by Nhys Glover
‘That is not possible. Our orders were clear. There were to be no witnesses left alive.’
‘I’ll sell the woman into slavery outside the empire. No one will listen to a slave, even if she finds the heart to tell them, and the child will be too traumatised to remember anything from tonight. If she does, I’ll have her dealt with.’ He stood his ground like a bantam rooster beside a full-sized cockerel. If he’d had feathers, they would have been puffed out in that moment.
The Praetorian looked over at the woman and child. Something like humanity softened his harsh features for a moment. ‘Very well, take the child, but we’ll take the woman with us and sell her at the border. We go now!’
‘Wait!’ Antoninus looked around desperately for parchment and quill. He wanted Galeria to know where to find her sister when she came back to the villa.
His gaze snagged on a scroll on the table against the wall. A child’s meal was set next to it, uneaten. He hastily scribbled a note.
‘You defeat our purpose if you leave a message saying who has committed this crime!’ The leader growled his annoyance.
‘I’m not laying claim to this horror. Give me some credit. I’ve simply said I came after the event and took the child away from this terrible sight. No more.’
The Praetorian jerked a nod of reluctant assent. Then he led the way out of the room.
One guard tried to separate Papia from her daughter, but she wouldn’t let the child go. She screamed hysterically. The heavy fist of the man silenced her, and he swept her unconscious body over his leather-clad shoulder. The child tried to cling to the warrior’s cloak, but he thrust her roughly away so that she collided with the wall and fell to the floor.
Antoninus hurriedly drew the child to her feet. Then he pulled her along with him by the arm as they followed in the wake of the retreating soldiers.
‘Did you hear that?’ Galeria asked as she looked up from retrieving her discarded tunic. It was nearly full dark now and they were late for dinner. The water had been so warm and pleasant that neither she nor Cyra had wanted to leave it.
‘No, what?’
‘I don’t know. I thought I heard a scream. Maybe it was a bird, an owl, possibly.’
‘Most likely. Who would scream out here?’ Cyra had already slipped her tunic on over her scarred body and was wringing the water out of her hair.
‘You’re right, of course. Anyway, we’d better get moving. Mater will be furious that I’ve missed dinner. She doesn’t like that we come down here alone as it is, but I’m not having any males around when I’m bathing naked so she can complain all she likes. It’s not as if we’re in any danger all the way out here. It would be different if we were in town.’
‘Your mother only worries for your safety.’
‘I have you. I would never have thought to do this before you came along. But with you as my companion, I feel perfectly safe.’
‘You only say that because I can wield a dagger, but Orpheus should come with us. He wouldn’t look, even if he could see anything in the gathering darkness.’
‘You just want Orpheus to come along because you’re sweet on him.’ Galeria teased.
‘I am not sweet on that muscle-bound ape. He has the brain the size of a pea and probably a rod in proportion to his stature. Small.’ She held up her fingers to indicate an inch.
‘Oh, Cyra, you’re outrageous! I feel like I’m living in a brothel when I’m with you. I’d never even think of such a thing.’
‘I’m just saying…’
Galeria gave her friend a little push and then began running up the hillside toward the villa. For a moment, she thought she heard tramping feet on the wind, but that was impossible. Could it be ghosts of long dead Achaeans on their way to Troy? She dismissed her fanciful thoughts and ran on, feeling her heart soar with happiness. Life was so good!
Nexus and Decaneus made their way out of the portside tavern after asking for directions to the home of Galerius Donicus, the Stoic. Everyone seemed to know the man and his ludus in town, but only one man knew that he didn’t live at his school but on the hillside beyond the city walls. So now, they had their directions and in the last of the light, they would try to find their goal.
‘We could wait until morning and go to the ludus. Save ourselves the walk and I’m hungry enough to eat a whale,’ Decaneus grumbled as he kept pace with his dark companion. Nexus had only a finger’s width on him as far as height was concerned, but he was half as wide again at the shoulders. This gave the impression of superior size, which left Decaneus, who was used to looking down at most men, feeling like a child beside him. He moved quickly, too, his long legs striding out under him with ease. If this was the kind of pace he set when he was still not fully recovered from nine months of neglect, what would he be like when he was back to his full power?
‘A man in his own home is more willing to consider serious issues that affect his family. It won’t be too late when we get there and maybe we can save a little money and sleep in their barn.’
‘I would prefer a bed,’ Decaneus continued to grumble.
‘And I would prefer to have the last year and a half of my life to do over again. We don’t always get what we want.’ The man said this with little pain apparent in his voice.
Decaneus wondered if sharing his story earlier in the day had eased his grief a little. Although it was more likely to be that he was just buoyed up by the thought of action. Their mission target was in sight. The task they had waited so long for was finally upon them.
He felt expectancy thrum through his own system like a sweet, potent wine. Even though his body was weary after a day aboard ship, and the weeks before that of their journey, now he felt energised and alive. Even if he’d convinced Nexus to find a bed for the night, he knew he wouldn’t have slept. But the port was filled with women. It might have been good to slake his thirst in that area, after he filled his empty belly.
However, Nexus gave the orders and Decaneus followed them. Not because he was the slave and Nexus was a liberti put in charge of him, but because Nexus was a born leader. It came as naturally to follow him as it did to breathe. Warriors took a man’s measure early, their survival depended on it and he had spent the last month taking Nexus’ measure. He knew he’d trust this man with his life.
Just as they reached the southern gate of the city, they heard the tramping sound of heavily sandaled feet. Without a word, they acted as one, sliding back into the shadows. As they watched, six soldiers in formation made their way through the gate. One soldier carried a body over his shoulder. It was either a woman or a youth. An overweight civilian followed several yards behind them, dragging a whimpering girl-child.
Decaneus had a very bad feeling about what they were seeing. Once the soldiers had passed, he looked to Nexus, whose expression in the darkness was impossible to read.
‘Praetorians. What are they doing so far away from the emperor? This is not good,’ Nexus said darkly.
‘Praetorians?’
‘Caesar’s personal guard. They’re supposed to keep him safe not wander around the outreaches of the empire. It doesn’t make sense.’
‘They had three people with them. The man seemed to be part of whatever’s going on.’
‘My thoughts exactly. The woman was obviously hurt or dead and the child was a hostage. If I’m too late again…’ Nexus curse softly.
‘To have gotten here any sooner would have meant riding Pegasus. If this is the worst come to pass then it’s not our fault. My mistress should have sent someone earlier if she were so damn worried about her friend.’
‘Come on, we have to check this out. It might have nothing to do with Donicus and his family.’
‘And boars might fly!’ He said this under his breath, not wanting to inflict his ominous predictions on this companion. Nexus had enough worries of his own to contend with already.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Galeria felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end the closer they came to the
villa. She glanced over at Cyra to see if the girl was feeling uneasy, too. The frown etched onto the girl’s wide forehead told her that she was.
The villa seemed unnaturally quiet. Even if most of the slaves were in at dinner, there should still be people moving about, and the sound of talking and laughing should have floated down to them from the open doorway. But there was nothing, not even the angry barking of yard dogs.
‘Why is the door open? Didn’t we close it when we came out?’ Cyra asked.
‘One of the slaves might have opened it to let the sea breeze in.’
‘But there’s almost no breeze tonight. Any gusts of air are coming from the west.’
‘I don’t know Cyra. We’ll have to ask someone when we get inside.’ She felt irritated by her friend’s constant arguments and questions. As if she knew what was going on!
‘I think we should…’ Cyra stopped midsentence and glanced at Galeria uneasily.
‘Should what?’
‘I’m not sure. Something doesn’t feel right. I think you should stay here while I go in. I’ve got the dagger.’
‘I’m not staying out here like a cringing ninny while you fight my battles. We go in together. It’s probably nothing. Our imaginations are playing tricks on us.’
‘I hope that’s all it is, but it’s so quiet. Even late at night it’s never this quiet.’
The girls made their way to the front of the villa and noticed that the door wasn’t so much open as broken, hanging at an angle from its hinges.
‘Oh, Astarte, give us strength,’ Cyra muttered under her breath as she tightened her grip on the dagger.
The smell had reached them now – the tang of fresh blood and the stench of bowel. Galeria whimpered softly but she didn’t stop. Instead, she sped up, determined to find out the worst of it and to do what she could to help.
In the shadowy atrium, they saw Ceres’ body lying next to the impluvium. Galeria rushed to his side, but the look in the sightless eyes told her everything she needed to know. There was no life left in the man. The blood had formed in a sticky pool beside him, but the flow had stopped. Her studies had taught her that blood flow ceased as soon as the heart stopped beating.
‘Dead?’ Cyra’s voice was scratchy, like broken glass under foot.
‘Yes.’ She rose and moved deeper into her home. Breath was becoming harder to find, and her head was light. In her whole life she’d never fainted, but in this moment she knew she just might do it. There was a rushing sound in her ears, as if a gale was blowing, but the air was as still as that within a tomb.
Cyra reached for something at Ceres side and Galeria saw that it was a short sword like the one Orpheus carried. Her friend handed her the dagger and kept the sword for herself. It looked too heavy for a small woman like Cyra, but she hefted it with determination.
Silently they moved deeper into the house.
There were lamps burning in the Triclinium so the girls headed that way. Before they reached the doorway, they saw more sprawling figures. It was three more male slaves of the household. One of them was Orpheus. She’d recognise his bulky shape anywhere. Before she could stop it, a little cry burst forth. Harshly she smothered it.
Galeria didn’t want to check to see if these men she’d known half her life were dead. They had to be. They lay too still. Her heart cried out for Orpheus, who’d always insisted on calling her little goddess. He would never do that again.
She forced her feet to keep moving forward.
As soon as they entered the small family dining room, Galeria felt vomit burn its way up her throat. She spun away and was sick into the corner of the room. The acrid smell of it was lost amidst the stench of death that hung like a cloud in the air.
The floor was covered with the dead. Cyra had to weave her way over to the slave girls to avoid stepping in the sticky gluttonous life’s-blood that painted the tiles. Flies were already buzzing around the corpses in a frenzy to gorge their fill.
Galeria just stood in the doorway staring at the prostrate form of her father. She should check that he was dead as Cyra was doing with the women. She knew she should check that he was dead, but her sandaled feet wouldn’t budge.
‘There’s a note,’ Cyra said, stepping swiftly over to Galerianna’s dining table against the wall. A small lamp burned brightly on the table next to her sister’s ceramic mug.
Galeria had turned her tunnelling vision away from the sight of her father to pay attention to her friend. ‘What does it say?’
‘Antoninus has Gali! He says he arrived after this happened and has taken the child away. If you want her, you must come to him…’
‘Antoninus did this?’ Galeria said softly, unable to believe her ears.
‘He says not, but there hasn’t been enough time between when this happened and when we arrived for someone else to have happened on it and taken your sister away. Does he think us fools?’ Cyra’s disgust was apparent.
‘He says nothing of Mater?’
‘No, I’m sorry. We should see…’ Cyra left the rest of the thought unvoiced.
Galeria couldn’t even bring her mind to consider that her mother might lay dead somewhere in the house. She shook her head as if to deny the very idea.
At that moment, they heard the sound of footsteps in the atrium and both girls turned, raising their weapons.
Everything had become dreamlike for Galeria; it was a nightmare from which she couldn’t seem to wake, and now the villains were coming back to finish what they started. Galeria wanted to drop the dagger and run. Instead, she gripped it harder and felt her body stiffen in resolve. She was not a coward. She would not run.
The two men who appeared in the dark doorway were not what she was expecting, even though each held a sword. The first was a tall Nubian, regal in bearing and possibly the most handsome man she’d ever seen. She thought he looked like an ebony statue of an avenging god.
The second man, who stood half a step behind him, was almost as tall but was of a slimmer build. He was fair skinned and had overly long golden hair and a close-cropped beard. His eyes were bright blue. Even by lamplight, she could see them quite clearly. He was a handsome man, too, but he didn’t compare with the god at his side.
The men seemed as surprised to see them as they were to be seen.
‘How did you survive all this?’ The black god’s voice was as deep as she would have expected it to be, and though he spoke perfect Roman Latin, his accent told of a homeland far to the south.
‘Have you come to finish what you started?’ she countered, lifting her dagger higher, trying not to let it shake.
‘We didn’t do this. We’ve just arrived. Answer me, how did you survive when they’ve killed everyone else or taken them away?’
‘We… we weren’t here. They came while we were swimming. They… they came when we were… swimming…’ The first agonising sob broke through her resolve. It seemed the worst possible thought that while her father was dying, while her people were dying… she had been lazing in the warm waters of the bay, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She fought another sob that battered at her emotional control.
Cyra moved to her side and pressed a hand to her shoulder, not taking her eyes from the strangers or dropping her guard.
‘Then the gods are with you. The woman and child were not as lucky.’
‘Woman and child?’ That got her attention. What did this man know of her mother and sister?
‘We saw Praetorian Guards returning to town. One carried a woman. There was a fat man with them. He was dragging a child along with him.’
‘Antoninus! He was with them!’ Cyra said with an angry gasp.
‘You know who did this?’ The bearded man spoke for the first time. His accent was very strong and told her he came from the north… Thrace?
‘Antoninus left a note for us. He said he came after it happened and took Gali away to safety, but it sounded too impossible… But why would he do this?’ Cyra lowered her sword as she looked a
round at the death that was everywhere. Her voice was weaker now, cracking on the last word.
‘Your father… am I right in assuming that you are Galeria Donicii?’ The god addressed her again.
‘Yes… yes, that is my father…’ she turned her head to indicate her father’s dead body behind her, but she didn’t look at him. She couldn’t stand to see him like that.
‘Your father was on Domitian’s list of those advocating sedition. We were sent here by Livianna Honoraria to convince your father to go into hiding. We arrived too late, it would seem.’
‘Livianna Honoraria? My mother’s friend? How would she…? Oh, yes, her husband is the emperor’s cousin. I remember.’ Her voice now had a flat sing-songy tone to it, as if she had drunk too much strong wine. She felt the dagger fall out of her hand, a bare moment before the dark man lunged toward her. Then everything went black.
Nexus swept the pale girl up into his arms before she collapsed to the floor. He had to elbow her slave girl out of the way to do it. He felt a sharp stab of pain in his side and before he could react, Decaneus was dragging the slave away, her sword wet with his blood. The Dacian easily held the girl’s arms behind her, and the sound of her sword clattering to the tiles told him the danger from that source was past.
‘Keep still little wildcat,’ the Dacian said with a grim laugh. ‘Nexus means your mistress no harm. We’ve come to help.’
The slave-girl seemed not to hear, because she started struggling even harder and the big Dacian was suddenly having a hard time subduing her. Nexus decided to leave the slave to his companion. The girl in his arms was his first concern. He needed to find a place away from the death for her. He strode out of the room and followed a short corridor until he came to the peristylium. Off this open garden, he found what he was looking for: The bedrooms of the owners.
He selected one that looked like it belonged to a young woman and gently placed the tall, slim girl down on the bed. Then he sat on the bed next to her, his legs suddenly too weak to hold him up. While he tried to gather his thoughts, he watched the girl out of the corner of his eye.