Varus’s eyes scourged me to my depths. He frowned, and then stepped forward. “I have seen you. I have. Where?”
“In Jerusalem,” I said mysteriously. “I had business there for Augustus.”
His eyes flashed. “The business with the treasurer, the thieving scribe Sabinus! Oh! You were … I should have arrested you, but I told them not to. You saved me a lot of trouble. He lived, do you know. Sabinus.”
“I left him alive,” I said. “I left him amid his fabulous heaps of coin, and golden artifacts. All stolen no doubt.”
His eyes flashed. “Some. Part was due to Rome as dead Herod’s estate. Yes, I remember you. There was the uncouth prefect of the Parthians, and … splendid soldiers the lot of them. You and your men were sent by Augustus?”
So we had claimed. So we told his tribunes. “Yes.”
“Did you,” he asked with some worry, “speak to Augustus about the happenings there?”
“No, not to Augustus.”
I smiled. The talents of gold in that room had gone somewhere, and Varus looked wealthy enough. He eyed me, and I eyed him, and he nodded with a wink. “Have you spoken much about that day? To anyone?”
I shook my head. “I’ve not spoken anything to anyone about that day, or of the tower in Jerusalem, or of what Sabinus did. Or what anyone else did, for the matter. I don’t speak a lot.”
He smiled, and turned to go and leaned close. “I appreciate that. Let us talk again, one day, since discreet men are rare and worth their weight in gold.” He navigated up the street with his servants.
Lollius winked at me. “Secrets?”
“His secrets,” I said with a bow. “I am sorry. I cannot—”
“And I also appreciate a man who can hold such secrets! Though he is too close to Livia, at times.”
“This was not a secret about Livia, but his wealth,” I said with a smile.
He went serious, and watched Gaius, walking past shady trees on his way to Circus Maximus, where great games were to be held. “We shall accompany Gaius as he tries to tackle the world of diplomacy in Syria. The Armenian issues need settling, and as Parthia is weak now, it will be a test he can pass.”
Indeed, Armenia, one of the kingdoms between Parthia and Roman allies and dependents in Syria had long been troubled with the competition of the two nations. Now, the former Armenian King Tigranes IV, a man who had served Roman interest, but who was also a wavering Parthian ally, was dead, and the people of Armenia had approached Rome for a new king. Augustus would name a successor, as the Armenians themselves wanted to be rid of the Parthian disease that had crept on their lands. That new king might be in trouble, if Parthia could just finish their civil war with a clear and overwhelming winner. He smiled at me. “First, we have issues to deal with in Rome. There was a surprise for us. We are meeting Maroboodus tomorrow.”
I accidentally dropped my spear. I picked it up, and he smiled at me with amusement. “Maroboodus?”
He nodded. “The scroll I mentioned. It is delivered in person, so Augustus will meet with the Germani Maroboodus. Well, no. This Maroboodus has sent an emissary. Gaius will observe.”
I smiled fixedly.
Things were going as planned.
Maroboodus had sent his men, and the time to act had come.
Before that, I had to deal with Germanicus. And that deed would start a feud that would last for decades.
***
There was never a building quite like the Circus Maximus. Full of taverns and betting houses under its long, seemingly endless porticos, the building was the marvel of the ages. Hosting merchants and moneylenders all through the day, betting men and women out to make their dreams come true strolled through it in endless masses. Most left it disappointed, even broken. Inside, the glory of Rome was presented in the form of marble and silver, by huge statues and rich tapestries as the horses and finest of charioteers raced in their teams for glory. Fortunes were made by some of those riders and chariots.
There too, great battles for the very best of gladiators took place.
That day, the munera would cost Augustus dearly. Criminals had been executed already that morning, to the joy of those crowds that cared not for the official business in Forum. Soon, bestiarii in their crested helmets would fight lions and tigers, and in the afternoon, fifty of the best gladiators would fight for glory and crowns of laurel.
The great party of Augustus disappeared before us for the great staircase, Praetorians pushed and kept people off the great family, and that is when Germanicus hesitated.
He was standing before a stairway leading down.
He licked his lips, the guard Ulrich bent to talk to him, and he nodded downstairs, and ignoring the head-shakes of Ulrich, he spoke to Lucius and Gaius. “The lions are below in cages. Wish to see them?”
He knew all about the animals. He knew many by name.
Lollius stepped forward. “No, that is not—”
“Oh, we shall,” Germanicus whooped, and rushed down the stairs. “Come, Gaius, or I will tell Livilla you are a coward.”
Livilla was on the stairs, hesitating, and Gaius sighed, and waved her on her way. “I shall join you soon.” Livilla nodded and followed Augustus. Gaius turned to the stairs going down, and grinning Lucius pushed him down with him.
“We’ll pick our favorite, brother,” Lucius whooped, and rushed forward.
And so, Gaius followed.
And so did the lot of us. Some Praetorians blocked the way on top. Even Lollius followed, taking timid steps on the glistening, wet steps.
Below there was a great, seemingly endless dark corridor where torches flickered all the way to the far end, and gear and men waited for their turn to go on top. While no horses or chariots needed an underground area, the fighters did, and this time several slaves and some bestiarii were walking back and forth before dozens of huge, crude iron cages that would soon be maneuvered in positions to be taken to the top.
Hulking, dangerous beasts looked like agitated shadows as they walked back and forth in the flickering light of torches. Lions, with their eyes gleaming in the semi-dark, and tigers, from far, far away, were either sleeping, half starved, or pacing back and forth. The smell of animals and shit filled our nostrils, and the long corridor to the darkness was like a route to Helheim.
I spied Germanicus far ahead already with his guards. “Gaius! This one is mine!” he hollered, as Ulrich kept him away from the cage. The boy laughed, dodged behind Ulrich, and rattled the cage, the shadow, huge and menacing moved, and, audibly cursing, Ulrich pushed him away. Germanicus pointed at the animal and yelled to Gaius, who was walking forward. “I am betting on this scarred one! You take the one with it? They say this is the one that shall win. The other one has potential as well.”
Indeed, there seemed to be two lions in the cage. A huge head moved.
“Let me see, then!” Gaius called back.
“Shit stupid bastard,” Wandal muttered as Germanicus rattled the animal inside with his antics. Ulrich pulled a sword and we all flinched as a hugely powerful lion roared at their faces.
“I need to see it,” Gaius muttered and walked forward. “Otherwise he shall torment me forever for failing to brave it. That’s why he is making them mad. To make me flinch.”
“We all flinch with lions next to us,” I said, and did.
Smooth shadows of death, the animals were most all large as small bears, and much more … noble. Intelligent, golden eyes flashed in the darkness, predators well suited for the darkness, and not a man was left unshaken as we passed cages with such creatures so close
A slave, a man caked with manure and hay, was bowing before Germanicus, next to the cage, and nodding as the boy spoke. Germanicus whooped, walked forward, and went to gaze at a large predator at the edge of shadows.
Gaius was thrilled, and afraid. So was Lucius.
“What do they eat?” Lucius asked.
The lot of us rolled our eyes. He had a habit of asking idiotic questions.
Gaius had no mercy. “Flesh. Preferably on a bone.”
“Oh!” Lucius answered.
There were eight guards. Agetan, Tudrus, Wandal, and I, and four more of Lucius’. Lollius was still there as well, and we walked forward with Gaius and Lucius.
Germanicus walked off to wonder at some new sight, with cursing Ulrich in tow, whooping at what he saw.
We got near the huge cage. The two lions got to their feet, already mad.
The slave, face pale, got up, and pulled a latch.
And ran.
The gate opened.
Everyone froze.
Now there are moments when you are scared enough to shit your tunic. You will feel such deep levels of horror, such certainty of your death, there is no doubt in your mind that you are hopelessly lost, and panic seems justified.
When the first lion, a beast many times the size of a man, with its sleek muscles and golden, merciless eyes slinked out of that cage, never looking away from Gaius, I knew it was going to be the end of us.
Gaius was before me. Lucius next to him. The lion was ten feet away.
It roared, and we all moved. Spear first, I slammed into Lucius, and pushed him to the side. He fell with a scream, struck a cage, and rolled to the mud. Tudrus grabbed Gaius by his hair, and yanked him back, while Agetan’s shield came over them.
Just in time.
A beast was over them, huge paws raking at the shield, as the lion tried to kill Agetan, and poor Gaius under him. Wandal threw a spear, and it missed the massive thing, while I pushed mine at the beast.
It sunk into its side.
The eyes turned to me, he roared at my face, and jumped. It came down at me, a paw struck my helmet, the claws dug into my chest, ripping into the chainmail, and we fell. The spear snapped, the lion’s maw came for my face, and the helmet was caught in those jaws, the mighty paws around me. I felt like a child as it ripped its head back and forth, roaring and panting. A claw struck my neck, burrowed into the skin, and a fang tore under my cheek guard. I tried pushing it away, but it was hopeless. Its hind legs were beating the ground and then, it tossed me aside like a carcass. I struck a cage, and rolled to see the yellow-golden eyes close. My head rang as the paw struck my head, and ripped off my helmet.
The lion seemed to smile.
I heard the guards yelling, then saw another lion, female, pounce on one of our men and clamp its jaws on his face, dragging him down. I pulled Nightbright, the lion moved, and I stabbed at the flesh above me, saw the eyes above me, and then Nightbright went through one of the eyes.
It roared so hard my ears rang.
It retreated, and with brutal butchering swords, our guards attacked the thing. It turned, and turned, swiping with claws, but Tudrus pushed a spear in its chest, and howling, it fell over me, shuddering, and we all kept stabbing until it died. I looked around, in pain, saw two bestiarii and Agetan fighting the last lion, which was reluctant to let go of our guardsman’s corpse, until it caught a spear in the neck, then the side, and fell, mewling pitifully.
“Find that slave!” I heard Wandal screaming.
“Find him, and bring him to me!” Lollius agreed with a shaky, terrified voice, and I looked over to see Lucius holding a stunned, panting Gaius.
They were alive.
I crawled from under the lion, and stood over them, bleeding.
Shortly after, we found the man.
He was laying in the darkness, a short way down the darker part of the corridor, and had died under a claw of a tiger, having ventured too close to the cage. I squatted next to him, and Wandal did as well, while Agetan pushed a spear at the upset, starving beast inside, to keep it away from the bars.
Wandal grunted. “His neck is broken.”
Indeed, it was twisted in an odd shape.
“Could be the beast,” Tudrus said.
“Where is Germanicus?” I asked.
“Ulrich took him up,” Wandal said. “To safety. They say he was very upset. He said this slave seemed drunk. He smells of dung, so it is hard to say.”
I shook my head. “After the games, I need to speak to Euanthe.”
“Eh?” Tudrus asked.
“I need to find a particular whorehouse.”
CHAPTER 12
Euanthe leaned over to me as we skulked in the shadows. “It is just a tavern. Juppiter’s Smile, is the real name. Your young Drusus got it wrong.”
“What,” asked Wandal, “if it was Livia? What if she tried to kill Germanicus as well.”
“It could very well have been Livia, who is using idiot Germanicus to further her agenda,” I told them. “We shall see.”
“He was down there,” Tudrus said uncertainly, and Agetan agreed with a grunt. “He risked his life, didn’t he? He might be at home, weeping in Antonia’s lap.”
Euanthe pushed her husband gently. “Hraban has good instincts. Like a bloodhound, he is. This is where they are, isn’t it? See? Isn’t that one of them?”
Indeed, I saw Ulrich stepping out. The red headed man was wearing a casual tunic, and had a sword on his hip. He was looking up and down, bored, standing in a doorway of black wood, holding a cup of wine.
“Third turma, eh?” I said. “See.”
Next to Ulrich, there appeared a man whom I had seen with Livia. Also wearing a casual tunic, he was speaking with Ulrich.
“This is where they meet,” I added. “Livia and my damned fool Germanicus have been naughty.”
The others were quiet as we watched the two men. Ulrich raised his voice and pushed the Ubii, who yelled something back. Ulrich tossed away the cup and stormed inside. The Ubii was cursing and sat down.
“Not a happy family of murderers, are they? It is Germanicus,” Tudrus said. “You going to go in there and demand an explanation from a man who is blood of Augustus himself? Will you?”
I nodded. “I will. And you bloody well must come with me. I’m done skulking in the shadows, and I will put an end to Livia’s other plans.”
Euanthe was frowning. “It might be costly for you. All of us. He is—”
“A damned pup,” I said and kissed her cheek in thanks, making Tudrus frown. I pulled Nightbright and flipped it in my hand so it was half hidden behind my forearm as I moved.
“Shit,” Wandal said, and then I went forward. I walked up/down the street, where some light flickered in the windows. A few rare candles were casting some light from a wealthy domus, and oil lamps hung on the posts of Juppiter’s Smile.
The Ubii was rubbing his neck, muttering angrily, and cursing, still upset over whatever argument they had been having, and hardly paid attention to me. He lifted his eyes, finally, his blond hair quivering with surprise, and then I moved forward with speed, Nightbright now in my hand.
I stabbed up at his mass, and the blade went through his skin like it would penetrate a woolen blanket. I pushed him to the side, left him gagging in the mud and stone, and walked into the tavern.
Inside, there was only one man. It was a second Ubii, sitting in the middle of the abandoned floor, drinking wine.
“What are you doing here?” he spat, trying to get up.
I stepped to the side, and Wandal tossed a short javelin at the man, taking him in the chest, and throwing him over the table. “Secure this place,” I snarled at Agetan, who nodded, and closed the door after us. Tudrus had walked for the back entrance, no doubt shaking his head.
I loped up a set of stairs.
There, I found a corridor with a single red door and a few closet sized rooms, that were all empty.
Does he damned well own the place? Where is everyone?
I kicked the door, broke the lock, and stepped in.
On a single bed, heaped with pillows and expensive sheets, young Germanicus was on all fours.
Behind him, was the scar faced Ubii, one of the favorites of Livia, thrusting vigorously inside the young man.
Both turned their heads towards me. Time seemed to stop, mice were rushing about in the straw littered floor, bu
t very little could be heard.
“Shit,” I heard Wandal saying over my shoulder.
Germanicus gasped. “Hraban!”
I moved forward, snarling. The man behind Germanicus moved lighting fast. He slipped out of Germanicus, jumped at me and I nearly died. He rammed into me, my leg slipped on a carpet, and we slammed into the doorway, which cracked and closed. His hand was around my throat, brutal eyes gleaming over me, and his hand held my sword by the blade, his flesh and tendons getting cut as I struggled to free it. The man’s grip was like iron, his mouth screwed into a cruel, pained smile, and a victorious one. Wandal was trying to push in, the door was shuddering. I pushed the man back, choked, he pushed me right back, and then, I was saved.
But not by Germanicus.
By Ulrich.
The man stood next to us, a pugio deep in the Ubii’s skull. He twisted it back and forth, and pulled and pushed until I was freed. He brutally tore the man off me, and tossed him to the side. He saw Wandal pushing through, and stepped back. Ulrich gave Germanicus a long, disgusted look, and then he watched me, and spoke with a voice full of rage, resentment, and anger. “I didn’t know,” he said. “I knew about our young master’s preferences, but I had no idea he was brewing such a lie.”
“Don’t tell him a thing!” Germanicus squeaked, naked on the bed.
“Shut up,” Ulrich snarled. “You told me to kill that man, and that man was on your business.”
I stared at Germanicus who was slack jawed with horror. His clothes were in a heap, there was a table full of wine, and even a target for a bow, with yellow-shafted arrows sticking out of it. I walked to one of the arrows, and pulled it out.
Germanicus went white of face.
The boy, for once, was deprived of confidence and arrogance. His eyes were wet with tears, as he stared at the corpse on the floor.
“I would,” Ulrich said, “be rid of his company.”
The Bane of Gods: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 5) Page 17