The Snake Catcher

by Bilinmeyen

  “It mattered little, Armin,” I said softly. “He merely chose his own way. He fought well for you, until he nearly died at my hands.”

  He shook his head, his eyes merciless and unforgiving. “If he had been on my side faithfully, and had toiled for the Cherusci, they would not have routed us in the fords. All he had to do was to warn me, or send word, even. I’ll never forgive him. I lost Thusnelda, and my father nearly died. Segestes rules the lands now. It’s a small thing, you say, but I find it tastes bitter as shit. I hate traitors, as should you.”

  “Yes, I do,” I said thinly. “And that’s what I want to talk to you about. About traitors.”

  “Segestes?” he asked, confused. “I thought you came to mock me.”

  I rubbed my face and shook my head. “No, not of Segestes. As for mocking you? I was tempted, I know I was, but no. I’m not here to mock you. And Thusnelda will be all right, Armin. She’s with her father. She’ll not marry another.”

  His face collapsed. He fought it, but it did. It was no longer a visage made of steel and iron, but a broken man’s face. A bottomless sorrow played on his features, and I saw tears in his eyes. I sighed. “I’m sorry for everything. You should not have been caught.”

  “I know,” he spat. “But, I was. You played well, Hraban. Or Corvus.” He grinned. “I heard. Roman citizen.”

  “Roman, because there was no other land that would have me,” I said. “And I do not blame you for trying to manipulate me into killing Drusus. You did—”

  “What I had to do,” he finished. “Segestes must pay. That’s almost all I think about.”

  “Segestes was in league with Father,” I said.

  He snorted. “Yes. They got what they wanted, eh?”

  “Yes,” I said. “And now, I wish to find out who paid them, the one who helped them up north. The obese bastard.”

  He looked at me, long and hard. “You are here because of Antius? The soldier who was chained in the ship with us?”

  I nodded. “He is important. He worked for someone. She might not have ordered him, but he obeyed someone, and—”

  “She?” he asked and smiled, thinking lighting fast. “A woman wanted Drusus dead? Must be an important woman? Rich? Powerful? Yes.”

  “She is all of that,” I whispered, and gazed at the praetorian guards.

  Armin comprehended my expression and lowered his voice. “All of that smells like trouble, Hraban. I actually don’t envy you now. How do you find yourself in such trouble every time you have hope for a calmer life?” He wasn’t smiling, but soon frowning. “Like a duckling trying to make its way across a stormy pond, that’s what you are.” His formidable mind was making calculations. “So, let me see now. Drusus and Tiberius are … were, famous generals, consuls, praetors, at the height of their power, and sons of the first woman in Rome. Except, they were not at the height of their power. There was, or still is, in Tiberius’s case, a step to go. After Augustus dies, that is. And Drusus was killed. And so, I think the misfit of the story fears them. Perhaps worried about their power? No?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “She does. So we think.”

  “And that means,” he said with a small smile, “the woman is not done yet.”

  “No,” I agreed. “They tried to slay Antonia and her children. And Tiberius is in danger, no doubt.”

  He grinned. “And you would like to know what I know about the disappearance of Antius. The man who would know where the blame falls?”

  “We know who is guilty,” I said.

  “Do you?” he said with a smile. “You just have to prove it?”

  “Yes,” I agreed. Guards walked to the hall, and they gazed at us, whispering unhappily. They were impatient, and I felt I was running out of time.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t know he disappeared.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, confused.

  He opened his hands, palms up. “I didn’t know, because he didn’t just escape. Or die. When they came to fetch him, it seemed official. The ship had arrived at the port in Classe, and we were waiting to be moved along. We spent one night in the ship’s tiny hold, and that night, soldiers came and retrieved him.”

  “What kind of soldiers?” I asked. “Legionnaires? Praetorians?”

  He slapped his knee. “Ah, right. No, not soldiers.” His eyes glinted.

  “What?” I asked, and then figured it out. “Germani Guards?”

  He nodded. “A wide one with a brown beard. And a dammed big bastard. There were more, ten or more, on the deck.”

  The Guard. Julia, or someone had men in the Guard. “A big bastard, eh?”

  “Damned big,” he said.

  I rubbed my face. If the Guard was involved, all was lost. Antius will have warned the conspirators that I’m no friend. Would they warn Julia? “I see,” I said ominously. He hummed and stared at me, fascinated by my turmoil.

  Kleitos? Was he involved? Probably. At least he’d know about it. His soldiers would not ride around without his knowledge. Some Decurion would know, at least. And Maximus? Nobody said Chariovalda’s cousin was dependable. Nobody.

  Adalwulf would have to know.

  Armin laughed. “Shit, you are in it again,” he said, and slapped a hand on my shoulder. “One day, we’ll ride the wooded trails again, together. Trust me.”

  I grinned weakly. “Trust you?” I said. “I think not. We are beyond such common trails. But, thank you.”

  “We might be,” he consented, “but I’ll need you one day. Trust will be born of common goals, and common goals are born of common enemies.” He got up and walked away. “Be careful. You are surrounded by traitors.”

  “I always was,” I muttered.

  Once outside, I only saw Grim.

  “Where are they?” I asked him, walking down to him. “And you were fast, were you not?”

  “The business was not far.” He nodded towards the maze of houses. “And your Cherusci scum friend was in a bad state when he came out. He rushed away. Eyes saw him home. Shall we go as well?” he asked, moving towards the dark alleys and streets.

  I felt a knot of fear tighten in my belly, and followed him.

  We walked down the paths. He walked briskly, looking back at me every now and then, as if to make sure I knew he had not forgotten our words earlier. His eyes were deep-set and resentful and a certain nervous energy made him twitchy. We walked past alleys and gardens, down the Palatine Hill, and into the Forum. There, I stopped to look at Drusus’s body once again, and he stopped as well. His eyes glinted as he saw my scrutiny of the waxen-faced body. “You respected him, then.”

  I nodded. “I killed for him. I tried to die for him. He was like a father to me. No, a brother.”

  He grunted noncommittally, and scratched his neck. “You were there when he fell?”

  “We killed many men that day,” I said. “Nearly Maroboodus. His lieutenants all.”

  “Maroboodus,” the man snickered. “I hated the bastard. He was a Decurion here once.”

  I stiffened. Maroboodus had been a Decurion in the guard, it was true. Some of the men would know him. “I didn’t kill him. But, I killed Nihta.”

  He gawked at me. “You killed Nihta?”

  “I did,” I said. “Woden break my neck if I didn’t.”

  He shook his head almost comically. “He was the best swordsman I have ever seen,” Grim grunted. “The best.” He looked at me with feral eyes that suggested he thought I was a liar.

  I nodded at him. “He was. But, it was a battle, not a duel, and I hacked him down when he was pressed. It was his wyrd.”

  Grim looked away, and his hand touched his neck uncertainly. There, I noticed a long, white scar. He spat and cursed, shuddering with rage. “I hated Nihta as well.” There was actually a brief smile on his face. It looked horrible, but it was a smile.

  “I guess we have something in common, then,” I muttered. “Let’s go, before they start calling you Grin.”

  We walked past the looming, dark hill o
f Capitolium, and entered the Via Flaminia. There, insulae rose to either side, and now carrugi and bigger wagons were rumbling in the street.

  “They stock up during the night,” Grim said. “The merchants need their merchandise.”

  “Yes, I saw it in Genua.” We dodged a long line of such vehicles. He pulled me to side, and we took another route through the alleys towards the gate. We were near Forum Julia, and he stopped.

  He hesitated, looked angry, then … ashamed?

  Men emerged from the shadows.

  They were tall and strapping men, olive-skinned and a rough-looking lot. One had a net and a spear; the other two had wide shields and spears.

  I felt fear ripping my innards. I turned to look at Grim.

  He looked back at me. “If it’s any consolation, your Rochus is safe. He got lucky.”

  “And I am not safe, nor lucky,” I stated.

  “Orders,” he whispered. “Just orders. You know how it goes.”

  “From whom?” I grunted, keeping an eye on the men spreading out.

  “Officer,” he stated, taking steps back, his hand on a sword.

  “Like orders for you to free Antius?” I spat.

  He frowned, confused, but shook his head and stepped aside. “I’ll not take part. In thanks for killing Nihta.”

  It didn’t seem to matter much. The three men advanced silently. They spread out, and I drew Nightbright.

  They’d net me like a trout. And then stab me to the next world. Or, they might capture me and take me to Antius. That fucker would make dice out of my balls and a pouch out of the ball skin. He’d let rats eat my eyes while I lived. I looked around as I backed off, and sensed there was a man behind me as well. I looked around, and saw the redhead that the big Ubii had been joking with. The man winked.

  I tried to calm myself.

  I could try to get past the men, rush to the Forum, and make my way back to Drusus, where the praetorians stood guard over his body. I could charge and fight them.

  I looked to my right as a creaking noise echoed in the street.

  A door opened, and I tensed. So did the assailants. A tall man left a doorway, and a half glad, red-haired woman saw him off.

  Beyond her, there was a long, tight corridor.

  I decided to even the odds.

  I rushed to the doorway. I ripped at the door, instinctively dodged, and felt a spear thud into the wall next to me. The door opened, and I pushed in. I stood in the simple corridor with a dozen doorways, and gray and brown curtains covered some of them. A group of women looked at me from the end of the hallway, where also a thin, toothless man stood up in alarm. “No swords! Only the one between your leg is allowed in my establishment—”

  “Shut up!” I yelled. I held the door, which exploded with kicks and hits, and then they were pulling at it. I held on to an iron ring, cursing. An ax stuck the door. The men were determined, and didn’t hesitate. I hung on to the door for my life. A nude, blonde woman, with large breasts, opened up the curtain right next to me, and in the room, a Roman, potbellied and old, looked on in shock. I grinned at the woman. “They haven’t seen a woman for a long time,” I said and grinned. “Very enthusiastic.”

  She smiled nervously, and pulled the man out of her room. She pushed him to the corridor. She slapped my shoulder and pointed a finger across from her cubicle, where a room was empty. “When they get in, they’ll go there. You’ll hide in my room.”

  “Why would they go there?” I grimaced as a spear blade pushed between my fingers.

  “Because I’ll tell them so,” she said.

  “Why you—”

  “You are losing,” she said simply. “That’s enough for me.”

  “Thank you,” I said, took a long breath, and prayed to Woden. He answered. The savage dance burned in my mind, and I let his rage fill my limbs with savagery. I felt like a killer, a fast, and merciless one, and resisted the urge to charge out. Woden was also the god of intrigue, and so I’d use cunning as well as rage to kill the lot. I nodded at the woman, and she nodded back at me as she retreated to the corridor. There was still business going on in many of the other cubicles, it was clear by the sounds of lovemaking, but it all felt appropriate in the mad chaos.

  I roared and stepped away to her cubicle.

  The door was ripped out. Two men with spears surged in. I saw the whore from her room, and she was standing there bare as a spirit of the woods. She pointed a trembling finger to the left. The men turned in unison, their spears leading them to the room.

  I surged after them.

  I danced across the corridor. The redhead was just coming in, his eyes huge with surprise of seeing me there. The sword carved into his chest, and he fell away to the right, screaming. I had not stopped and pummeled into the milling enemy. Nightbright stabbed into a man’s back. It sunk several inches, the man screamed and fell, and I, raging, threw him to his friend. The man dodged his falling companion and thrust the spear at me. The weapon missed my face by inches. I was charging him in an instant. I got past his spear, stabbing like mad at the mass, the blade gorging his chest, then throat, and finally belly. He howled like an animal, clutching at my tunic, and that move nearly killed me.

  The last man came in.

  He was bald and hulking like an animal, and had an ax. The weapon came at me, and I barely managed to rip myself off from the dying man’s clutches. The ax sunk to the floor. Dust flew high. I moved like a wraith, stumbling on a corpse, but held my balance. The man saw me coming, and kicked at me. He abandoned his stuck ax and pulled a pugio, but I ripped Nightbright across his thigh. He screamed, blood pumping like crazy. He grabbed and fell over me, beating, biting and scratching. The pugio pinned my tunic and chain to the floor, drawing blood. I butted his face so hard his teeth fell over my face in a bloody bone shower, and I did it again, as he kept struggling. I stabbed Nightbright into his side.

  He howled and fell limp.

  I struggled, pushed him, and a net fell over me. I cursed and slashed around under the thing, and felt a foot on Nightbright. I gazed up at the man’s face, and he, cool as ice, lunged the trident down.

  I closed my eyes.

  He fell over us, twitching. I pushed and pulled at the net, and saw Grim, backing off. He held his face, spinning away.

  “Grimmmm!” I screamed after him. He was gone.

  The girl came tentatively to the room, and looked aghast at the chaos. She gingerly made her way over the corpses and kneeled next to me. She spotted a pouch on one man’s belt, and apologetically looted it. I chortled and winked at her. “Thank you.”

  The first man I had killed was twitching, and she frowned nervously as she pushed the corpses off me. She struggled with the net, her tits pressing into my chest, and I shook my head. Gods, if Cassia saw this, I though. Her efforts paid up, and in the end, I was standing on my feet. I had a scratch, but Woden—and the whore—had been with me, and the murderers were on their way to their Hades.

  I turned to look at the girl, who was standing in the corner, her arms draped around her chest. She was the figure of immodesty, and I shook my Germani sensibilities away and bowed to her. A shadow filled the doorway, and I turned my sword that way. It was the man who apparently owned the place.

  “You!” the thin man panted. “You ruined—”

  I flashed the sword at him. “Nobody’s ruined anything, you bastard. Just close the room, and clean up later, eh? It was empty already.”

  “You, Euanthe, you’ll leave,” the man cursed, directing his rage at her. “Pack your things—

  ”

  I placed the sword on his throat. “She is not going anywhere.”

  He looked shocked to his core. “I’ll sue you—”

  “Not sure what that is,” I growled, “but after you sue me, I’ll come back and scrape this blade along your spine if you don’t behave.” I hesitated. She was a whore, after all. Perhaps she wanted to leave. I turned to her. “Unless you don’t wish to stay?”

  “I’m no
t a slave,” Euanthe said with a soft voice, and straightened her curly hair out of her eyes. “I have to eat. Thank you, I’ll stay.”

  I pushed the man away and nodded at her. “I’ll make sure you will be rewarded. I’m Hraban … Nero Claudius Corvus, and I thank you.”

  She smiled at me happily. “Very well. I didn’t do it for the coin, but I’ll walk you to your Block, and you can pay me immediately.”

  I opened my mouth in astonishment and laughed. She grabbed her tunic, sandals and a cloak, gave the owner a frosty look, and left with me. We walked in silence, as she guided me. I opened my mouth and managed to speak to her. “You know the Block?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “I know the men inside, at least,” she said with a chuckle. “Many of my friends know them as well.”

  “How did you end—” I asked and shut my mouth, cursing myself for a damned fool.

  “My father died while vising Rome,” she said simply. “As I said, I had to eat. Still do.”

  We passed the wall, and walked along the Via Flaminia. No one accosted us, and I kept frowning as I thought about the problem. The guard had fetched Antius. The guard tried to kill me. Kleitos wanted to control the Palatine guard. And not even the third and the fourth turma were safe. There were men in them who would not be loyal to the family, only to Kleitos. If they spoke to Julia about one fool, Hraban, she’d reject me as a guard. They’d try to kill me again. The games Tiberius and Livia were hoping to play were worthless.

  I’d have to find the gladiator.

  Istros.

  I turned my attention to the girl. “Look, you said you know the men of the guard,” I said.

  She nodded. “Many. I know many. Why?”

  I smiled. “Do you know the Prefect?”

  She frowned. “Him? No. I do not.” She looked up at me with a clever smile. “But, I can ask around.”

  I thanked her with a nod, and she jumped to give me a kiss on a cheek. “Come and check on me in a week. I know some girls who work in such circles,” she said happily, as if invigorated by her adventure. “Someone might know the man who saved you. He was part of the conspiracy, no? I think I’ve seen him before.”

  “He is called Grim,” I said.