Pollio’s wife spoke. “We are here, gathered together, under the eyes of the gods,” she said. “Set, the righter of wrongs, the wise god, the one for the wiser way, the sword for righting the wrongs, see us all.”
“We are,” said Gaius the senator, an old man with thick shoulders, whose wife Cassia was looking at him coldly, “happy to be here. A truly fine surprise from my wife. I thank you.”
“Think nothing of it,” said the old woman, sucking her lips and smiling.
He spoke on, for all of them. “And we are honored, great Aurelia. This is a rare treat. A rare one. We know you are risking much by arranging this thing. I know there were some who did the same, and nearly failed.”
Longinus leaned on his hand and smiled cruelly.
Gaius stepped forward. “Our Tiberius is not one for games, and while Octavianus loved them, he too made these plays hard to find. We are very appreciative. But we do not, if I am right to speak on behalf of the others, need this lavish spectacle.”
He looked around, the others either grinned or shook their heads, and then he waved his hands around. “Some don’t mind, I guess. Each to their own.” He nodded towards Set’s statue. “It is Juppiter for me, if even that. It is a bit odd, I think. I know you spent your youth in the south, Aurelia, but we didn’t, and…” He shrugged. “Can we start? Fewer gods will make it that much more—”
Aurelia was looking at him with pity and smiled, while raising her hand. “I do see your point. I do. And still, Gaius, in gods we must place trust. We must beg them to aid us. Rome is polluted. Sick. Gods left us with Caesar, a curse of terrible proportions.” She shook her head sadly. “First, Marius, Sulla. Others. They poisoned the well. Others drank from it.” She stopped for a moment and smiled. “Where is Rome now, Gaius?”
Gaius looked embarrassed. “Right here. In Rome. All over the world. We are strong, lady.” He turned to Pollio. “Now, brother, can we—”
Pollio turned away. “She is the head of the house, Gaius. She runs all of this.”
She was? She did?
“Alas,” Gaius said. “We are not sure—”
“The gladiators,” said Aurelia, “are mine.”
Gaius turned to look at us, then at her. “Yours? I did not know. Please excuse me.” He fidgeted and clearly was sorry for having stepped forward. “Will they fight each other?”
“They will not fight each other,” said Aurelia. “You see, while I rail against Rome, and greed, and the disease, such disease is cleansed by the very disease itself. By gold. So, they will not fight each other. You will fight them.”
They stared at her, and then Gaius turned to push his family out. A guard stood before him and pushed him back. Brutus was carrying swords out of a dark corner, and then he was dropping them on the floor. Swords, spears, they all fell in a shower of deadly tools, a cacophony of death.
“What is this, Pollio?” asked Appius, whose son, client of Pollio’s and Aurelia’s was walking back and forth on the other end of the room. The man’s wife was clutching his arm.
Pollio shrugged. “I told you; she is the head of the family. I am simply here for her. She gave me her name, and I, to her, my modest riches, once. Ever since, I have watched her miracles as she grows our family strong. And Rome with it.”
The now reluctant guests, guarding their families with their arms, were herded to a corner by the spearmen.
Appius cursed. “I am not…what do you mean to do? Are you seeking ransom? You? Richest family in Rome? You…”
“Riches come to those,” said Aurelia, “who either cheat the people that trust you, or take them from those who cheat the people. Long have I worked to gather such riches from the liars. From thieves. Did you know, Gaius, that you are a thief?”
Longinus and Vinicius were looking on, suddenly aware they would witness a murder. Many.
Gaius was shaking his head. “Longinus! We are friends. Will you—”
Aurelia hissed. “Silence! Thieves, murderers, traitors, and wife beaters,” she spat.
They stared and shook. Two young children were crying softly.
“Alas, for the innocent ones, but your crimes killed them, not us,” she said gently. “Now, pick your weapons. Set is watching you. He sees the bargain and holds all to it. One family at a time. And then, pick your gladiators. You will fight them. And the ones who prayed will give us half of the estate that you lot leave behind, and they will be our allies. Rome needs cleaning. It will be cleaned with blood of criminals. Choose.”
“Choose,” Brutus snarled.
Romulus laughed.
And what followed, was terror.
Screaming, they begged her for mercy. Not one of them was brave. They feared, and they clawed at the floor, as they begged and pissed themselves, and they were pushed back when they tried to escape.
Aurelia pointed a finger at one.
Gaius.
He, sobbing, was thrown to the middle and grasped a sword as Aurelia retreated away. He held it, his hands shaking, and his toga made him clumsy.
“Choose?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I can give you all—”
“Ox,” said Aurelia. “One client for each of my fine champions. You will champion Cassia.”
And Ox, smiling, stepped forward. He stepped forward to the middle of the floor.
“Kill, and you win,” Aurelia whispered. “Then you get to go freely.”
It was a lie. It was an obvious lie.
There would be no leaving.
And I knew the bitch was going to test me. She was going to test me crudely.
She would make me kill children.
I closed my eyes, thinking, my head spinning, and I knew there was nothing to choose. I die, or I kill.
As I agonized, Ox played with the man. It was a savage, evil game of torture as the man hopped away. Ox feinted and danced around him, slammed his shield on him so that he fell, let him get up, and kicked him back down. When the man, yet again, was there, swaying and horrified beyond words, Ox darted forward and pushed the sword for his sword arm, drawing blood. The man, to his credit, howled and tried to hack down even with the bleeding, hurt arm, but the sword was caught on the shield, and then that shield bashed into his face. He fell on his back, and Ox, walking around him, a monster rather than a man, sawed his blade on the man’s knee. He howled, and I kept my eyes forward.
I would die.
To kill a girl, or a boy.
I couldn’t.
No.
I would fail.
They were dead already, I told myself.
The man shrieked, as Ox walked around him, and stabbed at the man’s thigh, then belly.
I watched Aurelia. Her eyes were on me, rather than the others. I saw the priestess appear, and she was whispering to her, and Aurelia was nodding.
Ox, finally, sliced the blade to the man’s sternum, and twisted it.
The man, shivering, died slowly.
The slaves, slipping on the blood, rushed forward.
They dragged the corpse aside, and then, the guards pulled out a man with his family. The man, Aquila, was shaking with horror, his wife was weeping and hiding behind him, and an almost adult son held his mother tight.
Aquila stood over the weapons and shook his head.
Aurelia sneered.
I watched the others. Flavia had two young boys. And a husband. Appius, the merchant, had a young wife, who was pregnant.
Aurelia sneered. “No sword? Spear?”
Aquila shook his head. “Please. I—”
“Lucius,” Aurelia said. “Kill them.”
Lucius stepped up, but I rushed forward.
The woman’s eyes widened as she saw my charge, a monster coming forward, and then I rammed the blade through to Aquila’s chest, and all the way through to the woman. I closed my eyes, as I pushed down and twisted the blade, pulled it out, and—praying for forgiveness, feeling sick to the bottom of my belly, despite the long years of butchery and blood—I pressed it
to the wounded woman’s throat. She twitched, the boy sobbed and screamed, and I got up, as their boy screamed at my feet.
Aurelia looked at me with unkind eyes. “Surprising. Impatient. Or just soft? The boy!”
I turned to go, but she shook her head.
“The boy,” she whispered. “We cannot spare them. For Rome. The man who would go this far, must kill the boy too. Set is watching.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
I opened my mouth to deny her, to argue. I felt Lucius walking nearby, his sword out, and there, too, Ox, and the retiarius, Neptune, inching closer.
The boy would die. He would, anyway. Slowly.
I could make it fast.
It would haunt me, I thought.
I was right. It still haunts me.
I stepped forward and stabbed down, the blade cutting air, and then flesh, as it sliced to the boy’s neck. He fell on his face.
I got up, walked back, and pushed Lucius aside.
I stood near the doorway, hiding in shadows, and felt Aurelia’s eyes on mine. The priestess was speaking to her again.
Together, they would decide my fate.
I noticed the blood was dripping from my blade to my sandal, and then, suddenly, I realized they were killing the other people, one by one. Neptune, cooing mercifully, was stabbing at a young woman after the others had died. She wept to death at his trident’s tip, and the last family was Lucius’s. His blade cut a man to ribbons, slowly, very nastily, and he died.
Then he turned to the young boys.
I felt dizzy and could barely stand.
Then it was done.
Aurelia let Pollio speak with their clients, who all looked suddenly mortified, sick, terrified. They were all entangled in a web so thick, they would never loose themselves from Aurelia.
Longinus and the others stood up, having received their private games.
Neither could speak a word.
Aurelia looked at me, and I gave away my sword and shield to Brutus.
“Well done, I hope,” he murmured. “We shall see. Stay here.”
Ox and Lucius stood nearby, but the others filed upstairs.
The two were still armed.
Aurelia nodded at me and waved me closer. The priestess was leaning on Set’s statue.
“Now we usually feast,” she said. “Though often, they have little appetite, no matter what their prayers had asked. Set has had his fill, and they get to feast, if they can. We have a few houses like this, Brennus, but none have a better cook. What is your real name?”
“Mine?” I asked.. I avoided looking at the corpses.
“Take off the helmet,” she said with asperity. “I am not speaking to a statue. You look like undead thing, and I do need to see your eyes. It is bad luck not to see a man’s eyes when you plot with them, as they tell you secrets. My family needs no more of it. Name.”
I pulled off the helmet.
I wiped blood and sweat off my face. “I am called the Raven.”
“How,” she whispered, “does it feel, man? This service to me?”
I shrugged. “I am a warrior. Always was. This was…different.”
“And you are called…Raven? Hraban?” she asked me with a small smile.
I felt the blood drain from my veins.
The priestess giggled softly, shook her head, and perhaps said something to the statue of Set.
Aurelia placed a hand on my shoulder. “Romulus told you. We make inquiries. I know of you. I do. Your scar, the one across your face, is recorded in the Tabularium. You came to Rome from the north, from Germania with the body of Drusus, and then you served the family through tough times. I know little of that. But I know men and women died, Julia was disgraced, and others executed. And you did not really perform many guard duties. You disappeared, and Ulrich was one of the men you went missing with, and then you came back wanting to kill him. Wife?”
I nodded. “They betrayed me. He did. Germanicus was involved.”
She tapped my face gently. “Yes, Germanicus sold the man to us. Gave, really. Hoped to pay some of his debts. The man was willing. Thought he would be allowed to serve us like you just did, but he wasn’t quite…right. Too eager. Brutal.” She shook her head. “I had decided to let him just make coin for us. I felt Germanicus had hoped he would spy on us. Germanicus knew we had secrets, see? When he died, and Ulrich still tried very hard to get closer…” She winked. “His death. Germanicus’s. I want to know all about that. All of it. You told Romulus you could tell me about Tiberius too. You shall tell me all their dirty little secrets. And I shall put it all to proper use. You had a brother?”
I nodded. “I do. I lost one, but I have another. He is a good man, though—”
“Once,” she said softly, “there were many good men in Rome. It was easy for romans to be noble and virtuous, when there were few enemies, and little gold to be found. When Rome grew, these men stood on a precipice of a change. Some were noble, others greedy.”
“A tale of Julius and Pompey,” I said dully.
She squinted at me. “You are well traveled and learned, as Romulus mentioned. Now be quiet. Listen. These men went different paths. One wanted to save Rome’s past, and the other one corrupted it. Pompey, he tried to save it. Others tried. All the blood of the best families tried. Did you know Longinus is blood of Cassius of that time? Same gens. One of those who stabbed down the tyrant? Now look at him. Coward.”
“And you are which part of this puzzle?” I wondered. “My lady.”
“Pompey died in Egypt,” she said sadly. “Grandfather, great Roman. My uncle died in Hispania, fighting against Caesar. My father, Sextus Pompeius, the great ruler of seas, made peace in Misenium, and betrothed me to the blood of Caesars, to Marcellus, who later was to marry Julia. Our plan didn’t work out.” She looked stricken, and I saw a tear.
“You liked him,” I said simply. “This Marcellus.”
She was related to the great Pompey.
“I loved him, Marcellus,” she said. “Then he died.”
Livia.
I was sure of it.
“Livia,” I whispered.
She stared at me. “You know about this?”
I nodded. “I know she killed her own son for the other one.”
She stared at me and wiped her eyes. “I see. Later, my father…in Miletos. He sent me away to Egypt, to a family friend, who hid me. They had a daughter, who had died. Aurelia. I took her place. There, I learnt to survive. I got to know people, locals.” She smiled at the priestess. “Some are relatives to another woman whom Octavian killed. To Cleopatra. Some are offspring of Antony. This is Kemsit, our priestess.”
Kemsit smiled and nodded at me.
I knew about Caesar and Cleopatra. I knew of Antony and Cleopatra, and I knew Octavian had killed her family, that of Caesar as well.
And so, I knew some still lived. Had I not exposed one for plotting with Julia, daughter of Octavian?
But was she one?
She had a clever look in her eye.
“She is of the blood of Antony,” said the old woman tiredly. “I am of blood of Pompey. Both suffered at the hands of those who poisoned Rome. Together, we hide here, and plot, and hope to cleanse the city.”
“A grand goal,” I murmured.
She nodded with a smile. “It is. It has been dangerous, and has lasted long years, this road of ours. I came back here very young to marry. Kemsit’s mother was with me then. We had chosen a good man for my partner. Pollio. I didn’t even let Antony’s relatives know about me. They had fallen to fear. Pollio is a peasant, but wise, ambitious, and patient, and a good companion. His brothers are all clever and useful. Our children are hidden, and safe. For so long, we have gathered clients—”
“Extorted the wicked,” I said.
“The wicked one is Livia,” she whispered. “Once, she followed her husband in rebellion against those who made Rome a kingdom again, but she embraced that terrible power fully in the end. More, she encouraged Octav
ian.”
I could not deny her.
In fact, despite the horror in the room’s corner, and the odd gods that were somehow involved, I was intrigued.
“I can tell you this,” I told her. “I would happily strangle her myself.”
She smiled. “I have sworn not to die before she is gone. Set is watching.”
I nodded at her and spread my arms. “And here I am. I am wondering though, why?”
She paced back and forth before me. “Kemsit?”
Kemsit flipped her long hair back and stepped forward. She looked up to my eyes. “You believe in gods?”
I nodded. “I have seen them.”
Kemsit hesitated and then nodded. “I believe you. When my family fled to the deserts, hunted by the Ptolemy and Roman officials, we had to find ways to survive. My great grandmother found Set in a cave, once, on a day so hot, we thought we would die. On that day, she had a sight. It was a sight from Set, of a storm that would rip apart a city of the wicked. That day, it rained in the desert, and they were saved. After a long while, my mother found refuge with the same family as Pompeia had.”
“I am Pompeia Magna,” the woman called Aurelia said. “That is my name.”
Kemsit went on. “She was still afraid and weak back then, but with us, with Set, we began planning and building our power. The city’s secrets we have been digging up, and Set’s favor has followed us.”
“Clients, eh?” I asked. “Why have you not simply removed the head of the snake, long ago?”
Kemsit gestured for the bodies. “The family of Octavian. We were too weak. The snake too strong. See, I had a sight too.” She put a hand on my face. “A man with a scar would kill Livia and Tiberius for us, when only a few remain. So few remain now. I saw you.”
I stepped back. Then I laughed hugely.
They both stared at me like mad things. “What—” Kemsit began.
“I am not a fool, ladies,” I said. “You need not charm me with magic. No statues make an impression on man who dances with gods and is of the First Blood himself. There is no gift, no sight, and I would not have you be anything but honest to me.”
Kemsit looked furious. Then she controlled her face and adopted a stone-like, smooth look.
The Oath Keeper Page 17