by Bilinmeyen
It was our place.
“Here he comes,” Rochus said. “The boy.”
I stepped out from under the cover. We had seen a boy leave on errand, and now the brown-haired, busy looking servant was scurrying back. I reached out and stopped him. His huge eyes looked at me suspiciously. I nodded towards the house. “What’s the name of the ludus?”
“The Serpent Pit,” he chirped. “I work there.”
“I see,” I said happily, and let go of him. I indicated towards the shadows, where he saw my friends. “I’m selling flesh. Got some good merchandize. You think—”
He frowned as he squinted, and spoke self-importantly, as if he owned the place. “Only the very best Thracian and Dacians are eligible. Rules by the master. He is building a troop, and wants it to be special.” His eyes twinkled. “Though between you and I, who knows the difference between a Gaul and a Thracian, eh?”
I laughed and clapped his shoulder. “Indeed. And who is the lanista?” I asked.
“The lanista? He is a Numidian. Aurelius. He runs the business,” he said with a small, unhappy frown, apparently hating the man. “But, as I spoke of the master, we all know he has a powerful partner. That one always comes around at the evening, and Aurelius is pretty quiet and obedient when he speaks.”
“What’s this partner’s name?” I asked.
“Master Lucius,” he said, “but he is rarely here. As I said, he comes in at the evening to check the accounts and to deal with the various issues. Then, he leaves.” He winked again. “He has many businesses. His manager is usually with him.”
The bastard was using an alias. “Is this manager a fat man?” I asked him.
“Fat one, but strong,” he said in awe. “Broke a gladiator’s hand the other day. Even the lanista fears him.”
Antius had been a soldier in his time.
“I see,” I said, as I eyed the gates. They were made of iron, thick and sturdy. There were men walking lazily, and I heard some discussing the quality of the meal they had just not enjoyed. Most were sturdy fighters. Twenty, or more? All were being stared down by a thick, scarred man with a whip on his belt.
“He’s the doctores of the ludus, the trainer,” the boy said. What was probably Aurelius, a Numidian, was talking with the scarred man.
“And you say Aurelius doesn’t close the deals?” I asked the boy. “This master, Lucius, does.”
“Yet, the master must agree. But, maybe you are in luck. He’ll be here soon.”
“Good,” I said absentmindedly.
“May I go?” the boy asked, looking at us with suspicion. “Or did you want something more? You are a mango, or just working for one?”
“What?” I asked, and then nodded. “I’m a mango, indeed.” I looked back towards Wandal.
He frowned. “You wish to sell flesh today? Might be a problem, if they aren’t expecting you.”
I brightened. I slapped a hand on Wandal’s shoulder. “Yes. Preferably today. I’m in a rush. Good, proper Thracian flesh. Ugly and smells of dirt. I’m curious if the master of the house might be interested in buying right this day?” I winked at him. “They might be cheap, since I am in a hurry.”
He shrugged, probably dreaming of a reward for having discovered such potentially lucrative deal for Aurelius and Lucius. “I’m sure they will hear you out. You want me to ask?”
“You scamper in. I’ll wait here.”
He smiled. “Bang on the snake, if I’m not back in a while,” he said, pointing at the brass sign outside the gate. “The master will probably buy the lot, if you are letting them go cheap. He has been hoarding for upcoming games.”
I smiled at Tudrus and Wandal. The boy ran off, a man opened the gate for him, and he ran in, in search of Aurelius.
More gladiators were walking across the yard.
I froze. I could see a man with a blue tattoo of a snake walking with another. He had a short, blond hair, and thin, cruel face. It was the man I had seen with Antonia.
Istros was there. I had found him.
***
We were waiting.
“Shit dangerous going there with nothing bigger than my cock,” Tudrus grumbled. “Though it has girth, I must admit. Bigger than most swords. Spear and a shield. I’d love them, nonetheless.” They were stuffing their weapons, pugiones, swords, and others to their belts under the cloaks, and swords into their tunics. We’d take no spears, though Brimwulf had his bow hidden as well. If they’d be searched, we’d have to improvise.
Wandal, eyeing the length of his pugio, nodded uncertainly. “We’ll make it, eh? No matter the length of our cocks.”
Brimwulf shrugged, and kept his armor in sight and sword visibly in the belt. “I’ll be the guard.”
Tudrus sputtered. “Why does he get to be the guard? I want a sword near my hand.”
I pushed him, nervous to the bone. “Didn’t you just say your cock is longer than a sword? Hold it.”
“What, exactly, is the plan?” Rochus asked, tugging two daggers into the back of his belt. “We march in there, and you do what? Hope to trap Kleitos? There are fighting men in there, plenty of them.”
I smiled wryly. “I will do just that. Exactly that. We will trap Kleitos. He’ll be here soon.”
“Shit,” Tudrus said. “That look in your eyes means men will travel to Woden. Hopefully the ugly ones go before me.” His brothers shook their heavy heads at him with clear disapproval.
I spoke harshly. “We play it by the ear. We’ll fool the lanista, and hope he takes us somewhere we can wait. They’ll be excited I have some fine, Thracian flesh for cheap. And then, we take them, and shall have Kleitos squeal his story to us. We’ll take the bastard, and make him vomit out all his lies and crimes.”
“Another chair?” Tudrus asked. “Sure, we’ll make him talk.”
The boy was at the gate, gesturing, smiling widely.
I nodded, they grinned bravely, and I loved them all. Agetan and Bohscyld moved, and I followed them out. We made our way towards the Snake Pit, and there, a thin man in a brown tunic opened the door. He gestured at the house across the yard.
We stepped inside.
The boy was winking. “They were reluctant at first, but they’ll have a look.” He gave a critical eye at my throat-cutters, and smiled at me. “They will probably make an offer. Just tell them they come from Thracia or Dacia, and they will pay you some.”
I nodded, and looked behind as the gate was closed. The street behind was quiet, the shadows were getting long, and the yard of the ludus was quiet. The gear, wooden swords, and spears were in racks to the side, and closed iron bound doors could be seen under the porticos. A tall man in a tunic rushed from the door to the building, and I saw there was a stairway up to the second floor. I tilted my head up, and saw there were lights burning in what I took to be the living quarters of the ludus. The master of the house would be there.
The lanista appeared in the doorway.
The man crossed the yard, and nodded to himself, as if memorizing a speech. His nose was bulbous, and eyebrows were thick. His hair was dark as night, and skin light brown. He eyed us all, and his eyes fixed into mine. “You selling? Name?”
“Corvus,” I said, and cursed myself. I felt my friends groaning inwardly.
His eyebrows shot up. “A Germani? I see you have fine selection.” His eyes went to my men. He frowned, and clearly resisted the urge to come and test their muscles. “I hear you are in a rush.”
“I am in a rush,” I agreed. “I’d like to sell quickly, and move on.”
“Such haste does not mean they are stolen?”
“They are veteran fighters,” I said. “I have business out of the city and need the cash. I do not let go of them happily.”
“The price, my friend, will be less than it could be,” he said. “The medicus and the doctores should be allowed a look at them.”
“They’ll do very well,” I growled. “They are prime specimens.”
“In what role do they norma
lly—”
I shook my head. “I said I’m in a hurry. They are mine, legally so, but could we deal with this somewhere more private?”
He wrapped his fingers on his knuckles, frowning, then looked at the merchandise, and decided he wanted them. “You are being looked for? And you have everything to prove you own them?” I nodded, tapping at my pouch. He inclined his head. “I’ll have you wait upstairs. I’ve got a stake in the business, and I’d take them, but it’s not my decision alone. My partner and his manager shall meet you in the top floor. I will bring you refreshments.” His eyes squinted at my companions. “They do look like supreme specimens.” He gazed at Brimwulf’s sword. “Though we have had a lot of Thracians lately. This won’t make you rich, but if you are in a hurry, anything is good, right?” He winked, an old cheater.
“We will see,” I said. “I can appreciate haste, all right.” My head swum. Kleitos would be there soon. Perhaps Antius.
Oh, the bits of gristle would fry. They would.
He nodded towards the house. “Did you serve with the Legions?”
“Yes, Lugdunum,” I lied. “Worked with the legions in Danubius for years. They,” I said, and cocked my head towards my friends, “were rebels, but are obedient ones now.” I winked at the man. “They do anything to be rid of me.”
“I think they’ll be disappointed if they expect thick cabbage stew and someone to tuck them in when they go to bed.” He grinned. “Follow me.”
He dismissed the boy, and led us across the yard. I gazed down as we passed into the full sight of the portico that ran around the yard. I didn’t want Istros to see me. From the corner of my eye, I saw there were cages and barred doors left and right, and faces in the shadows, contemplating at us. I kept my face straight as I saw men sitting in cells. Some were asleep, others speaking through the bars. There, in the corner and a larger cell, sat the man with a snake tattooed on his arm.
Istros.
We entered the main building, and the bottom floor had nothing but the stairway which was barred and locked. The man opened up the doorway. “Your men will stay below there,” he said and indicated to a room that was likely the dining hall. “Your guard waits with them.”
I pointed a finger his way, Agetan stepped forward, and his fist smashed into the lanista’s jaw. Bohscyld caught him expertly, and we looked around, expecting trouble.
None had seen us.
We grasped the man, dragged him with us, and walked up the stairs. We entered an opulent room, well furnished with statues and paintings. There were some adjoining rooms. “Search the place,” I said, and Agetan and Bohscyld walked briskly to the rooms, drawing weapons. I heard them opening doors, and Tudrus and Rochus walked to where there was a pitcher of wine. Rochus poured some to Tudrus, who sniffed it experimentally and drank it down.
“Excellent,” Rochus said. “The scum,” he added and nodded towards the unconscious man, “has an expensive taste.”
“Kleitos will drink his tears when he gets here,” I said nervously, remaining near the doorway. “Any sight of them?”
Wandal was at the window. “No.”
“Damn,” I cursed. “This had better work. They’ll hang us for desertion if it doesn’t.”
Rochus snorted. “Kleitos might hang us for attempted murder, rather than desertion, Hraban.”
“Here’s to that,” Tudrus said, and drank down another cup. Agetan and Bohscyld appeared, shaking their heads. The place was empty.
Wandal raised his hand. “They are here.”
We froze. It happened so fast we were hardly ready for it.
I rushed to the window, and we peered out through expensive, red drapes. I saw the same boy open up the gate, and he was bowing deep. Four men entered, all with cowls and heavy capes on. One was tall and hulking, another short and wide, and the thin man had on expensive boots. The last one, speaking animatedly, was fat. “Antius. I’m sure of it. And Kleitos.”
“Antius,” Wandal agreed. “Must be.”
“Get ready,” I growled. “We are about to catch a big pair of fish.”
We placed ourselves around the door. I walked to the end of the room, and the others pulled daggers and swords. Brimwulf’s bow was out, nocked with an arrow.
We waited.
There were steps on the stairs. Men were speaking. Then, one voice rose imperiously above the others. “This is a really bad timing. I’m here to deal with the day to day issues, and not to gawk at some brutish slaves. And why is this fucking door open? It’s supposed to be closed. Aurelius!” Kleitos screamed downstairs.
We held our breaths. We had forgotten to lock the gate.
The boy who opened the door, was speaking animatedly. “They look like prime flesh, lord. Prime. Well worth a small diversion. Eh?”
“Fine! Let’s see then,” Kleitos answered. The iron door banged, and we tensed, as we listened as their steps were coming up. “The owner up here?”
The steps echoed very close now, until they reached the door. It swung open, and men entered, the hulking brute first.
It was Ulrich.
Then, a shorter man with a beard, one of the Ubii, and after him walked in Kleitos. His cowl was down, and his head was sweaty.
The last man, whom I thought was Antius, hesitated outside. I saw his face, just for a moment, and his jaw moved in silent curses. His eyes were so astonished I thought they would pop out of his head. He turned and fled, swift for such an immense man.
Agetan and Bohscyld swarmed Ulrich gleefully.
Their swords went up, and hacked down. Ulrich howled in a furious pain, and fell under the brothers. His gladius was out, and he stabbed back at Agetan, who growled as his cheek was opened. They rolled to the side, panting, cursing.
Kleitos whipped out a sword. He took several steps forward, and pushed at the bearded man before him. The man stumbled towards Tudrus and Brimwulf, and they attacked him. He fell near noiselessly, arrow in his face, dagger in his gut. Kleitos rushed back after Antius, and I surged after him. I ran like a wolf, and jumped at the figure in the dark stairway. He howled as we fell, rolled, and crashed into a wall midway down the stairs. Luckily, I came on top. I saw his sword hovering near my side, and I hammered his face with my fist, hard enough to break a tooth. His eyes rolled in his head. Antius was screaming not far. Warning shouts were echoing in the compound. A man with a spear rushed to the stairway and pushed at the open gate, hesitating as he came for us. It was the scarred trainer. We were hunched in shadows, and he wasn’t sure what he saw, as he climbed up, the spear pointed at us.
“What happened?” he growled.
“Gladiator, upstairs!” I panted. “Attacked us. Help carry the master away.” The man nodded, came forward, and began to pull Kleitos up.
He was cursing. “Filth turned on you, eh? Come, we’ll deal with them in a bit, and—”
I cursed, ripped Nightbright through his thigh, and he fell, his eyes in shock, blood spurting in an arch as he fell down the stairs.
Kleitos came to his senses and kicked as me weakly. “You? You bastard. I’ll—”
He howled again as I rammed the pommel of Nightbright into his chest. His sword flashed in the air, and split my hair, and I pushed Nightbright into left shoulder, and twisted the blade. He howled like an animal, and his sword fell to the stone. I hissed at him. “You’ll speak in a bit, you hateful murderer. And I hope you are right handed.”
“Never shall I speak,” he wept. “You have no idea what—”
Upstairs, men screamed. Someone howled in pain, and there was a crash and something fell out of the window. Brimwulf rushed down the stairs, and I rammed a fist at Kleitos’s face, making him pass out.
Brimwulf pulled at his bow, kneeling.
In the yard, an immense shadow was limping away, and Brimwulf cursed. “Ulrich. Jumped out of the window, bloodied.” He released an arrow at the shadow, and the man hissed as he was hit, but kept rushing anyway. There was clanging of bars, screams and orders, and men with weapons were
advancing across the yard. One had the snake tattooed on his arm. I cursed and hauled at Kleitos. “Won’t need to find that gladiator, will we? He’s coming for us.”
I pulled Kleitos along with Brimwulf, and we reached the top floor. Tudrus and his brothers were watching the door, flanked by Wandal and Rochus, who helped us drag Kleitos inside. Agetan’s face was bleeding badly, and Bohscyld was spitting blood from a split lip. Ulrich was not an easy man to kill, not even for the two Quadi monsters.
Rochus rushed and stared out of the window, his face grim. “Seven. Many are running out of the gates. But, seven are coming here.”
“Seven,” I cursed. I hurried to the window, and looked down with Rochus. There were indeed men, and some had armor on. Few had helmets, with grilles covering their entire faces, some had wide brimmed ones, and stabbing swords that were more like daggers.
And two of them had snakes tattooed on their arms. None were blond and thin-faced.
They were his clansmen. Where was he? He ran?
I patted Rochus’s back. “We’ll take them. To the doorway.”
“Tie him up?” Tudrus said and pointed a sword at Kleitos, who was stubbornly climbing back to his feet.
I cursed, shoving the man on his face to the floor. I heard the enemy enter the stairway, armor and weapons clanking, and I thought I heard Antius yelling an order somewhere. I cursed and hesitated, but then I sliced Nightbright through Kleitos’s ankle. The man was shuddering in a terrible pain, and lost consciousness again. “He won’t go anywhere,” I spat.
Rochus looked pale. “You are truly committed my friend.”
There were steps echoing in the stairway. Tudrus kicked the door closed, and we prepared.
“The snake man?” Tudrus asked.
“Not sure. Two? The same clan,” I said grimly. “Fight well. Don’t fucking die!” The door shuddered gently.
“You should have thought of that earlier,” Wandal laughed. “Come, dogs! We’ll pet you!” he screamed.