by George Green
‘Where the hell have you been? I told you to look after him.’
‘I… I ran… all the way.’ He couldn’t speak for a moment. ‘I did what I could, then went to fetch… something.’
‘Did what you could? What if those bastards had come back looking for him?’
‘I didn’t… I don’t…’
‘I said it was all right,’ muttered Galba. ‘I told him to go.’
Decius nodded. Serpicus almost hit him.
‘And since when have you done what he told you? Don’t you see that…’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake leave him alone. There’s no harm done.’
Serpicus opened his mouth, then shut it again. He cuffed Decius gently around the ear. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t want him to get what the old man got.’
‘I know,’ said Decius quietly. ‘I miss him too.’
Galba was suddenly bent over with coughing. The two of them supported him while the fit snarled inside him. When he sank back the cloth held to his mouth was spotted with blood. Serpicus looked at it.
‘That’s that then,’ he said and sat back on the bed. ‘There’s no way you can…’
Galba raised a hand and spoke breathlessly. ‘If… suggesting that… won’t be able to… race, don’t… think it. I’ll be there.’
Serpicus held up the stained cloth. ‘There is blood in your lungs.’
Galba opened his mouth and put out his tongue, which had a deep cut on one side. ‘Not lungs. Bloody well hurts though, I give you that.’ Serpicus laughed despite himself. Galba spat more blood into the cloth and looked up at Decius.
‘Any luck?’
Decius pulled a small bottle from his tunic. Galba smiled and took it from him. ‘The gods bless you for a fine person,’ he said. He pulled the cork out and drank a good part of it straight off. Serpicus took it from his hand and put it to his nose. Galba laughed cautiously as Serpicus’ head jerked back as if a sharp needle had gone up his nostril.
‘That’s awful!’ said Serpicus with a shudder. ‘What is it?’
Galba chuckled and took it back. ‘I sent him to Ox’s for some of the good stuff.’
‘If that’s the good stuff, what are the rest of us poor bastards drinking?’
‘The gods only know, but it hasn’t killed you yet.’ Galba sank back on the bed with a smile, placing the bottle carefully within easy reach. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long night, I have a race to go to soon, and I’d like to get some sleep so I can be at my best.’ He closed his eyes and in moments was snoring.
Serpicus looked at the bottle suspiciously and then up at Decius.
‘What on earth is in that?’
Decius shrugged. ‘I don’t know. He told me to go to Ox and ask him for some of what Antonius had when he fell off his chariot going round the last bend.’
‘And that’s what Ox gave you?’
‘He laughed and gave me that bottle. He didn’t say what it was.’ Decius looked at the floor. ‘I wish the old man was here.’
Serpicus put a hand on his shoulder. ‘The best way we can honour his memory is if we cut Cato’s liver out and feed it to the dogs.’
Decius smiled grimly. ‘He’d like that.’
Serpicus nodded. ‘Then I think it’s the least we can do.’
* * *
The race was scheduled for the middle of the afternoon. Galba woke in the morning complaining of a headache. His skin was dry and hot to the touch, and his dark eyes were deep in his face. The wound made it difficult for him to stand.
‘You can’t possibly race,’ said Serpicus.
‘I’m doing it,’ said Galba. ‘It’s not open to negotiation.’
‘You can’t walk. You can hardly stand. How will you even get to the track?’
‘Not your problem,’ Galba said. ‘I’ll be there. You worry about yourself, leave me be.’
There was an obdurate note in his voice that Serpicus recognized.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘but you’ll stay here and rest until the last possible moment.’
‘Can’t,’ Galba replied. ‘I need to register to race.’
‘I’ll do it for you.’
‘What if they notice you’re not me?’
‘They won’t.’
‘What if they do?’
‘I’ll say it was a mistake and send for you.’
‘What about the horses? I have to take care of the horses.’
‘I’ll do it.’
‘You’ll do it wrong.’
‘I’ll do it better than you would have. Stop arguing and get some rest.’
‘I need to check the chariot.’
‘I’ll do it. Properly.’
‘What if you need me?’
‘I won’t.’
‘But if you do?’
‘Then Decius will come and fetch you. Or I’ll find someone else. Or I’ll write a notice asking for help in six different languages and I’ll stick it on a column in the Forum. Stop worrying. Go and rest, or I’ll punch you in the guts. I don’t want to see you before the race.’
Galba gave up and went muttering back to bed. Decius placed food and water near him.
There was a knock on the door.
Serpicus picked up his sword and moved silently until he was standing behind the door. When he was ready he motioned Decius to open it. A slight breeze passed through the house and bright light flooded in onto Galba’s bed.
‘Hello, lads,’ said a familiar voice. ‘What’s wrong with him?’
Serpicus came around the edge of the door silently and placed the point of the sword on the visitor’s chest.
‘Hello, Snake,’ Decius said.
The Cretan slowly looked down at the sword and then up again at Decius.
‘Came to see you,’ he said, moving his head slightly towards the bed. ‘Heard about Severus, and they told me that the fat man wasn’t too well.’
Galba bridled. ‘No one here of that description. You must mean some other fat man.’
Snake thought for a moment. ‘No,’ he said seriously, ‘I meant you.’
Serpicus put the sword up. ‘Come in.’
The Cretan entered cautiously, looking around as if there might be more men behind the door. When he was satisfied, he relaxed and sat down. He was wearing the waistcoat in which he carried his knives. Serpicus wondered if he ever took it off.
Decius handed the Cretan a drink and he accepted it gratefully. When it was finished he held out the cup for more.
‘Good stuff,’ he said.
‘So,’ Serpicus said. ‘What brings you here?’
Snake swallowed half of the wine that Decius passed to him and glanced towards Galba. ‘Thought I’d come and see if I could help.’
Serpicus raised an eyebrow. ‘Can you drive a chariot?’ Snake smiled. ‘To get to where I want to go, like anyone. Can I win a race? Afraid not.’ He swallowed again. ‘So, how did you escape the village?’
‘Got behind the bear and ran like hell,’ said Serpicus. ‘How about you?’
‘I saw you behind the bear as it went through the gate,’ Snake replied. ‘A big Roman jumped on me and by the time I’d got rid of him you were long gone. I followed the bear’s trail as far as it went and then struck out south for the mountains. I didn’t have a horse, so I couldn’t catch up with you. A shepherd on the way claimed that you had gone through the day before, although he might have been mistaken, or lying. I got back here and I’ve been waiting ever since. No one at the race track knew anything, and then yesterday I met someone in a tavern who said there had been a fight in this street. Every time I’ve been with you there has been a fight, so even though it was probably coincidence I thought I’d better come and have a look. And here you are.’ He looked around at them. ‘But I thought you were ahead of me.’
Decius shook his head. ‘We were, but we went to the Teutoburg. Consilius caught us there and we lost Brutus and Drenthe.’ He stopped talking and swallowed convulsively.
Snake looked
at him keenly. ‘When you say lost, you don’t mean you just mislaid them, do you?’
Serpicus shook his head. ‘Drenthe killed Consilius first, so it wasn’t a totally wasted trip. And Brutus took a lot of Romans for company before he went.’
Snake tipped the rest of the wine into his mouth and swallowed. ‘I’ll miss the big man,’ he said softly. ‘And she was worth a dozen of Consilius.’ He looked around as if hoping to see another jug of wine, then shrugged. He sat forward and clasped his hands. ‘So,’ he said, ‘what’s the plan?’
‘What makes you think there’s a plan?’
‘There’s always a plan. You have scores to settle. You’ve been travelling for days. I don’t believe you’ve sat around and not thought about what to do. You’ll need help, whatever it is. I’ll do what I can.’
Serpicus looked serious. ‘It will be dangerous.’
Snake smiled. ‘So, completely unlike fighting a couple of Roman legions in Gelbheim then?’
Serpicus acknowledged his point. ‘Put it another way then. You’ve done enough already. This is personal. I don’t want to get any more people killed.’
Snake thought about that for a moment. ‘Fair enough. But I’m an adult, I’ll make my own choices. I want to help.’
‘I don’t know if…’
‘Oh, for pity’s sake, stop fucking around and tell him!’ Galba spoke so suddenly that Snake half rose out of his seat in surprise. He turned to look at the wounded man. Galba was propped up on one elbow. He indicated with a jerk of his head to Decius to stand by the doorway.
‘It’s actually quite simple,’ Galba said in a conversational tone. ‘We just have to win the race this afternoon.’
‘Race?’
‘Race. Hosted by Blaesus.’
‘Ah, I see. And where Blaesus is…’
‘…Cato won’t be far away. Exactly.’
Snake nodded thoughtfully. ‘I see. So you win the race, and then you go up to Blaesus’ box, where he presents you with the victor’s wreath?’
Galba smiled. ‘Bright lad. We could use you.’
‘I understand. Won’t he recognize you before you get to him?’
Serpicus shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. He’ll be too far away to see our faces and he’ll have other things to think about anyway. We shave our heads, wear a cloth over our faces against the dust, use different names. By the time he realizes who we are, we’ll be close enough to do what needs to be done.’
Snake looked dubious. ‘He’ll be surrounded by dozens of soldiers. I suppose there’s no point asking what happens afterwards, once you’ve done it?’
Galba stroked his chin. ‘I was planning on watching the bastard bleed to death slowly, myself. These two may have other plans.’
Snake grinned. ‘No, I meant…’
‘He knows what you mean,’ said Serpicus. ‘The plan doesn’t go beyond getting us close to Blaesus and Cato. After that, we don’t much care what happens.’ He looked hard at Snake. ‘Which is why we’ll understand if you want no part of it.’
Snake looked back steadily. ‘Have you news of your children?’
Serpicus shook his head. ‘They are in Blaesus’ house, we think.’
Galba grinned at Snake. ‘Still want to be part of this?’
‘If I can avoid committing suicide as you seem intent on doing, I will, but I’ll take my chances.’
Galba and Serpicus glanced at each other, and both shrugged. Snake looked around to see what Decius thought, and received a sign of assent.
‘Looks like you’re in,’ Galba said.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
To Aelius Sejanus, from his Servant:
I trust that the carrier of this message will meet your returning mission and so be the first to welcome you back to Rome. The whole city rejoices in your return. Your welcome is arranged as the climax of the games to honour Consilius. Notwithstanding the death of such a great Roman, today is a great day.
The last slaves were leaving the arena, the thin fabric of their Mercury costumes heavily stained with sweat and blood. The hot wind pulled at Serpicus’ dry skin and brought the familiar stink of fear and death to his nostrils.
For a long time he had deliberately not looked up at the Senator’s box. Now he risked a glance.
Blaesus was sitting behind the low parapet, a golden cup in one hand. His other hand was not visible but a young slave was standing next to him, shading him from the heat of the sun. It wasn’t hard to imagine where the Senator’s hand was. Serpicus looked up at Blaesus for a few moments. The Senator seemed to become uneasy and turned from the boy to look down at the track. Although he was much too far away to be recognized, Serpicus turned his face away and ran a hand over his freshly shaven scalp.
A fat man started yelling drunken abuse at him from the seats nearby. The crowd were restless. Someone in the stables had told Serpicus that there had been a lot of arrests the night before, that people were feeling insecure. Which didn’t explain why the man was bawling insults at him.
To Serpicus’ right Cassius stood tall in his golden chariot. A long red cloak hung from his shoulders, spreading across the back of the chariot and down almost to the hub of the wheels. He would take it off before the race began, but it made a fine show while he waited.
Long habit made Serpicus move his weight from one foot to the other to test the balance of the chariot. All seemed to be as it should. The men that he and Sextus had gathered to service and look after his equipment had done their job well. The horses were in fine condition. Serpicus looked to his left. Galba was leaning forward against the front edge of his chariot, his arm locked straight. From a distance it probably looked casual; Serpicus was close enough to see that the stiff arm was the only thing keeping him upright. His cheeks looked translucent, like a thin veil thrown over a pale stone, and oily sweat glistened on his forehead. Serpicus caught his eye.
‘You look like hell,’ he said, loud enough to be heard over the sound of the crowd. ‘You can’t race.’
‘Try and stop me,’ Galba said, his voice a rasp. He tried to smile, but Serpicus saw it become a grimace.
‘You’ll die.’
‘I won’t.’
Serpicus turned away so that he would not see the pain crossing his friend’s face.
The three of them were the only remaining competitors. There had at one point been ten drivers. Some of the others had yoked their horses that morning, some checked their equipment, some even got as far as getting into their chariots. Then a message arrived that made them move away to read it, or someone approached them casually and indicated that they should lean over so that he could speak to them and not be overheard, or a woman came and smiled and took them to one side, or they were seen talking to a large man who had a brotherly arm wrapped around their shoulders. Within a short time of all of these events each of the other charioteers had withdrawn; one announced a hitherto unnoticed injury to one of his horses, another said unexpected mechanical problems, a third disappeared with an unforeseen family emergency. One man just disappeared. The odds were improving. Ox and his men could be most persuasive when they chose. Serpicus looked up at Ox in the stands and touched his forehead with a finger in salute.
The big man nodded acknowledgement. Decius sat beside him, scarved and anonymous in the crowded front row near the start of the race. Serpicus could see his pale strained face leaning over the edge. Snake sat on Ox’s other side.
Serpicus looked up at the impassive men in rich linen clothes sitting in the best seats, surrounded by thin-faced Greek and Arab slaves with their slates and rolls of parchment. Shouting men surrounded them, gesturing towards the track and holding up hands full of coin, and the slaves were writing and taking the money as fast as they could. In theory a three-chariot race wasn’t legal. Legal or not, business appeared to be brisk.
Serpicus realized that he hadn’t placed his usual two sesterces on himself to win.
He leant across and put a hand on the edge of Galba’s chariot
. He could see drops of blood on the floor by his friend’s feet and more staining the side of his tunic. They had bound the bandages tight and wrapped them thick around him. If they weren’t enough then the wound must be bleeding freely.
‘For the gods’ sake,’ Serpicus whispered, ‘withdraw. You need a doctor. Leave him to me.’
Galba let out a wheezing chuckle. Serpicus thought he saw a shred of pink foam on his lips. Galba wiped it away with the back of his hand and looked across at Cassius with a leer. ‘Beating that bastard will do me more good than any doctor ever could,’ he said, his voice husked by pain. ‘Besides, if I don’t race then it’s just the two of you left, and he’s better than you are. He’ll probably run you into the wall at the first bend if I’m not there to look after you.’
A piercing whistle came from the crowd nearby. Serpicus looked up and saw Decius signalling frantically. Ox was standing beside him, his hands folded and his face expressionless. Decius held up one arm and indicated to Serpicus to look at his hand. Serpicus could see that Decius was holding something. When Decius was sure Serpicus had seen it he threw it to him. Galba saw it too and lifted his arm as it spun through the air towards him, then groaned with the effort and leant against the side of the chariot. He stood, gasping for breath, his face contorted with pain. Serpicus caught the bottle. Galba held out a hand.
‘I think that’s for me,’ he whispered. He sounded as if he was lying down with a large weight on his chest. Serpicus passed it across to him. Galba uncorked it and tipped over half of the contents into his mouth. Those nearest him in the crowd saw the bottle and roared encouragement. They liked drivers who drank, it made them reckless. Galba put the stopper back in and put the bottle in a fold of his tunic. The effect was immediate. Serpicus saw his face relax, as if he was coming out of a trance, and his back straightened. He stood up and let out a sigh. ‘That’s better,’ he said, the pain gone from his voice. ‘Those Egyptians really know what they’re doing.’ He saluted Decius in the stands, then looked deliberately sideways at Cassius, caught his eye and gave him a cheerful grin. Cassius met his glance for a moment, gave him a thin smile in return and then looked away.