Emperor's Axe

by Emperor's Axe (retail) (epub)

  Issa dropped to the deck with a disgruntled yelp, then, deciding that maybe it was time to make herself scarce, she trotted off to hide behind a group of barrels.

  The hooded figure dragged Avitus towards the rail, but the boy was not a limp weight in his arms, but a wriggling, biting, scratching wild cat. His resistance gave Silus time to reach the hooded man. He grasped his arm and wrenched. The assailant grappled for Avitus, but the boy twisted away, then kicked him hard in the shin. The hooded man cried out, and Silus followed up Avitus’ attack with a punch of his own aimed at the man’s throat.

  But he was quick. He ducked, twisted away and came back into a fighter’s stance with a knife held in his hand.

  Silus thrust the boy behind him and held out his sword. His new opponent was slight and short but well-toned. His features were hidden by the hood, but Silus could still make out intently burning eyes within. He saw anger, but also calculation. The eyes flicked right to where the battle raging was starting to swing in favour of the defending legionaries. The soldiers were using the same tactic, again advancing on the pirates, forcing them backwards. Some, who had seen their comrades fall in the previous wave, broke off and leapt back onto their own ship. Once that happened, the fight was over. The attack disintegrated, some skewered by thrusting gladiators, some tipped over into the sea, a few making it back across the gap, though more than one of these missed their targets and fell screaming into the surf.

  The hooded figure hissed his frustration. Then he took two quick steps back to open a safe gap between himself and Silus, turned and leapt from off the prow, back to his own ship. Silus pursued him to the deck rail, but made no move to chase him onto his own territory. The figure shouted at his captain to break contact.

  Oars dipped into the waters, pulled hard, and within moments the two ships had parted. The pirate ship turned hard to port, and rowed fast away in a direction perpendicular to Silus’ ship’s vector.

  Silus stared after it for a moment, then turned angrily on Avitus.

  ‘What the fuck were you doing with my dog?’

  Avitus returned his look with equanimity.

  ‘The battle looked to be going badly. I decided to invoke the help of the great Elagabal. And I needed a sacrifice.’

  ‘You were going to kill my dog for your weird eastern god?’ His voice rose, and without conscious thought, he raised his arm, ready to strike the precocious little bastard.

  A firm hand caught his wrist, and he whirled in fury to find himself looking into Marcellus’ face, exhausted, drenched in splashes and spurts of blood, but calm and resolute.

  ‘Silus. What are you doing?’

  Before Silus could reply, a woman’s voice screeched at him, ‘Get away from my son, you thug.’

  Soaemias stepped between them and gave Silus a hard shove backwards, then knelt and threw her arms around Avitus, who accepted the hug with a bemused expression.

  Silus shook his hand free from Marcellus, then flicked his fingers. Issa came running over and jumped into his arms, licked his face, little tail wagging frantically. He fussed her behind the ears, but his cuddle was broken short by Soaemias stepping up to him, her face inches from his.

  ‘How dare you? You, who should be protecting my husband, and my son. Yet you threaten to strike him. Marcellus, this brute should be executed.’

  ‘Quite so,’ said Gannys, who had emerged from below decks with Soaemias once the fighting was done. ‘Completely unacceptable. Have him crucified.’

  The last resistance of the pirates had been mopped up, all dead or fled except for two prisoners, one of whom was so mortally injured he didn’t look like he would live more than a few minutes. The legionaries began to attend to their own wounds, and those of their comrades, but some noticed the commotion near the prow and gathered around to spectate.

  Silus took a step forward. Gannys backed away but Soaemias stood her ground, and he put his face so close to hers that their noses almost touched.

  ‘Understand this,’ he said. ‘This dog is my family, as much as your son is to you. He attempted to kill her. I will not allow that.’

  ‘Silus,’ snapped Marcellus. ‘Step away.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Atius. ‘The little one is fine. No harm done.’

  Silus turned on Marcellus.

  ‘I am sworn to protect you, Marcellus, and your son too. But I warn you: if any of you threaten my dog again, I consider my oath void, and I will not be responsible for the consequences. Do you understand?’

  Without waiting for an answer, he stalked off to the stern of the boat, where he stood, hugging Issa close, and wondered how he would cope if the little old girl, the last remnant of his old life, was gone.

  * * *

  Silus kept himself to himself for the rest of the day. He was uninjured but his muscles ached from the exertions of battle. He spent hours with Issa in his arms, staring out over the prow, eyes unfocused, memories good and bad sliding across his mind’s eye.

  He discussed the attack with Marcellus and Atius that evening. They all had their own pet theories as to the motivation. Atius thought there was no need to look beyond simple, opportunist piracy, and to attribute it to anything more was paranoia. Silus and Marcellus had seen too much politicking in the last year or two to believe the attack could be coincidence. But the motivation was obscure. Marcellus thought it was an assassination attempt on him, either in revenge for his role in the downfall of Geta, or an attempt to weaken Caracalla by someone thinking about positioning themself for power. Silus supposed that this theory was most likely, but something about the hooded figure, his actions and manner, hadn’t sat right. Why abduct the boy? To extort co-operation from Marcellus? For money?

  And he was no ordinary pirate. Silus could tell from watching him, with every movement a lesson in economy of motion, smooth, agile, that this man had some skill. Not like the gladiator, trained to fight and nothing more. This was more like an assassin. Like an Arcanus.

  Silus knew that Atius and he were not the only Arcani, that Oclatinius had a network of spies and informers as well as a handful of fully trained and inducted assassins like the two of them. But he also knew that they were rare, and distributed throughout the Empire. So did this mystery man belong to Oclatinius? That made no sense; he must be a freelancer, a rogue, or else he served someone or something else. Silus had no answers, and their discussions led nowhere. Marcellus apologised for the actions of his wife and son, and Silus grudgingly shook his hand and retired for the night.

  The day after the attack, Avitus approached him. He held a small piece of hard biscuit. His manner was not nervous or diffident, and he had not seemed particularly shaken by the attempted abduction.

  ‘I would like to give this to Issa,’ he said.

  Silus looked at the tack. ‘She won’t be able to chew it. She is old and has bad teeth.’

  Avitus nodded and walked away without a word. A few moments later he returned with a bowl of chicken stew, gently steaming.

  ‘She will be able to eat this.’

  Issa smelt the food and started to wriggle in Silus’ arms. Silus nodded and put her down on the deck, and Avitus placed the bowl in front of her. It was not too hot, and the little dog lapped at it greedily, grabbing out soft pieces of meat and chewing them before returning to the tasty broth.

  Silus smiled down indulgently, then looked quizzically at the boy. He returned the stare steadily.

  ‘It seemed the right thing to do,’ said Avitus. ‘The battle looked to be going badly. I wanted to sacrifice something to Elagabal. Something valued, something loved, to stop us all being killed. In fact, what we needed was you. You saved both my father and myself yesterday.’

  Silus opened his mouth and closed it again. It was hard to argue with the logic, and he also appreciated that Issa had not been simply a convenient life to end, but one carefully chosen because Avitus had observed how much she meant to him.

  Avitus knelt beside her and fussed her behind the ears. She looked at hi
m suspiciously for a moment, clearly worried he was about to take the food away, then, deciding him well intentioned, went back to eating.

  ‘I will not attempt to sacrifice her again.’

  ‘That is good of you.’ Silus couldn’t help the sarcastic response, but he also knew the boy was attempting a reconciliation, and he appreciated it. ‘Thank you for bringing her the food. You can see she loves it.’

  ‘Avitus! What are you doing? Get away from that brute. You, Silus, stand away from my son.’

  Silus looked up to see a red-faced Soaemias bearing down on them both. He was about to make an angry retort when Avitus stood and said smoothly, ‘Calm yourself, Mother. This is unseemly.’

  Both Silus and Soaemias looked at the young boy in surprise at his adult admonition.

  ‘Avitus…’

  ‘No, Mother. Silus saved Father’s life yesterday, and prevented my abduction by those criminals. Without him, you would have lost us both.’

  Soaemias looked from Silus to Avitus and back again. Silus shrugged. Issa was licking the bowl clean, so he bent down and picked her up.

  ‘Avitus, it’s time for worship. Come and lead us in prayer.’

  Soaemias held out her hand and the young boy took it. Silus watched them walk away, swaying with the motion of the boat, looking for all the world like a mother and child. Yet he couldn’t help but feel that the dynamic between them was far from the usual maternal-filial bond. He shook his hand and looked back out to sea. In the distance, the coast of Sicily swam hazily into view.

  * * *

  Syracuse had once been the most powerful Greek city in the Mediterranean, with a might sufficient in its time to defeat the rival cities of Carthage and Athens. That had been before the ravages of the Punic War, and defeat by the Romans, and the city had declined greatly since its heyday. Although now just a regional capital, rather than a great power in its own right, its importance as a port for trade from east and west, as well as for the export of agricultural produce from the island of Sicily itself, meant that it was still a bustling metropolis.

  When they disembarked at the docks, the legionaries had to clear a path for the Numidian governor-to-be and his family and entourage through workers and slaves bent over with sacks of grain on their shoulders, donkey carts laden with exotic spices, and perfumes and ox carts hauling amphorae of olive oil and wine.

  The legionaries led the way to the governor’s palace where Marcellus and his family would stay while Marcellus conducted his business on the island. The two Arcani accompanied them through the city, and said their goodbyes at the Imperial gates. Marcellus did not enquire where Silus was going, just asked that he return within the week so they could continue their journey on to Numidia. Silus assured him that he would be back well before that, and shook his hand, not without warmth. Marcellus had done nothing wrong, and even his son had tried to make amends in his own way. His wife had stayed frosty towards him, but Silus paid that little regard – her opinion meant little to him.

  Back at the docks Silus asked around for a ship to take him to Lipari. Although the moorings were rammed with vessels of all sizes jostling for space, it took some time before they finally found a captain going in roughly the right direction. They did not have the resources to commission a ship to make a dedicated trip just for them. Fortunately, this cheerful seaman was due to leave in the morning with a cargo of marble bound for Neapolis and it only required a small diversion to take them to Lipari. Even then, the trip did not come cheap, and the sum the captain first demanded nearly made Silus choke. Eventually they agreed on a price, and the captain told them he would be casting off at first light, with or without them.

  They secured some cheap lodgings near the docks, then Atius persuaded Silus that they should find out what nocturnal pleasures the old city could offer them. After an evening of drinking, gambling on cock fights and wrestling matches, some dicing, and Atius’ inevitable acceptance of an offer from a local beauty of a turn with her for half an hour at a reasonable price, they sat at a table outside a tavern, sipping wine that they had no need or real desire for.

  They were near a wharf and could watch the slaves still busy at their work at this late hour, loading and unloading various cargoes. Silus reflected that for all his misfortunes in life, all his losses and regrets, he was in a good place right then. Out of Rome, in a vibrant city, about to fulfil a promise to a child he was fond of. He stroked Issa’s head, who had been a mostly well-behaved companion to them that night, except for the time she had urinated on an off-duty legionary’s sandals. The offer of a drink had defused that situation and Silus realised that they had made it through the whole night without a fight.

  The smell of cooking meat drifted towards them, and his stomach rumbled. Full as it was of liquid, he still thought there was room for a sausage or a pie. But he felt too lazy to stand. Instead he took another sip of wine, and took advantage of the relative quiet, compared to the interior of the drinking den, to chat to Atius.

  ‘Sorry if I was an arse on the trip.’

  ‘I didn’t notice,’ said Atius. ‘You are always an arse. How would I tell the difference?’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘Look, I know what that dog means to you, and why. But what are you going to do with her? You are hardly living a settled life, and it isn’t always easy to find somewhere safe to stow her while you are off killing people who need to be dead.’

  It was true. He should really have left her behind with Apicula, but he had been feeling down, and wanted the company of someone who loved him unconditionally. Well, almost unconditionally, as long as she got hugs and food. Now he wondered if he was being selfish. And an idea occurred to him. One that was a little hard to consider, but which at the same time was very right. He decided he was too drunk to think about it then, so he changed the subject.

  ‘What do you make of this religion that Marcellus’ family follow? This Elagabal god.’

  Atius spat. ‘There is only one god.’

  ‘Sure, sure.’ Silus didn’t really know what to believe when it came to religion. He had an inclination to Mithras, a respect for the old Olympian pantheon, a scepticism for newer eastern gods like Serapis and Christos, and an absolute belief in ghosts and magic. ‘Well, I guess worshipping a black rock is no stranger than worshipping a man who was crucified like a common criminal.’

  ‘Careful,’ warned Atius in a growl.

  Silus held up his hands. ‘I’m not trying to start an argument. No offence intended. I know you hold your faith close to your heart. But you don’t always seem to believe in the way the priests of Christos say you should.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Atius, looking genuinely confused.

  Silus looked at the wine stains down his tunic, the lipstick smeared across his cheeks, the bruises, cuts and scars on his bare arms that were evidence of his violent profession and violent tendencies.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Shall we turn in for the night?’

  Atius drained his cup and stood, reaching a hand out to the table to steady himself. Silus picked up Issa, whose eyes kept involuntarily closing. He would miss her badly.

  Chapter Six

  Two Praetorians waited for them as they rowed ashore. The captain of the marble cargo ship had promised to return in three days, and they had better be ready and waiting or he would sail straight on. Time was money, after all.

  They jumped out into the surf, pulled their boat up onto the beach and lifted out their packs. Once Issa was sure she was well clear of the sea, she leapt over the side, ran in excited circles for a minute, then stopped abruptly to defecate.

  ‘I am centurion Tuccius. This island is restricted,’ said one of the Praetorians abruptly. ‘State your names and business.’

  ‘Welcome to Lipari,’ commented Atius. ‘May I recommend the food in our fine taverns, and the views from walks along the cliffs are spectacular.’

  Silus discreetly kicked his friend in the shin.

  ‘Gaius S
ergius Silus. Centurion of the Arcani. This is Lucius Atius, also of the Arcani.’

  ‘And this is Issa,’ said Atius. ‘She is a war dog on detachment from the front lines.’

  Silus sighed. ‘Centurion Tuccius, we are here with the knowledge and permission of Oclatinius Adventus, head of the Arcani. I bear the seal of the Emperor.’ He showed the centurion the signet ring which displayed Caracalla’s likeness that Oclatinius had given him.

  ‘Very well,’ said Tuccius grudgingly. ‘But you still haven’t stated your purpose here.’

  ‘We are here to see the prisoner.’

  The Praetorians exchanged meaningful looks.

  ‘What prisoner?’

  Silus let out a humourless bark of laughter. ‘Really, centurion. Even if we didn’t know about her existence, might we not get suspicious about the presence of a detachment of Praetorians on this tiny, insignificant island? We are here to see Tituria. Take us to her.’

  ‘Why do you need to see her?’

  ‘Your rank is way too low to need to know that, soldier.’

  The Praetorian bristled, but Silus’ face stayed neutral, matter-of-fact.

  ‘Fine,’ growled Tuccius. ‘I’ll take you to her. She is being tutored by her guardian, Myrtis. But I suppose she can be disturbed.’

  The Praetorians took their weapons from them, searched their packs, then escorted them up a long stone staircase to the villa at the top of the cliffs. The building showed clear signs of neglect, with overgrown gardens, bushes once finely topiaried run wild and stone paths with weeds sprouting through cracks. The entablature on the columns facing them was discoloured with lichen, and there was moss on the roof.

  Silus had been here before of course, with Daya. The thought of the late Arcana, and the mission they had carried out here, caused a sudden painful cramp in his guts. He clenched his teeth and put the memories to the back of his mind.