by Bilinmeyen
They entered with force. Thracian gladiators, with swords and spears, charged in. They were all wide and powerful men, most very young.
Save for the man who came in first.
He was thin and fast, and rolled beneath Agetan’s wild swing, one that slashed open the chest of the next man, with snakes on his forearm. I fought for my life as the remaining snake-man straightened before me. One sword, then another came at me. He was like Istros, but bald. He has the same confidence, the same deadly moves, and I parried desperately. His face was childlike and innocent, as if he was surprised by what he was trying to do. His eyes were blue and wet, and his lips moist as he tried to kill me.
His swords came at me again, and luck and a quick dodge saved me as the blades went past my belly.
Rochus was near, panting and stabbing at a gladiator as they fought. Rochus’s armor saved him from a wicked axe cut, and his blade pushed into the armpit of his foe. Agetan and Bohscyld struck at two of the gladiators, who parried madly. Wandal, charging to the fray, howled as a thrown spear grazed his side. He crashed to the floor. Brimwulf fired an arrow at another enemy, striking a black helmet and sparks flew.
I could take no part in any of that. I could not help Wandal.
I had to kill the man before me.
Woden’s rage helped me, as I dodged under a swing, parried the other sword, and pushed Nightbright for his midsection.
He stepped away.
I went after him, berserk. Nightbright slashed for the man’s throat, but again, he wasn’t there. Like Nihta and Istros had, he moved like a ghost. A blade was coming for my belly, another for my face, and I danced away, my tunic ripped. I grouched and stabbed at his leg, but he jumped up and ended up too close for either of us to stab. I hit him with the pommel, and he tried to knee me while stabbing down from high.
I grasped the leg, sensing the two swords above me.
I reacted instinctively, roared, forced Nightbright into his thigh, felt pain along my back as the swords stabbed at me weakly. I lifted him high, twisted the sword in his leg, heard him howl. I grimaced away the pain, rushed forward, and slammed him to the wall so hard I heard his bones cracking. I fell back by the impact, Nightbright ripping out of his leg. He was slumped by the wall, shuddering, trying to get up, but could not. I crawled for him, and with speed of a snake, I stabbed the Nightbright into his chest. He gurgled, and fell back, dead.
I panted and turned to look at the room.
Tudrus was repeatedly stabbing at a man through his helmet’s eye holes. His dagger broke in the metal, and he proceeded to bash the helmet on the floor, as the wounded man was slapping at him weakly. The man was dying, but slowly. Agetan was kicking at one man, and Wandal, sitting up, was grimacing as he looked at a wound on his side. Rochus was holding a young gladiator down, sawing his weapon into his throat. Brimwulf was tugging at an arrow in a man’s flesh. He had killed three of the enemy.
The rest of them had fled. I rushed to the window, and saw the gate was open. There was an odd silence in the ludus.
The Snake Pit was ours.
I pulled at Brimwulf. “Get Maximus. And tell him we have a bird who has a story to tell.”
“Maximus?” Brimwulf asked me.
“Maximus,” I said. “Adalwulf won’t be happy with this, and Maximus is neutral, sort of.”
“Should we wait until the bird has actually sung?” Wandal asked, bleeding.
“We have taken the Prefect,” I said. “He has to sing, or we will hang. And that was Antius. You saw him.”
“I saw him,” Wandal agreed. “But, no proof, eh?”
“Yes, there will be proof,” I told him. I turned to Kleitos, who was half awake, looking aghast at the carnage in the room. I felt my back was bleeding profusely, and I felt no pity or mercy as I approached him.
“My shoulder, ankle…”
“It’s useless, you Greek thief.” I laughed wildly and squatted next to him, Nightbright out. “Look around you. You’ll join them all in a bit.”
He shook his head, terrified. “My only crime is to own a troop of gladiators.”
“That was Antius,” I told him darkly. “The man who is involved in the murder of Drusus.”
His eyes squinted. “I have never seen him in my life, Guard.”
I roared and pulled him to the desk with such violence he was left gasping. I rammed him on a seat, which broke. I cursed, grabbed another one, and rammed him into that one. Then I lifted both the chair and Kleitos and pushed him to the desk. I leaned over him. “You are part of a conspiracy. Your friend was there to help kill Drusus. And someone has hired you to kill Tiberius. Your men, one of those Dacians, tried to murder Antonia. You tried to kill me!”
“I did try to get you killed!” he yelled. “But, not for the reason you think!”
I slapped him. “What’s the reason then?”
He shook his head stubbornly, biting his lip.
I took Nightbright and placed it between his legs. He flinched.
“Guess what Marcus is doing?” I asked him brutally.
“What?” he whispered. “Marcus?”
“We had a chat,” I whispered. “He told us stories. He told us you were involved in the death of Drusus. I wonder what Augustus will say about that.” I leaned near his face and growled into his frightened child’s face. “And I have all of your scrolls. All you have stolen. All the scrolls your Marcus held in his apartment.” Marcus had said there was nothing about the conspiracy there, but he had also said some were personal scrolls of Kleitos.
By the look on his face, there was something at the apartment that would make life uncomfortable for him. The horror in his eyes was palatable. “You don’t know what you are doing,” he hissed.
“They keep telling me this. But, you tried to kill me,” I growled, “and I’m beyond caring.”
“I did,” he howled. “But, it was my own idea. My own, and I regretted it. I did. After Ulrich tried to kill you in the training, I was told not to—”
He went quiet. He was told not to attack me? Why?
I decided it didn’t matter. I lifted Nightbright to his chest. “Now, you finely draped donkey, you will write a confession. You will write it down right now.”
His eyes rested on the dead fighters. “They were not properly trained. You will fight the good fighters yet.”
I slapped the blade on his face. “You will—”
“I heard you,” he spat. “I heard you. What for? You will send me to Hades, or someone else will.”
“You are rich, no?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he said suspiciously. “I am a rich cripple.”
“Hire men to take you out of Rome. Hide in the hills, or flee far away, Kleitos,” I said with vengeance. “Sign a confession, murderer, and I will let you go. Don’t, and you will stay. Choice is simple.”
Never had I seen a man crumble so fast.
He turned his face to the desk. He eyed his wines, and nodded at the pitcher. Rochus sighed, brought it to him, and he poured some in a goblet. Kleitos drank it down with trembling hands. “What,” he asked in a small voice, “shall I write?”
“You will tell how you fetched Antius from captivity, and everything you know about him. You will tell everything you know about Drusus, and how he died.”
“I can do that,” he said softly. “And you will let me go?”
I shook my head. “More. There is more. You will implicate your mistress. You will implicate the other conspirators. You are planning on murdering someone, are you not? Antonia and her brood, Tiberius. All of it, in that scroll.”
He was swallowing hard. “I know there is a plot to kill Tiberius. But, I know nothing of the actual plans,” he said, terrified. “Look, Corvus—”
“But, you know something about the attempt on Antonia?”
He nodded weakly. “I was not happy with that. But, it was necessary.”
“Who ordered it? Surely not Julia? Who is the man she will elevate when Tiberius dies?” I asked
him brutally, the sword pressing on him. “Write it down.”
He shuddered. “I cannot—”
I pointed at the parchment. “The name of your mistress and other conspirators. Name them. Sign it. And then, go, if you can.”
I had no intention of letting him go.
“This will come back to haunt you, Hraban,” he said with tears, and I cursed the terrible words. “I will write down the name I have.”
“Write,” I growled.
He bent over the parchment, sweating and trembling, and started to write.
The stylus fell from his hand.
He tore at his throat, tumbled out of the chair, and vomited blood and mucus all over the floor. Rochus was there, cursing, trying to make him vomit again. He frowned, and grasped at Kleitos’s hand. He lifted a small clay bottle, dripping with clear liquid.
“He poisoned himself,” Rochus whispered. I cursed and sat there, as Kleitos died in shit and blood.
After a while, I got up weakly and turned to face my bloodied friends. Tudrus sighed. “I guess this is bad?”
***
Adalwulf walked me to Palatine.
“Will I speak with Augustus?” I asked him timidly.
He looked astonished. “Augustus? No,” he answered.
“Kleitos and Antius—”
“There is nothing there, Hraban,” he roared. “Not without proof. And you have none. You are the only one who saw Antius. Your men have no saying in the matter. He and his Istros escaped. You have nothing, Hraban. But, we have dead men left and right, and one is the confidant of Augustus. Several of the Guard are dead. No, you will not speak with Augustus.” He gave me a baleful glance. “You are lucky I found you before you could find Maximus. He would not know what to do now.”
“And you do?” I asked, tired and hurt. My back was aching.
“We sent men for the scrolls with yours, and we will have to figure out how to handle Kleitos’s death,” he muttered. “We will. Silence now, and walk, while I think.”
We walked up to the hill, until we reached the library and the temple of Apollo near the old man’s domus. I entered the temple, and noticed Adalwulf stayed outside. I saw there was a figure standing in the middle of the room.
It was Livia.
I walked to her and stood there, probably looking lost as a young calf.
She had a curious look on her face. It was as if her favorite dog had bitten her. She stared at me, searching for words. In the end, she spoke. “Was Julia truly this terrible? That you had to chase down ghosts? Some tears from Cassia, and you go on a bloody, useless rampage across Rome.”
I refused to be bullied, and stubbornly fought back. “I found Antius with Kleitos, not a ghost.”
“You found him, and the ghost slipped through your fingers, and so you have a story, not a man. You figured out Kleitos is part of the conspiracy. You understood Marcus was the man to start unravelling his mysteries. And then, Kleitos poisoned himself. And you are left with nothing. They will change their plans, Corvus.”
I nodded, miserable. “Possibly. The pigs—”
“You killed piglets, and the boars roam free,” she said simply. “And now, they will be careful.”
“We pulled their fangs out,” I said miserably.
“They can grow fangs aplenty,” she said coldly. “And Adalwulf told me most of the gladiators escaped with this Antius. Ulrich the guard is missing.”
“This guard called Grim is in the jail, hidden by Kleitos,” I said. “He might—”
“No,” she answered tartly. “He is gone as well. We looked. They are all hiding. What will you do now?”
“We will …” I answered. “We have Kleitos’s scrolls. He acted like there was something discriminating in them.”
She nodded nervously. “But, you are not sure, are you?” She saw the answer in my eyes. “I thought as much. Did you read any?” There was cold intensity in her eyes. The woman was mad enough to frighten a god.
I shook my head. “I had not the time.”
“Is that so?” she asked, her face relaxing. “We might find something there.”
“They are safe,” I answered. “Hidden in a tavern. The others are getting them with some men of Adalwulf’s.”
She stared at me like a bird of prey would consider a hapless mouse. “I’m unhappy, Hraban,” she said simply. “Hopefully, there is great deal of information there. If not, I will bury this shit so deep it will be impossible to dig up back to the daylight. Kleitos died, and Augustus will be told it was a gladiator rebellion. He will accept it. He knew much about the thefts by his servant. You and yours will keep your mouths shut. As for Julia, you will avoid her for now.”
“Antius is still free—”
She rubbed her face. “Let us be quiet while we wait.”
“Yes, lady,” I answered.
We waited in the silent temple. An hour went past, and I stood as Livia stood, silent and still. Finally, Tudrus came to the hall. He was pale and tired as I was, and Adalwulf spoke with him with hushed tones, and shook his head at the end.
Something was wrong.
He came forward and spoke. “The place you stored them, this tavern? It was burned. More, the boy, Eyes, was dead in an alley next to it. Marcus is dead as well.” He looked at me. “There is no sign of the scrolls. They found them, perhaps.”
Livia looked genuinely upset. Her eyes considered me. “They are gone.”
I was shaking my head. Eyes was dead? As was Marcus?
Someone had betrayed us.
“Someone followed you,” Livia said, and there was actually fear in her voice. “From the place of Marcus, to the tavern.”
“Eyes knew the tavern,” I said miserably. “They forced him to take them there.”
“Yes,” she said uncertainly, confused, thinking.
I went on. “If the men of Kleitos recovered the scrolls, why didn’t they stop the Prefect from entering that ludus?” I asked.
She looked up at me gravely. “I don’t know, Raven. Julia and Augustus will be told nothing. Stay low, for now. We will keep you hidden until you are healed. Adalwulf will try to hide much of this horrible mess. We must redraw our plans. Julia will wait, her allies, if there were more than Kleitos, will as well, wondering and afraid, and perhaps it will be years before they try again. But, they will. And it is on you, Corvus. For every mistake, there is a price to pay.” She pushed close to me. “Are you sure you do not have any of the scrolls?”
I shook my shoulders, lost. “Not one.”
She sighed. “There is a house in the north edge of Palatine. Maecnas, a friend of Augustus, used to live there, before he moved to the Esquiline Hill and bought his palatial residence. You will stay there for now.” She hesitated, and looked down. “Cassia is there as well. After you left today, the birth began. The baby is early, but healthy. You have a son.”
***
I rushed through the streets of the Hill, and slowly forced myself to calm down. My friends were coming along, running to catch up, but I pushed a slave who had been told to show us the way along, and reached the fabulous mansion of Maecnas, dead friend of Augustus and Agrippa. The slave pointed at a blue painted building of tall pillars around the main door.
Rochus was huffing next to me. “Adalwulf told me to go with him to the Block after you get there. He needs help staging Kleitos’s death.”
“Go,” I told him, and clapped his shoulder. “Thank you for standing with me.”
He smiled. “Sorry it went sour. It’s too bad. That bastard killed himself. You were right. They were guilty, but we didn’t see how afraid they would be. But, we can still serve them well.”
How? I wondered.
It was probably true Julia was mostly kept in the dark, but after this debacle, they would make sure I got nowhere close to her.
Rochus spoke with the others, and left in a rush. I followed Agetan, who was still bleeding from his cheek, and Brimwulf, who was supporting him to the doorway. They entered, I dodged
in, and rushed through the atrium, and found Mathildis fetching water. She stopped me with a smile, and I smiled back, looking around. She frowned at our condition, and nodded past the tablinum to the piscine, the fishpond, and there in the garden, I saw Cassia laying on her side on a cushioned bench, exhausted, smiling and happy. The mute, Flower, was just leaving, having brought her something to eat.
“What happened?” Mathildis asked, confused. “You look like you are fresh from a battle.”
“We failed to solve our problems,” I growled, because right then my only problem was that nobody had yet showed me the baby.
Mathildis grinned, guessing the reason for my fears. “He is asleep,” she said with a happy smile, and I rushed to her. I hugged her, and she whimpered as the others gathered around.
“Is he well?” I asked her.
She nodded tiredly. “Gisil and I helped the midwife.” She smiled happily. “It was very fast and easy. Made me feel much better about my future battle with this one.” She tapped her bump. “He is perfect. Gisil’s been watching him upstairs, and it’s all good. She left just now, but Flower is here with us. Go and speak with her.”
I walked to the large garden and navigated the pond. The others followed after, Brimwulf holding Mathildis’s hand fondly.
Cassia smiled up at me, dark rings around her eyes. “I hear you had an adventure. You need sewing up.”
I smiled. “I heard you have a better adventure.”
She smiled. “I did. But what happened—“
“I failed,” I said miserably. Tudrus and Brimwulf looked down, the victory turned to loss still sour in their mouths. Agetan and Bohscyld were fidgeting. Wandal was holding his side.
Cassia put a hand on mine. “Fret no. Everything is perfect, Hraban. We are so happy.”
And then, gods laughed, and everything changed and our happiness evaporated.
The atrium echoed with steps. Tudrus turned to look that way. “What’s this? Guards or a vaettir? They have ghosts here?”
Shadows entered from the servant’s entrance to the side, from the corridors and the study by the atrium. There were many shadows.
“We are no ghosts,” said a familiar voice, and we turned as our worst nightmare materialized before us. “But, we will haunt you this night, indeed.” There were fifteen men there. Several had a snake tattooed into their arms. Most seemed little more than street rabble, but not all. There were fighters amongst them, with deadly weapons and skills.
