Garic picked up his cleaver and started around the side of his stall, all thoughts of his elderly customer gone from his mind. “Where are they?” He asked Marcus, but he saw the look of terror on his face and stopped.
“No way am I going back there, Garic. Not a chance I’m going anywhere near those things.” He began to walk away from the stall and looked like he might run.
“Marcus, wait. At least tell me whereabouts they are.” He said but the boy just stood and pointed. Garic turned to look in the direction his finger showed and took his first look at death as it stalked him.
The woman, if that's what she was, came prowling around the end of the row of market stalls, with people scattering out of her way. Her clothes were black with blood and gore that ran from the sides of her mouth. She locked eyes on Garic and began coming towards him with a shambling movement.
Garic had once seen a show at the arena. Between two of the gladiator fights, they had paraded animals from all over the world. There had been tigers and lions and even an elephant.
The animal that had stuck in Garic’s mind had been called a gorilla. It had walked with a bent over lurch, but looked so much like a person in a lot of ways. This creature heading straight at him now, reminded Garic of the way that gorilla had moved.
He hefted the cleaver in his hands and braced himself, ready for her attack. There he might have stayed, to face her down, except she was followed around the corner by two more that looked just like her.
They were males this time but no less inhuman and monstrous. Garic began to doubt his chances and turned to run. He grabbed Marcus and shoved the boy in front of him and the pair hurtled out of the market street.
As he turned, Garic knocked over the old lady who had been so keen to buy pork from him a minute ago. He considered going back to help her up but a flash of his wife and children at home stopped him. No hero, he thought, not me.
At the end of the street he turned and saw that one of the creatures had lunged at the old lady and was tearing flesh from her face.
Garic’s bowels turned to water at the sight. He pushed Marcus on and the pair of them fled from the market street and into the city.
“I’m sorry, Vitus but you just can’t go, we need you here. What would we do if anything happened to you?” Lucia was in a rage of anger and tears.
“The man saved Regulus’ life, Lucia. I can’t just let his daughter fend for herself while the Risen roam the streets. I will have the boy to guide me, and it's not too far. Near the new arena, apparently.”
Lucia was apoplectic with frustration. “I don’t care how far it is. If the old man cares so much, let him go. Why does it have to be you?”
“Lucia, you know I’m the most capable one here. If anyone can get her back here in one piece, it’s me. I have weapons and a guide.
“You heard what Otho said, he wasn’t going to let his whole army out. I might get all the way there and back without meeting any of them. It’s a big city after all.”
He tried to sound confident but in his secret heart, Vitus was wishing he could just admit she was right and stay exactly where he was.
They had enough food to last the three days and more. Domitius had made it clear that they were now all in this together until the end, come what may.
Vitus, however, thought that the doctor and his grandson were owed as much as anyone in the house and should be afforded the same treatment as the rest of them. If it were Lucia or Fulvia that needed rescuing, then he would be out the door without hesitation.
Lucia began to calm down.
“I nearly lost Regulus and I can’t stand the thought of losing you. You are my family now, my brother. We’ve been through too much together.
“If you must go, promise me you won’t be a hero. If you go and there is a horde of Risen around her house, you just turn around and walk away, yes?”
“Anything you say,” Vitus said, just happy not to be shouted at any more.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Lucia looked dubious but resigned and Vitus turned back to buckling on his sword belt and chest plate. The greaves felt heavy after so many days not wearing them, but he was happy to have the protection.
So it was that, a short time later, Vitus found himself preparing to leave the comfort and safety of the house of Domitius. He took with him a twelve year old boy whose family came from a country that Vitus could only dream of and he went in search of a woman he had never met. He turned to the boy.
“What is your name?”
“Lee, Chin Lee, sir,” the boy replied.
“Lee, my name is Vitus. Are you ready for this?”
“Yes, I’m ready,” the boy looked stern and serious, and that was good. Vitus didn’t know what they would face out in the city, maybe nothing, maybe a lot. He wanted to know this boy was aware of how bad it could get.
“Lee, if you lose me, or see me fall, you run, do you understand? Could you find your way back here if you had to?”
“Yes, sir.” He nodded.
“Then that's what I want you to do. This could all go wrong very quickly, be ready for anything.”
He grasped the boys shoulder and squeezed. Lee nodded again, and Vitus opened the door.
Outside, the street was calm. There were fewer people on outside than Vitus might have expected on a normal day, but he knew little enough of the city to judge.
He thought about warning the people he saw of the danger they might meet, but really wouldn’t he just seem like another lunatic shouting on the street about the end of the world?
Lee pointed towards the arena in the distance and they made their way towards it at a brisk walk.
Vitus kept his eyes on the other pedestrians. If anything was happening up ahead, they would be his first warning of danger. At every side road he stopped the boy and checked the way was safe before setting off again.
So they went for a few turns and a number of new streets. Tenements replaced the townhouses of Domitius’ neighbourhood. The streets became narrower and the dirt and litter became more obvious.
Eventually, streets became alleyways that were dark, even in the middle of the day. The tops of the buildings, so close that they almost touched, blocked out not just the light but the fresh air as well. Dark, musty smells made the warm air stagnant.
The place was loud with the noise of people living piled on top of each other. The sounds of women at house work fought with the more immediate sounds of arguments and children crying.
Nowhere in all this did Vitus get the impression that anything was not as it should be. No cries of alarm or running feet to foretell the coming of the Risen.
Lee brought them to a halt outside a shop front. Steam bellowed from the open windows and the smell of washing clothes assaulted his nostrils.
They ducked down a tight alleyway beside the shop and up a steep set of stairs that climbed the outside of the building. Lee entered without knocking and called out in his own language. There was an immediate answer from a woman who followed her voice into the small room.
A beautiful, golden-skinned woman, who looked too young to be Lee’s mother, stood in the doorway for a second and then swept the boy into a tight embrace. She held him there for a brief time, despite his struggles to free himself.
What followed was a torrent of questions, if Vitus was any judge at all. Lee withstood the barrage as well as any boy could, his mother seemed to pass from anger to relief as he answered her queries.
With her questions answered Lee started on a long explanation of what they were doing, and he must have told her that she needed to come with them.
During this discussion, Lee pointed at Vitus more than once. Another round of questions began before the woman grew quiet. She seemed to think for a moment and then left the room through the door by which she had entered.
Lee turned to Vitus. “I’ve told her there is danger in the city, that my grandfather is at the senator's house and that she is to come with us. My
grandfather will explain more when we arrive.”
“What is she doing now?” Vitus asked.
“She is putting some things in a bag to bring with her, clothes and other things. I don’t really know. I’m sure she won’t be long.”
She wasn’t long at all. No sooner had she stepped back into the room, than Lee had taken her hand and pulled her to the door.
His mother had allowed herself to be lead but Vitus got the impression it was only to keep the boy happy. For a woman who, less than five minutes ago, was unaware there was anything wrong in the city, she was adapting to the idea very quickly.
They ducked back down the alley and out in front of the laundry house. Lee kept hold of his mother's hand, leading the way for her. Vitus kept up the rear, keeping an eye on the side alleys as they went.
The arena once more loomed ahead of them, the rows of arches reaching up, high above the skyline of Rome. Statues of dignitaries that Vitus couldn’t have named looked down at them from their loft vantage points.
Vitus had sharp ears for any unusual sound, so it was that, when he heard the change in the noise of the city, he was ready to react.
The people up ahead all turned to look down the same road, ahead on the left. A woman in a small group put her hand to her mouth in a gasp, and more than one of the people pointed in the same direction.
Vitus called to Lee and pulled the boy and his mother into a small alley between two shops. They crouched down behind a stack of rough wooden crates, and Vitus peered through a gap to the road beyond.
People began running past the end of the alleyway, screaming and shouting to each other. A mother half dragged and half carried a small boy by the wrist, while she held a baby in her arms. An old man was knocked from his feet by a teenager, as they both ran blindly away from the unseen assailants.
Vitus turned to Lee, “Keep an eye on the roof tops above us, they can climb. Tell your mother to watch out behind us, as well. I’m going back to the road to see what’s happening.”
Lee spoke quickly to his mother, who turned and watched the alley behind them. Vitus crept out toward the entrance of the alleyway, sword in hand.
He reached the corner and saw a large man, brandishing a butcher's cleaver. He was standing with his back to Vitus and was swinging wildly at two undead hounds.
Vitus' mind flashed back to the day of the battle and the run in with the war dogs. These dogs weren’t the powerful black and tan beasts kept by the legions. They were skinny, starved looking, street mutts but they had the same dead, vicious eyes. The larger of the two was dragging one of its back legs behind it, and Vitus realised the lower half of the limb was missing.
The cleaver wielding man was holding the dogs at bay, but Vitus could see three Risen at the far end of the street. They weren’t heading straight for the man but would soon reach him, either way.
Vitus whipped his bow from his back and drew an arrow from the quiver on his belt. He took aim at the dog furthest from the big man, an easier shot than the larger, closer dog because of the angle.
As he loosed the arrow, he knew the shot was true. A blink of an eye later and the smaller dog was driven back by the force of the shaft. It looked, from this distance, as if it penetrated just below the dog's right ear. It lay still on the road and remained that way.
The shot gave the big man just one assailant to deal with, but the shock of the hound going down must have distracted him because the larger beast took the opportunity to leap.
It caught him square in the chest with its front paws. One of the legion dogs would surely have driven him to the ground and the fight would have been lost, but this was a big man. Catching the dog as it hit his chest, he threw it away from him before the snapping jaws could make contact with his face.
Vitus saw his chance and took it. He drew back the string on his bow and a second arrow made its mark.
Not quite so true as the last, the arrow struck the dog through the shoulder and deep into its flank. It wasn’t enough to stop the beast, but gave the man enough time to step forward and drive the cleaver deep into the dog's skull.
Thick black liquid and brains sprayed over his face as he withdrew the cleaver and he turned to see who had helped him. Vitus lifted a hand and the big man made his way towards him. He ducked into the alley and grasped Vitus by the shoulder.
“Thank you, my friend, I owe you my life. My name is Garic. Do you know what these things are? Where they came from?” Garic was looking back out of the alleyway, down the street the way he had come.
“Garic, my name is Vitus. You’re welcome for the help. These monsters are dead men and dead dogs, they will soon be everywhere. You kill them by bashing their brains in, a job you seem built for.” Vitus managed a smile for the big man, who returned it warmly.
“I’ve been a butcher my whole life, I can cut heads all day long. Where did they come from?”
“The emperor is dead, Garic, and these monsters have been set on the city by Otho, the man who killed him. The guards will be in the city in three days, until then, stay in doors and spread the word to your neighbours. Have you far to go?”
Vitus heard a noise and a Risen lurched past the end of the alley without glancing down to them. He turned to Lee and his mother, who both looked eager to get away.
“Not far, my new friend. I have a house and family within easy reach. Do you need shelter?” Garic looked earnest, but Vitus shook his head.
“We are almost safe, ourselves. We are at the house of Praetor Domitius, and haven’t far to go.”
“Then farewell, Vitus. May we meet again in better times.”
The butcher shook Vitus’ hand and headed further into the alleyway and out of sight.
Vitus turned to his companions and bid them wait while he checked their way. He looked up the road but the danger seemed to have moved on to another part of the city.
A couple of young teenagers hurried to get off the streets, looking shocked and scared. Vitus moved his small group back out onto the road and on toward Domitius’ house.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Otho sat behind a huge white marble desk. He surveyed the room and smiled broadly. The wealth and opulence in this one room alone would be enough to cause a riot in most cities in the empire. The bronze statues and mosaic floors were without equal, well, except for the ones in the next room and the one after that. Now it was all his, and the men in the senate had made it so easy.
His plan was working to perfection. With little more bloodshed than the average gladiatorial games, he had managed to seize the highest seat of power in the world.
In a way it made him sad, the ease with which it had been achieved was just one more example of why it had to be done. If he, Otho, could march into that chamber and just take what he wanted, then what was stopping any barbarian from doing the same?
It wasn’t treason that he had just rendered, but a service to Rome. Let the people suffer for a few days. Let them learn what easy living did to them. They’d had too much for too long and in the end, Otho would teach them where that would ultimately lead.
There were no great men anymore, just old men in togas pretending to be Julius Caesar or Cincinnatus. Oh gods! That was a joke. Greedy men with small hearts, and they had been found out in one night. Not one of them had stood to save Vespasian. Not one had dared to step forward to protect the leader of the Roman Empire.
Poor Vespasian, what had he done to earn such weak men at his side? Such an end as well, had he deserved that? To be torn apart by that dead thing, it wasn’t fitting.
He, Otho, would avenge the great man and rescue his legacy from the mouths of monsters and weaklings. Who else would do it, Titus?
From the day Otho had heard he was to be replaced as Praetorian Prefect by Titus, he had known it could only end this way.
For the years of service Otho had performed to be wiped away in the face of nothing but the Emperor's bloodline, was unspeakable. Merit should be earned, not gained through simple chance.
No, it had to end this way. To try and take what Otho had earned with might, had doomed Vespasian to the grave. Titus would join him soon if he thought to stand against him as the new Emperor of Rome. Let the son see if he can succeed where his father failed. There could only be one outcome.
There was a loud knock on the door and Otho was shaken from his musings. He bid the knocker enter and was pleased to see Ursus standing framed in the opening.
“Ursus, my friend. Pour us both a glass of wine and join me,” he said with genuine pleasure.
This was a man who knew about strength and the merit it could buy. He was a true right hand man and a true friend. Otho didn’t quite trust him, that would be unwise, but he did admire the man for his ruthlessness.
Ursus stood before the new Emperor of Rome and handed him a large glass full of wine so dark it was almost black.
“Sir, all matters are in order. We have men on the street in plain clothes, as you ordered. This situation will not be allowed to spread out of control, but I have ordered them to step back until needed. The traps are ready to be deployed at your orders.”
Otho nodded, satisfied. “Excellent, Ursus, you never let me down. What about the senators?”
“We have men watching each house, sir. They are, of course, scurrying around like rats in drains. Many seem to be making plans to leave, others are passing messages. We have, as instructed, allowed this to happen. Is this still the order, sir?”
Otho thought for a second. “Yes, let them play their little games. Much good it will do them in the long run. They will soon see their only option is to back me. Have many of them tried to contact Titus?”
Ursus nodded, he detached a small slate from his belt and passed it to Otho.
“This is a list of everyone who we know has been in contact with Titus since the…meeting, sir. Some have visited his house in Rome where, as you know, he is not in residence. Others have tried to pass messages out of Rome and have been intercepted. We have, as far as we are aware, not let any information through to the Emperor's son.”
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