Marius' Mules V: Hades' Gate (57 page)

* * * * *

Four days had passed since the wagon had carried the ladies and their escort from Puteoli and the spectacular family villa up to the equally luxurious house of the Tineii at Cuma, north of the bay, on the west coast. The first three days had been torture for Lucilia. Faleria and her mother seemed to have achieved a stoic calmness that was at odds with the general situation and were going about their life as though on a vacation, chatting with their hosts and strolling in the gardens, visiting the great acropolis and the forum, talking of a trip to consult the Sibylline oracle… Lucilia shuddered; no help there - she'd met the Sibyl before.

But for Lucilia it was imprisonment and nothing less. Her husband, for whom she cared more than she would ever admit publically - and without whom she could not even imagine a life - was preparing for a battle against a most brutal and unpredictable enemy. Her father was with him, too - her father who had a weak chest and had been close to death already once in recent years. The exertion alone might kill him. Galronus, soon to be her brother in law, was there too. Lucilia was still not sure how to deal with Galronus. He seemed as Roman as any of them, yet there was something about him that threw her expectations occasionally - a Celtic nobility that seemed to leak through his façade of Roman civility. But she would hate to lose him before she came to understand him.

Three men she cared about - as well as others her husband seemed to regard as good friends - all facing a threat of unknown intensity and danger. And leading that enemy was the man who had murdered her mother and apparently unhinged her younger sister's mind, no matter what Elijah might say about her chances of recovery.

It was simply too much to bear; too much to
expect
her to bear.

She had argued that they could be a part of it, of course. Even if the menfolk wouldn't let them bear arms and take an active part in the fight, they could keep watch or even perhaps throw stones. Posco would not hear of it though and, despite the fact that he was a slave, he had Fronto's full authority to do what he must to keep them safe. Besides, neither of the Falerii women seemed to believe involvement was a good thing. But then
they
had not had their mother murdered by the swine.

She had finally given up the argument the previous evening. Her dreams during the night, however, seemed to be directing her to disobedience and to fleeing the safety of their hosts in order to take a role in the defence that their men were planning. She had contemplated running, but in the end she knew deep down that her presence would merely distract Fronto and her father from their business and that could be a fatal mistake.

And so she had settled for keeping herself as busy as she could. The sun - such as it was - a pale watery orb behind a bank of high cloud that constantly threatened drizzle, was at its apex as she descended the drive from the villa's main doorway towards the road into the centre of town. The house of the Tineii was actually only a short walk from the thriving heart of Cuma, but the walk was mostly through gardens and orchards belonging to the villa.

At her belt was a purse of money that Posco had warned her to keep hidden against the possibility of thieves and criminals in the forum, and over her arm was the handle of a shopping basket. An hour or two at the forum and the two markets would distract her from her interminable incarceration in that luxurious prison. The eldest daughter of the Tineii had offered to make her a new dress if she chose the material and some accessories, and that had leant extra purpose to her shopping trip.

"This is a foolish decision, if I may be so bold."

Lucilia snapped her head round sharply at the voice. Elijah, the Jewish physician, stood on the path a few paces back, folding up a cloak and draping it over his shoulder in case the weather turned the way it threatened to.

"Everyone knows where I'm going. No one complained."

"They were labouring under the impression you would be taking some of the guards with you, young lady."

"I'm only going to the forum and the markets, Elijah."

"Even here it is not necessarily safe for a young lady on her own. This may not be Rome, but cities are cities and all forms of life are to be found here, including the lowest."

"If I
must
have an escort, feel free to join me" she replied in a snippier fashion than she truly intended. The Jew had been nothing but accommodating to her and her family and friends over the few days she had known him, and - as far as she was aware - for no recompense. He seemed to be trying to help her sister out of the goodness of his heart. A rare thing - especially from a Jew, if all the tales the ladies of Rome told were true. His race's focus on one God alone was said to blind them to possibilities and make them insular and unfriendly to Romans. It was hard to see such a description fitting Elijah.

"I was hoping to take Balbina for a wander in the gardens before the rains came, but I daresay she will manage another few hours. I hear the herb and spice stalls in the markets here are well stocked, so perhaps I can pick up some useful medicine components."

Falling in alongside her, he smiled easily.

"They will be fine, you know?"

"Your God told you, did he?" Mean and unworthy, she knew, but the day was starting to annoy her again.

Elijah simply nodded as though it were a straightforward enquiry. "Jehovah watches over even those who deny him. He is a forgiving God."

"Fronto only believes in luck and vengeance - Fortuna and Nemesis. I've heard him tell the other Gods that they don't exist, even while he's pouring wine on their altars. Struck me as particularly funny, that. I do believe he thinks that if he denies them they won't affect his life. Strangely, it does seem to work for him."

"Luck and Vengeance alone would make for an empty soul. I suspect that your husband is considerably deeper than he would like anyone to know."

"He is a simple man and a complex one both at the same time" Lucilia agreed. "Every day I learn something new about him - and some of those discoveries make me grind my teeth - but he is a good man."

"Of that I am in no doubt. Your father also is good, and Jehovah watches over the good with special favour."

Lucilia felt herself begin to relax as the two strolled down the path and turned onto the main road with its uneven slabs worn and rutted through centuries of feet and hooves and cart wheels, the gravel periodically thrown over it to ease travel had simply settled into the gaps and all but disappeared. A few other folk strolled the street - more and more as they neared the centre of town.

As they walked, she began to quiz Elijah about his homeland and his people, and was surprised to learn how ancient their culture was. He was able to name kings who had ruled Judea when the city of Rome was still a dream of future glory in the eyes of Romulus. It seemed that Pompey's conquest of their land had done nothing to dent their pride in their past or their sense of self-worth.

The more the pair walked and talked, the more Lucilia came to appreciate the soft spoken physician and his gentle acceptance of everything around him, and by the time they passed into the busy forum and moved around the stalls set up at its edges, she had decided that she might like to visit his home one day.

"What brought you from your land, Elijah?" she asked, the question having only just now occurred to her.

The Jew smiled as he regarded the mass of people ahead, and there was something of an age-old sadness in it. Momentarily, Lucilia regretted the question but he began, undeterred.

"Rome has had her sandaled foot on the throat of my people for almost a decade and nothing eases - the voices raised against her just increase with each passing season. Interference and control by Rome has raised a great deal of anti-foreign feeling among my people." He turned his sad smile to her. "I am - as you know - a physician, and my own work relies upon the knowledge and learning of other great thinkers, be they Greek, Roman or Egyptian. My house became a target for scrawled messages of xenophobic hate. In the end, God sent me a message in the form of a Roman merchant who bemoaned the lack of good medici in the capital. It seemed a fortuitous meeting, and within the week I had sold my home and carried a bag of money to Rome to sell my services. I had only been in the city less than a week before master Balbus found me with your mother's…" he paused and smiled weakly. "I am sorry. I should not have brought that up."

"Don't worry" Lucilia replied quietly. "Your God seems to have sent you to us at just the right time. I wonder whether it is
your
God's work or
ours
that you are here."

Elijah smiled.

"Lucilia, you are a remarkable girl, and Fronto is a lucky man."

The western end of the forum was busier than elsewhere and as they made their way between the stalls, the girl poring over the goods for sale, they found themselves jostled from all sides. Lucilia, mindful of Posco's words of warning, cast her eyes around the folk among the stalls, her hand dropping to her purse and clutching it tight. The forum of Cuma was filled with men and women of a dozen ethnicities, from Punic immigrants to Greek traders to Syrian slaves to huge blond Celts.

A strangled gasp caught her ear and she turned just in time to see Elijah fall back into the crowd, the spray of crimson from his neck fountaining up into the air like a grisly monochrome rainbow. Lucilia's eyes widened in horror. The Jew grabbed for his throat and clamped his fingers over the ragged slash that had dug deep through windpipe, muscle and arteries. Before he hit the floor he was already going pale.

Lucilia screamed something.

She wasn't sure what it was, but it seemed to attract entirely the wrong sort of attention. A big, muscular ham of a hand clamped itself over her mouth as another arm went round her front, pinning her own limbs against her side and an enormous torso. The crowd were shouting a hundred different cries now, but no one seemed to be trying to help her. As her constricted airway choked the consciousness from her and her world slipped into a grey fog, she felt herself being hauled backwards through the crowd.

* * * * *

Tulchulchur stood in the deep shadow at the rear of the warehouse, his ghostly, pale, scrawny shape barely registering in the light that glinted off his favourite eye-spoon.

"I am in two minds. On the one hand, Berengarus, I have to admit I would love to see Fronto's face while I peel her slowly in front of him. It would be something to savour. On the other hand, I can see Acrab's point. Just keeping her around complicates matters - perhaps we should just kill her now."

Berengarus shook his head vehemently. He was starting to become seriously irritated with all the delays. They had resupplied in Rome before taking a ship south - and even then the ghoulish Tulchulchur had insisted they embark at Ostia, not Rome and sail to Cuma, not Puteoli in case of a watch being set on the port. The crazed murderer was thorough to a tee, but now had to be the time to move.

There had been a dozen of them by the time they left Rome, and the wraith had brought another six on board in Cumae, delaying a further two days to make enquiries as to the identities of the most vicious lowlifes for hire in the city. Certainly the new additions would add to Berengarus' small, brutal army, but that was enough now.

Still, had they gone straight for Fronto and his friends at Puteoli, they would not have been passing through the forum when the Jew and the girl strolled past talking openly and loudly about Fronto and Balbus. Idiots. And even if the names were not enough, it had taken only a momentary glance for him to recognise that pretty little woman who had accompanied Fronto to Pompey's house on occasion.

Whatever Tulchulhchur thought, Berengarus had no intention of killing the girl now - it would hurt Fronto, but not enough. Fronto had led a
legion
against his people by the river Rhenus. His men had severed Aenor's spine with a blade and driven young Gerulf into the river to drown while dragging him off in chains. Nothing was too painful for the Tenth's legate, including being held tight while watching his wife being peeled.

"Acrab not in charge" Berengarus snapped. The way Tulchulchur raised an eyebrow suggested that he believed
he
was the commander of this little war band. The big German had deferred to the 'Monster of Vipsul' for planning and organisation, but he was in no way relinquishing his control of the group. The only reason these
things
- and to him they were little more than animals - were out of their incarceration and walking and breathing was because he might need them to put Fronto down. After that had happened, he might break Tulchulchur in half himself. It would feel good. It would be his leaving present to his Roman hosts when he headed north once more to his refreshingly cold and verdant homeland and the rest of the Roman bastards that had murdered his family and people. Caesar and the others would pay in time.

"Acrab led an army against Pompey in his Syrian homeland" Tulchulchur replied, snapping Berengarus back to the present from his reverie. "He is a forward thinking man with a shrewd mind. It is foolish to brush aside his wisdom through sheer lust for blood."

"Girl lives until Fronto watch her die."

Tulchulchur shrugged. It
would
be fun to ruin that milky white skin and those pretty eyes. He twisted his favourite eye-spoon in the lamplight and grinned.

"Very well, but we will not take her with us. We will find somewhere to keep her until we have Fronto. One of the others can stay with her."

Berengarus narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but the wraithlike killer radiated an air of honesty in this matter. Finally, he nodded.

"The first thing, though," the monster of Vipsul added "is to wake her and find out everything she knows about Fronto and the rest. Prior knowledge is half the battle."

Berengarus continued nodding. He was hungry to begin, but to extract information about the size and disposition of Fronto's force was worth another small delay.