Casca 45: Emperor's Mercenary

by Tony Roberts

  Helga had pleasured him repeatedly and now was riding him, uttering moans of delight and tossing her head. Pretaxis was lying on his back, eyes shut, liking the feel of her atop him and the sound of her as she clearly got enjoyment out of it.

  She was not quite naked, which was how he wanted a woman. No good being naked, as that meant there was nothing left to remove. No, a woman with even a scrap of clothing or jewellery on was much more alluring than one totally naked. She had jewellery on, most of it supplied by him, as she had only a couple of items herself, clearly being poor. She’d brought with her only a hair slide and a strange necklace of silver with those delightful yellowy translucent gem stones from the barbaric north – amber, they called it.

  He’d given her earrings of silver, a longer necklace with no gems but which hung down to her breasts, and an ankle bracelet which he always wanted women he was sleeping with to wear.

  His whole being was concentrated in deriving as much pleasure as he could from the moment, so he was not happy to hear shouts and sounds of blades clashing from beyond the door. He cursed and opened his eyes. “What the devil is going on?” he demanded.

  Helga made a quick decision. The fight outside the room meant Casca had got close and now it was a matter of her doing what was best. For her, of course. Her hands were up in her hair as she rode him, now they closed round her hair slide, an item she had picked up from a grateful customer once who’d been so impressed with her performance one night, he’d said she’d find this of use to her and to help protect her.

  The slide was innocent looking when in place, being of tortoiseshell, but the central prong was elongated and hardened, formed into a blade. She now pulled the slide clear of her hair and thrust it down hard into Pretaxis’ ribs, just where the heart was. He screamed in pain and fear, and realised in one terrifying moment that he’d been suckered in by a female killer. No other thought came to him as blackness claimed him.

  Out in the passageway Casca battered the guard back along the passageway and cornered him against a door, and smashed his guard aside, before sliding his sword deep into his guts. The guard cried out and fell to his ass across the doorway.

  Casca wasted no more time as more shouts were coming from the villa. He opened the door in front of him and saw Helga climb off a sprawled and bloody man, straightening her hair. She looked at him intently. “I’ve done it – this pig is no more.”

  “Good – pity we couldn’t ask him what he’s done with Geto but there’ll be someone here who will. Get dressed. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  He swung round and stepped out into the corridor. A guard came running, sword upraised, a scream bursting from his lips. Not being able to maneuver much in the confined space of the corridor, Casca attacked, striking hard at the guard’s blow, knocking it aside. The guard was stunned. Nobody had ever struck his sword aside that hard ever. A short, hard thrust and the guard was sinking to the ground clutching his guts.

  A door opened and a man in a green short-sleeved top appeared, blearily looking at the figure of Casca looming before him. “What is going on…” he didn’t get to say anything more as Casca took him by the throat and pinned him to the wall.

  “Alright, you little runt, who are you? Talk and live. Otherwise…” he nodded at the dying man at their feet.

  “Alright, alright, don’t hurt me!” the man protested, squirming. “I’m the steward! I look after the villa.”

  “Perfect,” Casca growled, pressing the bloodied edge of his sword against the frightened man’s throat. “So where does Pretaxis hide people he doesn’t want anyone to see? You know, like that party of four he took the other day?” Casca wasn’t a hundred per cent sure Geto and his group were under Pretaxis’ ‘care’ but it was almost a certainty.

  “Uh, that’ll be the c-caves up above the town,” the steward stammered, his eyes bulging, focussing on the edge of the sword. “They were taken up there two days ago. S-something about w-wanting a s-share of the trade the old man has. He w-was going to get a s-signature after dawn.”

  Casca eyed the corridor, filling up with people. Most were servants or domestics. The guards seemed to have been taken care of. Or maybe there was one or two left, but no matter. “Your master is dead. You’re going to need a new owner or employer.” He returned his attention to the steward. “If I were you, I’d clean and tidy this place up, then await a new owner.”

  “B-but who would that be?”

  “Clearly he had an heir. That’ll be him or her.”

  “No-no, nobody!”

  “Well, someone to take over the running of his business empire then. So where is this cave you speak of?”

  “Up the p-path behind the villa – you c-can’t miss it. Steep climb, and its guarded.”

  “Would that be a problem to me?” Casca asked. “Let me do my thing and you, well, you just get on with cleaning this place up and get out of my way.” He shoved the man back into his room and stared at the group of men and women stood in the corridor, then at a sound behind him, turned to see Helga standing by the entrance to Pretaxis’ room, placing her hair clip carefully back. She nodded to him.

  “The same goes for the rest of you – get back to your rooms or help clear the mess up.” He was about to speak to Helga when one of the servants spread his arms wide in appeal.

  “But the others – his enforcers – they’re going to come back and when they discover the master dead, they’ll no doubt go wild.”

  Casca slid his sword home and sighed. Some people... “What are they going to do to you? You’re just hirelings or slaves, and not ones who were responsible for this. Anyone coming to find me, well you know where I’m going to be. Send them up to the caves and to their deaths. I bet half of them will do nothing other than go looking for a new employer. Now return to your duties or sleep. We’ll be off to sort out the others up in the caves.”

  “But – the dead?”

  “Oh for Jupiter’s sake!” Casca exclaimed. “Go fetch the local authority. The vigiles will need to clear this out. If any of them tries to come after me, they’ll get the same. I don’t give a rat’s ass about who comes after me; they’ll all get the same fate. Their choice.”

  He held out an arm to Helga who went with him silently. They stepped out into the arm night and turned left along the street. Helga was quiet and Casca looked at her for a few moments. Then, after a few more paces, took a deep breath. “Thinking hard.”

  “Mm,” she nodded in agreement. “I’ve swapped a life of being exploited and used, given a roof over my head and food in my belly, and a feeling of being useful to men for a life of death, homelessness, no money and now an outlaw.”

  “Thinking you made the wrong choice?”

  “Possibly, yes,” she turned her head as they went along the dimly-lit street. “Don’t go thinking I’m happy with all this. I’ll come with you up to the caves but that’s only to get out of the way of the consequences of what’s happened. If the authorities leave us alone, then I may well return here and try to settle down.”

  “And how are you going to do that?”

  “Get myself married, that’s what.” Casca looked at her. Helga stiffened. “Is that a problem?”

  “No,” he said, smiling, looking along the road. There was a side turning that led in the direction of the hills that overlooked the town. That must be the route up to the caves. They took the turning. “I can’t see you as a domestic wife, happily living in bliss.”

  “Oh, you can’t, eh? Just because I’ve killed a man and lived as a whore for five years doesn’t mean I want to live a normal domestic life, nor does it mean I can’t do it.”

  “Sure,” Casca said in a neutral voice.

  Helga stopped and faced him, exuding anger. “You just don’t believe it! Oh, sure, you can relate to a woman who opens her legs to you, but you just don’t think that same woman is capable of any other function. Pah, the sooner I’m finished with you the better. Come on, let’s get this business done then you can g
o off somewhere to the end of the world and leave me to enjoy a life of normalcy!”

  “Now what did I say?” Casca muttered to himself as he looked at Helga’s back as she stalked off. “Women!” he growled, then set off in pursuit. The darkness made details difficult to pick up but the town soon ended and they were out into the countryside, the looming mass of the hills before them. There was a higher peak just to the left and the road, now nothing more than a narrow muddy trail, wound its way towards this. Peering up, they caught sight of a small fire flickering on what seemed to be a ledge before a piece of inky blackness. A cave entrance.

  Helga slowed, tiredness was taking an effect. Casca moved up alongside so Helga stepped away and pointedly kept her distance. They skirted spindly bushes and rocky outcrops, always climbing, and the track cut across the hill the cave was in and zig-zagged up to one side. As they got closer they slowed again. Helga was panting and Casca motioned her to stop and sit on a handy rock.

  She did so, and sat there, elbows on her knees for a few moments while Casca stood and surveyed the route of the track. It led straight across the mountainside to the cave entrance, still above them but quite clear now. Black rocks towered all around them and the vegetation had changed now to stunted shrubs and dwarf trees, clinging to life despite the sheer drops and shallowness of the earth.

  The track followed just about the only possible track up, an old animal trail, used by goats, mountain cats and probably wolves. The cave may well have been an old haunt of bears in centuries gone by, but now the criminal element of Ajax used it.

  Casca turned and looked down at the town, nestled against the sea on the coastal strip. He could see little except the fires and lights, and the darker expanse of the sea. No doubt in daylight it would be spectacular. The bigger fire at the entrance of the cave was producing most of the light Casca and Helga could use to see their way. They were still below the vision of those in the cave, but if a sentry was out and looking round, no doubt he would spot the two if they moved.

  “Come on,” Casca breathed softly, “the longer we stay here the more likely we’ll be spotted.”

  “You go on,” Helga said. “Get up there quick; that way I can come along safely.”

  Casca nodded. Made sense. It wasn’t a case of leaving her alone in danger, danger was all round anyway. At least she could see where to go. He touched her shoulder and she squeezed his hand before he moved on. At least she wasn’t too sore at him now.

  He made double time now he was on his own. Sword in hand, he skirted a large boulder that had fallen in some long gone era, and the track now wound up to the cave. The last thirty feet was in full view of the cave entrance. He could see two men as he approached, one sat on a rudimentary wooden chair, the other stood with his back to the approaching Casca warming himself, talking quietly to the seated man.

  Casca took the last step up off the track onto the rock shelf of the cavern entrance and prepared to take on the two guards.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The fight was short but vicious. The man with his back to Casca turned as a stone was dislodged and gaped in disbelief at the apparition who loomed before him. “Who the hell...” he managed to say before Casca’s down strike almost took his head off, cutting deep into the junction of neck and shoulder. The man, dressed in poorly-maintained leather and improvised fur clothing, fell back into the fire, scattering it.

  The man in the chair shot up, grasping his spear. The chair clattered backwards and the man drew back his spear. Casca flung himself sideways and the missile flew harmlessly past him out into the night sky. Now the eternal mercenary advanced, his face grim. The henchman hauled his poor quality sword free and came at the intruder, hoping to cut him down without any fuss, but Casca blocked, countered and followed up, his sword cutting across the man’s chest, then back up across the throat.

  The unfortunate sank to his knees, then over onto his side, his blood draining from his body. Casca turned and stared into the darkness of the cave. It was huge. He stepped into it, not wanting to be silhouetted against the fire for too long in case anyone was there taking aim. The floor was uneven, rising and falling, but level enough to walk on without any undue effort. The sides were of solid limestone, dotted with small plant growths. The cave narrowed briefly, then expanded as Casca went through the entryway. Furs lay across the ground to left and right, clearly being beds of some kind.

  Towards the right rear stood a cloth screen and more light, this provided by flickering torches. Casca tore the cloth aside and found he was staring at a tunnel, roughly big enough to take two men across. The floor was smoother than the walls and ceiling, and he followed it down. The incline wasn’t too bad and there were torches lighting the way. The tunnel bent round to the left slightly, and widened into another cave, this one much smaller, but big enough to form a sizeable chamber.

  Here were wooden furnishings; chairs, tables and chests or crates. Pots and amphorae lay on the floor or standing around the edges.

  Three people stood up at his arrival. Two men and a woman. All were armed and looking very angry. “Who are you?” the bigger of the two men demanded. He was the best dressed too. He had an old leather cuirass from the time of Antonius Pius or Marcus Aurelius, if Casca knew his stuff well enough. His sword was more modern and looked decent enough.

  The other two were much more rudely attired and had spears.

  “I’ve come for those you’re keeping here prisoner,” Casca said, stepping into the cavern. “Let them go and I’ll let you three live. Otherwise...” he shrugged and raised his sword.

  “Stick this bastard, will you?” the sword-man said to the others.

  Two spears came up. Casca kept his eye on the other man, to the left, and flung himself aside as the spear came for him, clattering off the wall just to his left. He scrambled up onto his feet as the swordsman came for him, blade raised high. Casca parried, spun, and his sword came up from low and cut through the cuirass, ribs and flesh.

  The swordsman emitted a strangled cry and dropped his sword, clutching his wound. He fell to the ground, forgetting the fight. The woman’s spear hadn’t been thrown and she wisely kept a grip of it, holding it forward, a determined look to her face. The other man grabbed a wooden club that had been resting on his table and sprang forward.

  The club was heavy and Casca had to swat the blow aside with his sword, then planted his left foot down hard. His return blow came up inside the reach of the man and sliced through his cloth and skin outfit, spinning him round in a mass of torn cloth and blood. The man toppled over and crashed heavily into a table, sending it over, spilling the contents.

  “Now, lady, are you going to join them or see sense?”

  The woman stared at Casca. She was dark-haired, dark complexioned and had a definite Mediterranean cast to her. She looked in desperation to one side, then the other, then finally back at Casca who was stood no more than ten feet from her. “You’re going to kill me.”

  “That depends on what you do next. If you don’t drop that thing then yes I will. Both of know you’re no match for me. I’ve got no real gripe with you – why you’re working for an organization like this is none of my business – and if you step down and let me free the people whom I’m here for, then I’ll leave you alone.”

  “The boss would have me thrown off the mountain if I let you take them.”

  “He’s dead. Died earlier this evening. So, what you gonna do? I’ll count to five and if you’re still like this I’ll cut you down and have no second thought about who you are or who you were. Your move.”

  She stood there for another couple of seconds, then dropped her spear and put her arms round herself in a defensive gesture.

  Casca nodded and lowered his sword. “Sensible. So where are the prisoners?”

  “Down there,” she pointed to a wooden gate, covering the entry to yet another tunnel. “There’s another of us down there. Let me go talk him into surrendering.”

  Casca nodded and allowed her t
o lead. She unfastened the bar that locked the gate and swung it open, then led Casca down a narrow passageway for a short distance, round one turn and then they were in a small chamber with more barred wooden barriers, running across the entire width of the cave. Behind them Casca could see Geto and the others. One guard rose form a small chair at their entry.

  “Its alright,” the woman reassured him, “he’s come for them,” she pointed to the four behind bars. “He killed the others, and the boss.”

  “So he says,” the man snapped, hefting a sword. “Got any proof?”

  “Oh don’t be stupid,” Casca said, tired of the whole thing. “Let them out and we’ll go our way, and leave you to whatever life you want to lead.”

  “Over my dead body,” the man said and stepped forward. The woman jumped back, pressing herself against the wall.

  The man’s attack was hard and fast but Casca seemed to block it and deflect the blow up without much effort. It was smoothly done, as was his riposte which laid open the man’s ribs. The man sank to his knees, gagging, and fell onto his face, twitching. Casca looked at the woman. “Your decision is looking more sensible by the minute,” he said. “Let them out.”

  She complied, looking at Casca in a curious manner. Geto emerged, gratefully smiling at Casca. “I’m so pleased to see you, Casca. And relieved, I can tell you! Scoundrel had us taken at night to this place and threatened to kill my daughter unless I signed over my trading rights. The papers are somewhere in his house – he was going to bring them for me to sign today.”

  “Well you haven’t got to worry about that anymore.” Casca grinned at Iulius and Flora as they emerged, then at the reassuring figure of Flavius who brought up the rear. “How are you feeling?” he asked his comrade-in-arms.