Beasts Beyond the Wall

by Beasts Beyond the Wall (retail) (epub)

  ‘That’s one of the beast entrances,’ Ugo said, turning this way and that, dappling himself with the light as if he was standing under a spray of water. He dropped his face when grit sifted down and the place went dark; the slaves had sanded the area where the beasts entered the amphitheatre and they heard the scrabble and coughing roar of lions.

  ‘Can they get down?’ Sid demanded, crouching and looking up.

  ‘No,’ said the man with the lenses, ‘nor can we get up. Only way out is this way.’

  He pointed his pick at the patched brick wall and peeled off lenses and veil and head wrap in one smooth motion. They stared at death while it grinned back at them.

  ‘Dog,’ said Drust with awe and wonder.

  ‘Fuck me with a trident,’ Kag echoed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dog had taken two horses and ridden a third, leaving the others behind in the stables. He’d headed north as if back towards the Wall but veered west before long and come down the road from Isurium Brigantium, across the river to Calcaria.

  It was a staging post with a mansio and some workings for lime; he sold two of the horses there for half of what they were worth and then rode on. No one had yet heard of the death of the Emperor there, but the ripples of it spread. By the time he reached Lindum, the news had beat him to the place. By the time he got to where he could cross to Gaul, using the last of the horse money, everywhere was in mourning.

  He’d had a long, hard trip through Gaul and Italia, thieving and hiding. In Rome he had gone to Servilius Structus.

  ‘I looked to scare out where you lot had gone before I slit through all his chins to the heart in the throat,’ he told them, ‘but he wasn’t afraid at all, just seemed relieved that I was not dead. Then he told me what had happened to you lot and how we could get you out. So I gave him a missus. For now.’

  He told them this while he picked apart the brickwork and eventually stood back, panting.

  ‘Servilius Structus arranged this?’ Drust said, voicing the wonder of them all. Dog grinned from his sweat-gleaming face, hawked up enough spit to clear the dust from his mouth and gobbed it on the litter of broken bricks.

  ‘Naturally – Jupiter’s cock, Drust, sometimes you amaze me. Why d’you think you were handed the rudis so early? Why did he make you leader of his Procuratores?’

  Drust blinked, trying to think. Kag made an exasperated sound. ‘He bought you and your ma because he liked your ma. He took her to his bed and she warmed it right up until she died. It was his babe in her at the time. You are the nearest that fat old fuck has to a son.’

  Drust stared from Dog to Kag and round them all. Dog shrugged. ‘Maybe that’s why he knew what The Hood would do,’ he said, then laughed sourly.

  Kag flapped his hands and shrugged. ‘Everyone fucking knew this but you, it seems.’

  ‘Work on that later,’ Manius growled, and pointed with his long, hooked stick. ‘Work on this now – you have dug through to more brick, Dog.’

  Dog grinned and slapped the wall. It wasn’t brick but large blocks of pale stone.

  ‘The Divine Domitian had this plugged and all the others along the way. Beyond are the old channels for the naumachae, and it would have taken too much work to block the lot of them off. So he made sure they wouldn’t leak into his precious Flavian machinery and cages.’

  ‘Get to work prising out those stones,’ he said, ‘before you are reported missing.’

  The realisation of that raked them into action and they all started scrabbling at the stones until Drust got some order; he had some of the longer implements hacked short enough to be useful – they were poles with a blade for slicing the clogged flesh and shit, a hook for pulling the gristled lumps free. Now, cut down, they were used to rake at the crumbling mortar of the stone blocks.

  There wasn’t enough room for everyone, which was good as far as Dog was concerned – he had Sib go back to the pipe entrance and keep watch. Then he and Drust squatted in as dry a corner as could be found and looked at one another.

  ‘What brought you back?’ Drust asked. ‘You were free and clear. You could just have kept going.’

  ‘Where?’ Dog countered.

  ‘East. Your Sol temple.’

  ‘The boy and his mother are still here. The Hood won’t let them out of his sight, none of them, not his mother and certainly not his brother. Once his brother is gone, they are in more danger than ever. Old Servilius Structus knew this, planned for it. He was always a supporter of Geta – The Hood knew that. That’s why he attacked the litter that night.’

  He scrubbed his deathly face, made mad with a beard. ‘The Hood was ever the problem, the reason she had to flee – well, that’s what you get for giving in to the boy in the first place, though I am thinking she did not have much say in it. I am thinking it was her mother, or the Empress or all the Julias who got me to take her beyond the Empire. They got desperate and called in Servilius Structus. He called in me.’

  ‘He got us to beat you up,’ Drust pointed out, and Dog nodded, rubbing his leg.

  ‘I owe him for that – and you lot. The cold makes it ache.’

  ‘Why did he do that?’ Drust asked. ‘It all but ruined your plans.’

  ‘Not really. I didn’t have any and I didn’t want to be involved with that fat old fuck’s plans. I tried to get out of it by running off, which is the last resort of any slave other than sticking your head through the spokes of the wheel.’

  They both shared that distant tragedy, but Drust’s look made Dog scowl.

  He spread his hands. ‘What? I didn’t want any mad journey to the far north, the Land of Darkness beyond the Wall – I took a chance and joined up with Bulla. Second Spartacus, I thought. Well, we all saw what came of that – when it went to shit and you lot came at me, I tried to tell you I’d do what Servilius Structus wanted. I didn’t know you had no idea what was going on.’

  He glanced sideways at Drust. ‘To be honest, you never know much of what’s going on, and old Servilius Structus was too afraid of The Hood to share it with many.’

  Drust bridled a little, but it was true enough. ‘Gives me nosebleed looking up at the Hill and all its plotting.’

  Dog nodded. ‘I am with you there, brother. And who’s to say you are Stupidus. I am Stupidus. We are all Stupidus – I mean, I took the Domina as far north as you could go. The gods laughed at that trick – I am working hard at keeping us all safe from emperors when three fucking emperors turn up on a frontier no one had considered for years. As if I did not have enough with Talorc.’

  ‘Fuck Fortuna up the arse,’ Drust said.

  ‘Then a frumentarius turns up and finds out about a high-born Roman and her son squatting in a mud hut with the beasts beyond the Wall,’ Dog went on. ‘Starts sticking his long nose in.’

  Dog’s eyes were hooded. ‘Brigus was a brief problem, easily solved, and he became a help – I used his name to get a message back to Kalutis, asking for trusted men. Asking for you lot. No one questioned the word of a good informer, but I killed the scribe who worked the wax.’

  ‘You asked for us,’ Drust said dully. Somewhere distant, the crowd erupted in a great roar, muted to a sound like surf on a shore. ‘I am guessing we should be flattered.’

  ‘Could have done without it,’ Manius growled, wiping his streaming face; he had come up silently, as ever, and stood over them. He had lost his bandana and the flesh on one side of his head and the pocks on his face were a twisted cicatrice, smooth and pale as milky glass. ‘Same as we could do with some help now.’

  Dog took the proffered pole and Manius’s place. Manius sat heavily and cocked his head to look up, as if he could see through the stones, through the sour slickness, the tunnels, the sand, out onto the blaze of the amphitheatre.

  ‘The crowd is thirsty. There will be blood,’ he said, then looked at Drust and round at the others and shook his head wearily. ‘My ma taught me that if Romans come to you, fear them even if they bring gifts. What were we thinkin
g? Citizens? With piles of coin?’

  ‘Publius Vergilis Maro,’ Kag said, stepping away from the hard work. His tunic was dark with sweat, and dust crusted it and his face as he handed the pole pointedly to Drust. Then he grinned at Manius.

  ‘He first said what your ma told you, but it was Greeks he feared.’

  ‘Never saw Greeks out our way,’ Manius replied. ‘Saw too many fucking Romans though.’

  ‘Go and relieve Sib,’ Drust said, and shouldered his way into the crowd raking lumps round a stone.

  It took another torch to do it and Drust was glad Dog had thought to bring a bundle, but if it all took this long they’d be out of light before they even broke through to the dark beyond. The longer sticks became invaluable when it came to levering the block out, the hooks scraping for purchase like talons; eventually the stone crashed out with a noise that made everyone freeze. The torchlight guttered their shadows in a mad dance and they all fought against the panic.

  ‘The next will be easier,’ Dog said. ‘We need three out to get through.’

  ‘Two,’ said Sib, eying the hole, and Manius clapped him hard enough on his back to make him stagger.

  ‘For you, maybe, little man,’ he growled and Sib glanced guiltily at big Ugo, his elbows working furiously as he straked mortar from a block.

  They had a second out and were working on a third, watching the torches gutter and smoke in the poor air, gasping and streaming with sweat. Then, suddenly, Sib came scuttering back from where he was watching the end of the pipe.

  ‘Someone is coming,’ he hissed. ‘Jupiter Optimus Maximus… someone is coming.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Dog spat in a hoarse whisper, and smothered the torch in brick dust. They crouched, trying to control the rasp of their breathing, and Drust listened to his own heart, like a galloping horse. If they were all like that, he thought, whoever was arriving couldn’t fail to hear…

  ‘Ho,’ demanded a voice in a low growl. ‘Are you there? That Sophon is looking for you, so if you want to avoid a beating, I’d get back.’

  ‘Plancus,’ Drust mouthed, and Manius nodded, then started to slide silently towards the sound of the man’s voice; Dog caught his sleeve.

  ‘Don’t,’ he said, and then called out to Plancus.

  ‘Ha, fuck – there you are,’ the voice said. ‘Gave me a right scare. Look, my lads and I have done all we could but we’ll be in trouble if Sophon has to search. He’s starting to ask about you.’

  He came ducking into the pipe, smiling in the torchlight, and when he saw Drust he fumbled inside his stained tunic.

  ‘Old Servilius Structus gave me this for you,’ he said, and handed over a small pouch; it chinked softly with coin and Plancus nodded.

  ‘Few sestercii to help you lads on your way – and this,’ he went on, handing over a small amulet on a thong. Drust’s heart stumbled a few beats; it was one his mother had worn, a bronze oval of some face made of leaves, a forest spirit from her own time and place. It was worn shiny here and there by her fingers.

  ‘You have kept your bargain,’ Dog agreed, and Plancus smiled amiably.

  ‘Well, that old bastard and me go back a long way, so I am glad to help. Besides – getting condemned folk out of this black pit is my pleasure. Remember – go left. There were forty-two run-ins and four big drains to take the naumachae flow in and out. Go left and you will come to the place where the boats were launched into the harena and after that you’ll be walking double for some of the time.’

  He broke off and winked. ‘Like that lad in the tale.’

  ‘I remember what you told me,’ Dog said patiently, and broke off as another great muffled roar drifted down. Plancus frowned.

  ‘I think the favourite got sixed,’ he said. ‘That won’t make the Emperor any happier.’

  ‘Go,’ Drust said, slipping the amulet over his head. ‘And thanks.’

  Plancus flapped one hand, then stabbed a grimy finger in Dog’s chest. ‘After the place of boats, keep going, follow the curve of the highest arch. You will come to a crossover and must not miss it – there is an inscription to the Divine Trajan marking it. Cross to the next canal – that’s the inflow. The outflow will spill you into the Tiber, but the inflow will set you climbing to where Trajan’s aqueduct crosses the river on stone columns. You will then be in the open, high up on the aqueduct itself, and if you follow it on, will be over the City walls, where you can get down.’

  He saluted them with a wave. ‘I hope you make it – and remember the time, Dog.’

  They watched him go and Drust held the amulet as if it was itself a prayer. Dog stood for a moment and Quintus laughed softly, which made him scowl as he shouldered away. Quintus winked at Drust and then threw his cut-down pole at Sib.

  ‘My turn to sit and take my ease,’ he said, and went off down to the pipe end.

  They were manhandling the last stone, gasping and cursing in muted, sweating struggles when a voice echoed, loud and careless and angry. No one needed to ask who it was and Quintus didn’t have to duck back to tell them.

  Sophon had found out they were missing.

  ‘Faex,’ Kag growled. Dog moved swiftly and indicated to the others that they should pick up the pole-blades. He crab-walked back out the pipe and stood upright as Sophon came barrelling down, his face bloody as a bad pudding.

  ‘You bastards. I have been too lax, it seems. Get yourselves out of there and back to your cells. You can wish for a meal…’

  Then he saw Dog’s bared face and stopped. Drust came out and Kag behind him. Sophon stood, hands on hips, still triumphant in his power and seeing only slaves, even if one was disfigured. Dog sauntered towards him with the pole on his shoulder, every inch of him arrogant disdain, and Sophon’s face grew dark. He opened his mouth to start yelling as Dog swung the pole-blade in a perfectly timed arc, off his shoulder and curving towards Sophon’s neck.

  The lanista had a moment to realise just how bad things were for him, then he felt a tugging and reeled back. He wanted to yell out but all that emerged was a horrifying spray of blood…

  Drust watched him dispassionately as he gug-gugged, clutching his opened throat and sinking slowly to the ground, gasping for air and speech. Then one of the Charons, mask in one hand and irritation making a new one all over his face, turned down into the tunnel, saw the terror of it all and stopped, his mouth working.

  ‘Oh, Juno’s twat,’ Kag said sullenly, and Dog sprang forward. The Charon fled, screaming, and Dog pulled up short and turned back.

  ‘Time for us to be gone,’ he said.

  Drust knew he was right; it wasn’t that the Charon was screaming, it was what he was screaming, the one thing guaranteed to get the Urbans clattering down in a running hurry, in full gear and wielding blades, not cudgels.

  ‘Spartacus. Spartacus.’

  It bounced and echoed round the walls, was picked up by other throats and roared out until it drowned the noise of the animals and men and even the crowd outside.

  Spartacus.

  * * *

  They scrambled through the hole they had made, dropped a man-height into ankle-deep water in the dark and stumbled left up the tunnel a little way. It was cold and smelled musty; Drust felt a slight chill breeze on his face.

  Then Dog came up with a torch and holding a bundle under his arm. ‘We have twelve,’ he growled. ‘When they run out we will be in the dark.’

  Sib muttered to himself until Ugo slapped his shoulder. ‘Ease yourself, little man – you should not fear the dark. If those whoresons come for us, you are the one they will miss.’

  He threw back his head and laughed delightedly at his own joke, but the sound belled and thundered; Manius told him not to do it again.

  ‘Will they follow?’ asked Manius, and no one answered. Drust knew they would, all the same – they would follow regardless, follow until they tracked down and killed gladiators who had dared kill a lanista and raise the spectre of Spartacus.

  It was why the Urban Cohorts were in
the Flavian in the first place – the Vigiles dealt with crowd control, but the Urbans, dressed and equipped like legionaries, were there to guard against packs of armed slaves, should they decide to emulate the Spartacus of old. From time to time, Drust knew, there circulated a rumour of a ‘second Spartacus’, though few believed it; most, like Drust, thought the fighters did it simply to watch the owners and lanistae and others squirm.

  The other side of that as was when anything that smelled of revolt was sniffed out; then the Urbans went in, tooth and claw. No wooden cudgels either – spears and shields and sharp blades.

  ‘They will want us double when The Hood finds out we have made a run for it,’ Drust told them, but they needed no spur. They moved as fast as they dared up an arched passage as wide as Ugo and only slightly taller, only stopping when Dog’s torch sputtered down to a gasping rat’s eye glare.

  Then they stopped and fed another to the embers until it flared into life. Sib said he saw light ahead in the moment when the torches were exchanging lives.

  ‘Up ahead,’ he said. ‘It was lighter, for sure.’

  Back was only darkness, but Kag studied it while Manius tasted the air of it with his upraised face.

  ‘They are following. They are in the tunnel.’

  They went on, stumbling a little because there was enough fetid water round their feet to slosh and catch. It came to Drust, sudden as a stab, that there should be no water in these old tunnels if they’d been blocked off and he said so, looking at Dog.

  ‘No, no – they blocked off the access to the Flavian undercroft. This is still attached to the aqueduct that feeds it, the big one, Trajan’s one. It flushes out the sewers of the Flavian when the day is done there.’

  Drust heard Plancus’s last hissed warning – remember the time. Dog shrugged.

  ‘They open the same sluices that served to flood the Flavian in the old days. Lot of pressure on narrow sewage pipes according to old Plancus, so they have to divert the flow, slacken it a little.’