“What,” Rabidus said, slowly and menacingly, “are you talking about?”
Vespillo hissed his reply, the powerful hand at his neck choking off his air and the blade forcing his mouth closed.
“The hairpin,” he spluttered. “It had been dipped in extract of Pan’s Bane.”
Rabidus looked uncertain. He gripped Vespillo’s neck harder. “What’s Pan’s Bane?”
Vespillo felt his air supply cut off, felt his head start to swim, blackness appear at the periphery of his vision.
“Can’t…speak,” he gasped.
Rabidus relaxed his grip, but didn’t let go. Vespillo sucked air into his lungs, head slowly clearing.
“What,” repeated Rabidus, quiet and threatening, “is Pan’s Bane?”
“A rare poison,” said Vespillo. “Known only to priestesses of a certain obscure cult of Isis.”
“What does it do?”
“At first, very little,” said Vespillo, voice hoarse. “Just a tingling sting around the entry wound.”
Rabidus kept the knife under Vespillo’s chin, but reached down with his other hand to rub his thigh. Vespillo could see concern on his face.
“Then, chills start to run down your spine. Next, you start to sweat, you feel out of breath, and you can feel your heart beat faster.”
Vespillo looked into the gang boss’s eyes, saw them becoming wider, heard his breathing quicken. He put a hand to his chest.
“In some people, their bowels tighten. For others, they loosen and shit all over the floor.”
One of the thugs laughed, then fell silent at a deadly glare from Rabidus.
“Some feel like they are going to be sick. Then comes weakness in the legs, faintness, a tightening of the throat, a gasping for air…then death.”
Rabidus looked completely panic stricken now.
“How quickly?”
“Quick. Maybe half an hour once you start to feel the first effects. You can feel them already can’t you? I can tell. The way you are holding your leg, it is stinging like a swarm of wasps have been at it. I can see you sweating, hear your breathing getting fast.”
“There is a cure? An antidote?”
Vespillo nodded. “There is. It usually works. Although,” he added, feeling now that he had the upper hand and starting to enjoy himself, “I must warn you that the after effects of the poison will leave you impotent.”
“What?” roared Rabidus.
“Unless,” said Vespillo raising one hand in gesture of conciliation, “You have regular doses of the antidote.”
“Give me the cure, now!”
“I would be a fool to bring it with me, wouldn’t I?”
“Get it, or you are a dead man.”
“That threat doesn’t really work, does it? Kill me, and you die too. I am your only hope.”
Rabidus gestured to Marsia. “I will kill your slave,” he threatened, weakly.
Vespillo shrugged. “She has served her purpose. It makes no difference to me.” Vespillo ignored the glare Marsia was giving him that he could see from the corner of his eye, wondering if he would pay for that comment later.
Rabidus let the knife drop away from Vespillo’s throat, and his shoulders slumped. A wave of pain broke across his face and he gripped his leg. His breath came short and panicked.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to leave me alone. If I give you the cure, I owe you nothing, nor will I owe you anything in the future, whatever my activities.”
“Agreed. Now give me the cure.”
“Come with me then. Marsia will lead the way.”
Rabidus looked across at the thug holding Marsia, and nodded at him. The thug released Marsia. She shook herself free angrily, then turned and spat in his face. The thug lifted his hand to strike her across the face, but Rabidus roared him down.
Marsia headed for the exit, and Vespillo gestured for Rabidus to follow her. Febrox started to accompany him, but Vespillo put a hand on his chest.
“Alone,” he said.
Febrox started to protest, but Vespillo cut him short. “We don’t have much time Rabidus. How is the leg feeling?”
Rabidus rubbed the leg, wincing. “Stay here, Febrox. This fool could never best me.”
Febrox looked doubtful but bowed his head in acquiescence. Rabidus limped heavily after Marsia, and Vespillo walked behind, eyes straight ahead, ignoring the dagger glares from all the thugs who had gathered in silence to watch him take their leader away.
They reached the doorway that led from the atrium into the street, and Vespillo longed to be out of the gang’s hideout. The large porter stepped into their path. Marsia locked eyes with him, but he returned her stare implacably. She turned back to Vespillo.
“Get out of the way,” said Rabidus.
“Boss…” said the porter, a pleading quality in his voice. “I don’t want you out there alone.”
“Rabidus,” said Vespillo. “The water is running out of the clepsydra.”
Rabidus pushed past Marsia and shoved the porter out of the way, opening the door himself. He held it open for Marsia and Vespillo.
“Come on,” he said. “Hurry.”
Lutorius lay on his back on the bed, covered in a light sheen of sweat. The woman next to him was panting, her eyes half shut. She sighed and half turned, so her arm and upper body was draped over his, her ample breasts against his bare chest. He stroked light finger tips down her back, enjoying the post-coital glow, the sensation of closeness these moments brought.
She looked up at him, kissed him firmly on the lips, her tongue exploring his mouth brazenly. He reflected on where her mouth had been just moments before, but put it from his mind and kissed her back passionately. He wondered if he was falling for this woman. He certainly liked the need she felt for him, the almost desperate nature of her passion. She clearly wasn’t getting what she wanted from her husband.
He leaned towards her, placing a hand on her breast, feeling the nipple harden against his palm. He squeezed and she sighed, her leg moving across his body, so his thigh was pressed firmly against her. She started to grind herself against him in a marvellously wanton way, and despite having only just finished one performance, he was surprised to find himself hardening again.
She reached down to discover this for herself, and smiled at him, then bit him lightly on the neck. He responded, rolling over and between her legs. He entered her smoothly with one thrust, looking down into her eyes as they flew open in pleasure. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as he thrust firmly in and out, crying loudly, to his slight consternation. Fortunately, he knew her husband was elsewhere, in a brothel on the other side of town. He hoped the household slaves were discreet.
He lasted longer this time, much to his lover’s pleasure, but his climax still arrived quickly, the beautiful woman below him clutching at him as her own climax washed over her. He collapsed on top of her, exhausted now. She gasped below him, as he lay, all thoughts banished from his pleasure flooded mind.
Slowly, awareness of the present came back to him. He looked at the guttering oil lamp, fuel nearly gone. Sudden panic seized him.
“Merda, how long have I been here?”
She stroked his face. “Relax, my husband won’t be back for hours.”
“I know, but there is somewhere else I need to be.”
She pouted at him as he hastily threw on his clothes, pausing only to blow her a kiss from the doorway. He knew she would be irritated with him for the hasty departure, but he really did have somewhere else he had promised to be, something he would hate to be late for.
Still, it was definitely worth it. The affair was still new, but he was in no hurry to end it. She was an amazing fuck. And there was the added bonus of the fact that he got to cuckold his arse of a commanding officer.
Carbo looked up with annoyance at the approaching figure.
“You’re late,” he snapped.
“Sorry,” said Lutorius. “I’m here now.”
; Carbo peered down the dark street, eyes straining for movement.
“How much longer can he be?” he asked anxiously, turning back to Lutorius.
“I’ve no idea,” said Lutorius, sitting on the edge of the fountain they had agreed as their meeting point. “I still don’t understand why you are so confident he will come.”
“You’ll see,” said Carbo. “As long as nothing has gone wrong.”
“We are all in the hands of the Parcae,” said Lutorius.
Carbo shot him an irritated look.
Lutorius spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture.
“Better in the hands of the Fates than the Furies.”
“When I find out who killed Rufa, they will wish for the vengeance of the Furies rather than what I will do to them.”
Lutorius opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it, then squinted over Carbo’s shoulders. He pointed. “There. That’s them.”
Carbo turned to see two shapes emerging from the darkness, one short and broad-shouldered, the other bulky and rotund. Another shape appeared behind them, a muscular woman. As they drew close, their faces became clear, Marsia, Vespillo and a grotesquely obese man who was panting and sweating.
“Rabidus?” Carbo asked Vespillo.
“The same.”
Carbo put his hand out to Vespillo, then slapped him on the back.
“Well done, friend.” He faced Rabidus, looking him up and down with contempt. “We’re going to have a talk.”
Rabidus looked uncertainly at Vespillo.
“Who is this? Where is my cure?”
“This is Carbo,” said Vespillo. “Your men assisted in the murder of his woman.”
Rabidus looked back to Carbo, eyes widening. “That was you?”
Carbo returned the gaze, face impassive.
“Are you going to kill me?” said Rabidus, a tremor in his voice.
“Bring him,” said Carbo to Vespillo, and spun on his heel. The four of them, Carbo, Vespillo, Lutorius and Marsia, with Rabidus in the middle of them, walked a short way down the street to a small temple. Carbo entered and looked around. An oil lamp gave just enough flickering light to make out a drunkard and two homeless urchins lying near the altar. Carbo kicked them awake, and told them to leave. They protested until he half drew his sword, then quickly exited, spitting curses behind them. Vespillo and Lutorius pushed Rabidus into the room.
“The cure,” he said, breathing heavily.
Carbo patted a pouch at his belt. “In here. When you have answered my questions.”
“Please,” said Rabidus. “I can feel it, the Pan’s Bane, in my blood. My heart feels like it is going to burst.”
“Who hired you? Who paid you to send men to help them attack me?”
“Give me the cure,” gasped Rabidus. “It’s getting hard to speak. Can’t think properly.”
Carbo undid the pouch, pulled out a small stoppered flask and held it up. Rabidus reached for it, but Carbo put a hand on his chest and pushed him backwards, feeling his hand sink into the rolls of fat as he did so.
“Who?” he said.
“I can’t tell you,” said Rabidus. “These aren’t people you double-cross.”
“How’s your heart doing?” asked Vespillo.
Rabidus paled. “Please. They will kill me. They are completely ruthless.”
“From you, that’s high praise,” commented Lutorius.
Carbo remained motionless, the flask outstretched but out of reach. “Names.”
Rabidus rubbed his chest and shook his head. “If I tell you, no one must know it came from me.”
Carbo raised one eyebrow.
Rabidus shook his head. “Their names are Atreus and Menelaus.”
“Greeks?” asked Marsia. Lutorius looked at her in surprise.
“She’s surprisingly educated,” explained Vespillo.
“I don’t think they are Greek,” said Carbo. “They don’t sound Greek.”
“We know those names. But what are their real names?” asked Lutorius.
“That’s all they have ever gone by, to me at least.”
“What do they look like, then?” asked Carbo.
“But…you’ve seen them,” said Rabidus confused.
“I mean without their masks, obviously.”
Rabidus looked around the faces confronting him, surprised. “I haven’t seen them without their masks. No one has. Do you think if I knew who they were, I would let them get away with what they do in my territory?”
Carbo looked away and cursed.
“There must be something else you can tell us about them,” said Vespillo. “How did they find you? What did they sound like?”
“They approached me initially. They pay well and they are merciless, so I don’t complain. As to what they sound like, their masks muffle their voices.” Rabidus was gabbling now, gasping breaths as the words flowed out in a torrent. “Though Menelaus doesn’t say much, not like Thyestes used to.”
Carbo looked over at Lutorius. “I told you I had killed Thyestes. That this Menelaus was someone new.”
“Ah,” said Rabidus. “You killed Atreus’ brother. That makes sense.” Then he let out a wheezing cough. “You know killing your woman was just the start. He wants you to suffer, but ultimately he wants your life.”
Carbo exchanged glances with Vespillo. Lutorius looked disgusted. “So this has been a waste of time.”
“Not a complete waste,” said Carbo. “This piece of shit gave Atreus the men he needed. They would never have been able to kill her if it wasn’t for him. I can at least end him.”
Carbo drew his gladius and pressed it to Rabidus’ neck.
“Wait, wait,” gabbled Rabidus desperately.
“Give me a reason not to kill you.”
“I can bring you to them,” he said.
Carbo said nothing, but held still.
“We have a way of meeting. If we need to see each other, we leave a piece of graffiti on a certain wall. Different words mean different times and places.”
Carbo looked across to Vespillo and Lutorius.
“What do you think?”
“Sounds like our best chance,” said Lutorius. Vespillo nodded agreement.
Carbo considered for a moment then stepped back, lowering his sword.
“Fine. Set it up.”
“The cure,” said Rabidus. “I can’t help you if I’m dead.”
Carbo hesitated, then passed him the flask. Rabidus grabbed it from him and drained it rapidly, being careful not to spill a drop.
“How quickly does it work?” he asked when it was gone.
“More or less straight away,” said Vespillo. “You will find your heart rate starting to slow, your breathing becoming easier. A sensation of calm will come over you, and the tightness in your guts will ease.”
Relief flooded over Rabidus’ features.
“Yes, yes. I can feel it working. Thank you, thank you.”
“Get out of here,” said Vespillo. “Send Febrox to the tavern where I first met him, tomorrow night, with details of the meeting.”
Rabidus hurried to the door.
“And remember,” said Vespillo. “Every month you will need the cure, or you will be permanently impotent. I will make sure Lutorius always has it for you.”
“I understand,” said Rabidus, and the sour look he gave Lutorius suggested that he did. With that, he hurried out.
Vespillo walked to the door, looked out to make sure Rabidus was gone, then turned back to the others and doubled over, howls of laughter erupting from him. Lutorius stared at him in surprise, then over to Marsia, who was grinning broadly.
“What is it?” he asked, confused.
“Pan’s Bane?” asked Carbo. “How did you come up with that name?”
“Oh,” said Vespillo, trying to compose himself. “I thought it sounded good. And played on the fear of any man, especially a fat, ugly one like that. Everyone knows Pan is famed for his sexual prowess, so Pan’s Bane would emphasise one
of the effects I was claiming.”
“Your mention of impotence was very clever, Master,” said Marsia. “You could see the terror in his eyes when you mentioned that.”
“Thank you, Marsia,” said Vespillo. “And now he belongs to Lutorius - if he doesn’t come back monthly for the cure, he will believe himself to become permanently impotent. Lutorius, I’m sure you can come up with all sorts of ways to use that to your advantage.”
Understanding dawned on Lutorius. “It’s fake? There is no such thing as Pan’s Bane?”
Carbo laughed and shook his head. “Not that we know.”
“But, when he finds out that he isn’t impotent in a month’s time?”
“He won’t risk it,” said Marsia. “And even if he does, the fear of impotence will probably make him impotent anyway.”
Vespillo roared with laughter at this, although Carbo’s smile faded. Carbo had been unable to be intimate with a woman after his experiences of torture at the hands of German priestesses, until Rufa had come along. She had shown him it was still possible for him to be a man, in all ways. And now she was gone.
“But,” Lutorius still sounded confused, “he thought he had been poisoned. He could feel it.”
“The needle was laced with simple acetum, vinegar. That ensured it stung like a hornet from Hades. After that, the symptoms I told him were just those of a man in terror. Fast heart rate, fast breathing, cold sweats, clenched bowels. Taking a very fat man for a brisk walk afterwards is only going to worsen that.”
Lutorius shook his head in amazement. “You and Marsia walked into Rabidus’ lair armed with nothing more than a hair pin dipped in vinegar?” He looked at Carbo accusingly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Carbo found his smile again. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Chapter X
Carbo and Vespillo sat at the kitchen table in the farmhouse, eating some bread and olives for a light lunch. Marsia poured them some water, and Carbo took a sip, a faraway, pensive look on his face.
“What are you thinking?” asked Vespillo.
“How I’m going to kill them,” said Carbo, flatly.
Vespillo nodded.
“And? How?”
Carbo focused on Vespillo. “You want to know the details?”
“Yes,” said Vespillo. “I loved Rufa too, you know. And I see your pain every day. And Fabilla’s.”
Bandits of Rome Page 12
