by Nick Brown
Indavara came down on his backside. His right arm hit a moment later, knocking the sword out of his hand. He slid down the slope, stone scraping his skin. Just as he spied a little light up ahead his legs plunged into cold water. Then it was up to his chest, then his head went under.
The shock of it froze him.
He couldn’t think, couldn’t tell himself what to do. His boots slid, unable to find purchase. His arms flailed around, trapped in the horrible nothingness he feared above all else. He felt it in his nose, his mouth, forcing its way inside. The water was trying to kill him again.
Something pulled his belt up, then fingers circled his arm.
Cassius hauled him out of the water. ‘Just stand up, man! Stand up straight – it’s only three feet deep.’
Coughing and panting, the bodyguard put out his hands and finally steadied himself.
‘Gods. Calm yourself.’
Indavara sucked in some breaths, then crashed a fist into the water.
‘Where in Hades are we?’
‘I told you. The main channel.’
‘We were better off up there! You should have left me to it.’
Ignoring this idiocy, Cassius looked around. The channel was about five yards across with a high, curved roof. Directly above them was a circular grille providing a bit of light from the streets above. The water was waist deep and flowing past them at some rate. Cassius had already taken his hands out to avoid the weed and other detritus. Unlike in the dank, musty tunnels, here there was a sweet tang to the air that somehow seemed even more unpleasant.
‘There’ll be maintenance access somewhere. We just have to work out which way.’ As he checked he still had his sword and the satchel, he realised the cold water was already making him shiver.
From the feeder channel came the sound of voices.
‘Help me find my sword,’ said Indavara.
‘I will but don’t worry, we’ve got time. They won’t follow us down here.’
‘Corbulo, I just killed two of them.’
‘There’s no way they’re going to follow u—’
The two shapes hit the water almost simultaneously. It took Cassius a while to absorb the fact that they were men.
Indavara waded forward, dagger already drawn. The first of them came up quickly. Indavara looked all set to stick him when the warrior launched himself across the tunnel and clamped his hands around his wrists. They struggled on, twisting through the water, fighting to control the blade.
Cassius was reaching for his sword. By the time he realised his dagger would be more use to him, the second warrior was close. Cassius tried to back away but his right foot slipped and flew up. Before he could regain his balance the man was on him.
Cassius snatched a breath then went under. With one hand gripping his hair and another on his chest the warrior had him pinned.
He doesn’t need a blade. He’s going to drown me.
The bastard was strong. Cassius lashed out at the hand on his chest but couldn’t shift it. He reached down to try to push himself back up but his right arm was weighed down by the satchel.
Satchel. The arrow’s still stuck in it.
He gripped the shaft, wrenched it free.
Indavara turned the warrior towards the tunnel wall and pushed him into it. The man’s fingers pulled and scratched at his, trying to loosen his grip on the dagger. Their heads were close; the Syrian’s long, wet hair was tickling Indavara’s nose. He felt breath on his neck, then teeth on his ear. His good ear.
Oh no you don’t.
Indavara smashed his forehead into the warrior, catching him just above the eye. The bones could be broken there, he knew.
The second butt was harder. Pain pulsed through his skull but he’d heard the crack; with the eye socket broken, his enemy would be hurting more.
The grip on his wrists went slack. He knocked the warrior aside with his elbows. The man went under for a moment and came up spluttering.
Gripping the man’s shoulder to help him aim, Indavara stuck the dagger deep into his throat. When he pulled it back out, the gurgling told him he’d done enough. As warm blood streamed down his fingers, he turned, ready to help Corbulo. All he could see was the warrior’s back.
Cassius stabbed the point of the arrow into the hand. Instantly the weight came off his chest and his hair was freed. He pivoted forward, planted his feet and came up out of the water. The warrior was standing right in front of him, holding his wounded hand.
A broad shape loomed behind him then something thumped into the warrior’s back. Breath rushed out of him. Head sagging, he gave a final whimper and pitched forward into the water.
‘All right?’ grunted Indavara.
‘I am now,’ said Cassius between breaths.
The flow of the water washed the dead warrior down on to him.
‘Uh.’ He pushed the corpse away.
Indavara grabbed the other dead man and sent him after his compatriot. ‘Corbulo, tell me you can get us out of here.’
Still breathing hard, Cassius grabbed the wall to steady himself. ‘I think so. Judging by the noise there’s some kind of drop behind me so we should probably go the other way. Oh.’
There was light in the tunnel and the noise of someone sloshing towards them. Cassius moved up beside Indavara. The two figures could be seen quite clearly.
‘Ah, shit,’ said Indavara. ‘That bald bastard and the other man. Probably only them left.’
‘They must have found another way down. There’s probably dozens of feeder channels.’
The bald man was carrying a bow, the other man a lantern.
Indavara waded over to the feeder channel they had slid down. The steep angle, smooth surface and flowing water made climbing up it a virtual impossibility.
The bald man called out in Aramaic. Recieving no reply, he reached over his shoulder and took an arrow from the quiver.
Cassius and Indavara lowered themselves into the water.
‘This drop behind us,’ said the bodyguard. ‘Drop into what?’
‘Probably a cistern – a big tank.’
‘Of water?’
‘Indavara, we’re inside an aqueduct.’
‘Deep?’
‘Could be.’
The advancing pair were thirty feet away. The man with the lantern opened the shutter wide.
‘Got that rope?’ asked Indavara.
Cassius pulled the satchel out of the water. Indavara detached the rope and uncoiled it.
‘You want to tie us together?’
‘If it’s deep, you’ll have to pull me out of there.’
Cassius hesitated; if the water was deep the bodyguard would panic and he stood almost no chance of getting him out. More likely they’d both drown.
The bald man peered along the tunnel towards them. ‘I know you’re there,’ he said in Greek. Holding the bow at an angle to keep it out of the water, he nocked the arrow and drew the string.
‘We’ll just hold on to it,’ said Cassius. ‘That’s safer.’
The bowstring pinged and arrow flew between them, hitting the water a few yards back.
‘It’s summer,’ said Indavara as they retreated. ‘So it shouldn’t be that deep, right?’
‘Right.’ Cassius didn’t mention that this was the place where all the water from hundreds of different sources was directed to fill the city’s central reservoirs. He passed one end of the rope to Indavara and held the rest in his hand.
‘Let’s turn round, make sure we go in feet first.’
Cassius heard the bodyguard’s breathing accelerate. He could also hear the rumble of falling water not far ahead.
‘Just let it take you.’
Indavara said, ‘I’ll sink.’
‘I’m the one wearing the armour – you’ll float. Just hold on to the rope.’
‘Not a problem.’
‘I see you!’ yelled the old man.
‘Now.’ Cassius brought his legs up and was instantly pulled along by the water. ‘You there?’
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He heard a splutter, then, ‘Here!’
They smashed into each other, arms and legs tangling. Cassius went under, felt his feet scrape the bottom, then everything fell away and he was tumbling through the darkness.
There was no splash, no rush of water.
Only a heavy splat as he landed on his back. He put his hands down and felt thick, slimy mud beneath his fingers. The sweet, fetid smell rushed up his nostrils and he almost gagged. Water from the tunnel was cascading down in front of him, splashing his lower half and running in rivulets beneath him. He looked up. Far, far above was a double line of circles admitting a little light.
‘Indavara?’
‘Here.’
Cassius realised he could see him, a few feet to his right. He could also make out the outline of pillars running along the side of the chamber. Whatever they were in, it was big.
‘My Fortuna is watching over us,’ said Indavara, almost laughing. ‘Mud. Just mud.’
Cassius – still lying on his back – turned to the left. The pillars looked closer on this side and he could make out a horizontal line below them. He also realised he could see no trace of the two dead warriors.
Cassius felt a void form beneath his backside and he dropped several inches into the mud.
Indavara was twisting around. ‘Mind you, it might not be easy to—’
‘Don’t move.’
‘What? Oh shit, I think I’m sinking.’
‘Spread your arms and legs wide. Stay as still as you can.’
As dread tugged at his throat, Cassius shook the rope off his hand.
‘Corbulo, what do we do?’
‘Just stay calm. Let go of the rope.’
‘What?’
Cassius could feel the mud bubbling around his thighs.
‘Let go.’
‘I’m sinking!’
‘Me too, now let go of the rope, you cretin.’
Indavara unravelled it from his wrist and threw it at him. Cassius began coiling it.
‘What are you doing?’
Instead of answering, Cassius tied one end of the rope around his belt. He had no idea how long it was. Thirty feet? Forty? Long enough?
He reached down with his left hand and pulled his sword out of the sheath.
‘Oh, gods,’ wailed Indavara. ‘It’s coming over my chest. Corbulo!’
Cassius guessed that the bodyguard’s fear of mud was probably not all that different to his fear of water. As he tied the other end of the rope around the handle of the sword, he spoke to him as calmly as he could. ‘A prayer to Fortuna. Repeat it – she’ll get us out of this.’
As the bodyguard stammered something, Cassius tied off the knot. He reckoned he’d worked out where they were. This was a settling basin, a stone tank designed to catch any remaining pollution in the water before it reached baths or a reservoir. The water would flow into and through the mud, leaving foreign bodies and sediment behind. This one was clearly in desperate need of clearing out.
Holding the base of the hilt in his right hand and the blade in his left, he drew his right arm back and threw the sword high into the air. The tremor through the rope told him it had landed.
He pulled it in. The sword caught for a moment but as soon as he yanked on it, it came easily. ‘Gods.’
‘Corbulo, give me the rope!’
‘Stay still. One minute and we’ll be out of here.’
Cassius had recovered the sword but his legs were now almost completely submerged. It was difficult to get his right arm out of the mud to prepare for the throw. He looked again; he could see the pillars and – closer – the side of the basin. No more than thirty feet, maybe less.
Come on. This time.
Cassius stretched his arm out wide to get the maximum leverage then launched the sword high. It seemed to be in the air for an impossibly long time. Then came the clatter of metal on stone.
‘It’s there!’
But he knew it would count for nothing if he couldn’t get it to catch on something.
‘Corbulo!’
‘Just hold on.’
Please, Jupiter. Please.
Three heaves and the rope straightened. The sword was caught.
‘Corbulo!’ Indavara had somehow got over to him and was pawing at his right arm. ‘Is it holding?’
Cassius felt the mud seep over his chest and slide up his neck.
He pulled hard on the rope. It seemed to hold for a moment but then came loose.
‘No!’ He inhaled half a mouthful of mud. Spitting out what he could, he turned to his right. He could see only Indavara’s head and shoulders and now his own legs were sliding under him. He yanked on the rope and felt the sword move. Was there even time for another throw? He pulled on it again but this time it wouldn’t move. He heaved with both hands to make sure.
It was stuck.
‘It’s holding! Come here.’ He reached out, grabbed Indavara’s arm and pulled him closer.
The bodyguard stretched past him and clutched the rope. ‘Well done. Now just hold on to my belt.’
Cassius didn’t need much encouragement. He gripped tight with both hands and Indavara was soon hauling their combined weight through the stinking, clinging mud. Gradually the pillars emerged out of the gloom, then the side of the basin. As the sound of the water grew weaker, the bodyguard pulled them to safety.
There were still several yards to go when Cassius finally realised what had saved them. Numerous branches and other bits of refuse had collected by the side of the basin, forming a semi-solid strip several feet thick. Once there, they scrambled up it and threw their hands over the lip of the basin.
While Indavara recovered, Cassius reached down and disentangled the sword. If it hadn’t been covered with mud he would have kissed it. ‘Glad I insisted we brought that rope.’
‘I thought that was the end,’ breathed Indavara. ‘Really.’
Cassius wiped his sleeve across his mouth, which added to the dirt rather than reducing it. ‘Ugh.’
He spat again but the horrid taste remained. ‘Submerged beneath a sea of shit – an apt metaphor and a fitting end for these last few years, but I must say I’m rather glad we avoided it.’
‘Corbulo, listen. Sorry if I panicked.’
‘Think nothing of it. Come on, let’s get out of here. There has to be a way up to the surface.’
Cassius was about to pull himself over the lip when he saw flickering light and heard quickly moving footsteps. From nowhere, the bald head of their pursuer appeared, face in shadow with the light behind him. He stepped higher and looked down at them over the lip, tapping the tip of his sword against the stone.
‘You two have a nasty habit of getting away,’ he rasped. ‘But not this time.’ He retracted the blade and aimed at Indavara’s head. ‘Say hello to the ferryman for—’
His whole body went still. The sword dropped between them. The bald man’s head snapped upward then shook. He lasted only a few more moments then fell forward over the lip, arms dangling.
Behind him, still holding the lantern, was a wide-eyed fellow with a head of curly black hair. He stared down at the slick, red blade of his dagger and gulped.
‘Thanks,’ said Indavara. He nabbed the old man’s sword then pulled himself up and sat on the lip of the basin, eyeing the interloper. Cassius watched him too and stayed well clear of the blade as he dropped down beside him.
‘Who are you?’
The stranger was still looking at the man he had killed. He had struck into the back of his heart; there was a tear in the tunic and a bloody smear.
‘I couldn’t let him do it,’ he said in Greek. ‘I have been weak, gone along with them for too long. I should never have got involved.’
‘Who are you?’ repeated Cassius.
‘My name is Kallikres.’
XXXIV
At Cassius’s insistence, Kallikres told his tale while they looked for a way out. Even so, a considerable amount of prompting was required to get the sergeant to
admit why he’d finally been forced to cooperate with the gang. His main concern now seemed to be getting the boy out of the villa unharmed.
‘We will do what we can,’ said Cassius. ‘Now what are their names, this brother and sister?’
‘I don’t know. I was never told that. The only names I know are Skiron and Bathyllos. Gods, will we ever get back above ground?’
The way out of the settling basin had been via a staircase at one end of the chamber. They now found themselves in a low, narrow tunnel just below the street. Built into the roof was a series of circular iron gratings, but every one of the eight they had so far passed was bolted from above.
‘What if the work crew have warned them?’ said Kallikres as he marched along behind Cassius.
Cassius was trying not to consider that possibility. The thought of fumbling around in these accursed tunnels while the architects of the counterfeiting operation got clean away was maddening.
‘You’re sure nobody saw Cosmas?’ he asked.
‘Definitely.’
‘Then he got away. Which hopefully means he got help and apprehended the crew. We may still have time.’
Indavara ran forward to the next grating. He reached up and gave it a shove. Unlike the others, it moved. Cassius came up beside him with Kallikres’ lantern and saw that half of the iron bars had been crushed by a heavy impact from above. Indavara got both hands on it and pushed again. The grating flew up then clanged on to the street.
‘Thank the gods,’ said Kallikres.
All things considered, Cassius reckoned the sergeant would be wise to consider his own well-being rather than that of his lover. Having colluded with a criminal gang who had sought to exploit the image of the Emperor, he might face the harshest of sanctions.
With some help from the other two, Indavara hauled himself through the opening. He then pulled them up after him.
‘Gods, that stench is coming from us,’ said Cassius. His clothes and satchel were wet through and every inch of him apart from his face was coated with the malodorous mud.
The trio found themselves at the corner of a small, quiet square. The only lights were coming from an apartment block close by. Cassius looked east and saw that the first rays of sunlight were colouring the clouds above the mountains.