by R. W. Peake
Septimus opened his mouth, then suddenly gave a curt nod, and he moved back to his spot while I turned back to the door. Taking a breath, I lifted the latch, and the door began swinging, yet despite expecting to hear the kind of squeaking that is so common with hinges that have not been oiled, it was completely silent. At least, it was silent until, because I had pushed too hard, the door banged against the wall, making me jump and eliciting a sharp cry from Miriam. This was bad enough, but I was also certain that I heard what sounded like a female voice shouting something. While I could not make out what was being said, I heard the fear there, and that it was coming from the upper floor. The need for stealth had been removed because of my incompetence; at least, that was how I looked at it, which meant that I moved as fast as I could from that point forward. I heard the others following me as I raced through the triclinium, but instead of heading directly for the stairway, I entered the kitchen first, snatching up the lit lamp on the table, then turned to hand it to Septimus.
“Follow me, but hold this up above my head,” I told him. “It will distract anyone who might be waiting at the top of the stairs.”
I did not wait for him to acknowledge my command, and I know that he, as well as Alex and Miriam, heard the scraping sound from somewhere above, as if someone was being dragged, so he was right behind me as I moved through the kitchen, exiting the opposite end and then turning down the hallway that led to the stairway. This allowed us to approach the stairway from the side, and I stopped just long enough to listen for the span of a heartbeat; then, with a nod, I moved to the steps, Septimus right behind me. There was nobody visible at the top of the stairs, and I took the first one, wincing when I heard the creak from my weight, and I pressed my left side against the wall to give my right arm as much room as possible. I took the steps so that my footfall created a steady rhythm, making no attempt at stealth now, and even though my body shielded most of the light from the lamp, there was enough illumination for me to see the top of the stairs. Nobody was standing there, yet I was somehow certain that there was someone waiting there; it was only after everything was over and I thought through all that happened that I realized that, while there was no real reason for it, my suspicion that Gaius had not arrived at the villa alone saved at least my life that night, because just as I reached the top step, I stopped suddenly. Along with my conviction that there was someone waiting at the top of the stairs, I also guessed that whoever it was had either counted or knew the number of steps, probably because it was something I would have done in order to give me an advantage. Or, perhaps, the gods were simply on my side that night, because in the eyeblink after my foot trod on the penultimate step and I abruptly stopped, a dark figure suddenly appeared in the stairway, and there was enough light to catch the blur of a silver-gray pugio blade that was thrust into the space I would have occupied. This man was quick, I will give him that much, but not quick enough because, even before he pulled his arm back after his miss, my own arm was moving. If it had been Alex, or anyone of an average height, they would have had to compensate for the height difference because of my position on a lower step; I did not have that problem because I was essentially face to face with my attacker, which meant my aim was perfect, and with a gladius, my reach was longer. The point of the gladius punched into his body right below his breastbone, and although I could not turn my hips and had to rely on the power of my arm, the impact was enough that I was blasted with what would be this man’s last, or near last breath, washing me in an odor that differed slightly from what I was accustomed to when fighting barbarians. There was a fortunate consequence of knocking the wind from him, because as he fell backward, before I could twist the blade, the only noise he made was a low, breathy moan; in fact, the sound of his body falling back onto the wooden floor was the loudest noise, but I was already moving, pivoting to look down the hallway to the series of doors arranged on either side. There was only room on the landing for three of us, but before we could stop to make a new plan, Alex pushed past me.
“Alex! Stop!” I hissed, but for the first, and so far, only time, he disobeyed me, which I admit I did not take well in the moment, but I got over it quickly enough.
Not that I hesitated to follow him, with Septimus just behind me, and with the light the lamp provided, we could see that all but one door was either fully open, or at least ajar, and it was for this closed door Alex headed. It was a natural response, but my first thought was that this was a trap, mainly because the closed door was at the far end of the hallway and led to what I knew was the main chamber, where my great-grandfather, then my grandparents slept. What better way to lure us down this hallway, then spring from one of the other rooms that we think are vacant? This was my thought, and I whispered to Septimus for him to check each of the three rooms on the right, while I did the same for those on the left. The only source of light was still Septimus’ lamp, and he turned and handed it to Miriam, who was now on the landing, then with a nod, we began working our way down the hall, where I could see that, thankfully, Alex had not just gone bursting through the door. I could tell that Miriam was following us closely by the strength of the lamplight, but despite my fears, all of the rooms were empty, leaving just one, and we joined Alex, who turned and faced the doorway. He was reaching for the latch when I leaned over his shoulder and gently but firmly grasped his left forearm; when he turned to look at me, I shook my head.
Using the same method, I whispered to him, “First, we need to kick this door in, even if it’s unlocked. That will startle whoever’s in there.”
The punch to my kidney came perilously close to eliciting a sharp cry of pain, and I whirled to see my aunt, clearly disturbed, although in that moment, I was no less angry.
“My children are in there, Gnaeus!” she hissed. “Kicking that door open will…”
She got no farther, only because there was a rattling sound, then the door opened, and her son Manius was standing there, wide-eyed with a trembling chin, and eyes full of tears.
“Salve, Mama, Uncle Septimus.” He did try to be a proper little Roman man, but he was understandably shaking. “Uncle Gaius is gone. He took…he took…” He got no further, and I know it took Alex quite an effort to move him gently out of the way to go into the room, with me right behind him.
I only got a glimpse before everyone inside the room was moving; Atia, who had been in Gisela’s arms, ran to her mother and brother, Miriam enveloping them both in hugs as all three sobbed, while Gisela went to her brother, throwing her arms around his neck. My eyes went to Birgit, who was sitting on the floor in the corner, as young Gaius knelt facing her, but Alex spotted them at roughly the same time.
“Mama! Gaius!” Alex called out in alarm, but before either of them could respond, he wheeled on Gisela, demanding to know what happened.
Thankfully, Birgit had responded by climbing to her feet, and even with one lamp, the black eye was impossible to miss, along with the swollen and cut lip, causing Alex to turn back around to face her.
“Who did this, Mama?” Alex demanded. “Are you all right? What happened?”
He crossed to his mother, and just as with Miriam and her children, Birgit was enveloped by her sons and daughter, but it was me she was looking at as she explained.
“Gaius and two other men showed up, and I don’t know with any certainty, but he must have hit Chickpea and tied him up, because he burst into the house.” I opened my mouth but decided against telling her the truth, wanting to hear the rest and knowing how they would take his death. “We ran up here and locked the door. But,” she gave a bitter chuckle, “of course he had a key.”
“How did that happen?” I asked, pointing to her face.
“I tried to stop Gaius from taking Algaia,” she answered, confirming my suspicions.
“How long ago?” Septimus asked, having checked on his niece and nephew, who were shaken but otherwise unhurt.
“Not long,” Birgit replied. “He, his man Crito, and another man I don’t know had just c
ome into the room when we heard a banging sound.” Both Alex’s and Septimus’ eyes moved to me, and I felt my cheeks burning, as Birgit continued, “He sent Crito to check to see what it was.”
“That must be the one at the top of the stairs,” Septimus commented, then briefly explained to Birgit and the others what had transpired.
There was something that I did not understand fully, but I made an assumption. “They must have jumped out the window then. But,” I pointed to them, both of them still shuttered, “why did you close them again?”
“They didn’t go out the window, Gnaeus,” Septimus told me, but when I looked at him in surprise, I sensed that he was slightly uncomfortable, which only increased when I demanded to know how they got away. “They went down the other stairway.”
“Other stairway?” I was completely confused now. “What other stairway?”
Rather than answer, Septimus walked over to the wall on the opposite side of the room from the large bed, where there was a large wooden cabinet. Hanging next to it was what Miriam had told me when she took me on a tour, was a large tapestry that she claimed to have come from the palace of Cleopatra, although she was unsure whether it was from my great-grandfather’s time as the de facto Primus Pilus of the 6th Legion when he was trapped in Alexandria or from his time as Primus Pilus of the 10th Equestris during their time with Marcus Antonius. None of which mattered in the moment, because she shoved it aside to reveal a hidden door.
“Pluto’s cock!”
I believe that is what I said, but it was Septimus who explained, “The Prefect had this added after he bought the villa, apparently because he didn’t like the idea of there only being one way up to the second floor.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” I tried not to shout, but I am afraid I was not very successful. “If I had known that, I would have said yes to sending someone around to the back!”
“It must have slipped my mind,” Septimus snapped. “I’m sorry, Gnaeus, but I haven’t been under the standard, and I’ve never killed anyone until tonight!”
I did not ask him later, but if his intent was to extinguish my ire, it worked perfectly, and I held up my hands in a gesture of surrender, although I did not apologize.
Instead, I turned back to Birgit to ask her, “Did Gaius give you any idea where he was planning on going with Algaia?”
“No,” Birgit shook her head, “not specifically. He said something about getting some horses, but then you showed up.”
The answer came from a seemingly unlikely source, when young Manius came and tugged on his mother’s shift.
“Mama? I heard Uncle Gaius whispering to Crito right before he sent him out of the room,” he said excitedly. We did not have to ask further, as he continued, “He said they had to go back to Bacchus’ Delight to pick up the money and…” His voice trailed off, and he cocked his head in a gesture I remember my mother saying I used when I was a boy and trying to recall something important. “…another man.”
Septimus and I exchanged a glance, although I could see he was not very concerned, nor was I in that moment, and I commented, “He might need the money, but we didn’t leave anyone alive behind. Besides, Aroborix and Bellicanus are…”
“That’s it!” Manius exclaimed, actually hopping up and down in excitement. “That’s the name he mentioned!”
“Who? Aroborix?” Septimus asked, as alarmed as I was, but I believe I was more prepared when Manius shook his head adamantly, the memory of Bellicanus’ lethargy in the fight still fresh in my mind.
“No! The other one!”
If he said anything more, I did not hear it, and for another time, we went racing through the streets of Arelate.
This time, Miriam stayed behind, and as we retraced our route, Septimus managed to tell me how Bellicanus came to at least appear to be a man he trusted when he looked for help coming to rescue me.
“He’s a friend of Aroborix,” he gasped. “They were both in the ludus at the same time and used to spar together. Aroborix said he trusted him with his life.”
Hearing this made me think that perhaps my suspicions about Bellicanus and his lack of enthusiasm earlier were misplaced; that feeling lasted only as long as it took to reach Bacchus’ Delight, where we found Aroborix in an almost identical posture as the unfortunate Chickpea, with his throat slit in the same manner.
“That’s the only way that cunnus could have killed Aroborix,” Septimus muttered.
The taverna was empty, save for the bodies, but I noticed that a couple more tables had been overturned, and I had the impression that this was not random, so I sidestepped a couple of paces; once I put myself in the proper spot, the answer was obvious.
“Gaius and whoever’s with him ran across the room, heading over there.” I pointed to where there was an alcove of sorts, a kind of indentation in the wall.
As anyone who has frequented such establishments knows, this is not at all uncommon, although from what I have seen, they are almost always created as an afterthought after the original construction, and it can serve several purposes. It is usually just large enough for a table and some chairs, where it can provide a proprietor or favored customer a certain level of privacy, and there is often a curtain that can be drawn across the opening. There was a curtain, but it was pulled aside, and the table had been thrown out of the alcove, but while at the villa there was a tapestry hiding the door, this time, it was clearly visible at the back of the alcove, and it was wide open.
“He told me that he had done something like this,” Septimus spoke quietly while I led him and Alex towards the alcove. “He said he got the idea from the villa.”
“Where does it go?” I asked.
“Upstairs, to his private office and where he sleeps,” Septimus confirmed.
“Do you remember the layout?”
He shook his head, replying, “He only told me about it. I was never invited up there.”
I did not relish the idea of going up a set of darkened stairs again; that I had no idea of the arrangement up above made it even less appealing, but before I could talk myself out of it, I was stepping into the alcove. Before I stepped into the stairway, which ascended to my right, I stopped, then risked a quick peek around the corner, half expecting something to be hurled at me, but all I saw was another door at the top, which was ajar. Judging from the amount of light, there had to be at least a couple of lamps lit, although I did not see anyone, or even a shadow. Just as I pulled back from the corner, I heard a woman’s voice, muffled and indistinct, but we all heard the sodden, smacking sound that elicited a feminine cry of pain. That was when I was struck, from behind, by Alex, who shoved me aside and went charging up the stairs, his gladius held out in front of him. I believe I shouted at him to wait, but even if I did, I was still following right behind him, taking the steps two at a time to catch up. He reached the top of the stairs, and I saw that he had the presence of mind to pause long enough to lift his right leg and kick the door the rest of the way open. That was the last moment of relative quiet, the enclosed stairway amplifying the bellow of rage that sounded like my own to my ears, but it must have been Alex, which was matched by a shouted challenge. I reached the top step just in time to see Alex, his gladius held out low but in a good, tight first position, rushing at the third man, who was nearest to him, holding his own gladius, but with a sloppy grip and a stance too far apart. I had not seen this man earlier, not that it mattered; besides, I was more concerned with Bellicanus, who had obviously been bent over stuffing what looked like leather bags that I assumed were full of money into a set of saddlebags and had just spun about at the disturbance. Alex made his first lunge, and despite the fact that I was already moving, out of the corner of my eye, I appraised his technique, which actually impressed me, although the third man managed to avoid Alex’s thrust by taking a short hop backward. Naturally, Alex closed the gap, giving me the space to get past him, just in time for Bellicanus to rush at me, except this time, there was nothing half-hearted i
n his attack as he launched a thrust from a high second position. And, in an arena, where there are thousands of eyes on you, and you have a large area in which to move, it had the potential to be a devastating attack. In a small, dimly lit room, with a ceiling that was barely a foot above my head and perhaps a foot and a half above his, it meant that he discovered just as he was beginning his thrust that he had to alter it, bringing his arm down to a lower position than he was accustomed to; ironically, it put his blade in the exact position that we use in the Legions, so it was almost as if I was sparring, my body reacting automatically before I had time to think about it. If I had been carrying my vitus, it would have been a simple matter of a sweeping move with the vitus, out from the center of my body, that would send the opponent’s blade sliding past and over my shoulder; since I was not, rather than change the direction of Bellicanus’ blade, I changed the direction of my body, leaning to my right, but all that mattered was the effect was the same. While I had no real idea about Bellicanus’ skill, I did make some assumptions about his likely next move, so when he swung his left fist at my head, thinking to take advantage of my lean that, in his mind, inadvertently put my face within range of his punch, I was ready for it. Just as I had made assumptions about him, the gladiator had made one about me, that I would be unprepared for this, since the vast majority of the time, our opponent’s left hand is holding a shield. He had no way of knowing that my father had received training from the same man as Bellicanus, the lanista Maximus Vulso, and in turn, he had prepared me for just such a moment. I will say that his aim was true, his fist heading right for my jaw, just as the point of my gladius thrust into the meat of his forearm midway between his wrist and elbow in between the two bones, the momentum of his punch, coupled with the keenness of the Gallic blade that, even without having been sharpened just before this battle, sliced down the length of his forearm until I felt the jarring, grating sensation when the blade contacted the elbow joint. No matter how tough a man is, there is no way for him to not react when his lower arm is essentially sliced in two, and his gladius hit the floor as he let out a shriek of pain that made my ears ring, but his agony was only destined to last for the length of time it took me to recover my blade as he dropped to his knees, clutching his ruined arm as it spurted blood in the kind of bright red spray that signaled the severing of the major vessel in the lower arm. He did look up at me just as I executed another thrust, and his eyes stayed fixed on mine as the point of my gladius punched into the hollow of his throat. I did not see him topple forward because I was already spinning about, prepared to come to Alex’s aid, but I saw there was no need; indeed, he slew his foe before I did, something that he has never let me forget about ever since.