The Emperor's Silver: Agent of Rome 5 (54 page)

Still keeping the shield up as best he could, he turned. The first pair of soldiers were approaching a set of steps that led up out of the water between two dwellings.

Cassius had just altered course to follow them when something struck his head. He dipped under, swallowed more water. For a moment he felt as if the weight of all his gear would keep him there but he still had hold of the shield. He came back up spluttering, and saw a knot of wood floating right in front of him. Kicking hard to stay afloat he touched his head where the pain was; there was only a little blood on his fingers.

‘Come on, sir!’ The quickest legionary had dragged himself up on to the steps and was helping the second man out.

The mail shirt suddenly seemed double the weight and Cassius thanked Jupiter that he’d thought to grab the shield. With no more missiles coming his way, he was now using it as a float pushed out in front of him.

As he caught up with Kallikres and the other two, he glanced again at the bridge. Dozens of the protesters were already across and bolting down the other side, weapons bobbing in the air.

‘Legionary, find us somewhere to go.’

The standing soldier wiped his soaking hair from his face and ran.

Cassius pulled himself over some weed-covered rope attached to an iron ring and got his feet on the steps. He let go of the shield and stood there panting, half out of the water, waiting for the injured man to be pulled clear.

‘Sir, they’re coming!’ shouted someone.

‘Inside! Anywhere.’

Cassius was last up the steps. The soldiers and Kallikres ran forward along an alley between two houses then funnelled through a narrow doorway into the dwelling on the right. The first of the protesters leaped over a low wall and charged straight towards Cassius as he threw himself through the doorway.

Sword clanking against the wall, he found himself in a cramped, dark kitchen. Crouching in a corner was a woman with two children cowering behind her. She was yelling something in Aramaic.

‘Sir, here!’

Cassius followed the others up a set of stairs which turned ninety degrees halfway up. The soldiers piled straight through into the largest of two rooms. Cassius missed the last step and cracked his left knee on the floor. With no time even to curse, he reached the doorway and snatched a backwards glance.

The man previously armed with the pitchfork was first into view. He had replaced his larger weapon with a dagger and as he scrambled up the steps, Cassius took the opportunity to dispense some non-lethal force. He rushed forward and swung a kick at him. His boot struck the Syrian’s chin with a bony crack, sending him flying backwards. He landed on the man coming up behind him and the pair of them tumbled downward.

As Cassius ran into the room, the injured man was being lowered to the floor. There was no door, only a curtain, which the legionaries had torn clean off as they came through. The room’s only contents were a bed, a set of drawers and four small cages.

Cassius pointed at the doorway. ‘Block it. Kallikres, help me here.’

He and the sergeant grabbed the bed. They waited for the soldiers to heave the drawers into place then dumped the bed on top. Cassius moved to the rear of the room and looked out of the window. Several armed men were staring up at him and yelling. Others were flying past straight into the alley and he could hear what sounded like dozens of boots pounding up the stairs.

Something – or more likely someone – smashed into the bed, knocking it several inches in the air. But there was a legionary on either side, holding it in place. A stave punched a hole in one of the planks, then a second blow sent the plank flying.

The timber hit the wall next to Cassius. He saw the press of bodies through the gap in the bed. And a broad-bladed dagger. And a curved sword.

He looked around. The injured legionary was slumped in a corner, hand holding the bloodied handkerchief against his neck, gazing at the door. Kallikres was leaning back against the wall, face twitching.

The legionary whom Cassius had struck was standing beside him, hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword once more. ‘Now, sir?’

Hearing a strange noise, Cassius glanced over at the four cages in another corner. They contained dozens of dormice, probably bred to sell as food. As the clamour outside grew, the squeaking rodents scrabbled around, claws scraping the cage.

Cassius looked up. The roof of the dwelling was flat; dried mud brick like the rest of it. With a little time they might have cut through. But they didn’t have any time.

Another plank went flying and the drawers were shoved back.

‘Sir?’ yelled one of the men at the door.

Cassius did not know what else he could have done. ‘We kill one of them, the others will kill us all.’

The legionary drew his blade anyway. ‘Sorry, sir. Decimus, Laenas – they’ll get through. We’re better off standing together here.’

The others let go of the bed, took out their swords and stood beside him.

With unblinking eyes, Kallikres stepped forward and slipped his dagger from its sheath.

Cassius saw the dead guard in Arabia, lying on that outhouse floor. The man he had killed.

If he wanted to live he would have to kill again. But these were not enemies of Rome. These were citizens.

He knew what Indavara would say. He gripped the handle and drew his sword. ‘Hit the first ones hard. We might just make the others think twice.’

The bed came flying off the drawers and landed in front of them. There were two men in the doorway, one armed with a club, one with a sword. They were being pushed against the drawers, a mass of faces behind them.

‘Hold there!’ yelled the largest of the pair over his shoulder. ‘Do you want us to fall?’

The others stopped pushing.

‘Send up the lances.’ The big man’s tunic was wet through with sweat. Around his neck was a large, cheap amulet of yellow glass.

‘You,’ said Cassius. ‘We can still stop this.’

The big man stared at him with pale, lifeless eyes and thumped his club into his hand.

One of the soldiers stepped forward. ‘Vonones, it’s me – Cita.’ He smiled. ‘I went to your wedding.’

The Syrian eyed him for a moment, then spoke over his shoulder. ‘The lances – now!’

The men behind him parted.

‘Get a bloody move on!’

One of the others tapped Vonones on the shoulder. He turned and watched a tall figure push through the crowd. They had all gone quiet.

Diadromes was panting, chest heaving up and down. He looked into the room, then spoke to Vonones.

‘There has been enough killing today. I have been riding across the city talking to all that will listen – I intend to stand for election and replace Pomponianus as magistrate. My first act will be to remove Nemetorius, my second will be to punish all those who have killed without reason; soldiers
and
citizens. The list is already far too long. I have no wish to add to it.’

‘You have not done enough,’ said Vonones.

‘Maybe,’ replied Diadromes, eyes locked on the big man. ‘But I’m doing something now.’

Vonones glanced around at the others, then slowly lowered his club.

The legionaries muttered curses. Kallikres thanked the gods.

Cassius dropped to his knees, the sword clattering to the floor beside him.

‘You must be tired.’

Cassius didn’t even have the energy to give Indavara an answer. He was sitting in the kitchen of the dwelling, sipping from a mug of water. Piled up next to him were his sword, satchel, undershirt and mail shirt. Kallikres and the legionaries also had no wish to go outside; the protesters had left the building but there were still dozens gathered in the street. Simo was crouching over the injured legionary, examining his wounds.

Indavara reached down and pulled Cassius to his feet.

‘Thanks. Are the horses close?’

‘Yes, with the sergeants.’

‘I suppose we must go,’ said Cassius, though he felt like doing nothing but stripping off, bathing, then lying undisturbed in bed for a week.

‘Sir?’

‘Stay here and treat him, Simo. Look after my mail shirt. We’ll meet you back at the tower. Kallikres.’

The sergeant got up but all sense of urgency had left him. ‘We’re too late. We’re too late now.’

‘You don’t know that.’

Indavara passed Cassius his sword and satchel and they walked outside into the bright morning light.

‘Looks like we got here just in time,’ said the bodyguard.

‘Thank the gods you found Diadromes. I have had the misfortune to be caught in a mob several times in my life and there is nothing more unpredictable or unpleasant.’

Cassius didn’t risk even a glance at the cityfolk, some of whom had been ready to tear him to pieces half an hour earlier. Diadromes – accompanied by several sergeants – was still talking to Vonones and a few others, who thankfully seemed to be listening. The crowd parted as more men arrived on horseback. One of them was Cosmas.

‘I’ll get the mounts. You can use Simo’s.’ Indavara ran over to another sergeant, who was watching the horses.

‘Why are you still here, sir?’ asked Cosmas.

‘An unexpected delay. We must get to the villa. Now.’

‘I’ll go with you.’

‘Good. Can you get a spare horse for Kallikres?’

Cosmas spoke to one of the men dismounting.

When Indavara returned, Cassius had to take several long breaths before hauling himself up on to the saddle.

He eyed the sun, now veiled by a thin haze.

‘Gods, must be close to the fourth hour.’

As Indavara mounted up, Cosmas and Kallikres rode over. Cassius continued to avoid looking at the protesters even as he guided his horse through them. Once clear of the watching Syrians, he waved Kallikres forward and they set off at a canter.

Other than a brief hold-up at the eastern gate – which was busy with residents trying to leave and a few oblivious traders trying to get in – they made good time. Even beyond the paved section, the road was of smooth, solid earth hardened by the summer heat.

With no protection for his head, Cassius was sweating almost as much as his horse by the time they turned off on to another road that ran up through olive groves and vineyards, past large estates and small farmhouses. They were soon in the foothills of the Lebanon range, whose dark peaks rose up stark and proud in the cloudless sky.

As they neared the villa, Kallikres seemed to acquire a new-found sense of purpose. Unlike Indavara and Cosmas, he was a capable rider and forced the pace, even though Cassius was already pushing his mount as hard as he dared. The sergeant had just announced that there wasn’t far to go when he abruptly halted his horse. Cassius stopped next to him.

A whisper of breeze shook the branches of the cedars either side of them. Ahead – where the road bent around to the left – a slow-moving party of people had appeared. At the rear was a small cart being towed by a pair of mules.

‘Who are they?’ asked Cassius.

The sergeant guided his horse forward.

‘Kallikres?’

Cassius and the others followed him until he stopped once more, just in front of the group. There were six of them in all, four women and two men, all dressed in servants’ garb. At the front of the cart were some wicker baskets and a few bags. But at the rear were the unmistakable shapes of two bodies, each covered by a blanket.

‘Who are they?’ repeated Cassius.

‘From the villa,’ said Kallikres. ‘Where is he? Where is Pedrix?’

One of the maids, a pretty, fair-haired girl, answered. ‘He is with
them
.’

‘Where are they?’

The maid turned and pointed up at the mountains.

‘The high trail,’ added one of the men.

‘What happened?’ asked Cassius, transfixed by the bodies.

The man gulped before answering. ‘The two stable lads tried to take some gems while loading their horses but they were discovered by Master. Mistress … she … used his knife on them.’

‘Which way on the trail?’ asked Kallikres. ‘North or south?’

‘We don’t know.’

‘How long ago did they leave?’ asked Cassius.

‘An hour. No more.’

Kallikres set his horse away and continued up the road.

Cosmas spoke to the servant. ‘Wait at the eastern gate. All of you. Someone will be along later.’

The servant nodded solemnly.

Cassius, Indavara and Cosmas rode on. Beyond the bend, the canopy of cedars became more dense, providing welcome relief from the sun. They passed no one but saw three tracks leading off to properties hidden by the trees. Cassius had no idea which one led to the villa.

They eventually caught up with Kallikres two miles later as the trees thinned out again and the road baked under a dazzling heat. The sergeant pointed up and to the south.

‘The high trail,’ said Cosmas.

The pale path ran along the flank of the mountains, partially visible through the top of the treeline.

‘It’s more likely they’ll head south,’ said Kallikres. ‘More routes of escape.’ He pressed on, oblivious to the protestations of Indavara and Cosmas.

‘We must continue,’ insisted Cassius, though he felt as if he might slide to the ground and collapse at any moment.