Underbelly (34 page)

The next warning was more extreme. Grey hadn’t heeded the advice and three thugs burst into their flat as he and Germaine slept, two of them beating him, kicking him around the room while the third covered Germaine’s mouth, muffling her screams. Grey tried to talk, accepting that he couldn’t escape the beating but wanting to ask them to do it outside and not in front of Germaine but he was unable to get more than two words out due to the barrage of blows. One of the thugs was the man who’d broken his fingers and when they were done he bent down and said to Grey, “This is your second warning. You don’t want to know what the third warning entails.”

The three men left, having done enough damage to him. Germaine cried for help, riding with him to the hospital where he underwent surgery for a burst appendix, his only major injury. Germaine was with him when he came round, holding his hand and he said faintly, “No comments about the President being here, please. I’m not with it and I really will believe it.”

“
He’s not here, there’s just me,” she said, her chin crumpling as she began to cry.

“
Don’t cry, Gem, I don’t want him here, I want you,” he said tenderly. “You must think I love these places.” The truth was that he despised hospitals – there was always too many localised spirits, guaranteeing him a lingering headache. He apologised for not heeding her advice and told her he was sorry for being so reckless and promised that he would steer clear from Stratt, not because of what they had done to him, but because he had put her at risk. His disgust at Stratt’s exploitation of grief-stricken families had made him lose his focus – he was supposed to be passing on messages and taking his wife on a tour of North America, not starting a vendetta with Stratt. As a single man he might have acted differently (the attack incensed him and made him more determined to bring Stratt down) but he was a husband and possibly about to become a father. Germaine told him that she suspected she was pregnant, her period very late, news that he took well. Their methods of contraception (sheaths that sometimes tore, and the withdrawal method) were not utterly effective and spoiled the intimacy of the act and often they just took a chance and hoped for the best. Germaine saw a doctor and the news was confirmed. Grey was excited and wanted to be with her to look after her, the hospital staff insisting that he stay for at least a week, performing needless tests on his legs – the circulation might not have been perfect but he could get about, and he thought that their talk of an eventual double amputation was just scaremongering. Grey’s doctor shared his fears with Germaine, his words spurring her on to find a job of her own – Grey had been supporting them for too long, it was time he rested and fully recovered. She had been prepared to work from day one of their marriage, always dissuaded by Grey. Now that he was in hospital she was able to find a job without him knowing about it. Grey was unhappy that she had taken employment, though begrudgingly accepted her decision – on many occasions she was too submissive and he was determined to get her out of the habit of asking his permission for what she did, wanting to be her husband, not her father, and that meant accepting choices she made even if he didn’t like them. Grey felt that waitressing was a perfectly respectable trade, but beneath his wife – menial jobs were all right for him but not for her – and he imagined customers being rude to her, tossing and turning like he was fitting in frustration as he continued his sentence at the hospital.

With too much time on his hands Grey decided to try and help Laura, trying anew to contact Octavius, getting sidetracked with other spirits who he had to help along the way. His doctor, Brennan, came to see him in the afternoon, an idealistic, newly qualified practitioner. Grey felt unlucky to get him, feeling that an older and more cynical doctor would have let him discharge himself after he badgered them a little, while Brennan was deaf to his pleas, only prepared to let him go when he felt that he had sufficiently recovered. His rights were a quagmire – he wasn’t sure if they would allow him to discharge himself against their wishes, Brennan telling him that if he went down that route then they would have to question his mental health, which acted as sufficient deterrent to keep him in his hospital bed. It was the thought of Germaine living alone in the town that disturbed him – even without his powers this would have bothered him, the newspapers revealing enough of the dangers that young women faced, but his communications with killers and victims made him especially protective and desperate to be released. Brennan seemed to be a good man but Grey was a little frosty with him because his good intentions were separating him from his wife. Grey had made no progress in his mission to contact Octavius by the time Germaine came to visit him from work, the undoubted highlight of his day (hers too, Germaine disliking her job but refraining from telling him how bad it was) though he cut her visit short, asking her to leave before it drew too dark. Alone again, he set to work, trying to trace a monster.

Finding Cassius was not easy. Cassius was a Roman who had learnt English during his lengthy existence on the spirit plane – thinking of this made Grey rethink how he had treated Dr Brennan. He was unhappy and bored at being forced to stay at the hospital for a week – Cassius had been forced to exist on the spirit plane for over a millennium, and he wasn’t complaining. Grey had been attempting to draw those close to Octavius to him when Cassius appeared, a surprisingly loud voice. After a brief exchange, where Grey learnt the period Cassius Arlius hailed from (the 3
^rd
Century AD) and explained that he was a medium, he asked Cassius if he knew Octavius.

Octavius is not an uncommon name. I knew several, yet one overshadows the rest; he overshadows all of mankind. You speak of him
, Cassius said, apparently awed by Octavius.

I think so. Would you mind telling me all that you know about him, Cassius?
Grey asked politely – the information could be crucial to Laura and he was especially mindful not to upset him.

Should an insect unravel the secrets of the Gods? I lump myself in with you, we are both nothing compared to him. That’s the first thing you have to understand.

Okay
, Grey said, playing along.
I can sense that you have a lot of admiration for him.

Indeed, and it was my greatest honour that the respect was mutual. I was his second in command, a higher position than Emperor of Rome
. Cassius’ words pleased Grey, proving that he knew him well. Cassius was far more interested in talking about Octavius rather than himself, but for Grey to truly understand why he revered him so, he decided to tell him his back story, telling him to keep paying attention as his story would improve.

Cassius told Grey how he was the youngest of three sons born in Capua to a centurion, who was close to obtaining a higher position when he was killed in battle, and to a woman from a minor political family. He followed his father and his two elder brothers into the military, a life he felt born into. His eldest brother was a man of extremes, his short temper guaranteeing him an early death when he started trouble in a foreign land, while the middle brother, Marc, was overly soft-hearted. Cassius on the other hand was like neither brother. He could not explain to Grey why emotions had never affected him – he offered that perhaps he’d seen how weak they made others and rejected them. Regardless of why he couldn’t feel, it was useful in his army career, the ability to kill remorselessly, without hesitation. It was not a legionary’s place to grant mercy, merely to follow the orders of their superior to the letter, and he could always be guaranteed to do exactly as he was told. His commanding officer thought him a fine soldier, but had higher hopes for many others from his century, men who followed his orders and also showed initiative, which Cassius did not. When the centurion was told to find three volunteers to form a new century with other men taken from legions around the empire for a privileged and unusual task, Cassius was the first name he put forward, because he knew Cassius was mentally strong enough to handle anything.

Part of me felt that he wanted rid of me, even though I was one of the finest soldiers, and I did not care at all. Instead I grasped my opportunity, my first posting in Rome, and my first meeting with Octavius. His optio, Publius, organised us, which wasn’t difficult – while we all came from different cohorts we were all soldiers, about to form a finer century than we could have ever dreamed. We were Octavius’ private army, based at his mansion in the centre of Rome, a huge building, larger than the most corrupt Senators’ homes, with acres of land, where we pitched our tents.

He must have had a lot of land if he could house a hundred of you on his estate
, Grey said, speaking merely because Cassius paused for a long time.

80. We saw little of Octavius at first. He did not keep us at arm’s length, but he was a busy man and had much to attend to and was often away, leaving Publius to supervise us. I learned that two men from my contubernium had served Octavius for months, and while they tried to keep their own counsel, I learned by listening carefully that 15 of the men from our century had been part of a previous century serving Octavius that had been decimated. When Octavius had completed his business that kept him from his home he threw a lavish banquet for us, in celebration of his new army, a feast fit for noblemen. He invited us inside and ate with us gregariously, the central figure who talked to all of us, especially to the 15 men who had served with him longest, treating them like friends. Humour bypassed me along with emotion, but I laughed that night, even if I did nothing to amuse others. He promised us a series of campaigns that we would be able to tell our grandchildren about, though our exploits could make them choke on their milk; he told us that we were Rome’s true protectors, his Praetorian Guard. We would have fought Pluto for him after that. Octavius looked like a god himself, a giant of a man, close to 7ft, each shoulder as wide as an average man’s chest.

The feast became a weekly tradition, the one time in the week that we entered his home and where we were allowed to loosen up, which many saw as an excuse to drink like fishes and make fools of themselves, to Octavius’ amusement. He noticed that I didn’t enter into the spirit of it as much as the others did and guessed that I liked action more than recreation, which we talked about. That level of attention from someone I already admired, so obviously a great man, who seemed happy listening to me, asking me about my family – it felt good. We’re only talking about possibly five minutes, because he mingled with everyone, but when we were finished talking he promised me action soon and a cause for celebration.

He stuck to his word, heavily involved in training us for a week before taking half of our number to Gaul to battle. I was fortunate enough to be travelling with him; those that remained protected Octavius’ home with Publius, all very disappointed. Octavius briefed us well on what we faced, a small Gaul army who had risen in the northwest and were fending off our other forces too easily. Octavius viewed their resistance and their victories over much larger units as shameful to the Roman Empire and told us that we had the chance to restore our people’s honour. He was inspirational as he rode out to battle and faced off against the Gaul leader, who ordered his men to hold their swords as we waited for Octavius to give us the word to advance. Our leaders stared at each other as they both sat astride their steeds – that was my first supernatural experience, and I was the only soldier who felt it. I knew I wasn’t seeing two men who hated each other squaring off, I knew this feud was more epic than that.

It turned out that Octavius had never met Clement Roue, a pasty-faced eternal who was born before the Christ that you all revere now. They knew that they were seeing another being of power, and when Octavius rode straight towards him, slicing down all that stood in his way, I thought it would be over in seconds. Roue whistled as he retreated and more of his troops showed themselves and the battle truly commenced, and we did our leader proud. Our weaponry and armour was superior to theirs but they outnumbered us by 400 men and we still slaughtered them, our tactics far more effective than their haphazard approach. We protected each other, the phalanx a formidable beast, and our injured men fought on for as long as they could while Octavius must have killed at least a hundred men, Roue hiding behind his army. He escaped that day and fell back to his base. I believe that our small number could have successfully besieged the town, but Octavius showed us that there was another approach, and we used stealth to sneak past the town walls. Roue was cleverer than any of us gave him credit for. I learnt years later from Octavius that Clement Roue was a powerful force in his youth before he became complacent, a very obese man when I encountered him, but feuding with Octavius returned him to form. We thought that we had ambushed him but when we saw him on horseback brandishing a lit torch, the glee in his expression showed that he was ready for us. The whole town was a bonfire waiting to happen, Roue having had his peasants douse every building to help the fire spread quicker, and he lit one roof and rode out of the town gates, blocking the exit behind him, leaving his townspeople to perish with us. Were it not for the sewers close location we would have doubtless died, Octavius too.