by J. G. Willem
“Ow!” he said. “I think you broke a rib.”
“Oh, sorry... But look... Listen... The bookie business is a-booming, partner. I can’t keep up with it all on my own.” She gave a hyperbolic shrug to say, “What’s a girl to do?”, then continued: “With Leontius’ exposure, I’m running nearly half the action in town and I sure could use a helping hand. Mind you, you’d be working for me now, instead of me working for you. The pay’s good, and it comes with certain benefits...”
“Like box-seats at the arena and the circus,” Leontius said, a sly look on his face like he knew it was too good to pass up. “How about a little face-time with the Emperor?”
The farmer swallowed, overwhelmed by it all.
“Listen, Belbus...” Ursa leaned forward on her elbow, arching a confident eyebrow. “My poor, sweet, naive Belbus... As long as you can handle taking orders from me, I think we can do business.”
Belbus’ mind started working. The gears started turning. Like a blacksmith’s forge allowed to cool and then hit with a rush of air from the bellows so that the coals glow back to life and the fire begins blazing anew. He started running with the idea, tangents branching off of tangents. Opportunities. Possibilities. Danger. Risk. The juice.
Then the ox lowed again and brought him back to reality. “I can’t, guys. I’m a farmer now. I got...”
He got halfway through the sentence before he started laughing. He laughed until he was pounding the table, and the other two laughed with him.
“Who am I kidding? I fucking hate it out here. To Rome!”
He raised his cup into the centre of the table and they clinked them all together with a mighty cheer, spilling wine and laughing.
“To Rome!” they shouted.
Epilogue
They had made it about a league down the road when Ursa turned to Belbus and asked, “Hey, where did you get the idea for this whole thing in the first place? The whole ‘rigging the chariot race’ thing. Just out of curiosity.”
The three of them had tried to sleep off their hangovers, but hadn’t had much luck. They shuffled along drearily, Leontius drinking from a waterskin.
“Uh...” Belbus squinted his good eye at the sun. “I don’t know. It kind of just...” He paused. “Well, I wanted to get Chimera and get out, but then Vipera jacked up the price, so I had to...” Slowly, his eyes brightened. “Oh, that’s right! I totally forgot about this. Okay, so... I was in a tavern.”
“Typical.”
“I was drunk.”
“You don’t say?”
He gave her a withering look. “Vipera had just jacked up the price and smashed my dream to pieces. I was drowning my sorrows...”
*
Belbus was sitting at the bar. He was drinking and sitting at the bar and had just ordered another round despite still being hunched over his present cup.
“Rough day?” came a voice from his left.
The bookie lifted his head. A stranger was sitting beside him. He hadn’t so much said the words as growled them. Long hair fell to curtain his face, brushing his cloak at the shoulder. He radiated the terse, tense energy of a warrior.
Belbus realised he didn’t know how long the man had been there, or for that matter, how long he himself had been.
He looked around, bleary-eyed, expecting an answer from elsewhere in the tavern. No one cared. It was quiet tonight. Talk over the oil lamps was low.
“How can you tell?”
“Well, you’ve been drooling into your cup for the better part of a minute now.”
Belbus instantly became aware of it. He sucked wetly, wiping the corner of his mouth.
“Goddamn it...”
“I’m not judging. For all I know, it’s an economical way to keep drinking, or keep thinking that you’re drinking. Eventually, you will just be drinking pure saliva - at which point, it’s probably a good time to have a look at your life choices - but at least you won’t be pouring any more wine into that bladder you call a stomach.” He considered something. “Although, you give that cup of drool to a sober man, he might get a decent-enough kick out of it.”
The bookie’s vision had grown unfocused. It was a good five seconds after the stranger had finished speaking before he snapped to attention.
“I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“Who I am’s not important. It’s what I can do for you, Belbus - that’s what’s important.”
“Wait...” The bookie was shaking his head now. “How do you know my name?”
“Just shut up and listen to me.”
It was at this point the stranger turned to face Belbus, resting an elbow on the bar. The stubble on his chin and cheeks and jawline was greying.
“You want that Chimera girl? You want to get out of this city?”
Belbus stared blankly at the man.
The man grew impatient. He grabbed Belbus by the collar with one hand and pulled him in.
“Do you?!” he growled, a harder edge coming into his voice.
Belbus flinched, closing his eyes. “Yes! Yes. But how do you...”
“Don’t worry about how.” He let go of the bookie. “I know you have an axe to grind with Pistrus too, don’t you?”
“Well, I...”
“Shut up. You do. I don’t know why I’m bothering with these rhetorical questions when you’re as drunk as you are.” He turned back square with the bar. “Just listen to me, okay, and listen good. You’re going to blackmail Pistrus. You’re going to kidnap his daughter and use that as leverage over him so he throws the upcoming race. Then you bet on the race, cash in, buy Chimera’s freedom, leave the city, so on, so forth. I don’t care about any of that. That’s your business. What I care about is that Pistrus loses this race. As long as you do that, I don’t care what else happens. You get paid, you get revenge, you get the girl, you get out.”
Belbus was staring into space again, only now the man had his full attention. He realised he had slowly risen into an upright position like a slowly-engorging phallus.
After maybe a full minute, he came to his senses. “What do you have against Pistrus?”
“Personally? Nothing. But he’s looking at stepping into the political arena and we can’t have that. He’s too popular. Not just that, he’s unhinged.”
“I suppose that would be the first time we had an unhinged man in the political arena.” Belbus chuckled at what he thought was a fairly witty observation on his part.
The stranger did not chuckle.
“We keep order where we can.”
“Who’s we?”
The stranger stayed silent for moment, then extended both hands from his cloak, turning them over to expose his palms to the ceiling. Belbus widened his eyes and blinked several times. Only then was he able to make out the tattoos on the inside of the man’s wrists.
On his right was written, ‘Order.’
On his left was written, ‘Chaos.’
The stranger said, “We is The Order of Chaos. We’re a secret brotherhood that has existed for thousands of years. When there is too much chaos, we brush it aside with one hand and usher in order with the other.”
He demonstrated brushing something aside with his left hand and ushering in something with his right.
“When there is too much order, we brush it aside and usher in chaos.”
He repeated the demonstration, only with the hands reversed.
“Our purpose is balance. Harmony. Between man and man. Man and nature. Man and God. We have eyes and ears everywhere. That is how we knew about you. That is also how we knew about Pistrus’ burgeoning political ambitions. We could, of course, just take him out, but the Order prefers to handle things less directly. We think that if the undefeated and unstable Pistrus were to lose this race, it could precipitate a downward spiral that would forego the need for bloodshed. He would, in effect, take care of himself. We get what we want. You get what you want. This is what we in the Order refer to as a non-zero-sum situation. What is commonly referred to as a ‘win-w
in.’”
Belbus squinted. “A what?”
“Non-zero-sum,” the stranger said. “It means you don’t have to lose for me to win, and I don’t have to lose for you to win. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
Again, Belbus just stared at the man.
“I sense confusion,” said the stranger.
It took the bookie a second to find his tongue. “You are perceptive.”
“It is alright. I, too, was confused when I first heard about the Order. I am telling you this to impress upon you how serious we are. Killing a public figure like Pistrus is one thing. Killing a nobody like yourself is another. If I do not see you taking action on this course tomorrow, I will remind you. You are drunk, after all. I would prefer you forget as much of this as possible. Of course, even if you do remember, and decide to go running your mouth, no one will believe you anyway. The Order leaves no proof of itself behind. We are like the footprints on the shore that vanish with the tide. If I still do not see action after I have reminded you, I will cut your throat while you sleep and go after Pistrus more directly. Good night to you, sir.”
With that, the stranger got up and left. Belbus didn’t even turn to watch him go, so stunned and terrified and excited was the bookie by what he had heard.
Already, his drunken mind was working. It was sobering, sharpening. Waking up. All was not lost. There was hope yet...
Rejuvenated, Belbus chugged the rest of his cup without thinking. Only when his mouth was full did he remember the stuff was mostly drool. Too late now. He swallowed. Shuddered.
The barmaid brought him another full cup. “Sorry for the wait, hun.”
“You know what?” Belbus said, stepping down off his stool triumphantly. Swaying a little. Holding the bar to steady himself. “...I don’t need it.”
The barmaid wasn’t impressed. “Well, I poured it, so you’re paying for it.”
She set it down in front of him. Folded her arms.
Belbus sighed. “Fine.”
He forked over a coin and sat back down to drink.
*
“So, who was he?” said Ursa.
Belbus shrugged. Laughed. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. All I remember is that he gave me the idea to blackmail Pistrus.”
“Strange. I wonder what he had against Pistrus.”
“I guess we’ll never know.”
“I guess we won’t.”
***
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About the Author
After ten years working a job that didn’t fulfill me, I saw the next ten years playing out exactly the same. It was either stay put, or take a leap of faith. Do something I always wanted to do. Become a full-time author.
*
Within months, I sold my business, bought a caravan, and set out to travel around Australia with my dog, Ruben. Now, I write every day (and in some pretty amazing places). I make my way around this beautiful country, having adventures and working (I hope) toward a true masterpiece.
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