Leigh stopped when he judged he was halfway into the alley. Two faceless walls loomed above him. Luxuria’s had a ledge about two and a half meters up, and there were windows facing the alley on the second floor.
“Can you get up there?” he whispered to France. The latter shrugged.
“I’ll try.”
Hans and Leigh boosted France up to the ledge. He got a leg up, and then rolled onto a wide ledge. The second story of Luxuria’s house was set back a little. France sat up, letting his feet dangle into the darkness. He leaned forward and looked down. It was so dark, he couldn’t see his friends right below him.
“It’s wide enough to walk on!” he said.
A voice floated up. “Can you get in a window?”
France stood up and crept along the slate ledge, heart hammering. The nearest window was covered with a louvered shutter. He pried the slats apart with his fingers and peered inside. Recoiling, he remembered they were sneaking into a brothel. What he’d seen convinced him this was not a room they should try to enter.
He sidled down the ledge, trying the next window. The room beyond the shutter was as black as Pluto’s heart. France strained to hear if anything was going on inside. He heard nothing. Growing bolder, he gave the shutter a hard tug. It was firmly latched.
Below, Leigh gnawed his lip. Time was passing, and the longer they were gone, the more likely they were to be caught by somebody—Rufus, Jenny’s priestesses, France’s builder . . . He was about to risk calling out when France’s ghostly face appeared above them, several yards back toward the street.
“Here!” he hissed.
Hans and Leigh got under him. France said, “Give me your sword, Levius!” Leigh didn’t want to surrender the weapon until France reminded him he couldn’t get it past Ramesses. There’s a window up here, leading to an empty room, France told him. Send Hans up with the sword. They’d hide in the room. When Leigh found Julie, he could bring her upstairs to the same empty room and they would all escape.
Leigh agreed. He hung his gladius around Hans’s neck, then braced himself while Hans climbed him like a ladder. France grabbed his friend by the tunic and hauled him up to the ledge.
“I’m going in the front door,” Leigh called out hoarsely. “Wait for me.”
France and Hans slid along to the empty room. Hans used the sword to pry the shutter open. It made a single loud squeak, and the latch pin fell to the floor inside with a tinkle. Both of them held absolutely still, waiting for light and discovery to lash out at them. When all remained quiet, France and Hans climbed in the window. The empty room turned out to be a lavatory. Groping around, they found a pedestal sink and commode, carved from cold, hard marble.
“Must be a shock,” Hans murmured, thinking of what it must be like to sit on frigid marble.
“Check the door,” France said a little louder. Hans found it opposite the window. There was no latch on it. Standards of privacy were different in the Republic.
France rolled a heavy urn against the door. If anyone tried to come in, they would have to make enough effort that they would surely be heard.
From the street, Jenny, Linh, and Eleanor watched a slow but steady stream of patrons arrive at Luxuria’s door. Some arrived on foot. Affluent Eternus men came in sedan chairs borne on the arms of burly porters. Before long, a dashing figure on horseback clattered up to the garden gate. He was a silver-haired man in fancy armor, with a long scarlet cape that covered his horse’s hindquarters. He was followed closely by two other riders carrying strange-looking objects on their shoulders—bundles of rods about a yard long, in which was stuck a long-handled axe. The axe head stuck straight out.
“An important man,” Linh said, shrinking into the shadows. “Those men with him are lictors, special honor guards.”
“Honor guards at a brothel?” said Jenny.
“It is Consul Marius,” Eleanor said. “A very good friend of Luxuria.” Linh and Jenny didn’t ask how Eleanor knew this.
Consul Marius leaped lightly down from his horse, tossed the reins to one of the lictors, and went through the garden gate, laughing. From her spot, Jenny saw the giant doorman did not search one of the chief officers of the Republic for weapons.
She shifted against the sunken door. Where were Leigh and the others? Could he get Julie out with Marius on the scene? Maybe it would help. Maybe everyone inside would be so busy bowing and scraping and kissing the consul’s hand, they wouldn’t notice the Morrisons slipping out . . .
Leigh presented himself at the gate after Consul Marius passed inside. The lictors took up posts in the street, guarding the entrance. Leigh eyed them, but put on a lecherous leer and strode boldly into the garden.
“Wait,” said Ramesses in his deep voice. He patted Leigh down with hands the size of tennis rackets. His purse, stuffed with coins, got only a brief squeeze.
“Pass, my lord,” said Ramesses, standing back and sweeping ahead of Leigh with his enormous arm. Trying to look haughty, Leigh swaggered into the house.
Quite a party was going on. Clio was singing at the top of her lungs, with pipers backing her up, and a boy playing a tambor, a sort of flat, round drum. Luxuria’s ladies were in their finest gowns—and some were already out of them—while Luxuria’s patrons drank and cheered. Leigh stood unnoticed in the entry hall for a while until the woman herself appeared.
“Young hero! You return, and on an auspicious night!” she declared. From her rosy complexion and louder than normal tone, Leigh decided Luxuria had been sampling her own wine.
He hefted his purse. “Do you remember our bargain? I brought the money.”
She smiled unpleasantly. “Noble warrior of the legion! How was I to know you would bring me such a sum for the treasure you desire? Alas! The flower is being picked even now.”
Leigh started forward, hands clenched. Luxuria drew back, surprised.
“Oh, the ardor of youth! I envy you!”
“Where is Julia?” he said, struggling to keep his voice under control.
“Giving herself to Venus, as we speak.”
He bolted past her into the main room, where the revelers had drawn back to make room for Consul Marius. Leigh blundered through several standing couples, getting colorful, nasty comments for his clumsiness. Not seeing Julie in the room, he made for the corridor to the private rooms.
Luxuria caught his arm from behind.
“Behave yourself, hero of the Republic. What is, shall be,” she said calmly.
He broke her grip with an ugly word. Luxuria paled. Her mouth set in a short, hard line. Without another word, she turned and walked briskly through the crowded room, not touching anyone.
Leigh had no doubt she was summoning her servants, starting with Ramesses, to have him thrown out. He hurried down the corridor. Luxuria’s private rooms did not have doors, merely curtains. He stopped at each one, saying, “Julia! Julia, are you there? It’s Levius!”
When he was ignored, he swept back the curtain to see if she was inside. He interrupted four rooms. At the fifth, he was about to call his sister again when he heard loud, unfriendly voices from the party in the main room. Consul Marius would not be happy if his recreation was spoiled.
“Julia!”
He was answered by a groan. Not a guttural groan of effort, but a muffled sound of pain. Steeling himself, Leigh flung back the curtain.
Julie was backed into a corner, a three-legged stool in her hands. Her customer, a rather portly fellow with a shiny bald head, lay face down at her feet. He groaned again. No wonder—there was an egg-sized lump on his head. Julie was scowling at him, stool held high, ready to strike again.
She saw him in the doorway. The light wasn’t good, so she snapped, “Keep back if you don’t want a cracked skull!”
“Julia!”
She squinted at him. “Levius?”
She leaped over the spr
awled man, dropping the stout wooden stool on him as she went. It hit the back of his neck. He twitched and moaned.
Julie flung her arms around Leigh’s neck. Her heavy makeup smeared against his cheek.
“Get me out of here, will you? That guy wanted to—I can’t even say it!”
Indistinct forms appeared at the other end of the hall. Leigh pushed Julie away and said, “Not now! We have to get out of here!”
He led her, not toward the crowd in the banquet room, but to the stairs at the far end of the hall. Julie protested that wasn’t the way out. Leigh glanced back and saw Luxuria’s servants armed with clubs. Filling the doorway behind them was the giant Ramesses.
He jerked her hard by the wrist. Stumbling, they reached the steps and started up. He heard someone call out, “They’re trapped. Can we have them both when we catch them, Luxuria?” She must have said yes, for Leigh and Julie’s pursuers gave a cheer and surged down the hall.
The upstairs rooms had doors. Leigh silently counted until he found the bathroom door. A quick pound with his fist and his name, and the door opened inward. Julie saw France and Hans.
“Ave, guys! Thanks for coming to get me!”
Leigh pushed her in. Once inside, he directed France and Hans to bar the door. They rolled a marble urn against it, and then set about tearing apart the sink and commode. The slabs of stone were not cemented in place. They piled the smooth, hard blocks against the door. Just then, someone slammed against the outside panel. Everyone flinched and drew back.
“Sword,” said Leigh. Hans gave him the gladius.
“Out the window!” France urged. He, Julie, and Hans took turns climbing out on the ledge. Luxuria’s sporting patrons were loudly hammering on the door with fists and feet, but laughing all the time. They were drunk. In that state, it would take them a week to break through. Leigh tossed a few parade-ground insults at them, which made them mad. They pounded harder.
“Come on!” said Hans, poking his head in the window.
Leigh sheathed his sword and went to the window. France was already in the alley with Julie. Hans tottered along the stone ledge a few steps, then lowered himself to the street.
Wood splintered behind Leigh. The idiots had stopped using their hands and found something harder to break the door down. Maybe their heads, he thought.
He jumped. It was foolish to leap an entire story, but he was wired on anger and fear. The shock of landing sent a jolt of pain flashing through his legs. Leigh wobbled and sat down with all the stars of heaven in his eyes.
He smelled perfume. Julie and France tried to drag him to his feet.
“Why did you jump, you moron? You could’ve broken both legs!” It was nice to know Julie was okay.
Shouts from the street echoed in front of Luxuria’s. If the lictors joined the hunt, they were finished. Leigh struggled to his feet.
“Get going,” he gasped. They had planned to flee the city by the north gate and Via Ortus Road.
France, Julie, and Hans hurried on. Leigh trailed behind, sword in hand, to discourage pursuit. They were just about to the next main thoroughfare when they heard loud screams coming from the house of Luxuria—or a least, from the street. Female screams. France stopped short.
“Linnea!”
“That’s not her,” Hans replied. “Too loud, too low.”
“Keep going!” Leigh said. They vanished into the shadowed lanes off the Via Gauisus.
Leigh didn’t quite make it before he heard a challenge close behind. He spun and saw Ramesses coming up fast behind him. His long legs covered ground at a frightening rate, even though he wasn’t running.
“Stop! Lady Luxuria demands it!” he rumbled.
Leigh squared off, sword ready. Seeing the blade, Ramesses slowed.
“No need for that,” he said slowly. “I won’t hurt you if you bring the girl back.”
“She’s not coming back,” Leigh said. “And I will hurt you if you try to stop us!”
Ramesses wasn’t armed. He never needed to be. His posture was wary, but confident. He swung an open hand sideways at Leigh. He jumped back out of the way, swatting at the giant’s hand with his gladius. Ramesses snatched his hand out of harm’s way.
“Put that down,” he said sharply. “If you cut me, I’ll kill you.”
“Then stay back!” Every second he held off the giant, the farther away Julie and the others could get.
They sidled around each other, first left, then right. Ramesses didn’t try to punch Leigh with his great fists, but swept his huge hands sideways, like he was trying to swat an annoying fly. After one missed swing, Leigh scored the back of Ramesses’s hand with the point of his blade. Blood welled out of a deep cut on the big man’s hand.
Ramesses stood back examining his wound. Leigh watched him warily, panting hard. The giant didn’t seem angry, but in the next instant he lashed out, snagging Leigh by the collar of his cloak. His first reaction was to try to pry Ramesses’s hand loose, but it was like trying to open a steel clamp.
“You cut me,” Ramesses said coldly. He pulled Leigh toward him. Leigh resisted, but his army sandals skidded on the pavement. Desperate, he thrust his sword straight out in front of him. Using his own massive arms, Ramesses’ pulled Leigh in. The gladius caught him right below the breastbone.
Ramesses grunted. From pulling, he tried to shove Leigh away, but the teen leaned on his sword hilt, driving it in further.
“Hurts,” said the giant, surprised.
His knees folded. He backhanded Leigh, who spun away. Wincing, Ramesses drew the blade from his chest. It fell with a clatter on the pavement. Amazingly, he staggered to his feet, his oversized robe darkening with a spreading stain of blood. He turned and, with great dignity, walked toward the house of Luxuria. He made it eight steps before collapsing in the street.
Trembling all over, Leigh picked up his sword and backed away. The blade was covered in blood. He didn’t sheath it, but held it out at arm’s length as he started after his sister and friends.
Chapter 21
Lurking in the street on the other side of the brothel, Jenny, Linh, and Eleanor stood watch. The boys disappeared around the corner, and for a long time, there was nothing to look at but the lictors standing firmly outside Luxuria’s garden gate.
Linh, whose ears were keen, heard a muffled uproar coming from inside the house. She touched Jenny to alert her and glanced back at Eleanor, standing motionless in the doorway. Jenny stepped out of the deeper shadows and stared at Luxuria’s, staring and staring until a crowd of men and women burst out the door into the garden. She could hear them, but not see them, because of the garden wall. At first, it sounded more like a wild party spilling outside than an angry mob. The lictors faced the gate as Luxuria’s clients and ladies came in the street, half-dressed, half-undressed, and loud with wine. Consul Marius did not appear, but the lofty doorman loped through the noisy revelers, then traipsed off in the opposite direction from Jenny and her friends.
Luxuria emerged from the gate. In a loud voice, she commanded the crowd to chase down the intruders, who had stolen one of her girls. Garden stakes and tools were passed out to the men, who waved them in the air like outraged peasants in an old horror movie.
“Genera!” Linh said, fearing for her friends.
Jenny advanced into clear view in the street. Fists clenched at her sides, she did something she hadn’t done since she was eight years old—she screamed as loud as she could.
That got the attention of the mob. Spying a young priestess in the street, they streamed toward her. Satisfied she’d caused a diversion, Jenny sprinted away. Passing Linh and Eleanor, she said, “Better run!”
Run they did, but they couldn’t keep up with an Olympic hopeful. They would have been caught in two blocks if their pursuers hadn’t been hampered by loose belts and excess wine.
It was Jenny’s sc
ream Leigh and company had heard. Many blocks from Luxuria’s, France, Hans, and Julie paused to catch their breath. While they were panting in an alley between a cobbler and a tinsmith’s shop, Leigh arrived. He leaned one arm against the corner wall and was sick on the pavement.
Julie said, “Not used to running, are you?”
He looked at her with aching eyes. Holding up his bloody sword, Leigh replied, “I just killed a man.”
France and Hans joined them. Hans asked who Leigh fought.
“The giant. What was his name? Ramesses . . .”
Julie paled under her makeup. “You killed him?” she said in a small voice. Leigh wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded.
Hans took the gladius from him.
“Come,” he said gently. “We’ve got to get out of the city.”
They tried to navigate the darkened streets, but they couldn’t see much of the sky for the buildings. Nearer the heart of Eternus, they ran into nightlife: workmen carousing between wine shops, a beggar or two, a doctor on an emergency call. Fortunately, they didn’t encounter the night watch.
In the Forum Facilis, they saw enough sky for Hans to get his bearings. They wanted to get out on the north side of the city, and then head south to confuse pursuit. Hans spied the North Star. They hurried on.
“I hope Linh and the others can find their way,” France muttered.
“Do you?” said Julie slyly.
“We all do,” her brother said. He jerked Julie forward to cut off further teasing.
This part of the city was hilly. The houses were bigger and farther apart, and they had to avoid patrols of private guards hired by the rich to protect their homes. As they neared the great temples of Mars, Mercury, and Jupiter, the skyline gave off an eerie blue glow. Each building was distinct, designed to reflect the character and glory of the god it was dedicated to. The Temple of Mars resembled a rocket, with a single pointed spire supported by stone buttresses like fins. (It was really meant to be a great spear thrust heavenward, Hans said.) The effect was strangely un-Roman. Mercury’s temple had soaring wings of stone attached to the eaves, making the building look like it was about to take flight. The mighty house of Jupiter, king of the gods, reminded Leigh of nothing so much as a colossal bank building in New York City—massive columns, heavy roof, all squatting on a high set of marble steps. In turn, each of them glanced at the shining structures, blinked, and hurried on.
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