Broken Chariots

by J. G. Willem

  “We’ll leave all of this behind,” he told her. “All the things that were decided for us. From now on, we decide.”

  The sheer potential of the world seemed to overwhelm her for a moment. The revelation that all the shackles binding her were broken, or soon to be.

  “We decide...”

  He was worried for a moment that it scared her, all these possibilities, but then she kissed him. She took her hands from his and put them on the sides of his face and held him close.

  Belbus melted into the kiss, lifting his hands to cup her cheeks. Ears nestled in the wedge of thumb and forefinger. They stood there in the garden courtyard and learned each other’s lips, each other’s taste. He learned the smell of her skin, her hair. Lavender? Perhaps the garden.

  When finally they pulled apart, Chimera bit her lip and smiled and had her eyes closed still. Her body was lithe and taut in his arms. Buzzing with energy. A hopeful spirit yearning to be free, pulsing with the nearness of it. He felt it running through her. Through her chest pressed flat against his own. She was real. She was there. He could hold her. She was firm and alive and gazing up at him now. He imagined what she might look like beneath him in their bed. What she might look like astride him. How she might move. How her eyes might gaze upon him first thing in the morning before the light of dawn had found their window.

  “I had best return to my duties,” she said, stepping away.

  He held her arm with a smile, not letting her leave. He pulled her back into his embrace and kissed her again. Longer, this time. Deeper.

  Once more, she pulled away.

  “I must!” she said. “The woman will beat me.”

  “Go, then,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for your pain.”

  She stepped away. He let her go.

  “Will you come again?”

  “I will come again.”

  “Will you marry me?”

  “I will marry you.”

  She beamed. “Good.”

  Chimera went barefoot up the corridor, turning back once to smile at him, then was lost around a corner.

  Belbus breathed in deeply through his nostrils and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of nature all around him. He knew it was artificial - trees planted, fountains installed, foliage tended - but he didn’t care. Nature made to conform to the whims of man was still nature. It was still beautiful and pleasant to the senses.

  “How did you get so lucky?” he said to himself. “You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve it but you’ve somehow stumbled into it and you’re going to make the best of it, aren’t you? You’re going to earn it. By Jove, you’re going to earn it. The worst isn’t over yet, Belbus. Not by a long shot. You’ll earn it or you’ll die trying.”

  He looked up at the balcony. Vipera was no longer there. Belbus smiled again, but this time something less pure filled his heart.

  Part IV - Babysitting the Hostage

  Bobarius and Taurinus were perhaps the two last people in Rome who ought to mind a child. When the child had been kidnapped, those standards were naturally a little lower than they might have been previously, but considering the parents Belbus had purloined the girl from, he considered Bobarius and Taurinus an improvement.

  That was before he saw them with her.

  The safe house was located on the fifth floor of an apartment block, right where it starts to get dicey. The building was one of six surrounding a central courtyard and staircase, and not a one of them had been built to code.

  This was where you lived if you couldn’t afford a house or a villa; another way of saying it was where most of Rome called home.

  Belbus limped up the stairs; skirting rats, dodging leaks, passing rooms wherein people were shouting aggressively or very loudly making love.

  “Ah, Rome,” he said to himself.

  When he arrived on the fifth floor, he saw Ursa standing in the walkway. She was leaned against the door frame, peering into the safe house with a smile on her face.

  “You do realise you can go in there without me?” Belbus said. He stepped around a pile of terracotta tiles placed precariously close to the edge of the walkway.

  Ursa put an index finger over her lips to shush him, then beckoned him over. He frowned. Went to her side.

  When he saw what was happening within the safe house, he froze and melted at the same time.

  Inside, in that tiny little hellhole they called an apartment, two giant murderers were playing house with a girl no older than four.

  Bobarius, Taurinus and Agnina were sitting cross-legged around a cushion that was acting as the table. Also present was a rag doll that Belbus had been informed was named Vespasiana.

  Agnina’s back was to the door. She was pouring imaginary drinks from an empty pitcher into empty cups. The hulking brutes were pretending to sip from them, rubbing their bellies and making satisfied noises.

  Theoretically, Belbus and Ursa were in their line of sight, but the babysitters were so focused on their little ward that they hadn’t looked up.

  “Do they know you’re here?” Belbus said.

  “I don’t actually know.”

  He grunted. Waved a hand to get their attention. Nothing.

  “Pfft. Some bodyguards.”

  Ursa smiled. “Look at them with her.”

  He did. He looked at them with her and thought about why and what would happen next.

  “If her father doesn’t throw the race,” Belbus said, “do you want to kill her or should I?”

  Ursa’s smile evaporated. Her face went ashen.

  Belbus entered the room. Off to one side was a bed where Agnina slept, and two bed rolls where the giants laid out on the floor. To the other side was a table with a few chairs around it and some bread and oil left over from breakfast.

  “There she is!” the bookie said, energetically.

  Agnina turned, matching his excitement. “Belbus!”

  She got up and ran over to him. About halfway, she noticed his eyepatch and halted, her cherubic face scrunched in confusion.

  “What happened to your eye?”

  “Oh, nothing. I poked it when I was trying to get an eyelash out.”

  She laughed. “You’re silly.”

  “I am silly.”

  Satisfied, Agnina ran the rest of the way and hugged him. Belbus crouched down with some difficulty to wrap an arm around the little girl. He couldn’t help but remember Vipera’s taunt about him not being able to play with his children.

  She was tiny in his arms. Tiny and light and with brown curly hair that bobbed when she ran. She wore an orange dress belted with a thin red sash.

  Bobarius and Taurinus exchanged a look, suddenly self-conscious. The spell was broken. Now, they felt like fools.

  Ursa walked over to them. “You guys enjoying yourselves?”

  Bobarius and Taurinus got to their feet, standing almost as tall as Leontius.

  Bobarius, the taller of the two, bald and bearded, said, “We were, uh... No one came in.”

  Taurinus, the slightly shorter but sharper of the duo, said, “Nope. No one. She’s safe and sound.”

  “I can see that.”

  They shifted uncomfortably under her smile.

  “You two are adorable,” Ursa said.

  Bobarius blushed. Taurinus clipped him behind the ears.

  Agnina pulled away from the hug with Belbus.

  “Did you get the dates?” she asked.

  He twisted his face into an exaggerated, pensive frown. Rubbed his chin. “Hmm. Did I get the dates?”

  She watched him, eyes huge and glimmering, like stars on a clear night, full of hope and expectation. Her button nose was dotted with freckles. Her mouth, so often alternating between a smile at how wonderful the world was, and a frown as she tried to understand something - to the extent that there was rarely an intermediate expression - now hung slightly agape. Waiting. A shake of the head would be enough to dash her hopes forever.

  Finally, Belbus broke into
a smile. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small leather sack. Her eyes grew even wider, and a huge grin spread across her face.

  “Dates!”

  She went to grab the bag, but Belbus held it back. “What do we say?”

  “Thank you, Belbus.” She said it in a sing-song voice, repeating the words verbatim without having properly absorbed their meaning.

  Satisfied, he handed her the dates. She snatched the bag and opened it up, then ran over to Bobarius and Taurinus.

  “Look what Belbus brought me!” she said, brandishing the sack.

  “Oh, wow,” said Bobarius, nodding his approval.

  “Aren’t you a lucky girl?” said Taurinus.

  She headed for the balcony, then noticed Ursa standing there with her arms wide, waiting for a hug.

  “Oh, hi, Ursa,” was all Agnina said. Then she was gone, pulling the balcony doors closed behind her. Through gaps in the latticed panelling, they saw her plant herself on a cushion in the sun and chew on one of the sugary dates, humming contentedly.

  Ursa stared at the little girl open-mouthed, shocked and offended.

  “What am I, chopped liver?” she said to the others.

  Bobarius and Taurinus shrugged.

  Belbus said, “She’s got dates. Don’t be sore.”

  “I’m not sore.”

  “You are,” he said, adopting a smug grin that was only half-insincere. “It’s not my fault you’re not her favourite.”

  Ursa glared at him.

  *

  On a rooftop across the street, a man stood watching the safe house. He was crouched behind the brick-and-mortar rail, with only the top of his head protruding.

  When he saw the young girl emerge onto the balcony, he gave a signal to the men below. He did this by putting his hand out over the rail with four fingers extended.

  No one in the street below would have noticed, unless they were looking for it.

  Down in the street below, one man was looking for it. One man noticed.

  He was draped in a cloak concealing armour. He caught the signal before the hand disappeared, then looked to another cloaked man across the road and down an alleyway that ran alongside the apartment complex. The man on the road held up four fingers to the man in the alley, and the man in the alley drew a dagger from his cloak and went inside.

  The man on the road watched as four more men materialised from the various nooks and crannies of the alleyway. They, too, drew daggers from their cloaks and followed the first man in through the door.

  The man who had received the signal crossed the road, ducked down the alley, and - drawing his own dagger - went into the apartment building after them.

  *

  In contrast to their earlier game with Agnina, Bobarius and Taurinus were now sitting around an actual table, drinking actual wine. They broke bread with Belbus and Ursa, dipped the bread in olive oil, and ate.

  “Come on,” said Bobarius.

  “Yeah, show us,” said Taurinus.

  Belbus looked to Ursa for support, but she just shrugged and gestured to the two goons.

  He sighed. Removed the eyepatch. The two of them recoiled immediately in disgust. Taurinus, as always, made a bigger show of it than Bobarius, who was traditionally the more reserved and empathetic of the two.

  “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad, right?”

  He turned to Ursa. She visibly winced at the sight of his eye, sucking a sharp breath in through her teeth.

  “It’s blood fucking red!” Taurinus said, then remembered the child within earshot and lowered his voice to a hush. “It’s blood fucking red!”

  Ursa tried to offer a comforting smile, but it failed and betrayed her completely. “It’s not great...”

  “I actually don’t think I’ll ever be able to see out of this eye again, so...” He slid the eyepatch back on. “Thanks. Thanks for your concern. It’s touching.”

  “Oh, come on...” Taurinus popped some bread into his mouth.

  “So... you haven’t noticed anything?” Ursa said, with a mouthful. Moving on.

  “That’s it?” said Belbus. “We’re done with my eye?”

  Taurinus ignored him. Stayed with Ursa.

  “No,” he said, also through a mouthful.

  Bobarius shook his head. “Nothing.”

  Taurinus swallowed. Said, “And, a place like this, you figure, even if someone’s not looking for her...”

  Belbus gave up on trying to get any sympathy. He took a tablet out of the opium pouch and crushed it over his cup between fingers, sprinkling powder into wine. Sipped. They all saw the weight come instantly off his shoulders.

  “Right,” Belbus said. “Well, that’s good.”

  “Were you listening to me, Cyclops?” Taurinus said, like the man was deranged. “This is no environment for a child.”

  “No environment for a child,” Bobarius said in agreement.

  Belbus stared at them both. “This is how most of the children in Rome live.”

  “Doesn’t make it right,” said Bobarius.

  “Exactly,” said Taurinus. “Doesn’t make it fucking right. It’s an indictment of our city is what it is. We got too big. Everything’s too spread out. Diluted, y’know? Like too much water in too little wine. Sure, we got the games and the monuments and the big, fuck-off armies, but I doubt the Germans or the Celts or even the fucking Britons raise their kids in such squalor. If Agnina was out in the countryside with them, she’d be playing with goats in the sunshine, instead of cooped up in this shit-hole.”

  Bobarius gave a definitive nod in lieu of saying, “Hear, hear.”

  Belbus sighed. “Yeah, right before they sacrificed her to their fucking tree god...”

  Ursa sighed too, but for a different reason. “You guys and your country getaways...”

  They all looked at her.

  “It’s not some bloody paradise out there, y’know? There’s bandits and droughts and wild animals. And, yes, in some places, human sacrifice. You have to contend with the elements. There’s no doctors. You’re miles away from fucking anywhere. You can’t just run to the market for a bag of dates. Or opium, for that matter.” A judgemental look at Belbus. “All of a sudden, that’s a whole day. Just shopping. That sound like fun? Take the wagon into town, load it up, take it all the way back home again, dodging robbers and bandits and who knows what the fuck else? Maybe a bear wanders onto the trail. What are you going to do then? You going to fight a bear? Is that what you’re going to do? With what? And don’t forget the actual farm. Working on a farm is hard bloody work. It’s not just something you go and muck around with or figure out on the fly. It requires skill and patience and a lot of back-breaking labour. But you better get used to it, because that’s all there is to fucking do. There’s no fights to see in the arena, no races. No one to visit. No taverns or brothels to frequent.”

  Bobarius and Taurinus gave each other a look, like, “I guess that counts us out.”

  Ursa went on: “You can’t run from your problems, fellas. All the same shit will be waiting for you when you get there.”

  She popped an oil-soaked piece of bread into her mouth, ushering in a long moment of silence.

  Belbus arched an eyebrow. “Why do I get the distinct impression you’re not really talking to these two loveable oafs?”

  Ursa’s gaze faltered. She was angry, he could tell. There was something she wasn’t saying. Something she wasn’t telling him.

  She finished chewing her bread and swallowed. “All I’m saying is, it’s no safer out there than it is here. This is a perfectly fine place to raise a child.”

  That was when the mercenaries arrived.

  Bobarius saw them first. Then Taurinus. They were facing the door.

  Belbus saw their eyes shift upwards to the standing height of a human head and narrow with concern.

  He turned. Saw the first of them enter. The man was walking. Patient. No rush at all. His face was carved out of stone. People didn’t run from
this man. They obeyed, or they died. In his hand was a dagger. How many litres of blood had been spilled by that blade? How many throats opened? Guts pierced?

  He stopped dead in the centre of the room. More came in behind him. Five, by the bookie’s count - a half dozen including their captain - but who knew how many more lay in wait outside.

  “We have come for the girl,” said the captain.

  Belbus didn’t blink. “You don’t say.”

  The mercenary’s eyes found Agnina through the lattice balcony doors, chewing her dates and humming. He moved toward it.

  Without speaking, Bobarius pushed his chair back with a squeak of wood on wood. He rose and stood between the mercenaries and the door.

  The captain stopped. “Move aside.”

  Bobarius, gentle Bobarius, did not move.

  Behind him, the other mercenaries gripped their daggers a little tighter. They were a rough lot. Mean-looking bastards. Not respectable Roman legionaries, but cutthroats. Killers, every one. People Pistrus would deny ever hiring. People Pistrus would never stoop to meeting in person. The transaction would have been handled by Auribus, or someone like him.

  Taurinus rose and stood beside Bobarius.

  Belbus rose too, followed by Ursa.

  All four of them had daggers. They had them in sheaths on their belts. They had their hands on the hide-wrapped hilts of these daggers, ready to draw them at a moment’s notice.

  Outside, Agnina continued humming with her mouth full.

  The captain eyed them. Eyed their hands, and the knives they were attached to. Eyed the shoulder-spans of the giants. He was sliding beads on the abacus of his mind.

  Six of us.

  Four of them.

  Two of them were larger than any of us six. One of them was a woman. One of them was compensating for a limp. Maybe the woman and the cripple cancelled out these human colossi. Maybe the scout needed to give a more specific signal than four fingers. Maybe he had been specific. Maybe the cripple and the woman were half a finger each and the giants were one and a half. Maybe the scout was not so much lazy as economical.

  This is what the captain was thinking.

  Belbus watched him make these calculations. Watched him hesitate. Watched diplomacy tip-toe its way into his mind as a preference over death.