by Nick Brown
‘Not at all.’
‘What if we do get in and something goes wrong? You can’t use your dagger.’
Indavara held up his fists.
‘All right,’ said Cassius, ‘but listen. We’re going in there to find out what this lot are up to, not for you to practise cracking heads. Understood?’
Indavara nodded.
‘Leave the talking to me. If we run into trouble . . . do what you do.’
Upon reaching the gate, Cassius looked through the bars and saw a faint light behind some trees. In an alcove by the gate hung a small bell on a string. He rang it. Indavara moved up next to him but Cassius gestured for him to take a pace backward.
A man carrying a lantern pushed his way through the trees, closely followed by another. They came up close to the gate and inspected the newcomers. Both had clearly been selected with intimidation in mind; they were broad six-footers with short hair and light beards. Even without the century tattoos on their forearms, Cassius would have known them for ex-legionaries.
‘State the number.’
‘7-6-9-1-3-5.’
One of the guards produced a key and unlocked the gate. As he opened it, the other – an older man – whispered something to him. The guard with the key stopped, the gate still only half open.
‘Is the number incorrect?’ Cassius asked.
‘No,’ said the younger man.
‘Perhaps you hesitate because you haven’t seen me here before.’
The guards said nothing.
‘My uncle seemed to think the number would be sufficient. I thought names were not usually given here. Well, I’ll be prepared to make an exception as this is my first time. Titus Rufus Ulpian. Does that help you?’
The guards looked at each other. The older man shrugged, then nodded. The younger man opened the gate and stood aside. Cassius went in first.
‘Thank you.’
The branches of the trees formed a natural barrier that hid the villa from the street. The guards shut the gate, then held the branches out of the way so that Cassius and Indavara could pass through.
‘The main door is that way, sir,’ said the older guard, pointing along a tiled path that ran across open grass to the front of the villa.’
Cassius led the way with a purposeful march, glancing left at the dim lights inside the villa. Only when the darkness had swallowed them up again, did he come off the path and make for the corner of the building. The main gate was twenty feet away, with two more guards milling around in the glow of a powerful lantern.
Cassius leaned back against the wall. ‘I can’t believe they swallowed that horseshit.’
‘So now what?’
‘We can’t go anywhere near the front. Let’s double back along the villa and try to get round to the other side. Slow and careful.’
Cassius got down on his hands and knees – well below the level of the windows – and crawled across the dry, prickly grass. They heard nothing from the guards, nothing from within, and soon arrived at the rear of the building. Cassius got to his feet, wiped his hands on his tunic and looked round the corner. A single lit lantern hung over an arched doorway. Opposite it was a small outhouse with a thin wooden door secured by a chain.
Cassius slid along the brick wall. There was a plaque mounted under the lantern: GUILD HOUSE OF THE SONS OF ANTIOCH.
‘What does it say?’ whispered Indavara.
‘Quiet.’
Keeping well clear of the lantern, Cassius continued past the doorway to the other side of the villa. There was no sign of any more guards or another entrance. Cloaked by the darkness, he made his way out across the turf, then turned when he had a good view of the building. Indavara arrived beside him and they stood in silence, watching events inside unfold.
Of the eight windows, only the first five were lit. The front half of the villa seemed to be one room and contained little furniture and few signs of decoration. The main gate clanged shut and more men arrived. Servants collected robes and cloaks. Cassius examined the men’s faces. There were few greetings, fewer smiles.
‘What did that sign say?’ Indavara asked.
‘This is a guild house. Remember the group at the inn on the river? A kind of club for men in the same trade. But this one is called the Sons of Antioch. Rather vague.’
‘What do you mean?’
Cassius didn’t answer. He realised that the servants were not just collecting robes; they were handing some out. Now lights appeared beyond the darkened windows. The men gathered, then followed two servants towards the rear of the villa, leaving the bodyguards and attendants in the big reception room. The men hurried past the sixth window, but didn’t appear again at the seventh.
‘Where did they go?’ Indavara whispered.
‘It’s a one-storey building – so I think it’s safe to assume down.’
‘You mean underground?’
‘The Sons of Antioch are an interesting group indeed. Come, let’s have a look at that outhouse; there’s a little light coming from it now.’
Again staying well clear of the windows and the lantern, they walked through high weeds and came to the outhouse door. On closer inspection, they saw that the chain had merely been wrapped around the latch. Cassius glanced back towards the side gate.
‘Perhaps we should just leave.’
‘It’ll look suspicious,’ replied Indavara. ‘We’ve only just arrived.’
‘All right. Take it off.’
Indavara went to work on the chain; and though he undid it carefully, Cassius winced at every slight clink of metal. Once the chain was free, Indavara eased the door open. Inside was nothing but a shadowy stone staircase that led down at right angles to the door, then turned towards the villa. Cold air drifted up, reminding Cassius of the mine.
Indavara put a hand on his dagger. ‘I’ll go first,’ he said.
‘No. I will. If anything happens – we run.’
‘And the guards?’
‘We’re the ones trespassing. I’ll say it again – no blades.’
Cassius went inside and started downward. Twelve of the narrow, slippery steps took him to the turn and there he stopped. Squatting low, he looked around the corner. Beyond the last step was a narrow passage that led to a wider corridor. Mounted on the wall of the corridor was a lighted torch. Cassius continued on to the bottom. Once there, he could hear men moving around. Someone began speaking, but the words were indistinct. Indavara came down the steps. There was barely enough space for them to stand side by side.
Cassius slowly advanced down the short passage until he could see along the corridor. To his left was an alcove piled high with firewood. To his right were two doorways on opposite sides of the corridor. One led right, into a small anteroom. To the left was a chamber of unexpectedly large dimensions, where four men could be seen. They were standing still, facing the other end of the chamber, all holding up miniature spears about eight inches long.
Indavara came up behind him and they pressed themselves against the wall next to the torch. They looked into the anteroom and saw a table covered with ornate wooden cups, plates and bowls, each adorned with carvings of snakes and birds.
‘What is this place?’ Indavara whispered.
Cassius didn’t answer, though he now had a fairly good idea. A woody, aromatic smell drifted out of the big chamber. More talking; and he heard the four men move away. He edged up to the doorway and peered around the corner. The men were walking along a central aisle between three rows of benches. The chamber was huge: at least seventy feet long, twenty wide. On each side were seating platforms covered with cushions. The walls and the arched roof looked like rock, yet the walls outside the chamber were compacted earth. Cassius decided it must be some kind of plaster facing designed to resemble rock. Glowing braziers illuminated the yellow stars painted on the walls and the sky-blue roof. The other end of the chamber was more brightly lit; and here stood all the men – thirty at least – arranged in neat rows, facing a raised platform with steps on
either side. Cassius could make out the main features of a large sculpture mounted on a central altar: a cloaked figure leaning against a bull’s flank, pulling its head back as he cut its neck with a knife. He turned to Indavara and spoke in a whisper.
‘Cultists – worshippers of Mithras.’
‘I know the name.’
‘It’s a mystery religion. Secret.’
Cassius turned back, and saw that a man had appeared next to the altar. He held something up in the air then began to chant.
‘Come, we can get closer now.’
Indavara looked less than enthusiastic about entering the chamber. ‘What’s that noise? What are they doing?’
‘I don’t know – it’s all a lot of dressing up, code words and so on; my uncle followed it for a while. Nothing to fear. But I need to see who’s here.’
Cassius checked that the men were all facing forward, then crawled beyond the doorway until he was in deep shadow behind one of the benches. Indavara followed, casting wide-eyed glances at the other end of the chamber. Cassius sat up and examined the figure by the altar. The man held up his hand once more and Cassius realised he was in fact holding a long whip.
‘Welcome, Soldiers. Now, I, Runner of the Sun, call forth the Lions, so that our noble fraternity can await the Father together.’
Cassius recognised a voice he’d heard rather a lot of two days previously; and a second look at the thick black curls, round face and portly frame confirmed that the Runner of the Sun was indeed Kaeso Scaurus. He lashed his whip against the platform.
‘Come forth, Lions!’
With that, men clad in red cloaks appeared from the darkness beyond the altar and filed past either side of it. Cassius spotted more familiar figures immediately: Centurion Turpo with his withered arm; then one of the gold merchants they’d spoken to. Last – and most distinctive of all – Magistrate Quarto. He had to duck as he entered the chamber and the lines of his cloak were distorted by his immense belly.
Indavara nudged Cassius.
‘I know,’ Cassius breathed.
Once the ‘lions’ had settled themselves, Scaurus took the whip in both hands and held it out in front of him.
‘Now we demonstrate our respect for the Father.’ He lowered himself on to one knee. The ‘soldiers’ and ‘lions’ did the same. From behind the altar came a smaller man clad in a long black cloak and a strange triangular cap. In one hand he held a bowl, in the other a staff. From his slow movements, and stooped posture, Cassius gathered he was rather old. The Father moved closer to the altar and the candles illuminated his face. At first Cassius thought he was getting carried away because of the others he’d recognised but there was no doubt about it: the Father was none other than General Ulpian.
Five familiar faces. But what did it mean?
Ulpian spoke: ‘Runner of the Sun, Lions and Soldiers – stand!’ He struck his staff against the platform as the others got to their feet. Scaurus moved back, and stood at the older man’s shoulder.
‘Hail Sol Mithras Invictus!’ Ulpian cried.
‘Hail! Hail! Hail!’ repeated the men as one, their cries echoing around the chamber.
‘Who here has passed the most mysterious and sacred of tests?’
‘I! I! I!’
‘Who here has been transformed, so that he may be accepted, and united as one with the men who stand beneath the ground, servants of the All Powerful Kosmokrator; He, Born of the Rock; He, Slayer of the Bull, the Almighty Sol Mithras Invictus?’
‘I! I! I!’
There was an undeniable power to this rhythmical exchange; and no mistaking the fire in the men’s voices. Combined with the overpowering scent of what Cassius now realised was pine smoke, and the flickering shadows created by the braziers, the very air inside the chamber seemed to crackle with some otherworldly energy.
Cassius turned round. Indavara was staring at a painting of the cult image on the opposite wall. Here, dogs and serpents licked the blood dripping from the bull’s neck as Mithras slit its throat.
Ulpian continued: ‘Who will stand, awed, beholding the Giver of Life as he shows us his true and everlasting power?’
‘I! I! I!’
Ulpian struck his staff against the ground again. Silence. ‘Who? Who has been honoured with the privilege of firing the bow?’
‘I will fire the bow.’
Ulpian beckoned to a young man at the back. ‘Come forth.’
Cassius and Indavara ducked down as some of the others turned to watch the ‘soldier’. As he made his way to the front, Scaurus put down his whip, then disappeared behind the altar. The young man waited in front of the platform and Ulpian came down the steps to stand next to him. Scaurus returned holding a small bow which he carefully presented to the ‘soldier’.
‘Show us, Lord,’ continued Ulpian, still facing the sculpture. ‘Show us the moment when you gave life to the world! Show us the everlasting wonder of your eternal spirit!’
Ulpian and Scaurus moved out of the way as the youth raised the bow and aimed it at the sculpture.
‘Show us your power, Lord! Show us!’
The men joined in, repeating the chant ever louder. ‘Show us! Show us!’
Embedded in the sculpture above the bull was a stone snake’s head with jaws wide open. Suddenly water began to flow from the snake’s mouth.
Indavara gave a sharp intake of breath as the eyes of Mithras himself seemed suddenly alight. They turned yellow, then orange. Indavara turned towards the doorway.
Cassius gripped his arm. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ he hissed. ‘It’s just a trick. Lit coals, nothing more.’
But when Cassius looked back at the altar, the way the fiery light seemed to shine out into every corner of the chamber made him doubt himself; and for a moment he felt certain they would be discovered. Indavara stayed where he was but Cassius could feel his arm shaking.
‘Is he here?’ Ulpian asked in a low, breathy voice that nonetheless reached the back of the chamber.
‘He is here!’ answered the men. The eyes grew brighter than the candles around them. A dazzling, fiery red.
Indavara wrenched his arm free and scrambled to the doorway, inadvertently striking a bench. The bench knocked against a brazier and several coals fell to the floor. The men in the back row turned round.
‘Look there!’ shouted one.
Cassius hauled himself to his feet and sprinted away. Shouts were already echoing around the chamber.
‘You bloody idiot!’ he yelled, finding Indavara standing in the corridor, staring blankly back at the cavern. ‘Go! Go!’
Cassius pushed him towards the staircase and rushed after him. He slipped on one of the steps, banging a knee against the unforgiving stone, then used his hands to propel himself upwards. He could hear men close behind as he scrambled up the last step.
Thankfully, Indavara seemed to have recovered his senses. As Cassius darted out of the outhouse, he shut the door behind him. Picking up the chain, he ran it through the latch and tied it into a knot. The door rattled as someone tried to pull it open.
They ran across the darkened lawn towards the gate.
‘Leave this to me,’ Cassius said, slowing down as the guards came forward.
‘Ah,’ he said, trying to sound normal. ‘Would you be so kind as to—’
Shouts rang out from behind them: ‘Guards! The side gate! Stop them!’
Indavara barged past Cassius just as the closest guard reached for his sword. Without a moment’s hesitation he chopped a hand up into the taller man’s windpipe. The guard dropped the lantern in his hand, then fell next to it, choking noisily.
Indavara was already closing on the second man but the ex-legionary had drawn his blade quickly. Cassius managed a half-hearted attempt to grab the guard’s other arm as he swung at Indavara. The sword hadn’t travelled far when Indavara clamped both hands around the guard’s wrist. He drove a knee up into the man’s gut then twisted round, trying to wrench the blade free, but his foe somehow
held on. As they struggled, Indavara nodded at the fallen man.
‘Get the key!’
The first guard was on his knees, hands clutching his neck. The lantern was still alight and Cassius could see the key on a ring attached to his belt. He grabbed for it but the guard swatted his arm away and pulled out his sword.
Cassius went for his dagger but his hand never made it there.
No blades. He’d said it himself. He couldn’t kill this man.
The guard – holding himself up with one hand on the ground – swung his sword in a wide arc. Cassius leapt backwards, and was still trying to think of a way to get the key when Indavara – dragging the second man along with him – landed a hefty kick on the back of the guard’s head. The blow sent the man face first into the grass at Cassius’s feet.
‘Get the bloody key!’
The guard was still. Cassius knelt down and reached for the key. He could see men rushing out of the front of the villa, guards with lanterns leading the way.
Indavara decided he would let the man keep his sword. He freed his right arm and drove his elbow back into his foe’s face. Catching him between the eyes, he sent him several yards backwards and into a tree. The guard slid down between the branches: unconscious, but still gripping his sword.
Cassius tore the key ring off the belt and ran through the trees, closely followed by Indavara. He found the lock with his fingers, slid the key in and turned it. Together they wrenched open the gate and bundled through on to the street. Cassius set off and had already reached the trees when Indavara turned back and shut the gate.
‘What are you doing?’ Cassius bawled.
Indavara reached through the bars and grabbed the key ring. He tugged on it hard, snapping the key close to the lock. Two guards charged through the trees. Skidding to a halt at the gate, they reached through the bars, flailing hands missing Indavara by inches as he turned and bolted away.
There were already more men coming round the corner from the main entrance as Cassius and Indavara sped past the poplars. Grateful he was without his sword, Cassius set a fearsome pace, driven on by pure terror. After what Indavara had done to the guards, he knew retribution would be violent and swift if they were caught. He had nothing with him to confirm his identity; and they had violated the inner sanctum of a secret cult whose leader was one of the most powerful men in Antioch.