by R. W. Peake
“In here!” Septimus shouted, and for the first time, I noticed a door that led into another room.
Alex beat me through the doorway, but thanks to my height, I immediately saw why Septimus had called us, and how dangerous the situation still was, at least for one person directly, and another indirectly. Gaius was in the far corner, holding a gladius in front of Algaia’s throat, while his free hand was wrapped around her shoulders, his eyes wide and with the same light of madness I had seen earlier.
“Stay away from us! Don’t come near us! You won’t keep us apart anymore!”
Like a trapped animal, he had put himself into the far corner of the room, but my one concern was that just a few feet away was a window, and the shutters were open, giving me a view of what I assumed was the back of the building facing the street on the opposite side. My assumption was, confirmed afterward by Algaia, that Gaius intended to go out the window, but neither Bellicanus nor the third man, whose name I never learned, did a very effective job of slowing us down.
“Gaius,” Septimus spoke in an eerily calm voice, although I noticed he did not sheathe his weapon, “let her go. I’ll give you whatever you want if you do that.”
The laugh his brother gave only deepened my conviction that his hold on sanity was tenuous, although he did lower his voice to a reasonable volume.
“Why should I believe you?” he sneered, then he glanced down at Algaia, who to my eyes, was obviously frightened, but was clearly more in control than her abductor. “Besides, I have all I need right here, don’t I, meum mel?” Gaius looked over at Alex, and his voice regained its shrill quality as he practically screamed, “You could never make her happy! Not like I can!”
Like Septimus, Alex’s voice was calm, but I also heard the rage as he countered, “I’ve seen the scars you inflicted on her, Gaius. They’re all over her back. You like to hurt her, so why would she ever want to go with you?”
This had an effect, on both of them; I saw Algaia’s eyes suddenly fill with tears, and her chin trembled, but it was Gaius I was worried about the most.
Shaking his head violently, he shouted back, “No! That’s not true! I only…disciplined her, when she needed it! I…”
I had missed it; in fact, we all had missed the fact that Algaia had something in her hand, although later as I pieced it together, I remembered seeing one of her hands move, very slowly, up to the area of the sash around her waist. As weapons went, it was not much, but Algaia used it effectively, jabbing the pin of the fibula she had managed to snatch from the bedroom of the villa into Gaius’ right thigh with an impressive amount of force. And, as she had hoped, Gaius reacted, howling with pain, but most importantly, dropping his gladius in an unconscious response to grab at the fibula, while at the same time, she wrenched herself free from his grasp by lurching forward, then leaping away and off to the side. Just as it should have been, it was Alex who got to Gaius first, although my first instinct was to try and stop him, certain that my clerk would run my uncle through, but I did not need to worry, because Alex reversed his gladius and struck Gaius, who was too concerned with pulling the pin from his leg to even try to defend himself, on the side of the head with the pommel of his weapon. At first, I was worried that Alex had struck him too hard and with the iron knob that can be used to puncture a man’s skull, given how Gaius collapsed in a heap, out cold, but Septimus reached his brother’s side next, while Alex was understandably occupied with holding Algaia, who was sobbing uncontrollably.
He made a quick check of his brother, then looked up and said, “He’s out, but otherwise, he’s fine.”
Frankly, I did not know how I felt about that, and it was easy to see that Alex and Algaia were similarly affected. At least, I do not believe that what Algaia was saying in her own tongue as she glared down at Gaius was a prayer to her gods for his wellbeing, while Alex was still holding the gladius, his other arm around his love, staring down at the prone figure of the paterfamilias of the Pullus family with an expression I found impossible to interpret.
“How,” Septimus said dully, “did it come to this?”
He was still squatting next to Gaius, but I noticed that he had reached over and pulled the fibula pin from his brother’s leg, and I was struck by the thought that, if this had been a real battle, being jabbed with a pin would have been so inconsequential that it would probably only be noticed after the fighting was done. This certainly did not help my feelings towards Gaius, since his reaction to what was nothing more than a minor stick had cost him his freedom; that, at least, was what I assumed would be happening. Since I certainly did not have an answer to Septimus’ question, I remained silent, while neither Alex nor Algaia seemed much interested in pondering this, and after a moment, he continued speaking, but it seemed he was talking to himself more than us.
“I remember telling Titus about how what Gaius and I grew up with here in Arelate was so different from what the first four of us went through,” he said sadly. Shaking his head, he continued, “But Gaius always believed that because we were part of our grandfather’s bloodline, that whatever it was that made Avus the man he was did the same for us.” He laughed softly, and bitterly. “I used to argue with him about that, but then I just gave up because I saw I wasn’t changing his mind. Gaius thought he was a great man because of the Pullus name. Not,” he stood up, and there was no mistaking the sadness in his voice, “that it was the other way around.” Suddenly, he looked over at me, and asked, “Did you know that the Prefect’s father was a drunkard? And a terrible farmer because he thought he was far more clever than he was, and insisted on trying to grow wheat on land that was only suitable for olives? And that he was a cruel master, and an even crueler parent to his children, especially Avus?”
I shook my head.
“I started reading my father’s account first,” I told him, “so I haven’t gotten to the Prefect’s yet. Although,” I added, meaning every word, “I plan on retrieving them from my mother’s as soon as we get back so I can get started.”
“What about him?” Alex spoke up, his voice flat and emotionless.
“I suppose we wait until dawn, then summon the town watch,” I answered, since this seemed the logical next step. “Then he’ll be charged by the duumvir, and that should negate his claim as paterfamilias.”
“No,” Septimus said, quietly but firmly, “we’re not doing any of that. We’re not turning him in.”
“What?” Alex shouted this first, only because he beat me to it, since I said the same thing. “You’re just going to let him go?” He shook his head, and I do not believe that it was an accident or unintentional that he used his gladius, which still had the blood from his latest kill dripping from it, to point down at Gaius, who was just beginning to stir. “What do you think he’s going to do, Septimus? Wake up and realize the error of his ways? How long,” his voice began to shake, “will Algaia and I have to be looking over our shoulders? You don’t think that he’s going to be coming after her again, especially since he’ll only be exiled from Arelate because of who he is?”
“Who,” Septimus’ voice was quiet, which made his words even more chilling, “said anything about letting him go, Alex?”
I believe it was actually Algaia who recognized the true meaning of Septimus’ words first, because out of the corner of my eye, I saw her raise her head from where she had been studying the floor in front of her, turning to look at Septimus. Perhaps because of his proximity to her, Alex was the next, and I had the distinction of being the last in the room to understand, but when I did, I absolutely felt my heart seem to stop for an instant.
“What are you saying, Septimus?” Algaia asked; he did not answer, instead looking away from her. Algaia’s voice dropped to a whisper, so I could barely make her out, “You’d do that for me, Septimus? You’d do that for us?”
In that span of heartbeats, I learned more of the real story about Algaia, Gaius, Septimus, and Alex than I had gleaned from the watches spent together, and I saw it in the ma
nner in which Septimus reacted, spinning about to stare at her, but it was the expression on his face that was the most telling. It was a look of such powerful hope, and I suspect the very first glimmer of happiness that, as untutored as I may be in affairs of the heart, was impossible for me to misinterpret. Sadly, for Septimus, so was Algaia’s response, although it was not verbal, but I saw her reach up and grasp Alex’s arm in a way that I think was more powerful a message than anything she could have said, and I saw that my uncle immediately understood its meaning.
His body suddenly sagged, and he did close his eyes for a moment, but then he nodded and answered simply, “Yes.”
This was the moment Gaius chose to come back to consciousness, his sudden movement causing us all to start as he rolled over onto his back, his eyes opening to stare at the ceiling before he began blinking rapidly, and I recalled that I had done the same thing not long before, although in my case, it was because I thought I was blind since there was a hood over my head.
“Wha…Where…” He groaned, but when he tried to get up, Septimus crouched down and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“Don’t try to get up, Gaius.” His tone was gentle. “You took a blow to the head.”
There was a moment then, just one, where Gaius reacted in a manner that made at least me think that perhaps the blow to his head had driven the madness from him, because I heard him ask Septimus, “I didn’t hurt anyone, did I, Septimus?” But then, before his brother could say anything, I saw him frown, his expression changing, and his tone immediately changed. “You were trying to stop me! You were trying to stop me from taking back my property!”
I expected Septimus to react more strongly, or at least attempt to keep Gaius on the ground; instead, he heaved a sigh, then stood erect and, most alarmingly, took a step away from Gaius, giving him room to get to his feet.
“What are you doing?” I asked, but when I moved towards Gaius, Septimus held up a hand to stop me.
It was not the gesture, it was the expression on his face that immobilized me, and this was when I got a glimmer of what was coming; I took a glance over at Alex, and he was drawing Algaia away, towards the other side of the room.
“Brother,” Septimus spoke quietly, “one of us is not leaving this room alive. Who that will be is up to you.”
Gaius had gotten to all fours, and he looked up sharply, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, or perhaps it was confusion because his head had still not cleared, and he demanded, “What do you mean, Septimus? What are you saying?”
“What I’m saying is that the only way out of this room is if you kill me,” he answered calmly.
Gaius’ mouth dropped open, but he climbed to his feet, then pointed first at me, then at Alex and Algaia. “What about them? Do you expect me to believe that if I strike you down, they’re going to let me walk out of here?”
Rather than respond to him, Septimus turned first to me.
“Gnaeus, I want your word, on the standard of your Legion, that you won’t harm Gaius, no matter what he does to me.”
You crafty bastard, was the thought that leapt to my mind; of course, you’re a child of the Legions, so you know that’s the most sacred oath you could demand of me. It should come as no surprise that I was not happy about this, but I saw in Septimus’ expression the same kind of look I had seen on my father’s face, one that told me he was deadly serious, and more crucially, I believed he would do whatever was necessary to keep Gaius from preying on our family.
“I…swear,” I muttered through clenched teeth, “on my eagle that I won’t lift a finger against Gaius.”
Gaius gave a barking laugh, and there was a vestige of his arrogance when he sneered, “And what’s to keep you from changing your mind, eh, nephew?”
“Are you calling me a liar, Gaius?” I asked, but while I smiled, there was nothing pleasant in it. “Because that’s going to get you gutted, by me, right now.”
As I expected, this took the bluster from him, and he dropped his eyes, muttering, “Fine, I believe you. But,” he pointed to Alex, or so I believed, “what about them?”
Before Alex could speak, I did so. “I will vouch for him as well, Gaius. If he tries to do anything to you, I’ll stop him.”
“I wasn’t talking about him,” he shot back, although his eyes never left where the couple was standing, and while I had never seen anyone bearing an expression that was a combination of fear, loathing, and desire before this, I did in that moment.
Alex spoke up then. “And I do the same thing for her that Gnaeus is doing for me. I will guarantee that she won’t do anything. Honestly,” he added quietly, “we just want to get out of Arelate as fast as we can, and we’ll never be coming back. You’ll never see us again, Gaius; I swear it.”
A part of me was certain that Gaius was stalling for time, but it had run out, and he turned to Septimus, who was still standing there, gladius in his hand, at the rest position hanging by his side. That was when I noticed something, and while it may sound odd, it was what I saw that convinced me that Septimus had no intention of letting Gaius kill him. While the blade hung loosely in his hand, I saw that the tip of it was moving, almost imperceptibly, but making tiny, perfect circles, over and over, and if the circumstances had been different, I would have been grinning from ear to ear. If it had been a few years earlier, back when I was still a new paid man, and had begun to spar with Titus Porcinianus Pullus, I would not have been smiling, nor would I have been happy to see that, knowing what it meant. I asked him once where he had gotten this habit, which surprised him because he had never thought about it before, but once he did, he told me he was certain that it came from watching his grandfather whenever there was a man foolish enough to take the Prefect up on his longstanding challenge to spar with him. And, I freely admit, I had adopted this practice as well, because I learned very quickly that, within the Fourth Cohort of the 1st Legion, almost every man had been subjected to the sight of those tiny, perfect circles.
Gaius was standing erect now, the two brothers staring at each other for a long moment, and I braced for Gaius to make one last desperate attempt to hurl himself out of the window, so I was quite surprised when he suddenly gave a small smile, then bent slowly and picked up the gladius he had dropped.
“Wait,” Septimus spoke, and while I had been surprised that Gaius seemed willing to fight, there is no way to convey the shock when, suddenly, Septimus turned to me, and with his free hand, pointed to the Prefect’s gladius, and said, “Give him Avus’ blade, Gnaeus.”
“What?” I stared at him in utter astonishment, and I was struck by the thought that, perhaps, Gaius’ insanity was shared by more than one member of this family. “Have you gone mad?”
“No,” he assured me with a shake of his head. “But if it’s the gods’ will that I be struck down by my brother’s hand, then he should be wielding the blade of Titus Pullus, our grandfather.”
I opened my mouth to argue this, but nothing came out; even now, I cannot summon an argument to his logic, which is why, albeit reluctantly, I laid the blade on the floor, then using my foot, slid it across the floor, where it stopped right at Gaius’ feet. For his part, the oldest brother stared down at it for such a long moment that I began to think, perhaps, just perhaps Septimus had come up with the perfect solution. Then he slowly bent over, picked it up, and held it out in what I would say was an approximation of a first position, but as performed by a tiro with perhaps a month of training behind him. Gaius clearly knew the proper manner to hold both the gladius and his body, yet it was clearly not second nature to him. For a long, slow moment, they stood there, ignoring the three of us as they regarded each other.
“May the gods be with you, Gaius,” Septimus said quietly. “You are my brother, and I will always love you, no matter what.”
This clearly affected Gaius, and I saw his eyes suddenly begin to shine. His voice was husky with whatever emotion he was experiencing as he answered his brother, “And I love you too, Septimus.”
Then he lunged, throwing himself at his brother, while Alex, Algaia, and I watched.
“You need to leave immediately.”
I confess this had crossed my mind, but when Septimus said this, standing over Gaius’ body, I could not bring myself to agree.
“No,” I argued. “You’re going to need a witness to what happened, Septimus. Otherwise, they’ll think that you murdered him, and not…” Suddenly, I could not think of the right way to describe what I had just seen. “…what Gaius did.”
Actually, as I think about it now, even a year later, I am still hard-pressed to even describe, let alone define what Gaius Porcinianus Pullus had done perhaps fifty heartbeats before this conversation. In its essence, the bare bones of the incident were that Septimus had slain his brother, except that was not really what happened. I will say that Gaius surprised me with the speed of his sudden attack, and as I had done with Alex earlier, there was a part of me that approved of how tightly he held his first position as he lunged, particularly given how awkward he appeared a few heartbeats earlier, but that was the last normal instant of an action that was over perhaps three heartbeats later. Septimus reacted instinctively, dropping his hips and raising his gladius, but since he was on the defensive, he extended his right arm out a bit more in front of him than if he was about to launch his own attack, which is exactly how we are trained in the event we have neither shield nor vitus. Then, in the eyeblink of time that remained before blood was shed, Gaius’ arm began moving, except that it was not shooting forward in a thrust, but swinging out from his body so that it could not provide either an offensive capability, or a defensive, which was the most important to his prospects to see another sunrise. Putting it simply, Gaius ran himself onto the point of Septimus’ gladius, with enough force that the blade was buried up to the handguard, the point bursting out of his back in a shower of blood and matter. Naturally, Septimus neither expected this nor did he behave in the manner in which we are trained under the standard by twisting and ripping the blade on his recovery. Instead, he immediately relinquished his grip on the gladius as he went staggering backward under the impetus of Gaius’ charge, reaching up and grabbing his brother by the shoulders in an attempt to guide him down to the floor on his side as Gaius’ momentum slowed. In this, he was successful, managing to lay Gaius down with a gentleness that was in sharp juxtaposition to what had just happened to cause this moment. I was actually struck by the urge to move towards them, but it was as if my feet were stuck to the floor, so all I could do was stare down at them, gawking like a tiro in his first battle; only after Alex and Algaia acknowledged later that they were as shocked as I was did I feel a bit better.