Emperor's Axe

by Emperor's Axe (retail) (epub)

  Emperor’s Axe

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Bibliography and Further Reading

  Historical Notes

  Historical Texts

  Acknowledgements

  The Imperial Assassin

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Rome, December 211 AD

  Heavily bruised from repeated beatings and the impact of stones thrown during a riot, arms aching from the impact of a sword fight, bone weary after a race across the city to save the life of the Emperor, Silus looked at the chaos in front of him and said, ‘Fuck.’

  Atius nodded. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’

  They had been making their way slowly from the Praetorian camp, where they had left the now sole Emperor Antoninus Caracalla heavily guarded by his most loyal bodyguards and Praetorians. The scent of smoke wafted across the city, and the air was full of distant cries and screams. Only hours before, Rome had been ruled by the two brothers, Caracalla and Geta. Since then, Geta had tried to kill Caracalla, and with the help of Silus, freshly escaped from prison and torture, Caracalla had slain his brother and taken the throne.

  Now Silus and Atius were heading back towards Silus’ lodgings in the Subura, where they hoped to recuperate from their injuries and their fatigue with a long drink and a longer sleep.

  But interfering with this simple plan was a detachment of Praetorian guards who were sprawled across the Vicus Patricius, which linked the Viminal hill to the Subura. The Praetorians were normally pristine in appearance, metalwork polished like mirrors, leather buffed, boots spotless. But these soldiers, set loose on the city by Caracalla’s orders to go and reward their loyalty by looting the temples and treasuries, sported uniforms covered in dust, blood and vomit. Buckles were undone, belts hung loose, and they laughed, cheered and sang with drink-slurred voices.

  The reason for their celebrations, apart from the huge bribe in the form of cash and increased rations that Caracalla had given them, was that they had just looted a small temple. In the temple courtyard, in front of the steps leading up to the colonnaded building, half a dozen soldiers surrounded a priest. The young lad, barely old enough to have started shaving, was on his knees, blood and snot dribbling from his nose, begging for them to stop while the soldiers laughed.

  A centurion sat on the steps of the temple with his optio, a small chest open, counting silver coins with the look of a child who has been given a bag full of honeyed treats. Some of the soldiers were drinking wine from silver goblets, heads tilted back and pouring into open mouths so it overflowed and ran down their chins.

  Silus and Atius exchanged weary glances.

  ‘This isn’t going to be pretty,’ muttered Silus.

  ‘You’ll fit right in, then,’ said Atius.

  ‘Come on.’

  They approached the drunken soldiers cautiously, hands away from their swords, attempting to appear unthreatening. They were half a dozen yards away before one of the Praetorians noticed them and stood up abruptly, swaying slightly. He had a mop of curly red hair, exposed as his helmet was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘What the fuck do you want?’ he slurred.

  ‘No trouble,’ said Silus. ‘We just want to pass through.’

  ‘This road is ours,’ said the soldier.

  ‘The road belongs to the Emperor, and the Senate and People of Rome,’ said Silus.

  ‘Rome is ours tonight,’ put in another soldier, his bushy black beard damp with wine. ‘The Emperor told us to go and take what we wanted. And he said no man should stop us.’

  ‘I was there,’ said Silus. ‘And he said to take what he has granted you. He didn’t say anything about owning the streets. Or beating up priests.’

  The redhead looked over to the priest in time to see one of the guards give him a hefty kick in the abdomen, making him curl up, hands around his head, knees drawn up, sobbing quietly.

  ‘He tried to stop us taking the money,’ said the redhead. ‘He deserves it.’

  ‘He is no concern of ours,’ said Silus. ‘Although isn’t that the Temple of Mephitis, goddess of the foul smells of the earth? I would imagine her revenge for the desecration of her place of worship and her priest will be… unpleasant.’

  The two Praetorians confronting them looked at each other uncertainly. But others had noticed their presence now, and were shouting at their comrades.

  ‘Why are you mucking about? Break their heads.’

  The centurion handed the chest to his optio and walked over, his face showing irritation.

  ‘I suggest you two fuck off back the way you came, sharp,’ he said. His voice was hoarse, likely from a combination of cheering, shouting orders and smoke inhalation.

  ‘Centurion, we have had a long, long day. We just want to go home.’

  ‘Are you deaf? Fuck off!’

  Silus sighed. ‘We don’t want to hurt you.’

  The centurion looked at them in surprise and let out a barking laugh. He gestured to the soldiers.

  ‘I have twenty men here. Trained fighting men.’

  ‘Fighting men?’ said Atius. ‘I thought you were Praetorians.’

  The centurion growled and drew his sword. Atius made to do the same, but Silus put a hand on his wrist, making him keep the weapon sheathed.

  ‘Centurion, your men are drunk. And they are celebrating, they aren’t in the right frame of mind for serious combat. You may have the numbers on your side, but we are ready to fight, and if we do, many of your men will die. You first. Now think carefully what you are going to do with that sword.’

  The centurion was not used to being spoken to in this way by anyone who was not his superior in the Praetorians. He looked over to his optio uncertainly, who had stopped counting the coins and was watching with interest.

  ‘Who the fuck are you?’

  Silus knew his role was supposed to be secret, not bandied about idly. But he had had enough. Of this argument, of this day, of fighting and killing. He stepped forward, pushing the centurion’s blade out of the way with the back of his hand, and pushed his face up close to the centurion’s face.

  ‘Have you heard of the Arcani, centurion?’

  The man paled, eyes widening.

  ‘Are you…?’

  ‘Order your men to stand aside. Now.’

  The centurion swallowed and nodded.

  ‘Let them through,’ he called out.

  The soldiers made a corridor and Silus and Atius walked through, backs straight, too tired to feel anxious. The Praetorians glared at them and muttered curses under their breath, but none of them tried to impede the two Arcani. Moments later they were through, and on a clear road, leaving the Praetorians to their looting and rioting.

  They walked on through a city of houses locked and barred, of streets emptied of their usual traffic. Carts and wagons were abandoned, overturned, some aflame, filling the air with the scent of smoke flavoured with the contents of the transport – corn, vegetables, herbs, cloth. A scant few frightened citizens scurried down the streets, heads down, casting glances around them as they rushed to safe destinations.

  Silus contemplated the damage this magnificent city was taking. He knew fire was a constant danger, even though more
buildings were constructed from stone these days than in centuries past, and the Roman infrastructure had suffered much worse damage from floods, fires and invasions, and it always survived. But there would be suffering on a grand scale this night.

  They rounded a corner and almost stumbled into a member of the Urban Cohorts lounging against a wall, watching two colleagues having sport with a woman. She was wearing a toga, heavily made up, dark kohl-stained tear streaks down her cheeks. The two Urban guardsmen were making her walk on her hands and knees and howl like a wolf. One poked her backside with the tip of her sword.

  ‘Growl, lupa,’ he said. The pathetic woman bared her teeth and attempted a snarl, which broke down into a sob. The guards roared with laughter.

  The soldier leaning against the wall clapped Silus on the shoulder.

  ‘Funny, huh?’ he said, wearing a broad grin.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Silus.

  ‘Oh, you aren’t from Rome,’ said the soldier. ‘Let me explain. Lupa means both she-wolf and prostitute. The lads are making this whore act like a wolf.’

  ‘Utter genius,’ said Silus, unsmiling. ‘What do you think, Atius?’

  ‘Marvellous. It could have been written by, what’s the name of that fellow who wrote that funny play we saw. Pluto?’

  ‘Plautus,’ said Silus. ‘Yes, he would be proud of such a work.’

  The guardsman’s eyes narrowed, looking from one to the other. ‘Are you mocking me?’

  The stench of strong wine wafted over them as he breathed, and Silus knew that he was probably genuinely struggling to follow their irony.

  ‘That’s enough, I think. Let her go now.’

  Now the Urban guardsman realised the two newcomers weren’t joining in the fun. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  ‘What the fuck has it got to do with you?’

  ‘Nothing. Doesn’t mean we have to walk by and ignore it though, does it?’

  ‘Silus,’ said Atius. ‘He is right. This is nothing to do with us. And what are you going to do, patrol the streets all night and rescue every woman in distress?’

  ‘Listen to your friend,’ said the guard confronting them. ‘Leave us to our games and get on with your night. I won’t warn you again.’

  A scream came from the woman. Silus looked over the guardsman’s shoulder to see that she had curled up into a ball, and one of the soldiers, a short man with broad shoulders and curly black hair, was kicking her, hard and repeatedly.

  Silus thrust his forehead into the guard’s face. The cartilage in the nose of the finely dressed guard crunched, and blood immediately began to stream down his face, staining his uniform. He staggered back, clutching his face, and Silus followed up with an uppercut to his jaw. The soldier’s eyes rolled up into his head, his legs folded and he crumpled to the ground.

  The other two soldiers looked up, noticing Silus and Atius for the first time now, and took a step towards them, ignoring the shaking woman lying curled up in the dirt.

  ‘What have you done to Sulinus?’ asked one, sounding genuinely confused.

  ‘They’ve messed him up,’ said the other, the one who had been kicking the woman.

  ‘That one is mine,’ said Silus, pointing to the shorter man who had just spoken.

  Atius sighed. ‘Let’s try not to kill them?’

  ‘I’m making no promises.’

  ‘What are you two talking about?’ asked the taller guard. ‘Why don’t you piss off and find somewhere to bum each other, or I’ll rip your cocks off.’

  ‘Suddenly I feel like I’m going to enjoy this,’ said Atius.

  The guards looked at each other uncertainly. Their swords were drawn but they hesitated, drunk, leaderless and without a plan.

  The two Arcani took any decisions out of their hands. Moving forward swiftly as one, they paired off against their chosen opponents. Silus’ opponent swung his weapon round towards Silus’ midriff, but Silus stepped back easily, the sword carving only empty air. The black-haired guard grimaced, pushed forward and swung again. Again, Silus let the blade pass harmlessly. A smile came to his face. This actually felt good. After all the betrayal, torture and murder, a good, honest, one-on-one fight was just what he needed.

  He toyed with his opponent, watching his eyes to predict his actions, side-stepping, ducking, retreating. The guard grew increasingly infuriated, his swings becoming wilder and less accurate. Silus saw the man’s breathing coming harder and faster. He waited for the right moment.

  It came soon. The guard was not only inebriated, but unforgivably unfit. A hefty swing missed by the best part of a mile, and the tip of the sword sagged at the end of the arc, slow to return. Silus took a swift step forward and gripped the wrist holding the sword tightly. He smashed the opposite forearm into the guard’s face, and as the man staggered back, he twisted the wrist painfully, so the sword fell from his fingers.

  The guard scrabbled for him, attempting to grip him in a bear hug, but Silus ducked his head and punched him twice in the gut. The guard doubled over, and Silus gripped his hair and thrust his head down while bringing his knee up sharply. The force of the impact reverberated through Silus. He threw the guard away from him, who fell in a crumpled heap on the floor.

  Silus looked around. Atius had his foot on the chest of the other guard, his sword pressed to the terrified man’s groin.

  ‘What took you so long?’ he asked Silus.

  Silus shrugged. ‘You don’t rush a fine meal, do you?’

  ‘These two hardly count as a fine meal. More of a rotten meat pie.’ He looked down at the man below him. ‘Didn’t you say you were going to take my cock?’ He pressed the sword harder against the guard’s groin.

  ‘Please,’ gasped the guard. ‘We were only having a laugh. The Emperor himself said we could.’

  Silus shook his head. It seemed all the Praetorians and Urban Cohorts guardsmen had interpreted Caracalla’s command to take their reward direct from the treasuries and temples as a licence to rob, harass, rape and kill. He turned to the woman, who had shuffled to the side of the road and was sitting, chin on her knees, hugging her shins.

  Silus offered a hand. She looked up at him with wide, scared eyes.

  ‘What are you going to do to me?’ she said in a whisper.

  ‘Not a thing,’ said Silus. ‘Except maybe escort you home. Where do you live?’

  ‘At the Venus Lupanar.’

  ‘Is it somewhere you want to return?’

  ‘I’m a slave, sir. Where else could I go?’

  Silus nodded. ‘Very well, let’s at least get you home safe.’

  The woman hesitated, then took his hand as he helped her upright. She winced as she put her weight on one leg, and Silus offered an arm for her to lean on. She took it gratefully.

  ‘Thank you, sir. It’s not far.’

  ‘What shall I do with this one?’ asked Atius. ‘Shall I cut his cock off?’

  ‘No, please,’ cried the guard.

  ‘Let him go,’ said Silus. ‘These idiots are only doing what thousands of other soldiers are doing across Rome. It’s not our place to punish them.’

  Atius paused just long enough for the guard to begin to tremble, then he took his foot off the man’s chest.

  ‘Let’s get this woman safe, and then get off the streets,’ said Atius.

  Silus nodded, and they followed her directions. It was only two blocks, and they avoided any major confrontations in that time. The Venus Lupanar was a small brothel, a painting of the naked goddess on the front wall, and above it a drawing of a large phallus. The door was firmly shut and Silus pounded on it. There was no reply, and he heard no movement inside, so he thumped it louder.

  ‘Open up.’

  Now he heard steps and a croaky, tremulous old man’s voice came from the other side. ‘We’re closed. Go away.’

  ‘I have one of your girls here. Let her in.’

  There was a pause. Then the old man said, ‘Are there any Praetorians or Urban guards out there
?’

  ‘No,’ said Silus. ‘But I don’t know for how long that will be true.’

  Another pause. ‘How do I know this isn’t a trick? To get my money and my girls.’

  Silus shook his head. He turned to the woman. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Agathina, sir.’

  ‘Tell him you are safe, and that there are no soldiers here.’

  Agathina spoke loudly.

  ‘Master, it is Agathina. The man tells the truth. He saved me from the soldiers.’

  There was a moment’s silence, then the sound of a bar being removed and a chunky key turning in a lock. The door swung open a crack, and a sharp-nosed face peered through. Patience lost, Silus pushed the door wide, and the slight old man staggered back. Silus and Atius entered the brothel with Agathina. Atius closed the door behind them and barred it.

  ‘Agathina!’ said the old man. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘You ordered me to the house of Onesiphorus the merchant, remember?’

  ‘I should have you beaten, staying out this late, risking your life, my property in this way.’

  ‘I think she has taken enough beatings for tonight,’ said Silus.

  The man looked at him through narrowed eyelids, then gave an unctuous smile. ‘Of course, of course. I am Karpos, the owner of this establishment and the girls in it. And you are…?’

  ‘Silus. This is Atius.’

  ‘Well, I thank you for bringing my girl home safely. I’m afraid I have no coin with which to reward you, but I will remember you in my prayers next time I sacrifice. Have a safe trip home this dark night.’ He made to unbar the door.

  Atius put a hand on his arm. ‘Are you kidding?’

  Karpos looked at Atius with an expression of genuine puzzlement. ‘I don’t understand what you mean, sir.’

  ‘We rescued your slave, your property, at considerable risk to ourselves, and you don’t so much as offer us a cup of wine for our trouble?’

  Karpos hesitated, torn between his desire to get these rough-looking men off his premises, and avoid giving them offence. ‘Certainly. I just thought you would be in a rush to get home to your loved ones on a night such as tonight. But you are of course welcome here for as long as you wish it.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Atius walked in and sat down on a grubby couch, putting his feet up. ‘Make it a decent vintage.’