The Last Battle

by Nick Brown

  'Is this going to take much longer?'

  'Believe me, she is worth the wait.'

  'You've said that already. Name?'

  'Aphrodite.'

  Volosus snorted. 'Very original.'

  'Often causes inflated expectations. Not in this case.'

  'I remember the Arabian girl from three summers ago. By Mars.'

  'Four summers ago. She was beautiful, I agree. And highly in demand. But I must tell you – this one cost us four times as much. In the area where she grew up, they called her ‘the goddess of the valley’. At fourteen she was betrothed to a local landowner but a German baron made an outrageous offer. When my husband heard about her, he bought her from the German.'

  'How many men has she been with?'

  'Only eight.'

  Volosus offered a raised eyebrow.

  'I swear it by almighty Jupiter. We're keeping her back only for our best clients.'

  'You mean your richest clients.'

  Mistress Damianos conceded the point. They both turned as a plump servant came out from behind the curtain. She moved the three candelabra to illuminate one area.

  'Is she ready, Ioanna?'

  'Yes, mistress.'

  The lady of the house sat forward, eager. 'You have never seen a more beautiful woman, Master Volosus. I guarantee it.'

  'I think you are guilty of over-selling, Mistress Damianos. You have no idea how many beautiful girls I have seen.'

  The servant pulled back the curtain. After a short pause, the object of the discussion walked forward then stood still with her hands clasped in front of her.

  'Head up,' ordered Mistress Damianos.

  The girl complied.

  As he stood and walked closer, Volosus took in the simple, diaphanous gown and the golden cord around her waist. She was quite tall and naturally elegant; slender yet generously proportioned.

  As he neared her, she fixed her gaze on the other side of the room and placed her hands upon her waist. Volosus liked to see a little spirit but too much defiance could be annoying. Now he was closer, he examined the face.

  She looked more Italian than Gaulish, her skin darker than most in the province. Her eyes were a wonderful pale blue; her lips full and tempting, the lines of her face immaculate. Her dark brown hair lay in tresses down her back.

  She was, he swiftly concluded, perfect.

  'Well?' said Mistress Damianos. 'Did I exaggerate?'

  Volosus could not take his eyes off her. 'Certainly not. Good evening, Aphrodite. What do you have to say for yourself?'

  'My name is not Aphrodite.'

  Volosus put a finger on her chin and moved it up to examine her neck. He glanced down at the swell of her breasts and moved around to see her bottom. He felt himself hardening. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was irresistible.

  'But you are one of the few worthy of it. I hope you know how special you are.'

  'If I am so special, why I am kept here like a prisoner? I was not born a slave.'

  'That is your misfortune. But I cannot help thinking that the gods must be looking kindly upon me to present me with such a glorious bounty.'

  'Can't we just get it over with?'

  'Oh, I'm not going to bed you, Aphrodite, not yet at least. I have a job for you to do. Go and pack your things while I speak to your mistress. We may be away for some time. I assume you have a girl to accompany her?'

  Mistress Damianos nodded at the servant. ‘Ioanna.'

  Volosus turned back to Aphrodite. 'Off you go then.'

  He watched the two young women walk away. 'I imagine this is how Caesar and Anthony and must have felt when they first set eyes on Cleopatra.'

  'I did tell you.'

  'It's probably best that I pay by the week. I will need her for at least three, which I can pay for now.'

  'There are conditions, Master Volosus. How many men will she be required to service? Not including yourself.'

  'Only one.'

  'You give your oath?'

  'On my honour as a Roman officer.' It always amused Volosus that this was one of the few pledges people took seriously, even brothel-keepers.

  'She must be well-treated; a proper bed at night. Do not strike her.'

  'She will be treated like the precious commodity she is.'

  'To the price then. My husband will not accept less than four aurei per week.'

  It was a colossal sum for the use of a whore. In normal circumstances, Volosus would not have expected to pay more than two. Then again, the circumstances were not normal and the girl was anything but. And it wasn't his money.

  'Twelve it is.'

  Volosus reached into his moneybag and counted out the aurei.

  Mistress Damianos stacked them on a nearby table and inspected one by candlelight. 'I always enjoy doing business with the army. Such lovely coins.'

  III

  Cassius dunked his head into the bowl of water then dried himself with a towel. Simo had already given him a full wash but – due to a fitful night's sleep – he still felt drowsy. He then pulled on a clean red tunic and his current favourite belt – which was composed of silver rings with a lion’s head buckle.

  His gaze turned to the bulging bag of coins on a nearby table. Within were several handfuls of aurei, payment for he and Indavara for the last quarter of the year. Cassius had been running low and was pleased to have it, even though he resented taking money from Abascantius. As they still wouldn't be leaving for an hour or so, he slipped his feet into a pair of sandals and sat at the table. He poured himself some milk, then picked at a fresh bread roll.

  He noted the scar upon his right hand. It was healing well but remained an unsightly shade of pink; and few days passed without it catching his attention and sparking unpleasant thoughts. The blade that marked him had belonged to a centurion named Octavius, one of the 'Earthly Gods'; a group of powerful Romans who had kept a house full of female sex slaves in Byzantium and considered themselves above the law. Cassius had been through too much over the years to lose much sleep over their deaths. The consequences of those killings, however, he was seldom able to forget.

  He wandered over to the window and looked down into the inn's courtyard. Shostra was already up and saddling his master’s mount. Cassius knew he would have to speak to Abascantius before he left but at least he would soon be rid of him. If he was fortunate, his secondment to Prefect Venator's staff might even ensure he never had to take orders from Pitface again.

  As he headed back to the table, Simo arrived, a grim expression on his face.

  'What's wrong with you? Did you get to the bottom of it?'

  Cassius had sent the attendant to talk to Indavara. They had returned from their walk the previous evening to find the bodyguard in his room. The door was locked and he refused to open it.

  'He said he would prefer it if I didn't tell you, sir.'

  'Fine. He can tell me himself.'

  Ten minutes later, Cassius ran down the stairs and out into the courtyard. He had already told himself to go back to his room, count to a hundred; remind himself who he was dealing with. But he just couldn’t –

  not after seeing the look on Indavara's face.

  He found Abascantius sitting on a bench, a mug in his hand, idly watching Shostra loading saddlebags.

  'Morning, Corbulo, I was wondering if you were going to bother to rouse yourself. Something to say?'

  'What you did was senseless and cruel. Sir.'

  'Cruel, perhaps. Senseless, certainly not. I found the incident most enlightening. So should you.'

  'In the name of the great gods, where is your loyalty?'

  Abascantius sprang to his feet with such speed that Cassius retreated a step; it would not be the first time the agent laid hands on him. 'Careful, Corbulo. Very careful.'

  Cassius heard Shostra walking over from the stable. He turned around. 'Are you going to creep up behind me too?'

  'You think I need Shostra to deal with you?' Though he was a good four inches shorter, Abascantiu
s was a powerfully-built man. He advanced until his considerable belly and chest were almost touching his subordinate.

  Cassius took another step back, if only to escape the stench. 'I would merely like to point out – as I have before – how both our positions might be different if not for Indavara. I, for example, would be dead at least half a dozen times over.’

  Despite his retreat, Cassius was determined to see this through. ‘And you, sir, would be the agent who lost the Persian banner, who did not find the killers of Deputy Memor and who failed to recover the Black Stone of Emesa. In such circumstances, it's hard to imagine you'd have received your recent promotion. Or am I being unfair?'

  For a moment, Cassius felt sure he was about to be punched.

  But Abascantius grinned ruefully. 'More like unwise. I could counter with a long, considered defence but I don't have to. It's true that you two have done well for me; and for the empire. But you have also made quite a few mistakes of late, Corbulo, and I think a single word will suffice to hold your tongue.' Abascantius enunciated each syllable with relish. 'Byzantium.'

  Cassius caught himself; then reconsidered. Perhaps it was better to know what his commander knew. 'I have no idea what that is supposed to mean.'

  'Really? Well, I know for a fact that the relatives – many of them quite influential – of three senior men killed in Byzantium are looking for answers. Apparently, the men were involved in some kind of sex-slave ring. Some of the girls were Syrian. Like your friends – the ones you were in Byzantium with. At the same time. Coincidence, presumably?'

  Cassius considered appealing to his better nature: telling him exactly what the Romans had done, exactly why they deserved everything they got and more. Abascantius had shown the odd moment of humanity in the past but Cassius suspected that even these had been in the service of some other goal. Did he even have a better nature?

  'I know nothing about that.'

  'And yet you have never told me what happened there; how you found those girls.'

  'I do not see that it is relevant to the Service, sir.'

  'Anything you do is relevant to the Service, Corbulo. As I have repeatedly told you.' Abascantius folded his arms across his chest. 'Perhaps it is fortuitous that we are going our separate ways for the moment. You were exceptional, for a time. Indavara too, but as I told him last night – things change. Neither of you are what you were.'

  'In other words, we have outlived our usefulness.'

  'So cynical for a young man. Hopefully, when – and if – I next see you, you might have regained some common sense.' The civil tone ended there and then. 'Now get out of my sight before I knock you on your arse.'

  Cassius held his stare for a few moments, then turned and walked away.

  As dusk neared, the trio approached the eastern end of the Greek Pass, the route that would take them through the Alps and eventually to the town of Axima and the Second Parthian Legion. The first two days of the journey had been singularly taxing on both men and steeds.

  'Where is this bloody village then?' moaned Indavara. As usual, he could stand being in the saddle for only a few hours and was now walking, leading his horse. Behind him came Simo, who was towing the steadfast Patch, as ever heavily-laden with saddlebags. Cassius was up front. He made an adjustment to the brooch of his cloak, which he’d just requested from Simo due to a sudden drop in temperature.

  'Hopefully about two miles ahead, assuming those cavalry scouts knew what they were talking about. I suggest you distract yourself by admiring the view.' Cassius had insisted on stopping at regular intervals to do so, his real motivation to give Indavara time to rest. They had covered hundreds of miles in previous weeks and, even at a slow pace, such a journey took its toll. Four hours of plodding up a steep, zig-zagging road was never enjoyable. Other than the complaining, the bodyguard had endured it well.

  ‘And why is it called the Greek Pass – we’re a bloody long way from Greece.’

  ‘There’s no faulting your geography,’ replied Cassius. ‘It’s a reference to the tenth labour of Hercules. They say he passed this way while returning from Spain with the oxen he’d taken from the giant Geryon. Geryon was quite a foe – he had three heads … or was it three bodies … or three weapons?’

  ‘What would be the point of three heads?’ said Indavara.

  ‘You could eat three times as much.’

  ‘Ah yes. And three different things at the same time!’

  Cassius halted his mount for a moment and looked down. Below, the road cut through the forested slopes then back across level ground to Augusta Praetoria. Above, the greenery thinned out as the path reached the bleak, rocky ground of the high peaks. They had been told that there were three inns in the village of Maredia, very close to this end of the pass.

  As Simo caught up, Cassius moved aside and ushered him through. The road was wide and he could easily ride alongside Indavara, who was trudging onwards, head down. Cassius observed that his calf muscles had at least regained some of their former bulk, though the travelling had limited his other training. Cassius had not lied when he told Abascantius that he still trusted in Indavara's abilities but the fact that he’d been bested by the ageing Shostra did not bode well.

  'Talking of food, think of your dinner,’ said Cassius, trying to encourage him. ‘I'm sure we can find something hearty for you.'

  Indavara grunted something.

  They plodded on for several minutes, negotiating several tight turns. Cassius spotted an athletic goat negotiating a craggy outcrop with impressive ease but Indavara didn't seem particularly interested in that either. Eventually, the bodyguard decided to return to the saddle; and shortly afterward he spoke up.

  'You didn't have to argue with Abascantius like that. It's not your problem.'

  'Of course it is,’ said Cassius. ‘The fat swine thinks he can do as he pleases. I had to set him straight.'

  'Really? The stable lad told me he threatened to knock you on your arse and you walked off.'

  'Well … yes. But not until after I'd made my point. When I think what we've done for that ungrateful prick.'

  'He's right though. I'm not … not ready.'

  'You will be.'

  'He said we're walking into a war.'

  'We don't know what we're walking into. At least we're not working for him. Frankly, it's a relief to be back with the real army.'

  'When Shostra grabbed me, I couldn't do anything. I couldn't get free. He could have killed me if he'd wanted to.'

  'It was a dirty trick. Not that we should expect any other kind from those two.'

  'You don't understand. It … being how I am now … it changes things.'

  ‘Indavara, let’s not get carried away. You’re still you. Most people wouldn't have stood a chance of surviving what you went through. And if they did, they’d still be in bed, recovering. You're getting stronger every day. I see it.'

  'Maybe. Maybe I can fix my body. But what about in here?'

  He tapped the side of his head.

  'Honestly, there was never much going on in there anyway.'

  Indavara glared at him.

  'Ha! A grin, I definitely saw a grin.'

  'You did not.'

  'I did. Besides, you're forgetting something – thanks to your training and some difficult scrapes, I am now quite the swordsman.' Cassius tapped the hilt of his blade, which ended in an ornate bronze eagle head.

  Indavara raised an eyebrow. 'Is that supposed to make me feel better?'

  At last the road reached the saddle of the pass: a wide, flat area edged by steep slopes. Here the grass was pale and many of the rock faces were carpeted by yellow lichen. No more than a hundred paces away were the first buildings of Maredia. This was a welcome sight even for Cassius; the last mile of the climb had been the worst. Less welcome was the brisk wind that blew along the pass straight at them. The exhausted horses bowed their heads down as the three companions dismounted and led them along the road.

  They had not gone far when fo
ur shabbily-dressed locals overtook them. This was not their first sight of the quartet, who were clearly scouring the route for anything valuable dropped or abandoned by the hundreds of legionaries that had passed this way in recent weeks. Earlier, Simo had asked if they'd found anything but – noting Cassius's uniform and helmet – they had evaded a direct answer.

  Cassius hailed the closest man. 'You there!'

  The local turned, shaggy hair blowing about his ears.

  'A coin for some information!'

  The man ran back to them. Cassius placed a sesterce in his open palm.

  'What can you tell us about accommodation?'

  'Er...fifth on the right is Pulex’s place but he's away for a festival. Curio's place is the biggest but I think he's got a merchant's guild in there tonight.'

  'Don't tell me that's it.'

  'No, there's the Mercury's Watch. Mistress Laurentius runs it. Very expensive though.'

  'Where is it?'

  'Just past the marketplace on your left. No more than a quarter-mile. She shuts up at sundown though so you should hurry.'

  Fortunately, they arrived in time and were made very welcome. While Simo and Indavara settled the horses with the stable lad, Cassius enjoyed a few moments with Mistress Laurentius herself. Having brought out a pleasant-looking meal for some other guests, she approached Cassius. He had already been provided with a mug of smooth wine.

  'Master Corbulo, will you be ordering food?'

  He was impressed that she’d remembered his name. 'Yes, but I shall wait for my men.'

  'Three of you, yes?'

  'Indeed.'

  'It's chicken stew or lamb legs.'

  'Excellent. I always try to end a long day with a good dinner. Quite a trek to get here.'