by Tony Roberts
Casca chased hard and soon closed on the two back markers who were making a real nuisance of themselves. He saw a gap on the inside of the Blue and squeezed through, his team mate pushing the Green further away in an effort to shield him. Having got through and pulling round the turn to start the fifth circuit, he was about to accelerate when he heard a whip crack and felt a burning pain across his right forearm. The Green was using his whip to try to distract him but it was ineffective if annoying, so he contented himself with an obscene gesture before charging off after Telanius. It took him three more circuits to close the gap, and then only because Telanius was slowed due to the tactics of the surviving Blue. That was ended by the other Green who decided Telanius had to get through, so he drove the Blue away wide on the turn which allowed both Telanius and Casca to pass. Now it was a straight race over the last two circuits and the crowd got to their feet as Telanius was caught and then matched.
Casca's forearms ached and sweat ran down his face inside his helmet. The sheer effort of hauling the four horses and the wooden chariot round the arena had dragged him close to exhaustion. He knew one last huge effort was needed and he clenched his teeth as the end came nearer. The last turn approached with Telanius inside Casca's path, both sets of horses straining to edge ahead, and they turned in unison. Each driver brought out their whips and encouraged their teams to greater effort, but the advantage of the inside track helped the Green driver to gain a half length lead into the last straight. Casca brought out one last great effort and his horses responded gallantly, closing inch by inch as the finishing line neared. His arms screamed, his fists clenched against the whip handle and the reins, his teeth clenched tight and he was howling one long yell in agony and effort as he willed his team to make one last great push.
Both teams crossed the line almost abreast amidst yells and screams from the excited crowd, and as they slowed their horses in the after race circuit, Casca turned his head to see what decision the officials were giving. Telanius brought his team to a halt and rode slowly back to the officials who were arguing heatedly, one pointing to the Green rider, the other shaking his head vehemently and making a gesture with both arms wide.
Hadramon came up and took the horses by the harness and lead them to one side, his face flushed with excitement. “By heaven, lad, that was one magnificent race! You nearly beat the old bastard in front of his own supporters! That would really have pissed him off!”
“Nearly beat him? Does that mean he won?” Casca was almost breathless.
Hadramon smiled sadly. “The best you can hope for is a dead heat, but for fear of provoking a riot I think the officials will give Telanius the win. Don't worry about it, Rufius, that's not bad for your first race. There's another at Thessalonika next month which I want you in as our number two, and if you do well there it's the Hippodrome for you.”
Casca jumped down and grabbed the old man by the shoulder. “How's Floris? He had a bad crash with Kos.”
“He's got a badly wrenched shoulder but thankfully no broken bones. Kos came off the worst with a broken arm and leg. Serves the silly bastard right.” Casca was relieved to see Floris standing in the competitor's enclosure, albeit clutching an obviously painful shoulder. The Blue faction man raised his hand in greeting to Casca at his appearance and both stood next to each other awaiting the final decision of the officials. The crowd was busy arguing amongst themselves as to the decision with each faction declaring they were the victor.
Finally the officials came to a decision. They declared a dead heat which pissed the Greens off but drew a great roar from the Blues, delighted that the arrogant Telanius had been stopped in his winning streak in Adrianople. The Green rider glared at Casca before angrily pulling his gauntlets off and stomped off down the tunnel. Floris nearly choked laughing and they were joined in their mirth by the third man, Glaric. The new man Rufius was a hero and the Blues immediately planned a celebratory drink, even though they had lost the overall race meeting by six wins to four.
They found a local tavern and got roaring drunk and had to be chased out by Hadramon who wanted to be away by morning.
CHAPTER EIGHT
With a share of the earnings Casca was able to buy Delia new clothes, which Carina thanked him for, and for himself he set aside a small amount for future use. Remembering his time with the school of Corvu the Lanista in Rome, bets had been made on him to win the gladiatorial bouts, and he had become rich through his wins - although he had blown it all within three days after being arrested and sentenced to the slave galleys by Nero and his toadies. Now if he arranged a similar system of betting he could gain more money. Seeking out and finding one Ibrahim, an Arab living along the Mese, he placed a bet on Rufius to win in Thessalonika in one month.
Ibrahim had many fingers in many pies and he had heard of the recent race in Adrianople so he wasn't too surprised to receive a bet on this new racer. Ibrahim assured him that one of his agents would take the bet to Thessalonika on the day in question. Casca assured Ibrahim that if he didn't, there would be no bets on Ibrahim's life continuing.
Casca was also getting frustrated with his lack of success in locating any of the Brotherhood so he decided on changing tactics. On one of his free days he went into the city and made his way to the oldest part, the old Byzantium, where the Imperial palace was located. The knowledge that the Brotherhood had plenty of important posts in the administration of the Empire goaded him to seek out municipal buildings. He wandered in and around the buildings there hoping to bump into someone who would recognize his scars for what they were, and give themselves away. Casca knew that sooner or later he would cross paths with one of them and the reaction they gave was unmistakable.
At first he had no luck and switched buildings, entering the offices of the Quaestor, the legal administrator of the Empire. He thought up a trivial legal matter, then presented himself to a minor clerk demanding legal advice on a plot of land he suddenly owned. The clerk, not wanting to handle such a nasty question from this aggressive looking man, passed it on to his superior, Thassus. Thassus allowed the client into his office and stared, the blood draining from his face, as he saw the scars on his face and wrist. Casca thought to himself ah-ha, it looks like I've hooked one and sat down easily in the chair offered.
Thassus stammered for a moment, so Casca launched into an angry dialogue about his neighbor who had put up a fence on his plot of land. Thassus assured him that he was right to dismantle the fence and if there was any trouble, then the office of the Quaestor would back him in his legal fight. Apparently mollified Casca thanked the legal officer and left, taking up a handy viewing position across the road, waiting for the man to appear. Thassus obliged for within a few minutes had hurriedly left the building and made his way swiftly down the road towards the Augusteum, the open space in between the half built Hagia Sofia, the Senate House and the Hippodrome. Casca followed, making sure he was on the other side of the road but he might as well have walked directly behind him as Thassus just charged on ahead, not looking round for a moment.
Casca passed across the Augusteum and saw his quarry vanish into a small opening with ornate stone carved friezes in the side of the wall of buildings that lined the road, and slowed. There were two men standing close to the entrance and they looked like guards. Walking on slowly he reached a corner and stopped, looking back. From what he could remember the opening was to one of the city’s many cisterns. It might be useful for him to get hold of someone who knew about the water system in Constantinople and find another way into that particular part of the system. The street entrance was well guarded and obviously there was no way he could get in from this way. He decided it would be best to wait and then follow the man back to his home. He leaned against the wall out of sight of the guards and waited for the re-emergence of Thassus.
Thassus was a shaken man. To be so close to the Beast was unnerving yet he was relieved that Longinus had returned. All he had to do was summon the faithful in the city and formulate a plan
to capture and keep the Beast caged. Elder Gregory had been right in one sense in keeping the Beast but he had been wrong in involving innocents in the process since it had brought the wrath of the Beast down on their heads. He, Elder Thassus, would stand there in the Brotherhood's history along with Dacort, Imhept and Gregory, praise be to Izram! He shuffled forward on his knees to the Holy of Holies, the Spear, and prayed for guidance in bringing the Beast to him.
It was much later that he emerged, full of purpose and resolve. He made his way back to his house in the area close to the Golden Horn, followed, unknown to him, by a dark shadow. The house was a typical abode owned by the rich and privileged of the Empire, a two-storied brick and stone construction with a pantiled roof and extensive gardens. To enter the grounds access was via an ornate barred gate with two men guarding it. Casca walked on past them, head down, and covertly scanned the wall that ran round the property. It would be an easy climb. At a corner he found a way up thanks to a tangled creeper hanging over from the gardens.
Thassus got home and immediately summoned his servants to send word to the others in Constantinople for a meeting in the cisterns the day after tomorrow. Casca overheard enough, pressed against the wall next to Thassus's study window. He’d left some of his skin on the wall he’d climbed, but he had needed to be quick as this area was patrolled by the vigiles.
His flesh tingled with anticipation; he realized this man, Thassus, was the new Elder, and maybe taking him out next was the best course of action. But first he needed to get a sneak look at their meeting and find out just how they ticked. If he learned that, his strategy would be better known. Narses was still a target, but now he had a second way in.
He left, pleased at last to know where they had their meeting place and when the next meeting was. He would return in two days to the cisterns, as he had a break in his training then, and somehow get in to find out what they were going to plan, and it would also give him an insight as to how they were organized. It was time for him to fight back.
The waiting was the worst which distracted him over the next day and a half and he only put in a halfhearted effort into training. Zoe wondered at his distraction. He didn’t seem interested in her and it bothered the woman. She was used to molding men to her will, using her body, and the fact it didn’t seem to be working with Rufius caused her to wonder if her body was getting too old. She determined to seduce another of the riders and find out.
All Casca would say was that he had some unfinished business to attend to and spent much of the evening sharpening his sword and testing a rope he had purchased. Zoe left him alone, knowing this man had something to do and nothing was going to stop him. The inner force he possessed was close to erupting and it was just as well he was going to vent it at someone else. She didn’t want to be around when he blew. She instead turned her attention to Torgeth, the slim Germanic rider who she hadn’t yet tasted, and soon he was groaning up against a wall while she worked her magic on him, pleased her thirty years was still young enough to turn men to her will.
* * *
The entrance to the cisterns was closely guarded as the acolytes made their way into its darkness, watched by Casca from his vantage point in the shadows from a dark tunnel knee deep in water. He had asked Hadramon about the water supply of the city and had been directed to the Office of Public Works who was responsible for the upkeep and building of the cisterns. There were a number of huge open air cisterns close to the walls but those he wasn’t interested in, only those covered up and underground.
The helpful administrator he’d approached in the large building close to the palace pointed out that the public baths were all supplied from these cisterns, something Casca noted with chagrin. If he’d thought about it for a moment then that would have been obvious. He’d spun a yarn to the administrator about wanting to dig a large hole in his plot of land and had been concerned about disrupting the water supply to various public buildings.
It had been easy thereafter to find the nearest bath to the entrance he’d seen the Brotherhood use, the Basilican Baths, and follow the water route back to the cistern, a distance of a few hundred feet. There was no way into the cistern from the tunnel as it was grilled off but he didn’t mind that, for if he was discovered the guards could hardly get through after him. He guessed that after checking the grille had been secure, they no longer considered it, which was carelessness on their part. He was in deep shadow and as there was some garbage around he could easily be mistaken for some of that if anyone happened to take a look in his direction. Casca was sat down, soaking wet, but he didn’t care. His cloak was wrapped around him so that no flesh could give him away. Apart from the smell which he wrinkled his nose at from time to time, and the seeping wet spreading up his body, he found it comfortable enough.
He had noticed the guards had weapons hidden beneath their cloaks and so had tucked the knife he had taken from Icanius into his boot just in case. Not that he thought he’d have to use it, but rats were around and it was best to have something with you. He watched as many people arrived, some on foot in beggar's clothing, some with rich attire. He guessed that one escorted by ten others was Narses the eunuch, and was surprised at his smallness of stature. The meeting place was in the center of the cisterns and he was about fifty yards from the nearest man, and couldn’t make out their faces as they were all cloaked and hooded.
Once all had calmed down the guards took up a more settled stance. There were a multitude of people gathered in a rough circle in the chamber ahead illuminated by more torches with a raised dais in the center upon which rested a recognizable artifact, his spear, the one he had driven into the side of Jesus five hundred years ago. The last time he had seen his spear was two hundred years before in the Brotherhood’s temple in Sogdiana shortly before Dacort had chopped his hand off for touching it. He still got a tingle in his wrist at the memory.
The man he guessed to be Thassus now stood on the dais and turned to face the kneeling assembly, his back to Casca. He listened to Thassus’s speech on how Izram had purchased his spear after the crucifixion and begun the Brotherhood, stating that the return of Christ couldn’t happen until the world had fallen into utter chaos, thereby determining the Brotherhood’s role in society in bringing down organized kingdoms and Empires.
Casca was dumbstruck, the Brotherhood was an anarchist’s haven, infiltrating into the structure of every administration and rotting it from within, like woodworm. The loss of Elder Gregory had been a blow to the Brotherhood but they were still very well entrenched in the Empire’s administration, and it would take a huge convulsion to loosen their grip, which Casca was determined to apply. The Elder, whose voice confirmed his suspicions that he was the legal advisor Thassus, then began exhorting the faithful gathered to seek the beast Longinus who had returned to the city and bring him to the Elder so he could be imprisoned until Jesus returned to lead all the faithful to paradise.
Casca felt sick, here was the story repeated over again from a year ago after Ireina and Demos had been murdered. It was clear to him that anyone who got close to him would be under threat, and it was also clear in his mind that the threat to him and anyone he loved should now be removed. Although he couldn’t be killed, the numbers present were too numerous to take on at once and although he might kill many here present, their superior numbers would smother him and he would be bound and imprisoned for the Brotherhood to keep for as long as it took, which he couldn’t bear.
From what he could see, the Brotherhood was controlled by one leader, then there came thirteen sub-leaders each of whom in turn controlled a cell of thirteen more and so on. This meant there were a great number of them who belonged to all levels of society. When they began to become engrossed in the religious fanaticism of the cult he decided it was time to leave, not wanting to listen to the chanting that grew in the restricted chamber. He had heard all he wanted to hear, and he had leads on one or two of the cult which could be picked up at any time. He slowly got up and began moving sof
tly up the long tunnel away from the torchlight, only lighting his torch once he was around the corner, using his flint he’d stuck inside his tunic. Making his way to the baths he emerged out into the air and was gone into the night before any of the Brotherhood emerged from the cisterns.
CHAPTER NINE
Winter was fast approaching but Casca’s charioteering career continued unabated. He went to Thessalonika and came away with two wins out of two, one an easy victory, the other much closer and only secured thanks to his greater strength and control over his team. Hadramon was pleased with his pupil and informed him he would take part in the next race meeting to be held in the Hippodrome.
His time was spent between honing his riding skills and dealing with Zoe. The woman had become intolerable, demanding he bow to her wishes whenever she so ordered. Casca had had enough and picked the shouting woman up and threw her over his knee. She screamed and furiously demanded he put her down or else there’d be hell to pay.
“Hell, you say woman?” Casca retorted, pinning Zoe to his upper legs as he sat in a chair in the dining area. “What would you know of that place? Nothing, unless of course you were a devil, which you may well be!” He slapped her buttocks, bared after he’d hauled up her long dress, and Zoe shrieked. “Silence!” Casca barked. “You do not hold any spell over me, you she-devil, and its time I taught you that lesson!”
