The Sword of Revenge (25 page)

‘That nosy young bastard had good wine,’ said the tall guard, loudly. Aquila froze, then slipped out his knife and jammed it in the ground in front of him as he saw the man swing the long-handled hammer onto his shoulder.

‘He wasn’t nosy, just curious. Never seen a crucifixion before, had he?’

‘Beats me how you can tell the difference. Did you notice that trinket he had around his neck?’

‘Much do you think it was worth?’

‘Enough to retire, mate.’

Aquila lifted Flaccus’s spear and waited, wondering if his suspicions were correct. Which one of the three prisoners would they try to immobilise first? He slipped further round behind the shepherd as they approached the one on Gadoric’s left. The tall guard lifted his head and let it go. It dropped lifelessly.

‘This one’s a goner already.’

The small guard pushed his torch forward and peered closely. ‘Makes no odds. Better safe than sorry.’

‘Right then,’ the tall one replied, lifting the
hammer till the head was halfway down his back.

Aquila threw the spear and followed on behind, grabbing his knife as it left his hand. It took the tall guard in the chest and his hands let go of the hammer as he stared first at the spear, then at the figure hurtling towards him. He tried to lift a hand to warn his companion, also transfixed by the protruding spear. The little one began to turn, but Aquila was on him, spinning him back again. His hand went under the man’s chin and the knife slid easily through the soft tissue of the neck. The tall guard was still standing, swaying back and forth. He opened his mouth to yell or scream, but Aquila took his heels, causing him to fall heavily onto his back. The knife swung again, this time in a vicious arc.

Whatever sound he had intended to make died in his ruptured gullet and he expired a few moments later, as his blood pumped out through the gaping wound in his neck, draining into the hard earth by his glassy eyes. Aquila did not spare them a glance; he cut Gadoric’s bonds first, easing the man to the ground, then he opened the sack of food and spread it out before him. The shepherd sat, head still bowed, unable to move as Aquila ran to cut free the others. The slave whose legs the guards had been about to break was, indeed, dead; too much sun and no water had probably killed him. The other one yelled in pain as Aquila cut his bonds and the
boy clapped his hand hard over his mouth, begging him in three languages to be silent. The Greek made sense and Aquila helped him over to the point where Gadoric sat, then went to the campfire to fetch the jar of water he had seen earlier. When he returned both men were rubbing their wrists, biting back the excruciating pain caused by the blood flowing back into their limbs. Gently he fed them, cupping water in his hands so that they could drink.

‘Do you think you can mount a horse?’ he asked Gadoric.

The question took the Celt by surprise. ‘You have a horse?’

Aquila smiled, his white teeth flashing in the pale light from the moon and the stars. ‘I have two. You eat and drink. I’ll go and get them.’

His voice took on a note of urgency, his finger pointing to the two dead guards. ‘We must go soon. Those two will be expected, so the guards at the city gate will wonder, when they don’t show, where they are. They might come out to investigate. Another thing, I can move myself without being seen or heard, but that won’t apply to horses. There’s no point in my trying to lead them over, so I will ride them. As soon as you hear the hooves, gather up the food, get to your feet and be ready to mount.’

Gadoric pushed himself onto his knee, then using the stake as support he got painfully and slowly to his feet. ‘Best to be sure we can stand up.’

Aquila helped the other slave up and half-carried him to the other stake, addressing him urgently in Greek, ordering him to remain upright. He gathered up the food himself, pushing the bread and fruit into the sack, then went to make a last check on Gadoric.

‘If anyone comes while I’m getting the horses, head off down the right hand side of the road.’

The shepherd just nodded slowly, then he lifted his head and smiled, hard to see in the darkness, but it was there and it cheered the boy. He ran back the way he came, stopping by the dark city gate to listen. The odd faint voice, but no sign of any discussion about the two men he had killed. Back at the copse he took the hobbling off the animals’ legs and, mounting his own, leading Flaccus’s horse, he set off at a trot. The sound of the hooves, on the hard earth, rang like huge drums in his ears. The voice he heard could have shouted for any number of reasons, but Aquila didn’t wait to find out; he kicked his horse into a canter, then a gallop.

More shouts erupted as he approached the line of stakes and crucifixes. The two injured slaves were still hanging onto their stakes so Aquila dismounted and led the horses to them. He grabbed the stranger and threw him up onto the animal’s back. The man, clearly no rider, could not mount properly so Aquila took the hobble rope and lashed it round his hands, ducked under the horse and tied the other
end round the feet. Quickly he gathered the remaining food and lashed the sack to the saddle horn. The sound of shouting increased as the gates to the city opened. He made a grab for the reins, tied them to the saddle horn of his own horse, then led both animals over to Gadoric’s stake.

The voice was cracked again, full of despair. ‘I don’t think I can do it.’

The boy pushed him towards the horse, bent down and lifted his foot. The voices were loud now, getting close and sounding excited. The lack of reaction from the two guards must have alerted them to what had happened. Aquila heaved on Gadoric’s legs, throwing him up so the Celt fell forward across the withers. Aquila hauled his spear out of the dead guard and jumped up behind him, then kicked hard. The overloaded horse moved slowly. Too slowly! The soldiers from the city were running at them full tilt and the boy could see their uniforms now, as they caught the glim from the pale moonlight, and he also saw the tips of their spears, raised and ready to throw. He kicked the animal again and it started to trot. No time for sentiment, he spun the spear in his hand and jabbed it into the horse’s flank. The animal tried to rear but the weight of two riders held it down.

Aquila jabbed again, and with a terrified scream the horse took off. Their pursuers kept pace to start with, but once the horses got going, the gap opened
up. The thud of spears as they hit the ground behind him was loud, but not as shrill as the cries of frustration until they faded away. It was only a breathing space; they would go back to the city and rouse out some cavalry, and Aquila knew they would be an easy target on the open plain. He hauled hard on his reins, aiming the horse over the fields of still-smouldering stubble, heading for the black line of hills that stood stark against the moonlit sky.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

‘No wonder father preferred life in the army,’ said Titus.

Cholon had just finished his list of the latest scandals to rock Rome, most of which concerned her illustrious senators. There were the usual cases of attempted seduction, blatant pederasty and financial chicanery, yet most alarming was the way that some, including the most senior, had tried to recover the presents given to them by the Parthians. Informed by the priests, this had led to a thundering denunciation in the Forum from Lucius Falerius Nerva. Once on his feet, he had not spared them, alluding openly to the bribes that some members had taken to further the interests of Rome’s eastern rivals, for once setting aside his normal reserve in addressing his peers and delivering some very unpalatable truths in words that had all of Rome talking.

‘Your father always maintained that their reputation didn’t bear too close a scrutiny.’

Titus threw back his head and laughed. ‘Close. You can smell the corruption from the Pillars of Hercules to the Pontus. They ask men to die on the frontiers when every law that they have enacted to control their own behaviour is openly flouted. Senators make fortunes yet baulk at the provision of proper supplies for soldiers in the field. Don’t they know that these men on short commons hear of how they feed dozens at their table with expensive imported delicacies, how they line each other’s pockets with lucrative offices, which is an even greater scandal. It’s about time someone told them so, though I never expected that it would be Lucius Falerius.’

Cholon looked out of his window though the height afforded a very limited view, confined to his nearest neighbour ten feet away across the narrow street. ‘How goes the knights campaign?’

Titus pulled a face. ‘Not well enough. People like Lucius are too shrewd to be caught out by tribal votes in the Comitia. He knows just who to bribe and he also knows those knights whose only dream is to be senators. As long as he holds the censor’s office, or fills it with one of his nominees, the Senate is safe from everyone but himself. No one gets in of whom he does not approve.’

‘Are you not, yourself, one of his nominees?’ asked Cholon.

Titus looked at him closely, thinking he was still the same carefully barbered fellow he remembered from years past, though the odd line had appeared to spoil that smooth countenance. The question bordered on the impertinent, even if Cholon was a free man, but the Greek had always talked to his father in the same manner and in some ways it was flattering to be treated like that, rather than be subjected to the barely disguised contempt with which Cholon addressed his brother Quintus.

‘Strictly speaking I am being supported by my brother, but since he is close to Lucius Falerius, the exalted one ensured that the Falerii votes were at my disposal.’

‘Odd. I never imagined that you’d be beholden to the Falerii, after what happened.’

‘Don’t bait me, Cholon,’ replied Titus with a wry smile, refusing to be drawn.

The Greek’s eyebrows shot up in mock alarm. ‘Was I baiting you, Titus?’

‘You know you were, you slippery Attic toad.’ This was delivered with a wider smile and caused no offence. ‘For you, and for you alone, I will explain. Lucius merely asked me to attend his son’s coming of age. That I did. Quintus, seeing me in the house of his own patron, took the hint, just as Lucius intended he should. I even went as far as to ask the exalted one what he wanted in return.’

‘And?’

‘He said that I would know what to do when the time comes.’

Cholon frowned. ‘An unspecified favour at an unspecified time? Sounds as though he may be asking a great deal.’

‘I’m content to leave that to the Gods, Cholon, and provided it’s consistent with my principles, I will happily oblige.’ He saw the Greek’s frown deepen, and he knew the cause. His continuing dissatisfaction with what had happened at Thralaxas was well known. ‘Quintus will not do what must be done, even if he is a senator, just in case it harms his long-term interests, so it falls to me to gain redress. That means, in turn, that I must also enter the Senate. I can only get the money to do that by successful soldiering. I’ll never get hold of a million sesterces in Rome.’

‘Are you not now, as Quaestor Urbani, in charge of the public purse?’

Titus ignored the interruption. ‘Lucius Falerius has pressured Quintus by acknowledging me, so my brother will do everything he can to get me a profitable posting once my term of office is ended. Not because he loves me, but because Lucius has made him see sense. That it’s consistent with his own dignity that I should prosper, but I don’t think that will extend to a seat in the Senate.’

‘You said, when you arrived, that you needed a favour from me?’

‘I do. You’re a clever fellow, Cholon.’ He noticed the Greek puff out his chest slightly. ‘Though my father did say, several times, that you’re not as clever as you think you are.’

The eyes narrowed at the same time as Cholon’s shoulders. ‘That’s an insult, Titus. It’s not normally the way to elicit a favour.’

‘True, but you won’t do what I am going to ask for love of me. Once I’m in the Senate, if he’s still alive, I intend to impeach Vegetius Flaminus for what happened in Illyricum.’

‘You’re wasting your time, Titus. No senator will convict him.’

‘What if they aren’t sitting on the case? Say the court that tries Vegetius is manned by knights?’

‘You plan to become a senator, yet you want to ally yourself to the knights?’

Titus nodded vigorously. ‘That’s right and I want you to help me. Instead of sitting here composing plays that no one will ever perform, I want you to take up your duties as a Roman citizen. Father left you enough and if you put yourself forward you’ll be in the knight’s class as soon as they undertake the next census.’

Cholon was angry, though more because of the accuracy of his visitor’s words than their impertinent delivery. ‘Firstly, you inform me that I’m not as clever as I think, now you tell me that I cannot write either. Truly, Titus, you have a strange
way of seeking support. Do you have any more insults left to deliver before I ask you to leave?’

‘I didn’t know my father as well as I should, but I think if he had his life over again, he might spend more time on the affairs of Rome than he did on the battlefield. Something has gone wrong, Cholon. Perhaps it is because we have grown too big in the world. The city reeks of licensed villainy. As Rome has conquered, the spirit that animated our forefathers has become corrupted by naked greed. If we are to hold what we have, we must change things at the centre. If we cannot rely on trust, we must make those with power accountable to their fellow citizens. If that means knights, sitting in judgement on senators, so be it.’