by Tony Roberts
He heard voices in the passageway and turned the other way, finding himself in the kitchen. There was a back door and he left that way, finding himself in the rear courtyard where amphorae and packages were stored. The wall was high but by using the wooden boxes to stand on he managed to haul himself up and over the wall. The other side was undergrowth but to the left he could see one of the nearby streets so he dropped down, staggered for a moment, then regained his balance and moved off towards the lights.
Behind him the screams began and he smiled to himself. One down, twelve to go.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Narses grumbled when the message arrived requesting his presence at the new secret meeting place of the Brotherhood. It troubled him that the message had been sent from Janus, one of the Inner Circle, a man tipped to succeed Thassus one day. Usually it was the Elder that summoned the Inner Circle unless he was unable to do so for good reason, and the recent incidents in Constantinople made this a sinister development. Of the thirteen members of the Inner Circle five were in or around the city, three more were in Adrianople, three more in the Empire’s lands in Asia or Africa and two in Italy. It would take some time for all to be summoned which explained the date the meeting had been set for: in a week from today. The letter explained that these few had already been summoned a week or so previously. He placed the message in the burning brazier that stood outside his tent to destroy the evidence and pondered on the latest development.
The Beast had returned; he had gathered that from his spy in Sicarus’ mercenary company, and he intended breaking the news to the Inner Circle at the next conclave. This would also help humiliate the Elder, for Narses intended to undermine the authority of the man he saw as having unjustly taken his rightful place as leader of the Brotherhood. If Narses had this information and the Elder did not, it would enhance his standing within the organization. He would also make sure that his men would be on full alert before the meeting in a week, and no one would learn of Longinus, cursed may his name be, until he determined otherwise.
* * *
The street was thronged with people busy with the commerce of the day. Here, down by the Golden Horn, ships loaded up or unloaded, bringing trade to and from the city. It was Constantinople’s lifeblood, and the jetties along the northern boundary of the capital teemed with life. Spices and fish were put onto the stone wharves to be carried into the warehouses, filling the air with their odor. The smell of the sea and sweat of the hard working dock hands mixed to bring to Casca a familiar tang. Birds circled above, the seagulls shrieking, furious at being denied a meal of fish that waited for them on the land. Ships creaked with the rise and fall of the swell and the cries of a hundred tongues intermingled into a low rumble all along the waterfront.
Casca stood with his back to the walls of the city, watching one particular hut a short distance off. That was the office of the insurance brokers who contained one of the Brotherhood. Casca had identified him thirty minutes ago but wanted to make sure it was empty before making his move. The man left together with a ship’s captain and Casca pushed himself off the wall and walked along the packed jetties towards the hut.
He had to dodge a group of arguing merchants, protesting at the price of snails from Crete, those valuable crustaceans that when crushed produced the much sought color of purple, the imperial color. It took thousands of snails to produce a few drops, so the price was huge, hence only royalty could really afford it. It seemed the price of these was getting too high even for imperial purses!
The hut was empty and Casca pulled the door open and shut it behind him, examining the interior. It was stuffy and hot and even though the single window was open, the heat brought him out in a sweat straight away. Casca shuffled through some papers on the only desk but he wasn’t really interested. The broker would be back soon, he was sure of it. He was just passing time. There was a small alcove at the rear which appeared to be a store room of sorts. Casca was examining some papers for a ship’s insurance carrying incense from Jaffa when the door opened.
“What in the name of God do you think you’re doing?”
Casca turned to see the broker standing in the doorway, eyes blazing in hostility. The man couldn’t see Casca’s face clearly, having just come in from the bright sunlight, and he strode over to him and grabbed the papers out of his hand. “These are private papers and nothing to do with you!”
“Sorry,” Casca said and grabbed the man by the throat and pulled him to the alcove at the rear, stopping any sound escaping his throat. He pushed the man to the floor and knelt on his chest, placing his sword tip at his throat. “Know who I am now, slave of Izram?”
The broker’s eyes went wider still. “L-Longinus!”
“Well done,” Casca smiled, then the smile vanished and he thrust the sword deep, the blade making an obscene sucking noise. Blood spattered onto his arm and he pulled the blade free, grimacing. Leaving the corpse lying on the floor, out of casual sight, he left the hut and made his way back into the city. Again, he felt nothing. No elation, no remorse, nothing. Normally he wouldn’t murder like that, but these people evoked such a feeling of hatred in him he didn’t consider it murder. He’d have to decide which of the cell was next on his hit list.
The next few days were ones that dragged. He had been summoned by Hadramon who aired the wishes of the Empress. Hadramon was dubious about pitting Casca against Manius but if the imperial presence requested it, then he had no choice, particularly as his future with the faction was on the line. Already the word had got out that there would be a head-to-head clash between Manius and the pretender to his crown, Rufius, and betting had been brisk. Ibrahim informed him that Manius was the hot favorite and the odds on Rufius (Ibrahim didn't know that Casca and Rufius were one and the same) were long, but Casca put a pound of gold on him which nearly gave the Arab a heart attack. Nevertheless the bet was accepted with the warning that if Rufius won then Casca’s bets would no longer be accepted henceforth as his winnings would virtually clean him out this time round. Casca snorted and replied that if Manius won with the odds currently being quoted then it would be Ibrahim making a fortune.
The one thing Hadramon kept on to Casca about was his usual slow starts. He was often the last into the first turn which disadvantaged him terribly, and an experienced man like Manius would easily take advantage of that. From what had been discussed there would be only four to six chariots in the race, two or three from each of the factions. The interest in the city was at fever pitch and as far as he could see it was being blown out of all proportion. In fact he was getting quite a few visitors to the training center and he was finding it increasingly difficult to get any privacy which pissed him off no end. It also curtailed his hunting down of the remaining eleven Brotherhood agents he had targeted.
He was naturally relieved therefore when his paid watcher reported to him at the end of the week that there were people beginning to arrive at the new Brotherhood meeting place as darkness began to fall. He dropped everything, remembering in time to grab his sword, pay off the watcher and tell him to forget everything, and ran off towards the city gates before they were shut for the night. He just about made it and scurried through the dark alleyways near the Lychus Valley and came out near a thick growth of trees that marked the descent to the small river that ran into the city. Somewhere halfway down the slope there was an old aqueduct that had dried up after one of the frequent earthquakes that struck the city had passed, and it ran into the side of the valley and under the city until it emerged on the other side of the walls. It was in there that the Brotherhood had found a new nest and were now converging like flies to shit.
Casca waited until he saw another hooded person descend the slope towards the entrance before moving. He reached out and snaked a hand round the person's throat, pulled him up into the trees and choked the life out of him. Luckily the man wasn’t strong and his struggles were ineffective and soon died away.
Taking the brown homespun woolen robe off his victim he
took a good look and was shocked to see a man in a Christian bishop’s attire. It seemed their tentacles reached everywhere. Tucking his sword into his belt he pulled the robe on over his clothes and threw the hood over his head, concealing his features entirely. He looked up and down the path and seeing no one in sight stepped out boldly and walked down to where the entrance to the aqueduct was located. Three guards suddenly materialized from the gloom and challenged him, asking him for the password for that evening. Casca had obtained such from Thassus during his ‘interrogation’ and confidently answered, making sure his sword was in easy reach at the same time.
The guards stood back and permitted him to pass and he walked into the black opening in the hillside, his way guided by the occasional torch flickering in the gloom. He found at the end of the passage a chamber guarded by more soldiers, and there in the middle of a semi lit chamber was the spear, his spear, surrounded by those gathered there for the meeting.
Casca found an empty space for him to kneel and he did so, keeping his head lowered so that he couldn’t be recognized. After him there were only two more arrivals and once they were in place one of them, a tall man, stood and approached the Spear of Longinus. “Brothers of the Faith, we have suffered another blow this past week. Elder Thassus was found murdered in his home, possibly by someone who has taken into his twisted mind to persecute the Brotherhood.” A hiss uttered from those around him, and Casca kept still, feeling he was knelt in the presence of a nest of snakes. The speaker carried on. “It is possible he followed the Elder back to his home from our last meeting and marked his time until he was alone and vulnerable. We must make sure we are not caught in a similar way. Now, Brothers, you have all been called together as we must elect a new Elder, one to lead us in the fight against the Beast and the revitalized Empire. As you may know there are two who have expressed a wish to lead the Brotherhood to greater glories who narrowly missed out in the last election; Narses the Eunuch and Janus the Architect. I must ask you all here to consider the two candidates as a successor to Elder Thassus and choose carefully. May the two please step forward and pay homage to the Spear of Longinus?”
The two rose up, both with an air of complete surprise at the turn of events, and approached the Holy of Holies before kneeling and touching the shaft reverently, speaking out in loud voices of how unworthy they were, praying for the Lamb to give them strength in the trials of life ahead. Casca felt nothing but contempt for them. After all, it was only his pilum which he had driven into Jesus’ side five centuries ago, not some towering shrine or temple.
The auditor then asked the remaining members to listen to the two before choosing which of them they wished to lead the Brotherhood. Janus spoke first, expressing the wish to spread the Word of the Lamb to the barbarian tribes that lived to the north of the Caucasus and the Danube, inspiring them to pour forth into the civilized lands and destroying them, thus bringing chaos to the land from which the Second Coming would surely spring. Narses then had his say, stating they should kill all the leaders of the Empires of the known world and send their administrations into paralysis, hindering their efforts to halt the incursions of the Huns, Slavs and Avars. That way, he insisted, was the true way. Then he dropped a real shock to the Conclave by informing them the Beast had returned and it was certain that it had been he that had killed Elder Thassus. This caused a real stir and the Brotherhood muttered amongst themselves for a moment. Casca, like the others, was asked if he had heard this but he shook his head dumbly and whispered slowly of his shock, mimicking the others’ words so as not to appear the odd one out.
Casca was horrified by both speeches; what they preached was death and destruction and he had seen far too much in his long life already. If either of these two got their way the shit would start flying good and proper. However, which to choose now? Janus seemed the best bet, his plan of bringing barbarians in to destroy the Empire a much more risky venture, while Narses’ plan was quicker, deadlier but not necessarily guaranteed and would certainly bring the Brotherhood's presence to the fore.
The two candidates stood at either end of the chamber and the other members of the Brotherhood had to face which one they chose. Casca watched as the others made their mind up and faced which one they thought was the future, and he was surprised to see how close the voting was. He decided to vote for Janus and added his presence to the five who thought likewise, smiling slightly as he realized his was the deciding vote. He, Casca Rufio Longinus, was in effect choosing the next Elder!
“So,” the auditor said, “it is decided. Janus is the new Elder, may he be guided by the Gentle Lamb.”
Janus took up his place in the center and stood proudly as the others knelt facing him. Casca stole a look over to Narses and saw that the eunuch was kneeling very stiffly indeed, a sure sign of anger. Good, any sign of dissension in their ranks would work to his advantage one way or another, and Narses would be an easier target now he had been rejected by the Brotherhood’s elite. They stayed and prayed for a moment before Janus called for the Book of the Beast to be brought to him.
Casca frowned; this was something he was intrigued to hear. What the Hades was this? A book about him? He glanced up and saw the auditor place a large hide-bound book in Janus’ hands and step back deferentially. Janus opened the book and cleared his throat. “Hear the words of Izram, my brothers,” he said, and Casca realized he was speaking in old Aramaic, a language he’d not heard in some years. He strained his ears and concentrated in picking up the language, missing a few words but filling in the gaps himself. Janus began reading from the book.
“I am Izram, son of Daniel of Damascus. Know ye that I have shared salt and bread at the table of The Master and have witnessed the miracles with my own eyes. Blessed be The Son of God! It has come to me to pass on the message and the truth about Jesus, his mission on earth and the road we must take to cause the events that will lead to His return. My name will not appear in the written word among the twelve who followed Jesus, for they knew not of me nor of my true purpose. Those calling themselves the disciples were only tools that were to serve their purpose and then be discarded when they were of no further use to the mission.”
Casca listened intently, learning that this Izram had bought his spear after the crucifixion and had tormented himself for forty days in the wilds of the desert and then had tasted the dried blood of Jesus on the spear and had received something he thought was a Vision. The Elder carried on. “Before I give you the word I received in the desert, there are things that first must be said, that you may know and understand the truth. First, I, Izram, knew that Jesus was not of the blood of the tribes of Judah. This proof was given in visions and through my studies of ancient scrolls that have been hidden from the eyes of the world for uncounted centuries.”
Casca personally thought this Izram sounded as mad as a bag of frogs.
“The bloodlines of Jesus came from the ancient and noble house of the Aryan peoples. His coming was foretold by the Magi of Persia long before the Hebrew prophets made their predictions. Indeed, the prophecy of the Hebrews came to them from the wise men of the Magi in order to prepare the way for His coming. In Babylon, Nebuchadnezzar was instructed by his wise men to free the Hebrew slaves from their bondage that they could return to Judea; this was done in order that several families could be inserted into the Hebrew tribes that were of the Aryan stock and not Hebraic.”
The Elder went on to describe how this would lead to the birth of the ‘King’ and that The Savior must be born in Judea because there would be a time when the elements needed would be right for a confrontation to take place so that a new world order could come to pass. Izram’s deluded vision had brought about a twist in the preachings of Jesus which Casca heard from the mouth of Janus. He listened on, horrified.
“His disciples were to spread this word throughout the world, beginning in Judea, for there was where the confrontation would take place with the power of the world, Rome. The disciples were to bring to Jesus the masses, an
d when the time was right they would strike throughout the Roman Empire, loyal followers using the ways of death to eliminate those who stood in their path. A single dagger, properly placed, can do more good than a thousand warriors. We were to use fear and dissention to create a vacuum of power, which would then be filled by our own people, and those who stood in our way were to perish.”
Casca was chilled. His thought of a world being controlled by this sect was too horrendous to think of. They had to be wiped out; his act of vengeance now had a greater purpose, to save countless lives from the evil the Brotherhood represented. The Elder now read out the conditions necessary for paving the way for this new order, a time of chaos and discontent, a conflict between the great powers and a distrust of everything. Izram’s ravings came through from centuries past, telling how his message was the one true message. Death to all who opposed this word. At the end of this turmoil Jesus would sit on the throne and rule for all time.
Janus paused and surveyed the sea of bowed heads in front of him. He continued. “But this great work was ruined by two actions. First, the turning over of Jesus to the Romans by the unspeakable Jews, who from this day forth shall be our mortal enemies, for they must never have a chance to betray Him again. And secondly, the deed of the Roman known as Casca Rufio Longinus. If he had not struck Jesus with the spear, then our Lord would not have given up His mortal body to return to His Father.”
Casca disputed that; the condemned man had been in a bad way even before he’d speared him. It was unlikely he’d’ve recovered from those wounds. Janus droned on, oblivious of anything other than the sacred words in front of him. “I was returning to Judea from my home in Syria and was just outside Jerusalem when I heard word of the trial of Jesus and His punishment. I rushed to the scene but arrived too late, else I would have been able to save Him. For I had bought the services of a thousand armed men who could have easily overpowered the Roman guards and released Jesus.”