by R. W. Peake
There was a long silence, then Gaius said in a tone I had not heard from him before, “That must have been very…hard, Gnaeus.” I did open my mouth to answer, but nothing came out, so I only nodded. “If only,” Gaius’ voice had dropped to almost a whisper, yet I still heard him, “Titus hadn’t gone off to join the Legions the first year he was eligible, we would have spent more time together.” I did glance up in time to see him shrug. “Who knows what might have happened?”
“Why haven’t you read your grandfather’s scrolls?” I asked suddenly, which was a tactic on my part, and at first, I thought my bolt might have struck home, because his head jerked up suddenly, and I saw his cheeks flush with color, his mouth opening to say something when, from behind me, I heard a pounding, coming from the direction where I knew the entrance to the taverna was located.
Instead of addressing me, Gaius looked over my shoulder, ordering curtly, “Go open it.” I heard the footsteps, and my uncle called out, “And be careful. I wouldn’t put it past Septimus to have some sort of trick in mind.”
Although I did not think so, at least this quickly, I did try to prepare myself, flexing my arms and body, the former with the goal of finding some slack in my bonds, and the latter to get a better sense about whether it was possible for me to snap the chair frame. Thankfully, there was enough other noise that nobody noticed, because I got my answer in the form of an audible, and to my ears, terribly loud cracking sound. It also helped that Gaius’ attention was not on me, but on whatever was happening behind me. I heard the door opening, then the mutter of voices, although I could not make anything distinctive out, and no matter how hard I tried to crane my neck, I could only get a glimpse of movement at the very edge of my vision. It was Gaius who was the most informative, because he had come to his feet, and I saw by his frown that something he was seeing either disturbed him or was unexpected.
Pointing to someone over my shoulder, he demanded, “Who are they?”
“Friends.” I immediately recognized Septimus’ voice, and his tone was flat.
“Well, brother,” Gaius countered, yet while his tone was cool, I was certain he was flustered, “I didn’t realize you had those types of friends.”
It was a decidedly curious thing to say, but I understood when Septimus replied evenly, “Aroborix has been a friend of mine since I was a boy, Gaius, and so has Bellicanus here. Maybe if you had spent more time at the ludus, you’d have friends like them too.”
Obviously, I knew who Aroborix was, but I had never heard of this Bellicanus, and despite my situation, I was intensely curious.
“Where’s Juno?” Gaius demanded, still standing at his table, and I noticed that the partially hidden man I had spotted earlier stood up, but then from the opposite corner, I saw there were two more men who had been partially blocked from my view by Gaius and obscured by the glare of the lamps.
“You didn’t really think that we’d give you Algaia, did you?” Septimus asked, then gave a harsh laugh. “Because if you did, you’re even stupider than I thought, brother. But,” he added before Gaius could get whatever he was about to say out of his mouth, “you can see we brought Aviola.”
My assumption was that this had been one of the demands that Gaius had made, and it also indicated to me that Septimus was willing to accede to at least some of his demands. The thought that my newly found family would be forced to vacate the home in which they had grown up because of me was, ironically enough, exactly what I needed, because now my anger was fully aroused.
“That doesn’t matter,” Gaius snapped, oblivious to the fact that the real danger to him was sitting just a few feet away. “This isn’t a negotiation, brother. Not if you want our nephew back unharmed.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” It was not the words themselves that surprised me, it was who said them, and Miriam’s voice communicated her fury. “If you kill our nephew, who’s a Centurion of Rome, there will be nowhere in the Empire you could hide!”
“I have no intention of killing Gnaeus,” Gaius replied coolly. However, I expected him to mention Prixus, just as he had done with me, but what he said instead was even more chilling, because he pointed down in the general direction of where my hands were bound as he said, “However, I am willing to allow one of my men to remove his right hand. And,” he smiled, “if I do, it will be on your head, sister.”
“Gaius,” Septimus’ tone took on a begging quality, “please, stop this now. You know this is wrong.” He paused, and I heard a real puzzlement, as he asked, “Don’t you? That this is wrong?”
“I want what’s MINE!” Gaius screamed, and for the first time he moved, quickly, from behind the table, and I tensed myself for what came next. Snatching up my gladius, he waved it in the general direction of Septimus and the others, and in only a slightly calmer voice, added, “And that includes our Avus’ gladius! I’ll be keeping it with me!”
Before I could stop myself, I began roaring with laughter, which drowned out Gaius’ repeated demand for someone to go fetch Algaia, and now he was staring at me as if I was the mad one.
“I’m glad you find this amusing, nephew!” he snapped; then, he gave me a smile as he ran the pointing finger of his left hand down the edge of the blade. “Perhaps I’ll let Prixus use this very gladius to remove your hand. That would be…poetic, neh?”
“You stupid cunnus.” I had to regain my breath before I said this, and his face flushed, but I had not mentioned the best part yet. In the moment, I decided to draw this out some, so I asked, “Do you want to know why you’re so stupid, Gaius?”
“Don’t call me stupid,” he replied threateningly, but now that the beast inside me had slipped its lead, that was the worst thing he could have said.
“But why not?” I asked, pretending to be puzzled. “Because you are, Gaius. You truly are.”
“And yet, you’re the one tied to a chair,” he shot back, and I could see that he was not only angry, he was defensive. “If I’m the fool, why are you sitting there, and I,” he brandished the gladius again, and I am certain he thought this would goad me, “am the one who is holding this gladius that belonged to my grandfather and your great-grandfather?”
“Because, you stupid fuck,” this time I had to feign the laugh, “that’s not the Prefect’s gladius. You’re so stupid you don’t even recognize it.”
As I hoped, this seemed to hit him like a blow, his mouth dropping open, but then when his eyes involuntarily dropped down to the blade, he stopped himself, then offered me a smile that I suppose was meant to convey that he was back in control.
“I don’t believe you, nephew,” Gaius said simply.
“He’s telling you the truth, Gaius,” Septimus spoke up, and I could tell by the position of his voice that, while he was still the same distance away, it sounded as if he had shifted slightly, so that he was somewhere behind me and to my right.
“He is not,” Gaius retorted, but I clearly saw the doubt. Nevertheless, he lifted the gladius to allow the light from the lamps behind him to shine off it “See? See how much darker it is? And,” he pointed, “these little patterns?” He shook his head, saying firmly, “You’re not fooling me, either of you.”
From behind me, I heard the hissing sound, and even if I had not, the reaction of Rat Face and the two men behind Gaius would have informed me of what Septimus had done, but he clearly did not advance or make any kind of threatening move.
“Is it as dark as this, Gaius?” he asked quietly. “Is that pattern as pronounced as the one on this?”
Since I had to guess what was happening, I kept watching Gaius, and I saw that he did not appear alarmed or as if Septimus was brandishing the Prefect’s gladius in a manner he found threatening. If anything, I realized, he looked deeply puzzled, and, clearly reluctantly, he shifted his gaze back to the blade in his hand.
“But it’s so dark,” he muttered.
I certainly had not planned beforehand that, when I impulsively decided to strap on Scrofa’s blade before leaving for
Euphemia’s that it would play any role in what was taking place in this moment, although I do recall thinking that, if it ended up being confiscated by the town watch, I would rather surrender my spare than the Prefect’s gladius. When Septimus noticed by the different hilt that it was the spare and made a comment about it as we left, I am certain that he thought no more about it than I did.
And now, it was less from any sense of sympathy and more because I was having a hard time hiding my rage, sensing that the time for me to at least try something was here, that I told him, “That’s a blade I had made in Ubiorum by a smith named Decimus Scrofa. He learned from a Gaul, and my father was the one who convinced me I needed a better blade than what’s issued by the quaestorium. Now,” I tried to shrug, or at least appear to, but I was actually checking to feel if I had managed to stretch the ropes binding my arms, “that my father passed me his gladius, it’s my spare.”
“It wasn’t his to give!” Gaius snapped, then jerked the thumb of his free hand at himself, “I’m the paterfamilias now, and I decide who gets that blade! That is Roman law!” Suddenly, his anger seemed to vanish, and what I interpreted as a sly expression crossed his face, which was confirmed when he said, “Although,” he actually tapped his lips with his finger, “I might be willing to exchange one piece of property for another.”
“You’re not getting Algaia, Gaius. You’re going to have to kill me first.”
Of course he’d be here, I thought, hearing Alex speak for the first time, and it ignited in me a queer mixture of feelings; uneasiness, a sense of worry, but more than anything, pride. He may not have been a Pullus by blood, but I realized that I should never have doubted that he would be standing with the rest of my family.
Gaius gave shake of his head that I suppose was meant to convey his sadness. “That would be regrettable, Alex. It truly would. But, while you may have our name, this isn’t your family.”
“But Algaia and I are getting married,” Alex countered.
When we discussed things later, Alex confirmed that my suspicion that he said this to provoke Gaius was correct, and the gods know that it worked.
“You have no right to do anything with my property!” Gaius shouted this, and he raised the gladius again, pointing it in such a way that I knew Alex was off to my left.
The only people who were unaccounted for were Aviola, Aroborix, and the other gladiator Bellicanus, none of whom had made a sound, but I made what was a calculated gamble, that neither of the gladiators were directly behind me, while I did not even consider the lawyer in terms of what was about to happen. Rat Face was still standing in front of me, but off to my right, and he had given me barely a glance, his attention completely on the spot I assumed Septimus was occupying, which left only Prixus, somewhere behind me, and while he had been mostly silent since he scrubbed my face, I was certain that he was still there, but I was also positive that there would be no way he would be standing facing me and with his back to the others.
While I was in the last heartbeats of calculating my next move, I was only dimly aware that the exchange between my insane uncle and Alex was still going on, but I did hear Alex’s challenge. “And the only way you’re going to stop me from taking her back to our home in Ubiorum is to use that gladius on me. And, Gaius, you’re too much of a coward to do that, and we both know it.”
He, I thought, sounds like me, but just when I began to push against the back of the chair with my own, while moving my legs as if I was trying to straighten them, Septimus spoke up again.
“If we sign over the villa, will you be satisfied with that, Gaius? That’s really what you want, isn’t it? Not that girl. If we do that, you’ll let Gnaeus go, won’t you?”
I paused, waiting to see if I would not have to make what I knew was a desperate and undoubtedly dangerous move. And, for a long span of heartbeats, I actually thought I might not have to, because Gaius seemed to be considering it. Then, he gave an abrupt shake of his head, but if he said anything, I did not hear it, because I was moving.
Chapter Nine
I suppose it makes sense that, even in the immediate aftermath, my memories of what took place were much like the experiences I have had after a battle against barbarians. Nevertheless, as much of a plan as I was able to come up with in the span of heartbeats I had decided not to sit there passively, I was unprepared for it to go as well as it did, at least the first part. I did hear that Gaius was responding to Septimus’ questions, but the snapping sound, or actually series of cracking noises that occurred when I suddenly arched my back, while thrusting my legs out as if I was trying to straighten them out in front of me, drowned him out. Although I was fairly confident that I could break the back of the chair, the plan I had devised in my mind was based on the idea that it would take a separate effort to free my legs, and in expectation of that, I was going to throw myself to the side because, while my torso would be free and I would at least have the blood flowing to my arms again, I would be vulnerable to Prixus standing behind me for several more heartbeats. What I was completely unprepared for was that, when I thrust my legs upward, I snapped both chair legs as if they were kindling, thereby shifting all of my weight onto the remaining two right under my ass, causing them to instantly collapse. All I knew was there was a sudden explosion of noise that almost drowned out the sounds of my chair being splintered, then before I had any real thoughts about what to do next, I landed on the wooden floor on my back with enough force that it knocked the wind from me. Positioned as I was, I was looking up at the ceiling, and I saw an upside down Prixus, bending over at the waist to stare down at me, clearly surprised, although it did not seem to me that he was shocked for very long, because I saw him lift his arm, a cudgel of the kind used by the tough men who patrol places like Bacchus’ Delight in his hand. Even in that instant I remember thinking, that must be what he hit me with, but fortunately, I was rolling even as the club came down to smash into the floor, sending smaller pieces of the splintered chair flying, and I felt a sharp stab of pain in my face; afterward, Miriam would extract a sliver of wood that actually punctured all the way through my cheek. And, with that roll out of the way, I had exhausted every step of the plan that found me free of the chair but still with my arms bound behind me and on the floor, while Prixus, snarling something that I could not hear because of all of the shouting, pivoted quickly, showing the kind of quick reflexes that one would expect from a man trained for some form of combat. I had rolled over twice, so that I was again on my back, but I had collided with another table, meaning that I was out of room, while Prixus took a step to close the distance, raising the cudgel again as he did so. It took me a moment for my mind to catch up with my eyes, which did manage to catch the sight of what turned out to be a chair that struck Prixus from behind, and whoever threw it did so with enough force to send him sprawling, landing face first on the floor, just an arm’s length away from me.
“Kill them! Kill them all!”
I heard this clearly, despite the fact that everyone present was bellowing at the top of their lungs, including Miriam, whose higher-pitched voice was impossible to miss, and I knew that it was Gaius’ voice shouting the command to slay his family. This was the moment that whatever vestige of hesitation I held about whether or not I could kill someone who I had learned was related to me by blood was removed, but first, I had to survive the next several heartbeats. To aid in that, I arched my hips to get my ass off the floor, and thanks to the few inches I had managed to stretch my bonds, I was able to bring my hands underneath my ass, then bring my legs up to my chest while swinging my arms under my feet. I was just in time because, while Prixus had not gotten all the way to his feet, he had drawn himself up on hands and knees, and since I was absorbed in trying to get my arms out in front of me, I only sensed his head moving in the eyeblink before he threw himself at me. Despite the improvement brought on by getting my arms in front of me, they were still bound, and I quickly learned they were next to useless at blocking blows when they were coming fro
m two different directions. I managed to block the fist he aimed at my face, but the wind I had just managed to regain after landing on my back went rushing out of my lungs when his left hand slammed into my stomach, just below the rib cage. The next couple of heartbeats were spent by me desperately trying to either block or dodge his blows, while scrambling with my legs to try and propel my body far enough away from him so I could get to my feet. Fortunately, he was still on his knees, which did mitigate his power, but he was able to keep the distance between us closed up as he continued his assault on me by moving on his knees, having gone from wildly flailing to aiming his punches. Then, it finally occurred to me to use my feet for something other than trying to get away, and since I was wearing my caligae, when I aimed a kick just after he threw what would be his last punch, which struck me on my cheek but barely moved my head, the hobnails of my sole smashed him in the middle of his face, right on his still-tender nose. His scream was muffled, although it was impossible to tell whether it was because of my foot in his face or I had finally finished the job of flattening his nose; what mattered most was that he recoiled backward, away from me, giving me the chance to push myself to my feet as he collapsed onto his back.