by Nhys Glover
Using a slingshot was an art, our Celtic doctores had told us. The aim was to have speed and precision. Your target couldn’t help but anticipate your attack as you began to swing the sling around, so you had to also anticipate which way he would move to try to miss the flying stone. You could only do that by watching his eyes.
And I couldn’t see Lucullus’ eyes. I could barely see his shadow. But once I could... then I would attack.
He seemed to realise his tactic wasn’t working. Before I knew it, he was lunging out of the shadows toward me. I had enough time to swing the stone back and let it fly. I couldn’t see his eyes but his direction was clear. He was coming straight at me, and fast.
The stone hit him on the side of the head, and it knocked him off course. Blood started pouring from the wound in the next blink of an eye, but he didn’t go down. This was a gladiator, after all. A man who had fought with injuries far worse than a stone to the brow. If only I’d been able to hit a little lower and taken out an eye or hit his temple.
While he shook off the injury, I noticed the knife in his hand. I moved in quickly and slammed the stone in my left hand down hard on the wrist of the hand holding the knife. Crying out in pain, he let go of his weapon, and it clattered to the ground. In the next instant, he backhanded me with that same hand and I too flew to the ground. Luckily, I missed the fire by inches.
Like an enraged bull, he threw himself at me, kicking and punching. Pain exploded everywhere at once and, for a moment, I thought of giving up. Just letting the inevitable happen.
Then Accalia’s face appeared in my mind’s eye, reminding me who I was, what I was. And her faith in me brought me back from that helpless place. My mind scrambled for ideas.
I still had the empty slingshot in my right hand. Surely it could do something.
I whipped out the empty slingshot so the leather strip wrapped around my enemy’s ankles. Too consumed by his bloodlust, Lucullus kicked out at me again, unaware of what I’d done to him. The leather strip tightened and jerked his leg to halt. He lost his balance. With a terrified cry, he fell sideways into the fire.
His screams were terrible as he rolled out of the flames and sprang away. At first he tried to run, as if to escape the fire engulfing him. But his legs were tangled in the leather and he tripped and fell. So he tried rolling on the ground to put the flames out. It was too little too late. He flailed and screamed and still the flames devoured him.
I’d dragged myself away, watching in horror as the fire ate him alive. The stench of burning flesh was terrible, and I turned my head away to puke up the precious food I’d last eaten. Oddly, I was more worried about my empty stomach, in that moment, than I was about the dead man by my fire.
But that changed soon enough. Without much food to feed it, the flames quickly died away, leaving behind a reddened lump of flesh and melted skin. Luckily the clearing had been big enough that he hadn’t had a chance to set the dry undergrowth alight. The last thing I needed was a forest fire to deal with.
For a long time I lay there panting and in pain, my brain numbed. Eventually, I crawled over to the body and checked it for life. I was terrified he’d jump up again and come after me, his melted body unwilling to give in.
But there was no sign of life. I had killed him.
Gods, I had killed a man! And not just any man. Lucullus. The man who had haunted my nightmares ever since he stuck me with his dagger.
My stomach revolted yet again. I had always known the day would come when I might have to kill. Gladiators sometimes had to kill, though quality fighters like I would become were less likely to have to face that fate. But killing was what we were trained to do. It was what we were bred to do. And now I had done it. I had killed a man.
I should have felt proud, or at least vindicated. All I felt was revulsion and relief. And pain. So much pain.
Turning from the body, I inspected myself and my injuries. Lucullus had pummelled me good. It felt like I had cracked ribs and bruised internal organs. I wasn’t bleeding from the mouth, so that was a good sign. But my side was already bruising up, bright red from the blood under the skin. It was on the same side as the dagger wound. And the pain was terrible.
But I had to get away. The smell of the carcass would attract predators. My injuries would attract predators. How much blood? How much was I bleeding?
I felt over my painful parts, but my hand didn’t come away wet and red. At least that was something. My face was another story. He’d kicked and punched me in the face and managed to cut my cheek open. I wiped as much of the blood away as I could, but I couldn’t disguise the smell. Or could I? Hadn’t Bevus said that you could hide your scent by rubbing dirt and leaves over your skin?
Wouldn’t that cause blood poisoning and putrefaction?
My brain seemed beyond making decisions. In the end, I gave up thinking, clambered to my feet, and began heading in what I thought was a northerly direction. Across the hill, not down or up.
It seemed to take half the night to reach the road, my shambling walk painful every step of the way. But eventually I did get there and, relieved, I let myself rest for a short time. If I kept walking downward, I would reach the stream. I remembered hearing us cross it no more than an hour before we stopped for the last time.
If I could make it to the stream I could drink. If I made it to the stream I could wait for my pack. They would help me. I wasn’t sure I could make it home alone. Not now. Not when my body screamed its agony at me.
Getting up again was the hardest thing I ever had to do. No, climbing to my feet to face Lucullus had been the hardest. This was the second hardest, because at least this time I wasn’t frozen by fear. But I was in pain and the temptation to just lie down where I was beside the road and give in to unconsciousness was strong.
But I was still too close to the body. I had to get to the stream and wash off the scent of blood, my blood. If I didn’t, I’d be tracked and killed. And wolves would eat me alive, just as Lucullus had promised.
Chapter Fourteen
ACCALIA
I was going mad. The idea that Lucullus was out there was killing me. And Typhon and the rest of my pack were out there—unarmed, vulnerable boys—with an escaped slave seeking revenge.
Oh, yes, they were trained to survive. Trained to live off the land and fight. But not against a madman. Not against a veteran gladiator. I couldn’t imagine all of them successfully beating such a man, no less just one.
They had agreed to come together. My frantic plan had been agreed on, but that didn’t mean they would get to Typhon in time. Or that the one who was on his own wouldn’t be the one who was tracked by the madman and killed. It might not matter which boy from the barracks he killed in revenge. Just as long as he exacted his revenge on someone.
And what was I doing about it? Nothing!
I spent the first half of the day working with Ariaratus, trying to act as if nothing was wrong. And nothing was wrong. Then. The boys would be safe enough until they were dropped off. And if the plan I had seen in Pater’s study was accurate, then that would happen the following day towards sunset.
If Lucullus knew where they would be released, it would only be a matter of waiting at one of those spots for the boys to arrive. Or, better yet, waiting for the wagon to arrive and then following Typhon from a distance to his drop-off spot.
If Lucullus got to Typhon... My mind blanked out at the thought.
He was not fully recovered. Anything could happen.
By midday I could not stand it any longer. If I was going to be of any help, I needed to be there. That would require a conveyance. As I had never ridden a horse in my life, even if I could get one, I had to come up with some other means of transport.
Jabir was an aged, retired guard who used to take night duty at the villa. He had claimed it was because he did not sleep much and so may as well use his time productively. I think it was more likely he preferred the quiet of the night.
Now he was retired and had his
own little hut not far from the villa, where he lived with his much younger wife, who still worked in the kitchens. I knew Pater had a small two-person cisium he used for journeys to town. If Jabir would take me in the cisium to the drop-off point, or the stream where the boys would meet, I could at least assure myself they were well, and safe from Lucullus.
But it was a long way. I was not sure I could convince him to take me that far. It would not be done in what was left of the day, and it would not be seemly for me to be away from home alone with a slave, even a loyal ancient like Jabir.
Yet I could not just sit around waiting. Xenus was a stickler for rules, and that had made him put the Wolf Pack in jeopardy. I could not, in good conscience, sit idly by as disaster struck.
So I explained to Ariaratus what I wanted to do, listened to his arguments against such a foolhardy plan, and then I did it anyway. I found Jabir sunning himself in the garden of his small hut. His joints were swollen, as Ariaratus’ hands often were, and that was why Pater had retired him early. I had to wonder if being retired suited him.
I charged up to him where he sat with his eyes closed. The sun dappled his leathery face and made the silver in his dark hair shine. He had been a gladiator at one time but an early injury had forced him out of the arena. Pater’s father had made him a guard at the villa, and there he had remained for most of his long life. If he had once been a handsome man, those good looks were long gone. In their place was a grizzly homeliness that gave him an odd appeal.
“Jabir, I need your help,” I declared urgently.
The old guard opened his eyes blearily and stared at me as if he did not know me. And, of course, he would not recognise me at first glance. I was dressed in my boy’s garb. I had managed to avoid seeing anyone who knew me as the Little Mistress when I was dressed as I was now. Only Minerva and Ariaratus knew.
“Who...?” he started to say, sitting up and giving his head a shake.
“It is I, Ennia, the Little Mistress. And I need your help.”
He took in my clothes and my hair and shook his head. “Little Mistress? No... Not possible.” But he was looking at me more closely now, and when recognition came, his ancient eyes grew huge.
“Little Missy, what’ve you done? Your Pater’ll be so angry,” he said, wringing his hands in concern.
“I have been helping Ariaratus as his assistant. I cannot do that as myself, so I dress like this. But I am still me, and I need you to take me somewhere in the cisium. Will you do that for me? Please?”
I did not usually plead with slaves. I gave orders. But I was not really me right now, and I did not think giving orders would get me very far with Jabir. He had always treated me like his beloved granddaughter rather than his master’s child. I think it came from him being Mater’s personal guard when she was alive. He’d been her protector and then, by extension, mine as well.
He shook his head. “You can’t be going anywhere on your own, Little Missy. It’s not safe or proper.”
“I will not be on my own. I will be with you, and you will protect me. And it will be proper enough if I am dressed as a boy. Do you know about Lucullus, the gladiator Pater bought to replace Hector?”
The old man nodded cautiously.
“Well, he wounded one of Pater’s special boys. One he expects to do well in the arena. Lucullus was mad. And he was sold. But now he has escaped and the boys are out there in the woods alone with a mad man after them. I have to make sure they are all right.”
He shook his head. “You can’t go disrupting the initiation. Those boys have trained five years for this. They won’t be happy about you stepping in. If they’re as special as people say, they can do well enough on their own. And that Lucullus... he’s long gone.”
I stomped my foot in frustration and fury. “Maybe he is, but I do not think so. He is mad, and he will want revenge. Against Typhon. Against all the boys in the barracks. As the fighting doctores, he knew exactly where the boys would be left, and when. He will come for them. I know it!”
Again Jabir shook his head. “I can’t be taking off with you in a cisium. It’s a long way and would take an overnight stop. If the master found out he’d cut off my balls and feed ‘em to me for supper.”
“We drive through the night. You do not need much sleep and we are well behind the wagon with its team of four fast horses. So if we are to get there in time we must travel all night. We can change horses at way-stations. I know that is what military dispatch riders do.”
He sighed again. “Driving a wagon on rough roads over the mountains in the dark will kill us both. No, Little Missy, I can’t do it!”
“If you do not do as I say, Jabir, I will make up some tale that will have my Pater ready to have your balls. I am sorry. I do not wish to threaten you, but those boys are important. To Pater and to me.”
The old man narrowed his gaze and assessed me, trying to decide if I would truly do what I threatened. He had to know that slaves were at the mercy of their masters. Just because his life had been free of suffering so far did not mean it would remain so if he chose to disobey me.
In the end, he nodded his head in sorrow, as if he knew he was going to lose his comfortable retirement one way or the other.
“All right, Missy. I’ll do it. But I don’t know how you’re going to find those boys out there in the forest.”
“I know where they will be. And I have Pater’s map. Do not worry on that score. And as a precaution I will write us both a travel permit and get the funds for the journey. We can hire replacement horses on the way and pick up our own on the way back.” My mind was working feverishly. So feverishly that I was not sure I was making sense, or not leaving out an essential ingredient to the plan.
“Make sure you bring plenty of blankets and pillows, so you can sleep on the way,” Jabir told me. “Tell my wife where I’m goin’ and get her to pack us plenty of food for the trip.”
There, that was something I had not thought to consider. Food and water for us. And though I was wide awake now, by late tonight I would not be. A comfortable bed on the bench seat would be appreciated.
“All right. I will meet you back here.”
“I can bring the cisium up to the villa...”
“No, they would never let me go off with you as the Little Mistress. I have to sneak away dressed as I am.”
I could see excitement glistening in the old man’s eyes, now that he had committed himself to this journey. I had been right. Retirement did not sit well with him. He was bored. And a risky trip like this one would stir his blood.
While I wrote the permit, Minerva told Jabir’s wife to pack a basket of food for two. She also reluctantly lied to the woman about her husband’s need to be gone for a few days — making up some excuse that the Master had sent word for Jabir to undertake this special journey. By the time the basket was ready, I had collected pillows and blankets.
That’s when my lack of planning hit me. I was ready to go, but I had more than I could possibly carry down to Jabir’s hut, especially as I had to take my physician’s pack with me.
It was Minerva who solved my problem for me by offering to carry the food basket and some of the pillows. The payment exacted for this service? Having to listen to her lecturing me on the foolhardy nature of the enterprise every step of the way. I was not only putting myself in danger but Jabir as well. It was truly selfish of me to do this to the poor, old man.
I felt guilt nagging at me as she spoke, but then I reminded myself that Typhon was in danger. It was worth any risk if I could somehow save him.
It was mid-afternoon before we were ready to go. I hid the pouch of silver denarii at the bottom of my healer’s pack and, with Jabir’s help, stacked it and the food basket under the bench seat of the cisium. The blankets and pillows we spread over the seat itself. The sides and back of the vehicle were closed-in so there was no chance of any of these items falling out as we travelled.
Finally, with one last plaintive word from Minerva to be careful, w
e were on our way. At first the excitement and terror of what I was doing kept me sitting up stiff and straight on the seat, while Jabir stood in front of me controlling the two frisky horses. Our pace was steady, even though I begged Jabir to go faster. He told me in no uncertain terms that the horses would last longer if they were allowed to set their own pace.
So we cantered into town before turning east and heading for the mountain pass. A few hours into the journey, I started wondering if I had been as foolish as Minerva, Jabir and Ariaratus thought me. The boys would not thank me if I turned up and they were fine. They would think I did not believe them up to their challenge. That was not true. Even Typhon could have managed it, if not for Lucullus. And I was not over-estimating the danger. I knew it.
We stopped at a way-station just on sunset. While the horses were changed, I took the opportunity to use the stinking outhouse while Jabir ate his supper.
For the first time I saw him properly. The journey was obviously taxing him. His face was contorted with pain as he lowered himself onto a nearby bench to wait and eat.
“You can drive from a seated position,” I offered. “It would be less painful that way.”
Jabir lifted his chin and looked down his nose at me. “I ain’t no soft old man who needs his creature comforts, Little Missy. I can take a little pain. If I get too tired I’ll sit, but what you got to remember is that I was a gladiator trained. I might not have lasted in the arena, but I still had what it takes. Your pater knew that, and that’s why he made me your mater’s bodyguard. I still have a few good years left in me yet, even if the master was kind enough to retire me early.”
I could hear the pride in his voice, and I started to think that I might have actually done him a service by asking this of him. Though he worried what Pater would say about him taking his young daughter off on a dangerous journey, he also considered himself to be the best person for the job. That I had asked this of him only fuelled that belief.
