The Oath Keeper

by Alaric Longward

  He nodded to one of his guards, who threw down shields and swords before us, the keys to the fetters, and they turned to walk down the hillside after a boy.

  We stood there and saw the ten warriors, armed with spears and shields, wearing Greek helmets the like I had once had, and dressed in glittering armor, walking to squat nearby.

  There were twenty people to see us die—all equestrians, nobles of senatorial and consular ranks. Their togas were snow white, or their palla red and blue, and all made of rich silk.

  They stood around and drank wine, poured by servants. Longinus could very well, and the others Ares had mentioned, gain great support from such men.

  They wished to marry?

  Surely not to Agrippina’s girls? That would be something Tiberius would not easily approve of, unless pressured to by many, or for good reasons of his own.

  Apparently these three bastards were determined to marry into Augustan blood as well.

  The warriors were squatting down, leaning on their spears, almost bored.

  “What are they?” asked the Pig. “Other than shits.”

  “Mercenaries,” Blaesus said tiredly. “Who knows where from. All over. Servants to Rome’s worst, and those fuckers are exactly what Rome presents. Privileged shits. But here we are. What will they do?”

  “They will torture us to death,” the Pig said. “They will want us fight those shits, or one another. I wonder when they will start.”

  We cast our eyes at Longinus. He was busy chattering with two older senators. They seemed to have forgotten us as they shared gossip and breakfast.

  “They must fill their bellies before we fight,” I snarled. “Can’t have games on an empty stomach.”

  “Let’s just stand here,” the Pig whispered. “Maybe they will be content with raping us after they have filled their bellies.”

  I chuckled. “You will die a virgin, Pig. No matter how much you speak of sex.”

  “Aye,” he agreed. “For some reason, I feel better dying with brothers, though. Let us not fight each other, at least.”

  “No,” I said. “We die men. And I guess, brothers.”

  It took a long time for the Roman bastards to laugh, mingle, and make cruel jokes. Some eventually came to appraise us, and many walked around us. Two women came over to touch us with guards. One, an older female half hidden under her stola, put her hand under my tunic and kept it there, until I moved a step forward, and she shrieked and laughed as she joined the others.

  “Well?” I called out, bored. “Longinus? What will it be?”

  “Idiot,” Blaesus whispered. “Damned fool.”

  Longinus turned, along with an older, gray man with no chin, and one, snake-like bastard. The last one pointed a finger at me and nodded.

  Ahenobarbus and Vincius?

  Likely.

  Longinus lifted his hands. “Well, it is time!” he called out. “Brennus has things to do in the afternoon!”

  They laughed politely and gathered around slowly, holding their wine and food, excitement playing on their faces.

  Longinus walked to the front and pointed a long finger my way. “I thank you all for accepting our invitation. And I thank you for your support. It is truly appreciated. As a reward we present to you, this fine morning, a bit of bloody entertainment. And just a tiny bit of rebellion, no? Secret, between us.”

  They cheered. “Secret and pleasure!” called out a woman. “A fine day! But get on with it. We will soon be missed! And the sun…”

  Longinus raised a hand. “Cornelia is right. I have simply prolonged this. And I have no idea how to announce games! I bleat like a lamb!” They laughed obediently, as he was nodding and grinning. “But take heed,” he said. “We must be careful, naturally. We shall have them fight, one by one!”

  “The guards?” called out the lady, Cornelia.

  “Better,” said Longinus. “The thraeces of Rome! The once retired, Teutorex! His brother, Seisyll! Both freed for valor!”

  From the woods walked two men, one holding a round, silver shield and a sica, a curved Dacian blade. The other one held two blades, long and deadly.

  “Shit,” I whispered.

  They were old men, like I was, and undressed but for loincloths. They were muscular, scarred, and I was sure they knew how to fight together.

  Longinus waved his hands. “Please, sirs! Choose your opponents! You know best!”

  They walked up and stood there, eyeing us with little passion. “Brennus?” asked one, the long-haired man with two swords.

  I lifted my finger.

  He grinned. “Germani. Look, Teutorex. I am sure of it.”

  Teutorex, his shield bright in our eyes, nodded. “Looks like one. Smells a bit like dung too.”

  “Oh, insults from two bastards who serve Rome,” I said. “Dung is preferable to the perfume of those men. I smell it on you too. Did they touch you?”

  Teutorex lifted his chin. “A man has to eat.”

  “A man,” I mocked him, “would work the land or raid cattle.”

  They were quiet. Longinus was speaking softly to the bastard onlookers, and we could only wait.

  I lifted my hands. “Did you win your rudis by killing chained men?”

  They shook their heads, as the guards began converging to a circle around us. “Fair and square. We got the wooden sword of freedom after twenty fights, both of us. Fought alone, and in pairs. I hear you three put down fifteen men.”

  “More or less,” Blaesus said, his eyes on Longinus. “But I am done with this. Hey, you!”

  “What are you doing?” the Pig asked. “What—”

  “Hey, lord of Rome!” Blaesus said.

  Teutorex sneered. “So, the snail slithers out of the shell. See if I am right.”

  Longinus turned to look at Blaesus. “Dacian? No?”

  “I am Blaesus!” he said. “Wrongly taken by Roman men in Pannonia while serving as an envoy. My cousin is Decibalus, the king of the great tribe. Ransom me back, and you shall do well! I promise you this!”

  “So much for brotherhood,” the Pig said. “I am surprised. You seemed braver.”

  “I wish to live,” the Dacian said. “I owe you nothing.”

  The Celts looked disgusted.

  Balteus did not look at us. He stared ahead, a man whose honor was smeared, but who was still determined to survive.

  “They’ll say ‘no,’” said Seisyll. “That is clear. They don’t know you.”

  “We do not know you,” called out Longinus. “But you should remember to mention these things earlier in your next life, if you find yourself in one!”

  Teutorex watched Longinus, who nodded.

  The people spread, and the ten spearmen encircled us.

  “We will die,” Blaesus said with a hopeless voice.

  It seemed likely.

  Teutorex walked to the side. Seisyll was kissing his swords and praying to Camulos. I heard the name repeatedly.

  Teutorex grunted. “I say you fight us together. It will leave you with a chance. Don’t do anything stupid. Unfetter them.”

  One guard got to us and removed our chains, one by one.

  We massaged our wrists. Blaesus picked up a sword, and I did too. They were basic weapons, enough for killing, and I picked up a shield with the others.

  We stood there, staring at our foe. Teutorex crouched and shook his head. “I am sorry, brother. As I said, we must eat.”

  I nodded. “Well. Let us make this interesting. Pig! Follow me! We have to go!”

  “Eh?” he grunted.

  I rammed my gladius into the side of Blaesus, who screamed, and I pushed him with my shield at Seisyll, whose eyes were huge with shock.

  The guards were backpedaling, and the people were shirking at the savage attack.

  Blaesus fell over Seisyll, and I sprinted over both, my blade stabbing down at the mess.

  A shield of Teutorex banged on my side, and I nearly fell in the tangle of legs. Seisyll, the Celt, was struggling to heave B
laesus off him, cursing terribly, shamed. Teutorex was stabbing at me, and I banged the weapon aside and backpedaled.

  To the spears of the guards.

  I whirled, dodged under one, and stabbed at the belly.

  Chain jingled and was split enough to put him down him. The man fell, screaming, and it suddenly dawned on the other guards there were no rules in the battle, and that there was actually danger also to the guests, who began retreating.

  I whirled to the next guard, and Teutorex was coming after me.

  I had seen the Pig bounding forth and he kicked the man’s legs from under him and stabbed on the man’s back. He howled, and fell, and was cursing and thrashing in mud. Pig sprung to my side, just as Seisyll, screaming in anger, got up.

  “Come on,” I hissed. “Can’t stay here. Run!”

  I dodged past a guard’s spear and hacked at the man’s knee. He fell, screaming.

  Then I rushed away, running like a hare. “Fast, piglet!” I yelled, and the Pig grunted.

  He came after me. “Shit, shit, shit…” he kept saying, and I agreed.

  Spears fell around us and tore the air next to my face. The Pig howled. I stopped to look at him, and he crashed into me. I dropped my shield, dragging him along, and saw he had a wound on his side.

  We ran, and the guards did too, and Seisyll ran after all.

  A noble woman appeared before us, holding her stola, and her eyes went round with horror, as we barreled over her, trampling her down. A spear nearly tripped me, as it fell between my legs, and then we crashed to woods.

  There, in the thickets and amid dry roots, we weaved and propelled ourselves forward.

  “He had it coming,” called Pig. “I forgive you!”

  I grunted thanks, and then a guard tackled me, and we fell together. We rolled amid roots painfully, and I came to rest on top of him. I rammed the hilt down on his skull, and he howled and fell silent. I got up, and then Seisyll roared his anger right before me.

  The swords came down so fast. They hacked like wielded by a god of vengeance, and I hopped away, and again, making weak stabs to buy myself room.

  I ran out of luck.

  I found nothing under my next step and fell through a tangle of branches into a stream, hissing with pain, as my wounds struck the rocky bottom of the water.

  Seisyll came after, jumped down like a cat, and I saw several guards, sliding down after him.

  Seisyll did not stop to chat. His swords came down as I struggled up, and with luck, I parried both.

  Then I hefted a rock I had picked up at the bottom of the river and threw it at him.

  It struck his face, and he fell on his back, stunned, bleeding. Some of the guards cursed me and reached the stream, splashing for me.

  The Pig came hurtling through the air. His sword cleaved down one of them, before a guard slashed his blade across the man’s chest, and he fell on his back, howling and bleeding, the water turning red around him.

  I prepared to die.

  The men around us were ready, some had spears, and they wanted to kill me so badly, you could taste it in the air.

  And then, more men arrived.

  They were archers, and bronze-skinned fighters, the lot. There were five or six, and with them came the man I had seen in the ludus, Brutus.

  He flicked his fingers, and the archers took aim.

  The shafts sailed through the air and struck the guards. One pierced a man under his chest, and the chain did nothing to save his life.

  Another struck a man in the groin, and then in the skull, and the rest fled. The archers loped down and went after them, and I had no doubt they would not get far.

  I turned to see arrows aimed at me.

  Brutus grunted.

  I nodded and dropped the weapon. His eyes were on the Pig, who was crawling to dry ground, and then at me. He was carrying something and tossed it into the river.

  A head.

  Ares’s head.

  He grinned. “Thought you might appreciate it, slave.”

  I smiled. “The gold.”

  “Don’t dream of gold,” he said. “I have the gold. I will be honest with you. We will return it to those idiots on top. And you have to go back to the brothers.”

  “How did you…” I began and shook my head.

  He snorted. “We don’t trust Varro. Or anyone else. Pollio knows these bastards are thinking of all the ways they might slip the knot. Let us go and see the brother of poor, dead Varro.”

  I lifted my hands, and the archers slipped shackles on.

  “Where is that last man?” he asked.

  “I killed him,” I said. “He betrayed the brothers.”

  Brutus sneered. “Brothers. Oh well. Good to have honor, I suppose. Looks good in the arena. I have little use for it. I appreciate savagery and obedience.”

  I grunted in answer, disliking him greatly. “I know about them too.”

  “Longinus?” he asked me, as he pulled us along.

  “Aye,” I said.

  He smiled. “First, they come to Pollio and seek patronage for their stupid, simple marriages, and then, with Pollio’s coin they risk all by buying Pollio’s slaves without his leave. What fools they are.”

  ***

  Varro was weeping.

  The room was spattered with blood, and the doctore stood there in loose rank. Red held my chain. Varro’s ear was missing.

  “You sold,” Brutus said slowly, very softly, playing with the ear, “the most talked about attraction to greedy bastards who were trying to impress some fool senators to their camp.”

  Varro wept and spat a tooth out. He shook his head, on his knees. “Ares. It was my brother. Not I.”

  “No,” Brutus said, and kicked him so hard, he fell to his face, trying to draw breath. “You sold them to someone, for gold, and you were planning on jumping ship. And guess, dear friends, where Longinus loaned his coin to pay you?”

  Varro shook his head. “I…don’t even know what they are after! They are just senators, forever looking for allies!”

  “No,” he said again. “You reached out to them. Offered Brennus to him. Liar. Don’t you worry about the truth,” Brutus said, and stood over Varro, who was weeping. “I can help you with it.”

  Red spat. “He betrayed his own familia.”

  “He owns the house,” Brutus said. “Or at least he did. Pollio might demand…” He nodded. “Put the men back to work, Red. Varro is the lanista, and we shall make sure he doesn’t—”

  “He spat on all the brothers!” Red yelled, and closed his eyes, tugging at the red braid. He calmed a bit. He spoke softly. “He has been fixing games to suit your master and his own greed. He even poisons some of the boys. I have to resort to violence, to guile in getting some of them into medical care to spare them—”

  Brutus sneered. “Your job, you bastard fucks, is to train them to look good, while we decide what the brothers do, and how. I do not care, and neither does Pollio, what you think, doctore, of our methods and goals. You are not so long ago freed, as to be allowed to speak like that to me. Behave.”

  “What of those brothers,” Red demanded, “who expect freedom in this family of lies? None will earn it fairly?”

  Brutus grimaced. “Some might. It is a ludus and while our use for it is not to your liking, we want it to also make a profit, to function as a proper ludus. Some will be freed if they win their battles, even if they are fixed fights. Now, get Brennus, our new gladiator fixed up and train him. The house must look good. Beyond reproach,” Brutus said, and looked at me. He was rubbing his face. “He is lucky. But is he like you, Red? I do not know. We will see. As for how we explain this to the others. He escaped. Blaesus killed Ares and was executed. So, punish this one. Let us keep up the appearances, even to the gladiators. And don’t speak of this to anyone, Brennus, or you will soon lack a tongue.”

  Red spun away, and I was taken to the dungeon I knew so well.

  This time, alone.

  CHAPTER 8

 
; The whipping was delivered the next morning, and it was a furious one. I hung onto the pole, while Ajax held my wrists, and I took it, flinching with each strike. Red did it hard, very effectively, and I felt blood trickling down my back to my arse and legs.

  When he was done, he looked at Varro, who turned away and walked off.

  His own guards were gone.

  The odd, bronze-skinned archers had taken their place.

  All the brothers knew something else had taken place than just an escape.

  They watched me and spoke nothing. Their faces were impassive, deadly still, like statues.

  Red stepped forward and snapped his whip on my back for good measure. Then again. The tip struck my cheek.

  It hurt like hell, and I squeezed the tears out of my eyes as I stared at him.

  “Hang tough,” Ajax murmured.

  “I try,” I said.

  “He is not giving it all he has,” he whispered.

  Red could have fooled me.

  Agamemnon was staring at me, with a puzzled look on his face. He glowered at me, like he would at a mangy dog, looking up at my resentful eyes.

  Pig still lived. He was below, trying to heal.

  Then Red stopped, and the Egg Eater stepped forward.

  “The punishment is finished,” he growled. “But he is missing a day’s training. So, let him train, while the rest eat.” He pointed at a pole in the middle of the yard. “You stay here and watch us, Brennus. You will train on Vulcan’s Pole. You’ll not stop until you collapse from exhaustion.”

  I looked that way.

  Vulcan’s Pole was in full light of Sunna.

  Fall, winter, or summer, it would be a harsh punishment.

  It was blood red, and full of nicks and damage. I had a hunch men had died beating it.

  I grunted and stood tall.

  There were two wooden swords leaning on the pole.

  I grasped one, grimaced with the pain, and felt blood trickling down my back. I began slowly, saw the Egg Eater was watching me, Red walking next to him, and so I stepped it up. I felt skin ripping with each strike, my side wounds painful holes of agony. I executed the stabs and the slashes against that pole, bleeding, exhausted, my belly empty, and without drink. I did it for hours, and then hours more. When the others ate a meal at the sixth hour, I kept stabbing and ignored my empty belly and parched throat. I stabbed with a wooden sword, until one broke. I picked up another, the sandy-haired boy brought yet another pair, while I stabbed again. I kept at it until the Sunna was low and stood on my two feet even when it set.