by Nick Brown
‘What are you doing?’ said Kammath, grabbing Cassius’s arm. ‘We can’t remain here.’
‘Actually we must. It’s our only chance.’
‘He’s right,’ said Idan. Beside him, Kabir was staring back along the road.
Cassius ushered the others away from the torches that lined the courtyard, bathing the marble floor in misty yellow light.
‘They catch us on the road – it’s over. If we hide, some of us might make it out alive, but I doubt it.’
‘Then what?’ said Kabir, his first words since leaving the house.
‘They don’t know you have the slings; or what you can do with them. Remember Alauran – the killing area? We can do it again.’
Cassius stood in darkness, just off the road, a hundred feet from the courtyard. Beside him were Kabir (who was looking after Marte) and Kammath (who was looking after Dinora). Cassius reached inside his cloak and checked the straps of his armour. Despite the sweat upon the rings that had leaked through his tunic, all was secure.
‘Here they come,’ said Kammath.
‘Follow me.’ Cassius set off at a jog. He knew the crest was around three hundred feet away and that the riders would not be too close when they saw him and the others for the first time.
Resisting the urge to look back, he concentrated on his footing and the lights ahead. He heard a shout from the Romans as the rumble of hooves grew louder. When he was within twenty feet of the courtyard the noise changed; the riders were reining in.
As he reached the narrow entrance, he took his first look back. Three of the torches were still on the road. The others were in the hands of men already cutting across the grass towards them.
‘Go!’ yelled Kabir.
Cassius sprinted across the courtyard, dodging around the altar in the centre. Once beyond it at the base of the steps, he turned and drew his sword. He lifted the handkerchief to hide his lower face once more.
Kabir, Kammath and the girls were not far behind. As instructed, Dinora and Marte climbed the steps and took refuge behind one of the four great columns of the temple. Kabir and Kammath drew their long knives. Their slings were hidden, tucked into the back of their belts.
Thank the gods.
Nine of the ten soldiers crossing the courtyard were not wearing any army equipment other than swords. What Cassius feared above all else were bows but few legionaries even owned one and he saw nothing that could hurt them from a distance. Barba, however, had clearly come from some duty, as he was clad in his striped tunic and carrying a helmet. Centurion Octavius wore a plain, sleeveless tunic that showed off his impressive physique. He had his hand on the pommel of his sword but did not draw it, even as he rounded the altar and came to a stop. His craggy face was set in a grim sneer.
‘This will not save you. Nothing will save you.’
Cassius could see no point in speaking.
‘Where are the others?’ asked Barba.
A moment after Octavius turned towards the optio, Barba’s face was torn open by the first shot. As his hand came up to the wound, a second man was hit in the head. He fell; the torch in his hand spitting sparks as it struck the marble.
‘Down!’ Octavius was quicker than the rest of his men.
Another shot pinged off the stone. A legionary gave a cry and hobbled sideways before diving down.
Even though the men were all now below the level of the wall, they were not safe from Yablus and Idan, who were firing from separate corners of the temple. The Syrians were aiming downwards, at well-lit targets they could pick out with ease.
The speed of the soldiers’ recovery was impressive. At a shouted order from Octavius, those still able to move dived at the nearest stands and knocked them over, putting out the torches. Once concealed by gloom, the soldiers could be heard moving forward. Idan and Yablus continued to pepper them with shot. A legionary scrabbling towards the exit fell as he was struck low. His head hit the marble with a thudding slap.
Two more stands crashed to the ground, leaving the courtyard in darkness.
Cassius could hear Octavius hissing orders.
‘How many down?’ asked Kammath.
‘Three, maybe four,’ said Cassius.
‘Spread out,’ said Kabir.
‘What?’
Too late, Cassius realised that they were blocking Idan and Yablus’s shots if the legionaries got close.
Octavius already had his men on the move again. Two legionaries bolted out of the darkened courtyard, swords high as they powered up the steps. The head of one snapped sideways as the shot hit. His legs went from under him and he landed on his side before rolling all the way back down.
Aware that at least two more were coming, Cassius watched the next man spring up the steps, oblivious to the fate of his compatriot. He ran at Kammath, who was one step lower than Kabir and Cassius.
The young warrior swept his long knife at the legionary’s head but a flick of the Roman’s short sword deflected the blow. Before the soldier could strike, Kabir joined the fray. The nomad’s bloodied blade went in under the legionary’s armpit, crunching through tissue and bone. As he retracted it, blood splattered the white stone.
Though the first two men had been accounted for, Kabir had exposed his flank and the quickest of the next group were already on him. Kammath was stuck on the wrong side.
Cassius leaped down and stretched out his arm, trying to protect the chief. The legionary’s short sword crashed into his blade – reducing the impact – but the tip caught the Syrian low, sinking through his black tunic. Grunting in pain, Kabir toppled backwards between Cassius and the legionary, a stout man whose open mouth revealed jagged, broken teeth.
The other soldier darted at Kammath, who blocked with his knife but was forced to retreat. Cassius knew the slingers could do them no good now; the enemy were too close. He hoped Idan and Yablus were on their way.
Both standing over Kabir, Cassius and the legionary raised their blades. The soldier turned side on, then jabbed at him. A panicked swipe with the longer blade knocked the sword aside but the legionary launched himself over Kabir and swung again.
Cassius saw the feint for what it was and kept the sword high. The blade came back the other way, sparking as it struck his.
Vaguely aware of fast-moving figures and clashes close by, Cassius realised he had given up the initiative for too long.
Use your reach. Use those long arms and that long blade.
Cassius dropped down a step and pivoted. As the heavier weapon clanged against the short sword, the impact unsettled the soldier. One foot slipped down off a step. A glinting blade sliced across his heel. Blood sprayed the stone and Kabir rolled aside as the shrieking legionary collapsed. Holding the Roman by the hair, the nomad chief sunk the blade deep into his chest.
Cassius registered Yablus hauling a Roman off Kammath before another figure charged up the steps.
Octavius had put Barba’s helmet on.
He took careful aim and kicked Kabir in the side of the head.
Cassius heard himself cry out as the Syrian’s skull smacked against the stone.
Octavius didn’t miss a step.
Cassius only realised his handkerchief had fallen down when the centurion’s single eye glittered with amusement.
‘Gods, you’re not much more than a boy. What are you doing with—’
‘Cassius – down!’
As he dropped to his haunches, a shot cracked the cheek-guard of the helmet. Blinking and shaking his head, Octavius put out his arms to steady himself. But by the time a shape flew past Cassius to his left, the centurion had recovered.
Idan’s long hair flew in an arc as he launched a scything sweep at the Roman’s stomach. Octavius batted the blade away with his sword, then brought his left fist around, catching the Syrian on his brow.
Idan staggered and barely had time to get up the knife as Octavius heaved down at him. The narrow blade shattered under the sword’s weight and Idan fell back against the steps.
/> Octavius raised his sword again. ‘Darkie, you are one ugly son of a—’
Cassius’s blade sliced across the centurion’s shoulder.
‘Aaagh!’
Before Cassius could strike again, Octavius had turned and hacked at him. The blade scraped along the mail at Cassius’s forearm then across his palm.
Pain lanced into his hand. He dropped his sword.
As Octavius pressed forward, Idan leaped up at him, gripping his wrists and trying to prise the weapon from his grasp. But for all his wiry strength, the Syrian was no match for the heavily built centurion.
Octavius wrestled himself free and swung an elbow, catching Idan on the chin. The nomad tottered, then lurched away before finally crashing on to the steps.
Palm warm with blood, Cassius recovered his sword with his left hand. Hearing shouts below, he retreated up the steps towards the temple doors.
Octavius sprang after him. His eyepatch had ridden up, revealing only a dark, gaping hole.
Cassius’s foot landed on the base of his cloak and slid off a step. He fell on to his backside.
Grinning manically, Octavius drew back his blade.
Cassius covered his face as best he could. Only the mail shirt could save him now.
The flames came from his right.
The torch hit the centurion’s face, showering him with sparks. He shrieked as he flailed around, pawing at his eye.
Dinora was standing there, torch still in her hand.
Octavius wiped his eye again, then he saw her. ‘I’ll run you through, whore.’
By the time the enraged centurion saw Cassius, the younger man was up on his feet.
Gripping his sword as hard he could, Cassius drove the tip into the side of his foe’s neck. The blade made a wide, deep wound and stuck there. As Cassius let go, Octavius seemed to freeze. His single, bulging eye turned to his murderer. The eyelid flickered then closed. He slumped sideways, his frame coming straight down on to Cassius, who collapsed beneath him.
With the hot, stinking weight of the big centurion pinning him, Cassius felt warm blood streaming on to his neck. Octavius’s body was shaking, even though the head was still. Cassius tried to push him off but he didn’t have the strength.
‘Oh gods. Get it off, please …’
Suddenly the body was pulled away and dumped on the steps.
A dazed-looking Idan bent over and offered his hand.
Cassius stood there, his entire chest covered in blood, the smell of it still thick in his nostrils. He had not moved; and lying just below him was Octavius’s body.
You killed a centurion. You killed a fellow officer of the Imperial Army.
He watched Idan help Kabir to his feet. Kammath, meanwhile, was cutting off the bottom of the nearest fallen legionary’s tunic. He then went over to Yablus, who was sitting on a step, and wrapped what looked like a deep cut on the youth’s arm.
‘Are you all right?’
Feeling a touch on his shoulder, Cassius turned to see Dinora standing there.
‘I think so.’
‘The priests are coming. We should go.’
Cassius turned. The doors were open, the holy men looking out. He reached down to pull up his handkerchief but it was sodden with blood. Gripped by nausea he tried to wrench it off but he’d purposefully tied it tight.
Bile filled his mouth as he descended the steps. Somehow he didn’t throw up.
‘Sir?’ Dinora – now accompanied by Marte – had followed him. She handed him his sword. The other girl was holding a torch.
Cassius sheathed his blade. ‘Can he move?’
‘I can move,’ said Yablus before Kammath could answer for him. Kabir’s son helped his cousin up. Dinora and Marte went to the injured youth.
Kabir looked like he could faint at any moment.
Though Idan had also taken a prodigious blow, he was at least able to help his chief across the steps. ‘You coming?’
Cassius nodded but remained where he was. The throbbing in his sliced hand was growing stronger with every moment. Blood was still oozing from it but he knew the damage wasn’t that bad; he could still move his fingers. As the others set off for the road, Kammath quickly examined the soldiers lying on the temple steps. ‘All dead.’ He turned to the courtyard. ‘But some there are still alive. I can hear them. You want me to do it?’
Cassius surprised himself by barely hesitating. ‘Yes. You must. And keep count. There were ten in all.’
As Kammath marched away, Cassius finally managed to untie the handkerchief, which he then used to soak up his own blood. He looked around. The only long knife he could see was Kabir’s, which he retrieved. There was nothing he could do about all the shot that would be lying around. If anyone investigated properly, they would know that slingers had been involved. There were also the guests at the house and now the priests too, who had seen the four nomads, especially Kabir with his distinctive hair and Idan’s scarred face.
They had left many traces of themselves. Cassius knew that the events of this night might dictate the course of the rest of his life. He could hardly believe what he – what they – had done. They had to get out of Byzantium immediately and put as many miles between them and this terrible scene as possible.
His grisly work done, Kammath returned to the light, shaking blood from his long knife. ‘Ten.’
Cassius looked up at the temple doors. The priests had not dared to move beyond them.
He grabbed a torch from a stand, he and Kammath ran after the others.
Simo was standing alone, upon the dusty patch of ground between the quay and the road that ran north into the city. According to the brothers, the well-lit building on higher ground was the Temple of Apollo. Other than that, he could make out the angular silhouettes of a few isolated buildings but only the odd speck of light. He stared into the inky gloom until his eyes ached then returned to the quay to sit on a pile of timber.
The wind seemed to have lessened, though he could still hear the movement of the trees some distance back from the coast. As he sat there, he considered what he would do if none of them appeared. It was without doubt a possibility.
Another glance at the road revealed nothing. He turned, hearing shoes on the concrete of the quay.
‘You said they will approach from the road?’
Simo had no idea which Bion was addressing him. ‘I assume so.’
‘So that can’t be them?’
‘What?’
‘Look there.’
Simo saw the lights – two of them, quite close, approaching from the north-west.
‘I believe there is a trail there that leads up to a larger road.’
Simo hurried across the quay then over some rough ground. Once closer, he could see there was an opening in a high hedge. He waited there, and within five minutes the first figure appeared. It was Master Cassius.
‘Sir!’
‘Simo?’
‘Here, sir.’
‘Thank the gods.’
His chest and much of his neck was sticky with blood. He was wielding a torch with one hand, holding the other gingerly by his side.
‘Sir, what happened to you?’
‘Later. Do you have the boat?’
‘Yes, sir – just a hundred yards away.’
‘And it will take all of us?’
‘Yes.’ Simo looked at the others. The chief, Kabir, was standing with his head bowed, swaying. The two young men were each accompanying a girl.
‘Is that—’
‘I’ll tell you everything later. Just take us to the boat.’
‘At once, sir.’
Cassius sat at the stern, looking up at the sky. The wind had dropped to a light breeze. He could hear the deep breaths of the two oarsmen as they propelled the boat along the coast, the mountings squeaking with every stroke.
Simo was beside him. He had already cleaned out the wound and was now bandaging it as best he could. Cassius held the lantern close to help him. Though the pulsing pai
n of the split flesh had not abated, Simo seemed certain that nothing important had been damaged, though he would need stitches.
With a little time at last, Cassius’s mind had been so assailed by terrible thoughts that it now seemed to have closed itself off. For several minutes he just sat there, as quiet as the others.
With them at the stern were the two girls. Simo had found a blanket for them and they held each other close to stay warm. Kammath and Yablus were lying in the bow. Idan and Kabir were sitting in the middle of the boat, just behind the brothers. Kabir had recovered enough to speak to Idan and sit up. Cassius could not think of anything to say to him.
Half an hour later, the oarsmen took a brief rest and exchanged a few anxious comments in their own language. When they had seen the condition of their clients, Cassius had paid them the rest of their fee plus another two aurei to not reveal anything about their night’s work. He could never know if they would honour the agreement.
Once underway again, the brothers guided the boat through some moored galleys with lanterns hanging in the rigging. As they started across the strait, Cassius and Simo watched Kabir crawl to the stern of the boat. He lay between the girls, put his arms around them and began to sob.
XXXI
They came ashore at a remote pontoon where there was not a single light or vessel. A mooring post broke off when one of the twins tied a rope around it but the dilapidated structure held firm as the six men and two women climbed out. While the others took the bags and trooped towards the shore, Cassius spoke to the brothers, who clearly needed to rest again before starting back across the straits.
‘Any idea where we are?’
‘It looks quiet but you’re only a mile or so from the edge of Chalcedon. Just follow the beach then cut inland when you come to the sea wall. The highest building is the Temple of Jupiter – head for that and you’ll end up close to the centre.’
‘Thank you. Listen, I know we’ve paid you but there is another reason why I’d like you to not speak of this.’
‘Go on.’
Cassius knew the brothers would hear about the events at the Temple of Apollo; it would probably be around the entire city by the following day.
