Watchmen of Rome

by Watchmen of Rome (retail) (epub)

  Carbo slowly followed Dolabella, dragging his leg somewhat, looking slow and weak. Dolabella kept his distance, eyeing Carbo’s wounds, obviously realizing that time might eventually win the fight for him. He saw how the larger, older man was moving, and a sneering smile spread across his face.

  ‘Give it up, old soldier,’ said Dolabella. ‘You are getting weaker. I will make it quick for you.’

  Carbo bowed his head, his shoulders slumping. Dolabella circled to where the knife lay and picked it up. Carbo made no move to stop him, instead clutching at his side, then sinking to one knee. Dolabella moved behind him cautiously. Carbo didn’t respond. Dolabella stepped up close, grabbed Carbo’s hair and pulled his head back. He reached round with his knife hand, ready to pull it across Carbo’s exposed throat.

  Carbo grabbed the knife hand at the wrist, dropped his shoulder and pulled hard. Dolabella flew over Carbo’s shoulder, but Carbo kept a grip on his wrist, stopping Dolabella from rolling away and causing him to hit the ground with a loud thud.

  Carbo had only been half-pretending. He really was feeling weakened from the fight and the blood loss, and he got slowly to his feet. Dolabella was groaning, only moving a little. Carbo gave him a hard kick in the ribs, drawing an even louder moan. He grabbed Dolabella by the chin, gripping his jaw tightly.

  ‘Who hired you?’ he hissed, spit flying into the fugitivarius’ face.

  Dolabella shook his head. ‘I have a reputation,’ he said through his clenched teeth.

  ‘You have your life too,’ said Carbo. ‘You can choose to keep one of them.’

  Carbo squeezed harder.

  ‘Can’t… speak. Release… grip.’

  Carbo let his grip slacken. Dolabella opened his mouth… then twisted to bite Carbo’s fingers hard. Carbo howled in pain, pulling his hand back sharply. Quickly, he made to grab Dolabella again, but the slave hunter had rolled to one side and regained his feet. Carbo lunged for him, but this time Dolabella danced backwards out of the way.

  ‘Maybe you are right,’ said Dolabella. ‘This fight is getting both of us nowhere.’

  Carbo put his hands on his knees. ‘I’m warning you,’ he said. ‘Stay away from them. Next time, I will kill you.’

  Dolabella shook his head. ‘I told you, I have a reputation. One of the things I am known for is never failing. Besides, I get the feeling my current employer is one person it would be foolish to cross.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Carbo suspiciously.

  Dolabella smiled. ‘I suspect you will find out.’

  He turned and disappeared into the crowds that had made a clear circle for the fight. Carbo touched his sides, winced, then retraced his steps.

  Vespillo was propped against a wall, where a kindly shop owner was giving him a cup of water. He looked up as Carbo approached, taking in his wounds.

  ‘What… happened?’ asked Vespillo, rubbing the back of his head and sounding dazed.

  ‘We got jumped,’ said Carbo.

  ‘Are the slaves… I mean the… are they OK?’

  ‘They ran. I’ve no idea where they are now.’

  ‘We’re here,’ said a soft voice behind Carbo. He spun round. Rufa was standing there, her arm around Fabilla, looking shaken but resolute.

  ‘I told you to run,’ said Carbo.

  Rufa shook her head. ‘Where to? Where is safe for us in this city? The only place I feel we stand a chance is by your side.’

  Carbo looked at her for a moment, then stepped forward, taking her in his powerful arms. He held her close, feeling a slight tremor in her body.

  Vespillo coughed politely. ‘This probably isn’t the best place to be, hanging around in the streets in broad daylight.’

  Carbo reluctantly released his grip on Rufa.

  ‘So where do we go?’ asked Vespillo. ‘The tavern isn’t safe. We can’t leave her with strangers who might betray her. I can’t have her at the fire station. Even I couldn’t get away with harbouring a fugitive in the offices of the vigiles.’

  Carbo looked at Vespillo steadily, head cocked slightly to one side.

  Vespillo held his gaze momentarily, then sighed. ‘My place it is then.’

  * * *

  Elissa lay on her back, looking at the fresco on the ceiling of her bedroom. She had commissioned it herself and overseen the painting. It showed scenes from the second Punic war. To the left were illustrations of Hannibal descending from the Alps to surprise the horrified Roman state. Then there were depictions from the battles of Trebia and Lake Trasimene, and finally the battle of Cannae, Carthage’s greatest triumph and Rome’s greatest ever humiliation. She looked at the paintings of Roman soldiers, dying, pleading, bearing terrible mutilations, and the final death of the consul Lucius Aemilius Paullus, the artist being liberal with historical accuracy and depicting him being run through by Hannibal himself. She felt excitement rise in her belly, a sexual thrill, and she summoned Stathis.

  Since she had taken the slave to her bed that first time, she had used him frequently, never letting him finish inside her – that would not be appropriate for a priestess – but otherwise enjoying him fully. He arrived now, eager as always, and at her command was soon standing naked and erect before her. She lifted her stola up around her waist and spread her legs. Stathis knelt between them and obeyed her unspoken order, using his mouth on her with a skill that increased with each performance. She enjoyed the submission that this represented, the man being used, but the satisfaction was tempered by the knowledge that this was a slave who had no choice. What would it be like to have a man like Carbo perform this act on her? A tough, dominant Roman, for whom the act of performing cunnilingus would be the ultimate humiliation.

  She closed her eyes and started to imagine Carbo was between her legs, that it was his tongue pleasuring her. The passion rose inside her. She felt her climax near, just as the climax of her plans approached. Everything was right in the world. Nearly everything.

  As she arched her back, curled her toes and moaned aloud, the image of the red-headed slave girl, still at large, came to mind. She slumped back onto the bed, the physical sensations of orgasm still coursing through her, but the emotional high popped like a bubble. She pushed Stathis away from her angrily. He looked confused, but stood by her bed obediently, his erection bobbing comically while he waited for further instructions.

  There was a knock at her door. Shafat had learned not to burst into her chambers now. She called for him to enter and her steward came in, taking in the scene and averting his gaze.

  ‘Mistress, I’m sorry to disturb you, but you have a visitor.’

  Elissa sighed. She reached out to take Stathis’ hard cock in her hand and stroked it thoughtfully. The slave remained standing, his narrowing eyes and deepening breathing the only sign of the effect it was having on him. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘It is Metella, Mistress.’

  ‘That silly woman? What does she want?’

  ‘She won’t say, but insisted she talk to you. She seemed very agitated.’

  ‘That woman is no longer of use to us. We will have to deal with her, I think. Show her in.’

  Shafat looked hesitantly at the slave, whose eyes were closed now. ‘In… here?’

  ‘Yes, I will receive her here.’

  Shafat nodded and retreated out of the door. Elissa lay back, one hand gently teasing her slave, looking up into his eyes. She caressed her own body idly, trying to recover her sense of relaxation. The door opened and Metella burst in, accompanied by two burly bodyguard slaves.

  ‘I trusted you!’ she cried. ‘How could you?’ Metella took in the scene in front of her and, for a moment, shock made her pause. Her jaw dropped as the naked Elissa didn’t even sit up, and just continued stroking the young slave.

  ‘My dear Metella,’ said Elissa languidly, sparing her a brief glance before looking back at her slave. ‘Whatever is the problem?’

  ‘You. You had him killed. My husband, my beloved.’

  Elissa continued to s
troke Stathis. ‘Metella, Metella, why would you say such a thing?’

  ‘I heard. I heard you and your thug, Glaukos, talking to your steward. I heard everything! Glaukos killed my husband!’

  ‘Maybe we should hear from Glaukos, then,’ said Elissa calmly. ‘Fetch him, Shafat.’

  Shafat, looking unwell, bowed his head and retreated out of the room.

  ‘Was it just for my money?’ said Metella, stepping up to the foot of the bed, her voice high. ‘Was that all you wanted me for?’

  ‘We all have our roles to play in the Lord and Lady’s plans.’

  ‘And my husband? He was in their plans too?’

  ‘The Lord and Lady demand sacrifice sometimes, Metella. You know that. Maybe you didn’t appreciate the scale of the sacrifice. You have given up something dear to you. Soon, Rome will know sacrifice on a scale they could never have imagined.’

  ‘You don’t deny it then? Will you stop stroking that boy and look at me?’

  Elissa ignored the instruction. ‘Why deny anything? The Lord and Lady know the truth in our hearts. Soon they will descend to us, bringing fire and blood.’

  Metella looked at her aghast. ‘What are you going to do?’

  Glaukos and Shafat returned into the room. Metella’s two bodyguards moved closer to her, looking tense.

  ‘The time comes. Soon the Ludi Romani will reach their climax. All Rome will gather, the cohorts will be fully occupied with crowd control. Then the power of the Lord and Lady will be revealed. Then Carthage will be avenged.’

  ‘You’re mad,’ said Metella. ‘I’ll tell the Urban Prefect. The Praetorians. You will be crucified.’

  ‘Hold her,’ Elissa said to Glaukos. Strong hands grabbed Metella’s arms, pulled them behind her.

  ‘Bodyguards,’ she cried. ‘Help me.’

  Both of the bodyguards drew the concealed knives they held and turned on Glaukos. One moved forward, then stiffened, let out a groan, and collapsed to the floor. The other, holding his dagger bloodied from where it had entered his colleague’s back, turned to Elissa and bowed.

  ‘At your service, Mother.’

  Elissa inclined her head towards him. ‘The blessings of the Lord and Lady on you.’

  Fear now replaced anger in Metella’s heart. ‘Let me go,’ she said in a tremulous voice. ‘I am of senatorial rank.’

  Elissa finally deigned to look at the woman, who trembled before her now, pale, a sheen of sweat on her face.

  ‘You have served the Lord and Lady well. You will be a worthy sacrifice for them.’

  ‘No, Mother, please…’

  Elissa nodded to Glaukos. He took a knife from his belt and with one smooth motion he cut Metella’s throat. He kept her hands pinned behind her and her head pulled back as the noblewoman sank to her knees, blood spouting. Her eyes stayed wide, fixed on Elissa’s in disbelief. Elissa speeded up her stroking of the slave boy, and she heard him groan. Her back arched, her eyes half-closed and she luxuriated in the sensations as the slave ejaculated over her, while the blood from the dying woman sprayed her body.

  ‘Lord Ba’al Hammon, Lady Tanit,’ she intoned. ‘Accept this sacrifice, and bless our endeavour.’

  Metella collapsed to the ground, limp, and the slave boy sighed, hanging his head. Elissa smiled. Everything would be well.

  Chapter XXI

  Carbo, Rufa and Fabilla stood outside Vespillo’s house. They couldn’t help smiling to each other at the voices raised within.

  ‘But Severa…’

  ‘Don’t you “but” me! This house is made for two, not five!’

  ‘But it’s only for a short time. Until they can sort something else out.’

  ‘Why can’t they make their own arrangements? Stay in a hostel?’

  ‘Because… it’s not… they just can’t,’ blustered Vespillo.

  ‘I don’t see why not. Send them on their way.’

  ‘Now look here, Severa. I am paterfamilias. What I say in this house is law!’

  ‘Maybe so, but if you want someone to cook you dinner and try to get that thing between your legs to stand up, you will show me some respect.’

  Carbo winced and gently pushed open the door, stepping tentatively inside. Vespillo turned to Carbo with a look of gratitude and embarrassment. Severa also spun to fix him with a deadly gaze. She was a large, middle-aged woman, Carbo estimated her around forty years, with a handsome face that was currently lined in anger.

  ‘And who are you? Oh, you must be Carbo, Vespillo’s new best friend. I have heard so much about you.’ The sneering tone suggested to Carbo that she had frankly heard enough.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Severa,’ said Carbo. Severa’s response could best be described as a harrumph. ‘May I introduce two ladies who are currently under my protection? This is Rufa, and her daughter Fabilla.’

  Rufa respectfully bowed her head. Fabilla stood behind Rufa and slowly peered around, eyes wide as she stared at the angry woman.

  Severa’s face softened. Fabilla smiled shyly at Severa and Severa smiled back.

  ‘Rufa, Fabilla, please come in.’ She gestured to her slave. ‘Afer, show our new guests inside, and give them food and drink.’

  With a grateful look, Rufa ushered Fabilla into the house. Vespillo made to follow them, but Severa gripped his arm and pulled him into the street.

  ‘Are you mad?’ she hissed at him.

  Vespillo looked at her in surprise.

  ‘You want us to harbour fugitives? Escaped slaves sought by their mistress and the authorities?’

  ‘Severa, these people…’

  ‘These slaves,’ she corrected him firmly. ‘These slaves are nothing to us. Why risk our lives for them?’

  ‘Severa,’ began Carbo.

  ‘Be quiet,’ snapped Severa. Carbo did as he was told. ‘Well, Lucius Vedius Vespillo?’

  Vespillo was quiet for a moment. Then he said, ‘I had a child of my own once.’

  Severa looked about to retort, then changed her mind. She turned on her heel and retreated inside. Vespillo looked somehow smaller and Carbo clapped him on the shoulder.

  ‘Thank you, friend. We’ve faced the wrath of Elissa and the justice of the cohorts, but this…’ He shook his head.

  ‘They should be safe here. Whatever her misgivings, Severa has taken them in. She will look out for them now. And she isn’t stupid, she knows we need her to be discreet. Afer is a handy man to have around as well.’ Vespillo poked his head round the door. ‘Severa, Carbo and I have some business to attend to. Please make sure our guests are well looked after.’

  Severa shot Vespillo a filthy look. ‘Of course I will. Now go and continue with whatever sordid deeds you two get up to.’

  Severa turned to Fabilla, who was looking up at her. ‘How did you get your hair to look like that?’

  Severa hesitated, then put an arm around her. ‘Well, I have this lady who comes every week…’

  Carbo gave Rufa a small kiss on the head. ‘Stay here, Severa will look after you. We will be back soon. Vespillo and I are going to sort your problems out. Permanently.’

  Rufa gazed uncertainly into Carbo’s eyes. ‘Please be careful.’

  Carbo hoped his returning look was confident. ‘Of course.’

  * * *

  The crowds parted easily for Carbo and Vespillo as they walked through the city. They were helped by the four watchmen they had brought with them, all armed with short, stout clubs. Vespillo had hand-picked them for their size and intimidatingly brutal appearances, and no one wanted to tangle with them.

  ‘Run it past me one more time,’ said Carbo. ‘What exactly is this going to achieve?’

  Vespillo sighed. ‘Look, Elissa is your problem. She knows you are sheltering the sla— the girls. She isn’t going to let things drop, for whatever warped reason she has. So Rufa and Fabilla can never rest safe unless we can force the issue. Even spiriting them out of the city isn’t really an option now, not with Dolabella on the case.’

&nbs
p; ‘The fugitivarius?’ said Carbo. ‘He can fight, sure, but is he really that much of a threat?’

  ‘I asked around. The simple answer is, yes, I’m afraid he is. He has a fearsome reputation as a slave catcher. He has never failed. He is also well known for his brutality. Slaves caught by him tend to have a hard time of it before they are returned to their owners.’

  Carbo felt a chill, suspecting that Vespillo was understating the matter.

  ‘So, we go to Elissa’s house and force her to confess to wrongdoing, and then we can institute legal proceedings to have her tried and exiled for whatever we can pin on her.’

  ‘Confession seems unlikely,’ said Vespillo. ‘We know she is up to something, we just need to find out what, and if we can get evidence of criminal activity we could put her slaves to the torture to get them to reveal everything they know.’

  Carbo grimaced at that. It wasn’t long ago that Rufa and Fabilla had been Elissa’s slaves, and the thought of them being tortured for their mistress’s crimes made him feel sick. He said nothing, though. His oath was to the two he had sworn to protect, not to the unknown slaves who had the misfortune to belong to Elissa.

  ‘So we search her house for anything incriminating?’

  ‘It’s our best chance,’ said Vespillo.

  ‘And if we don’t find anything?’

  Vespillo patted a small bag he carried. ‘I’ve prepared for that.’

  Carbo’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you planning to…’

  ‘It’s just a contingency plan. To make sure we don’t come away empty-handed.’

  ‘What’s in the bag?’

  ‘Letters. From unnamed conspirators. Elissa is planning to assassinate the Emperor Tiberius.’

  ‘Is she?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ laughed Vespillo. ‘But when we take this evidence to the Praetorian Guard, Elissa will no longer be a problem.’

  ‘I don’t like it,’ said Carbo. ‘It feels wrong.’