Casca 28: The Avenger

by Tony Roberts

  As he trotted the sweating team back to the Blue team enclosure, some of the crowd called out his name in delight. Casca raised a clenched fist in salute, reminding him poignantly of his time in the gladiatorial games in Rome, only here there were no thumbs up or thumbs down prior to the dispatch of an unlucky opponent. The Christians had no stomach for fights to the death and besides their priests held that it was against their faith to kill. Casca wondered how the Brotherhood would view that.

  Hadramon virtually pulled him off the chariot in glee. “Hee hee, did you see that Green’s face as you passed him? No-one has ever done that to him before; that’s really ruined his day.”

  “He took too great a wide course on the bends. Oh, could you have a word with that brute Talokos? He nearly caused me to crash back there. I thought we were team mates.”

  Hadramon clucked his tongue. “You've no friends out there but yourself, Rufius, you ought to know that by now. Even team mates have greater ambitions than the team itself. I’ve seen members of the same faction practically push each other off their chariots in order to win. The only people they hate more than their own team mates are the opposing faction. Remember that.”

  Casca nodded and allowed his team to be taken away through the arches towards the stables for a clean and rub down while he walked through the central arch over which rested the spectacular golden statues of four horses, and made his way to the changing rooms where he sat down on a bench, reaching for a bottle of water that rested underneath. While he was taking a deep pull a messenger arrived for him, handing him a note written on good quality paper. He opened the paper and found, to his surprise, an invitation from the Empress to come to the imperial box as soon as he was rested. He recovered from the surprise and wiped himself down with a cloth before nodding and following the messenger down the tunnel and along a passage underneath the stadium. At the end stood two imperial bodyguards - eunuchs - and Casca clenched his hands involuntarily. His last experience with the Spathos-cublicars was to kill six of them at Gregory’s feet as they tried to hack his limbs off on his orders. However, not all of them were members of the Brotherhood but it was wise not to trust any of them.

  He kept his head as much in shadow as possible and besides he still wore his wrist bands. The two guards deigned not to notice the two as they passed and began climbing a stone staircase to a barred gate at the top. Here were more guards and upon the messenger announcing himself they were permitted entry, the gate being relocked after they passed through.

  Daylight greeted them a short distance on and they emerged beneath the imperial box and to one side, behind the enclosures for distinguished visitors. A narrow staircase led up to the rear of the imperial box, passing through part of the palace wall, and they encountered yet more guards before Casca was shown into the dark interior of the palace. There, seated on a plush upholstered two seated bench, sat the Empress. Casca stood at attention before her before he suddenly remembered that here in the Eastern Empire one had to perform proskynesis, the act of supplication similar to that of the Persian Court. He went down on his knees, bowed low and touched the cool marble floor with his forehead. He heard the Empress lazily give him the command to rise and he stood once again before Theodora, the real driving force of the Empire.

  Casca’s first thoughts were that she was terribly small, being almost a good foot shorter than he, and that she was beautiful, a dark haired, dark complexioned woman who wore her hair in woven strands decorated with beads. She stood up and approached the scarred man slowly, casting her eyes over his body, her eyes widening at the crisscross of scars over the knotted muscles. She slowly walked around him, carefully examining him from all angles.

  “You have pleased us greatly, Rufius,” she said in a voice full of confidence and authority, “your victory today was one of great ingenuity and courage which tells of a man with intelligence and wisdom, yet you have the body of a warrior who has, by the story it tells, been in many a battle. What is your story, Rufius?”

  Casca kept his attention on an icon in the opposite wall, a bejeweled crucifix hanging above head height. “I am but a poor soldier who has turned his skill to that of the races, my Empress. I have fought many of the Empire's enemies and have been fortunate to only receive superficial wounds while killing many in return.”

  The Empress ran her eyes over him again, then walked right up to him, her head at his shoulder level. Casca was compelled to look down at her and saw her wide eyes boring into his. “I have instructed your faction leader to put you in the next race against Manius next month, and I will expect you to be victorious over this unspeakable traitor. As you know, I have much to thank the Blues for and I have as a result heavily supported them and nothing would please me more than a victory over the Greens here at the Hippodrome. I would be very grateful to the one who would defeat Manius in particular.” She put her mouth close to his ear. “Very grateful.” She stood back and her eyes lingered over his muscled torso, the excitement faint but clear to Casca.

  “Of course,” she continued as she sat back down, “I can be equally disappointed with defeat although it would be a pity to see such talent go to waste.” Casca watched her as she spoke, thinking to himself that she was one deadly she-devil who was used to getting her own way, like some female spiders who ate their mates after copulation, but by Mithra! No wonder she had captivated the Emperor’s heart upon him catching sight of her, and he could well believe she had worked on him at the same time, making it impossible for him to resist her, elevating her at once from a life as an actress and whore to Empress. What a leap!

  Theodora smiled and moved in her luxurious seat, squirming her body, knowing that the eyes of the man in front of her were showing lust and desire, the discipline in his mind still holding firm the body’s desire to run over to her and rip her clothes off - not that she would mind this man doing that to her, but now she was Empress and such was no longer acceptable. But she had to give this man an extra incentive to beat the despicable Manius, an arrogant man who had defected to the Greens. She would never forgive the former Blue who had defected, and wanted to see his humiliation, and this man who exuded such an air of masculinity could just be the one; she had never seen the likes of him before and it fascinated her greatly. She waved a languid arm at him. “You may go, and remember the rewards.”

  Casca bowed his way out of her presence, breathing out deeply as he left the room. The messenger was waiting for him outside and he led the warrior back the way he had come. Once left in the tunnel Casca was consumed by an urge to get to Carina as fast as he could - Theodora had turned him on, the she-slut she was, and he had to get rid of the tension.

  Carina was surprised to see her lodger return so quickly and started asking what the matter was when he took hold of her and marched her smartly to the bedroom, shut the door behind her and began kissing her roughly, running his hands over her body. Carina was taken aback at first, then began to respond to the man’s kisses and touches. He was so impatient that he didn’t even wait to get her on the bed, instead he pushed her up against the wall. Carina clung onto him and felt his hands supporting her buttocks. She wrapped both legs around his back. For the first time in a couple of years she responded to someone making love to her for something else than money. The wall shook to the force of his pushes but Carina didn’t care. She didn’t know why he had returned in such a rampant state but she didn’t mind in the slightest, gasping with each thrust in passion, the rhythm getting faster and faster until he was grunting like a feeding pig. With one deep moan he spilled into her, pressing her strongly against the wall, then sank his head against her chest, breathing deeply.

  “Oh, Rufius” Carina breathed, untwining her legs.

  “Uhh,” Casca grunted, gently setting her down. “I needed you, badly!”

  Carina smiled, pleased that he had run to her and not to one of the whores in the city. It was fortunate that Delia was outside watching the horses being exercised or else she might have to try to explain thi
ngs away, and like all children she was possessed by an incurable curiosity which usually manifested itself in embarrassing questions at embarrassing times. Casca then took her outside and mentioned he had been successful at the races and would reap a nice benefit from his win from Ibrahim, and had been summoned by the Empress and ordered to beat Manius next month.

  Carina looked at him closely. “You saw the Empress?”

  Casca nodded. “She promised me a reward if I beat him. I get the feeling she hates his guts.”

  “What reward was that?” she asked suspiciously.

  Casca saw her suspicious look. Oh Hades, bloody jealousy! I’ve only just had her and already she’s becoming possessive! “Perhaps gold or a position in the palace.” He now had one foot in the palace and there was just the little matter of beating Manius and he was in and would be able to get close to Narses. If he made enough money he could make Carina and Delia’s lives comfortable, taking them away from this life of near squalor.

  But he had to get at Narses and if it meant beating the best Green racer there was then he would. He wondered how Theodora would react if he lost or refused to race. She was adept at manipulating people - and anyone who refused her usually paid the penalty. He resolved to use her as much as she would use him.

  Carina was silent. Casca’s explanation hadn’t been sufficient to satisfy her suspicions of the meeting between her and the man standing next to her, and she worried perhaps he might be swayed by the power and rewards of the Imperial Palace to wish to remain with her. It was an unsettling thought. Even though they had only just made love, she wanted him to stay with her for the rest of her life. He was what she had been missing these last couple of years and she yearned for a settled home life once more. She had begun to feel sick before this man’s race, worrying he might get hurt in the race – or worse.

  Casca was unaware of Carina’s thoughts. His own thoughts turned to the other matter, that of the new location of the Brotherhood which he had extracted from Thassus before killing him. He was certain the body of Thassus would have been taken to the Brotherhood fairly quickly; he had left one of the two guards alive after all in Thassus' house. That would have shaken them, he was sure. From now on he would employ someone to watch the place and to report to him when a meeting was being convened. He would then make his way there and take the next step in his plan.

  The other thing he was intent on doing was to take out all of Thassus’ cell. He had thirteen under him working in various administrative and manual labor posts attached to the Quaestor’s office, and Thassus had bleated all their names under Casca’s expert coaxing before he’d been allowed the luxury of dying. Casca was determined to root out at least one branch of the sick tree, and he’d start that very night!

  CHAPTER TEN

  The smell of lavender was heavy in the night air as Casca inched forward to peer around the corner of the latticed stonework deep in the shadows of the garden. The house ahead was lit up by torchlight and the street lanterns to the right, but Casca was, as he intended, in deep shadow. His sword was in his right hand, ready to be used, and his heart was black with vengeance. Any of the Brotherhood were as sick as the rest, his reasoning went, and best they be executed before they spread their sickness and brought others sorrow and pain. God know they’d brought him plenty of that already! So now he was here ready to dish out some back.

  His target was a man in the legal offices of the shipping office. The man, one of Thassus’s creatures, was holding a party on the patio of his fairly impressive house. Oil braziers flickered in the night air, attracting moths and other winged creatures that flew themselves to fiery destruction. Stupid things. The sound of merriment came to him but he couldn’t make out the words. There seemed to be couples as well as single people attending. They were coming in and out of the house and eating and drinking. Casca rubbed his hungry stomach. He’d come here as dusk had been falling and been trapped when the guests began arriving. Now he had to do something to get access to the house and get away from this area unseen. If he moved towards the house he would be seen, there was no doubt about it.

  He rooted around to find another way but came up against the stone boundary wall of the grounds. No other way but forward. His foot sank into soft earth and he looked down and inhaled, hoping it wasn’t dog mess. No smell of freshly disturbed faeces came to him so he blew out his cheeks in relief, then sucked in air as a sharp small pain came from his foot, then another and another. Dammit! He’d trodden on an ants’ nest. Bloody things were biting him. He shook his foot, rubbed it in the earth and grass and moved to the front of the small gazebo he was taking cover in. The ants lost interest, finding the strange taste and feel of the victim not to their liking, and he peered again ahead, wondering how to identify his target and to get to him without being seen.

  A couple, a young woman and a smartly dressed man, broke away from the main group and came wandering up, wine glasses in their hands, talking idly. Casca withdrew deeper into the dark cover and slipped over the rear of the gazebo back into the leafy undergrowth. He hoped the ants were not there.

  “The prices of cargo are rising and so is the insurance,” the man was saying in that pompous, I-know-it-all kind of manner, “so we have to charge more to our clients.”

  “Why is that?” the woman asked, not really interested at all, Casca decided by her tone of voice.

  “Taxation. Justinian must pay for his building works so ups the taxes. The war in Italy is a drain on the treasury too, and people are reluctant to sail without proper insurance in case Gothic pirates raid the shipping lanes.” He placed his glass on the wall and took the woman by the shoulders. “We’re out of sight here,” he said, “I think we can have some fun.”

  “What if we’re seen?” she complained, looked back at the house. Casca’s head was two feet from the glass of wine and he grabbed it and downed the contents. Grimacing at the sharpness in taste, he put the empty glass back and caught sight of the woman’s dress being pulled down, revealing ivory white breasts. The man sat her on the wall and placed himself inside her thighs, spreading her legs. “Be quick!” she whispered.

  “I will,” the man agreed and began pumping into her. Casca, crouched a few feet away, heard it all. He suddenly turned and went a few steps, his hand searching the ground. He felt soft earth, and thrust his hand into it. The biting began immediately so he grabbed a handful of earth and ants and, gritting his teeth, returned to the copulating couple and placed the pile on the wall right by the woman’s bare back. The man was too busy gorging himself on her breasts to notice, and Casca withdrew to one side and waited.

  He didn’t have to wait long. The woman began shrieking and stood up suddenly, flapping at her back. “Ow! I’m being bitten!” As the bites spread, she screamed and ran away from the gazebo, the man standing helplessly as the other guests came to investigate and stopped in amazement at the sight of the half-naked woman screaming, running mindlessly through the grounds. The man stood in Casca’s way so the Eternal Mercenary reached out, grabbed him and hurled him backwards over the low wall and punched him twice, hard. The man flopped for a few seconds, then lay still.

  The woman continued screaming, running through the stunned guests and plunged into the ornate fountain that stood in the center of the garden and ducked herself under the water. While everyone’s attention was distracted, Casca quickly half-ran, half-walked his way into the house and orientated himself, trying to find a place away from where the visitors would walk through. Food lay on the dining table and Casca helped himself to a few olives, spiced meats and goats cheese. Stuffing them into his mouth, he noiselessly made his way out of the dining room and found himself in a room with mosaics on the floor, couches scattered around the room and icons of the Virgin and Jesus on the wall.

  He pressed himself up against the wall close to the door and next to a cabinet that afforded some cover and listened. After a few minutes he heard voices; two servants or slaves making cheap jokes about the woman and the fact i
t had ruined the atmosphere. They had guessed the man had fled in embarrassment which Casca grinned at. The victim would probably not come to for an hour or so, and by then he hoped things would have been resolved here.

  A stern voice came to him next. “Stop chatting and get those bowls replaced! My guests will want to forget about the incident outside quickly. Get more wine!”

  The speaker came into the room and Casca saw it was a middle-aged man wearing a white tunic with red edging, and white pants. Casca took a deep breath, swung the door shut and spoke. “Narbonus?”

  “Yes, what do you want?” the man swung round irritably, annoyed he had been interrupted in his search for some papers. He saw the dark shape by the door holding his sword and fear suddenly clutched his chest. “Who are you?”

  “The one man you never wanted to meet,” Casca grinned mirthlessly, his face a death mask. “I’m Casca Rufio Longinus.”

  Narbonus went white and clutched his chest. Casca advanced slowly on him, his sword ominously poised at his side. “N-No, by the Blood of the Lamb!”

  “Yes, you sick bastard. I’m here to get some of my own back on the Brotherhood. And you’re going to be the beginning!” Casca cut his blade through the air, slicing down through the lawyer’s upraised arms and into his neck, severing the carotid artery, sending bright red blood splattering up into the air. Narbonus fell like a stone, his eyes wide in pain and terror, and Casca wiped his blade and stepped away from the spasmodically jerking body. He felt nothing; it was the same as stepping on a louse.