet. How touching. Gemellus walked silently on his heels, careful not to disturb the sleeping siblings. When he reached the foot of the bed he smiled. Drusilla was still sleeping peacefully, her ivory toga blending in with the sheets of Caligula’s bed. Gemellus pulled the vial out of his toga and looked at it again.
Are you sure you want to do this?
Be quiet!
Gemellus peeked through the window shutters. Outside, ashen clouds drifted across the charcoal sky.
His heart flipped in his chest as Drusilla stirred from her sleep. Gemellus grasped the vial and ducked underneath the bed. He heard Drusilla’s footsteps advancing away from the bed before she disappeared into an adjoining room. She closed the door behind her. She’s probably in the lavatorium.
Now was the time to act.
He rolled out from under the bed and looked around nervously.
He was alone with Caligula.
Pulling the cork stopper from the vial he stared at the liquid again. So much power in something so compact.
Caligula stirred from his sleep and Gemellus swallowed hard before his eyes settled on a jeweled goblet next to a flagon of water on Caligula’s bed stand. He poured the contents of the vial inside the goblet before mixing water into it. Silanus had told him the poison was odorless but Gemellus wasn’t taking any chances.
“Who…is…there?” Caligula said groggily. “Drusilla…is…that…you?”
Gemellus grinned. “It is I…Gemellus.”
Caligula’s eyes fluttered open and he looked dazed. “Gemellus? Where is Drusilla?”
“Come now, father, drink this.”
Gemellus brought the goblet closer to Caligula’s lips.
“What is this?”
“Medicine…you are sick; you must drink.”
Caligula lifted his head and slowly moved his lips toward the edge of the goblet. Gemellus smiled. Drink deeply you mad fuck.
“Gemellus?”
Gemellus’ head swiveled around.
Drusilla.
Shit!
“What are you doing here?”
He needed to think fast or all could be lost. He pulled the goblet away from Caligula’s lips and cursed his foul luck.
“I was…aaahhh…checking on our Emperor…dear Drusilla.”
What am I going to do now?
You know what to do–do it!
No!
Yes! You must! Don’t you want to become Emperor?
Gemellus placed the goblet back on the bed stand and slid his hand inside his toga where a small dagger was sheathed.
“You shouldn’t be in here, Gemellus. You know that?” Drusilla said while she hovered attentively over Caligula. “Now look what you’ve done, you’ve woken him.”
Gemellus stepped behind Drusilla while slowly fingering the hidden dagger’s hilt inside his toga.
Make it quick–we have an Empire to rule.
Drusilla was fluffing the pillows beneath Caligula’s head while the Emperor coughed. She turned around to face Gemellus.
“I must ask you to leave.”
“As you wish.”
Before Drusilla could turn back toward Caligula Gemellus grabbed her hair and jerked her head backwards. She screamed and struggled to break free of his grip as Caligula watched helplessly from his bed. Gemellus grasped the cold hilt and drew his dagger.
Kill her!
Drusilla swiveled her head around and bit down hard on Gemellus’ wrist. He yelped and cursed, dropping the dagger while Drusilla ran toward the door. Gemellus ran after her and tackled her to the floor as her head banged against the marble surface, but surprisingly, she was still conscious.
Stupid fucking bitch has a head full of lead.
Gemellus struggled to hold her still on the floor and wrapped his fingers around her throat. For a woman of slight build she put up quite a struggle. “This is the end my beauty,” he said as a thick vein in his forehead bulged like rope of a hangman’s noose.
Gemellus slammed his forearm down on her neck and grasped about the floor for his dagger. She squirmed out of his grip again and crawled toward a small copper pot near the far wall of the room. Gemellus found the dagger and crawled after her. He took a swipe at her feet and nicked the sole of her right sandal. She reached the copper pot and grabbed it right before he grasped her ankle–pulling her towards him…to her death.
“Help! Someone help…me….pleeeeeeasssee!”
“No one can hear you Drusilla.”
She threw the pot at him and missed. It bounced against the wall and landed on the floor behind him with a loud ctlangggg! She looked up at him, her eyes filled with terror.
“Get away from my sister.”
Gemellus turned his head.
Caligula.
His sallow skin and sunken eyes made him look like a ghoul, but he was on his feet and staggered toward Gemellus like a newborn foal.
Kill the bitch! Now!
Gemellus arched his dagger arm backwards. The bedroom door banged open and half a dozen Legionaries stormed in like a pack of hounds while the two German mercenaries watched in awe behind them.
“Stop the Prince,” commanded Senator Remus who stood amidst the pack of soldiers.
Gemellus froze and dropped the weapon before the Legionaries encircled him, their spears pointed at his neck.
“What do you want us to do with him, Senator?” the Centurion asked.
“Keep him from escaping. If he moves–kill him.” The Senator walked toward the dazed Drusilla and helped her up. “Are you hurt my dear?”
“I’m fine, Senator, really.”
Remus left her in the care of one of the newly-arrived servants and walked toward the ring of Legionaries who were still guarding Gemellus. A Medicus appeared in the doorway and took Caligula under his care.
“How is the Emperor?” Remus asked.
“Slightly dehydrated; he needs rest,” the Medicus said as he examined Caligula’s eyes.
Remus nodded. “Good.” He turned toward Gemellus. “Now, Gemellus, I will need a signed confession, and do include who your co-conspirators are, and why they put you up to this little insurrection.”
How could he know?
Gemellus let out a nervous chuckle, but could not hide the fear rising in his chest.
“Senator Remus, what makes you think that I have anything to say to you or anyone else?”
Remus turned towards the Centurion and nodded.
The Centurion drew his short-sword and slammed its pommel into Gemellus’ midsection. He cried out and fell to his knees, as pain, spiked through his chest.
“I will not ask again,” Remus said.
“Very well, Senator,” Gemellus said, “I’ll tell you everything.”
Seventeen/Septemdecim
A blood dawn sky hovered above a vista of misty black hills when the Troupe reached the western wall of Scorpio’s slave camp.
Tullus espied two heavily-armed men guarding the trapdoor that Jonga had mentioned earlier.
“Are you sure this Jonga can be trusted?” Anna asked while Tullus continued surveying the western perimeter. “He could be laying a trap for us.”
Tullus turned toward he
r, her blue eyes sparkled like crystals under the newborn sunlight.
“It’s possible,” he said doubtfully. “But I have a feeling the warrior in him wishes to fight to reclaim his lost freedom.” He noticed Vulcan, Masego and Gansu dragging the crates of weapons seized from the elephant convoy.
Anna nodded, apparently satisfied with Tullus’ explanation.
“How are we going to get past those guards?”
“I’d send Celestra again to distract them again but that would arouse suspicion. We need to get in the camp before they discover one of their guards is missing.”
Anna looked at Celestra. “I wonder what she did with that other guard?”
Celestra licked her muzzle.
“I have an idea,” Tullus said. He removed his cape and Leopard pelt and took off his
scabbards, handing them to Anna.
“I don’t think I’m going to like this,” Anna said.
“Wait for my signal, then follow me down through the trap door.”
“What’s the signal?”
“I’ll raise one arm above my head.”
Celestra growled at Tullus. “No, girl. You wait here with Anna and the others.”
Celestra and the others watched Tullus slip away towards the western gate as shafts of morning sunlight filtered through the treetops above them. Tullus approached the guards, feigning a stagger. He knew he would have to act quickly before the sentries on the rampart detected him. Finally, the guards spotted him. One of them ran toward Tullus and pointed a spear at his throat.
“Who are you? Speak quickly, or die slowly.”
“Ohh, excuse me,” Tullus said nonchalantly, “have you seen my children? I seem to have lost them.”
The other guard arrived. “Norkus, who is this?”
Norkus sighed. “A drunken fool.”
“I say we take him back to Evol Mur and have him questioned.”
“Aye, but I have an even better idea,” Norkus said, “I say we kill him, then take him back to Evol Mur for questioning.” Both guards chuckled hoarsely. Tullus grinned and raised one arm above his head.
“What’s so funny, simpleton?” Norkus asked.
“You’re both going to die,” Tullus said. With one swift motion he grabbed Norkus’s spear and embedded it into the second guard’s throat. Norkus watched in horror as blood spurted from his friend’s gullet before he collapsed at Tullus’ feet.
An arrow shot past Tullus’ ear.
It found Norkus’ right eye.
He dropped to the ground. Body still as a pool of blood formed under his face.
Celestra, Anna and the others sprung from their hiding spot in the forest and huddled around Tullus. “Let’s get these bodies out of the open,” Tullus said. Celestra pulled on the trapdoor ring with her mouth and the door swung open, revealing a dark square leading underground.
“Let’s go,” Tullus said, leading the way.
He and Anna grasped the corpses’ armpits and dumped them down the trapdoor before they descended wooden ladder rungs.
Underground the air was cool and smelled damp. After Vulcan, Masego and Gansu lowered the two weapon crates, tied with ropes, they were all underground. Gansu, who brought up the rear, closed the trapdoor above them.
“We only have a short while before the guards’ disappearance will be noticed,” Tullus said.
Vulcan lit a torch which dispersed the darkness.
Around them crates of supplies were stacked neatly on each side of the tunnel. Tullus noticed the primary contents in the crates were expensive wines.
“I’d like to sample this swill after the battle,” Vulcan said.
“If we survive,” Masego added.
“Quiet you two,” Anna said.
Tullus inched his way through the tunnel using the dim glow from Vulcan’s torch to light his way. He wanted to cast the Lucis spell but knew he needed to conserve his vigor. As he advanced he noticed the underground passage narrowed and lengthened in certain sections. He heard grunts and curses behind him, from Vulcan and Masego–no doubt because of their height, and, having to drag the crate–before they reached the end of the tunnel. Tullus spotted another wooden ladder rung. Above it stood a trapdoor that opened into the camp.
Celestra growled.
“There’s likely another guard posted above that trapdoor,” Anna said.
“Only one way to find out.” Tullus grabbed the ladder rungs and hauled himself up, halting right below the trapdoor. He placed his palm against it and pushed.
It didn’t open.
“Do you want me to give it a go?” Masego asked.
“Let me try again.”
This time Tullus put all his strength into his palm and the trapdoor moved, slowly. Another push and it banged open. Tullus pulled himself up until he stood inside the camp.
There were no guards.
“It’s clear,” Tullus said to the others, “better get up here fast before a patrol discovers us.”
Celestra was the next one up and she rolled and sprung up on all fours after emerging from the opening. Anna was next, followed by Gansu, who took Vulcan’s torch and offered light from above to his friends in the tunnel. Down below Vulcan and Masego remained to tie another thick, braided rope around the two large crates. Vulcan threw the end of the rope up to Tullus, who along with Celestra, Anna, and Gansu, pulled the crates up the ladder rungs while Vulcan and Masego pushed the crates up from below. When the crates were finally inside the camp, Vulcan and Masego followed, and they all made their way toward the cages where Jonga and his people were held. A few of the slaves noticed their arrival and pressed up against the cell bars excitedly.
A guard appeared.
“What are you doing?” he called out.
Before Tullus could reply an arrow passed through the man’s mouth, causing bits of skull and brains to explode from the back of his head. He dropped to his knees and clenched his throat before two more arrows found his left eye and chest.
Tullus turned around and looked at Anna.
“Someone needs to do the dirty work for you men,” she said.
Jonga grasped the bars of his cage, a smile on his lips. “Leopard God,” he said, “you have returned to free us.”
“I always keep my word, Jonga.”
“Hurry,” Jonga said excitedly. “Another sentry will be coming shortly, there’s a key on the belt of the guard.”
Masego pulled a ring from the dead guard’s belt and started opening the locks to the cells. When he was finished, hundreds of slaves were freed. Jonga embraced Masego and Tullus before Vulcan and Masego pried open both crates with their dagger blades and passed out swords, dirks and daggers to every able man, woman and child.
Vulcan handed Jonga a large dirk; the African inspected its blade and nodded. “Leopard God,” Jonga said reverently, “what are your orders?”
Tullus drew LeopardClaw. “Let us find Camus Scorpio.”
{II}
Evol Mur awoke Scorpio in his quarters as the dying rays of darkness receded from the salmon sky.
“Why have you awakened me?”
Evol Mur looked nervous. “Camus, one of the night sentries is missing.”
Scorpio climbed out of bed and strapped on his sword belt. “Get the others, let us see what this is about.” Blackcat Barros, Terror, Kletus Spearthrower and four archers fell in behind him as they exited the barracks.
Outside was sheer mayhem.
Guards stationed on the ramparts were firing arrows into a large mob. The slaves had escaped from their cages and were running rampant inside the camp like a herd of wild horses. Now armed, they looked a fearsome bunch.
“What are we going to do?” Kletus Spearthrower asked. “We’re outnumbered.”
Scorpio cursed his luck. Now the sale would never take place and it was too late to escape. Only one thing left to do.
Fight. Or die.
Under blossoming rays of the morning sky that blanketed the wooden ramparts, Scorpio spotted his chi
ef antagonist: dressed in a Leopard pelt, Leopard-print scarf covering the lower part of his face was the man who had caused him so much trouble, leading the vanguard. Next to him the felid, Celestra, the proud rosettes on her fur glowing under the morning sunlight, teeth barred and growling fiercely.
Scorpio remained calm and cleared his troubled thoughts. If he could kill the Leopard King maybe the slaves would grow disheartened and surrender. Most of them were undisciplined savages anyway; only a select few amongst them were true warriors.
He had fought against long odds before. This was no different. He turned around to face his archers. “Aim for the man in the Leopard pelt,” he said. “The rest of you men follow me.” Scorpio drew his sword and charged his foes.
As he ran toward his enemies he thought of his wife and children. How would they cope if he fell today? Forcing the thought from his mind he charged the massive wall of slaves as his archers loosed their arrows, causing a few slaves in the first rank to collapse.
A short slave with a potbelly swung a small sword at Scorpio while screaming in a coarse dialect. Scorpio leaned back to avoid the slash. He waited for the slave to expose himself before plunging his sword into the slave’s neck. The man dropped his sword and crumpled like a leaf under Scorpio’s foot, blood gushing from his wound. Scorpio unleashed another attack with his sword and his blade found the collarbone of another slave.
The heat of battle was unbearable; Scorpio surveyed his surroundings: despite the overwhelming odds his men faced they were fighting valiantly. He watched Blackcat Barros and Terror mow down three slaves in quick succession. The panther was tearing into one of the slave’s arms as tendons and blood leaked from limb.
Above the fracas, the archers on the ramparts continued to launch arrows at the slaves. Scorpio watched Kletus Spearthrower go down to a large African with a dirk, he served me for five years, Scorpio thought. He continued to fight his way through the rampaging mob of slaves, trying to locate The Leopard King. He slipped on a slick puddle of blood and fell, dropping his sword. As he looked up from the ground a dead slave fell on top of him. He grimaced and pushed the warm corpse off of himself. It was Evol Mur. An arrow lodged in his forehead, his eyes stared blankly at Scorpio as if lamenting his condition.
