Читать книгу The Emperor Series Books 1-4 - Conn Iggulden - Страница 16

Gaius lifted into consciousness, woken by angry voices in the room. His head pounded and he felt weak in every bone. Pain from below his waist heaved in great waves, with answering throbs at pulse points on his body. His mouth was dry and he could not speak or keep his eyes open. The darkness was soft and red and he tried to go back under, not yet willing to join the conscious struggle again.

‘I have removed the perforated appendix, and tied off the severed vessels. He has lost a great deal of blood, which will take time to be replenished, but he is young and strong.’ A stranger's voice – one of the estate doctors? Gaius didn't know or care. As long as he wasn't going to die, they should just leave him alone to get well.

‘My wife's doctor says you are a charlatan.’ His father's voice, no give in it.

‘He would not operate on such a wound – so you have lost nothing, yes? I have removed the appendix once before, it is not a fatal operation. The only problem is the onset of fever, which he must fight on his own.’

‘I was taught that it was always fatal. The appendix swells and bursts. It cannot be removed as you might cut off a finger.’ His father sounded tired, Gaius thought.

‘Nevertheless, I have done so. I have also bandaged the older man. He too will recover, although he will never fight again, with the damage to his left shoulder. All will live here. You should sleep.’

Gaius heard footsteps cross his room and felt the warm, dry skin of his father's palm on his damp forehead.

‘He is my only child; how can I sleep, Cabera? Would you sleep if it was your child?’

‘I would sleep like a baby. We have done all that we can. I will continue to watch over him, but you must get your rest.’ The other voice seemed kind, but not the rounded tones of the physicians that tended his mother. There was a trace of a strange accent, a mellifluous rhythm as he spoke.

Gaius sank into sleep again as if he held a dark weight on his chest. The voices continued on the edge of hearing, slipping in and out of fever dreams.

‘Why have you not closed the wound with stitches? I've seen a lot of battle wounds, but we close them and bind them …’

‘This is why the Greek dislikes my methods. The wound must have a drain for the pus that will fill it as the fever strengthens. If I closed it tight, the pus would have nowhere to go and poison his flesh. Then he would surely die, as most do. This could save him.’

‘If he dies, I will cut your own appendix out myself.’

There was a cackle and a few words in a strange language that echoed in Gaius' dreams.

‘You would have a job finding it. Here is the scar from when my father removed mine many years ago – with the drain.’

Gaius' father spoke with finality: ‘I will trust your judgement then. You have my thanks and more if he lives.’

Gaius woke as a cool hand touched his forehead. He looked into blue eyes, bright in skin the colour of walnut wood.

‘My name is Cabera, Gaius. It is good to meet you at last and at such a moment in your life. I have been travelling for thousands of your miles. It is enough to make me believe in the gods to have arrived here when I was needed. No?’

Gaius couldn't respond. His tongue was thick and solid in his mouth. As if reading his thoughts, the old man reached over and brought a shallow bowl of water to his lips.

‘Drink a little. The fever is burning the moisture from your body.’

The few drops slid into his mouth and loosened the gummy saliva that had gathered there. Gaius coughed and his eyes closed again. Cabera looked down at the boy and sighed for a moment. He checked that there was no one around and then placed his bony old hands over the wound, around the thin wood tube that still dribbled sluggish fluid.

A warmth came from his hands that Gaius could feel even in his dreams. He felt tendrils of heat spread up into his chest and settle into his lungs, clearing away fluid.

The heat built until it was almost painful and then Cabera took his hands away and sat still, his breathing suddenly harsh and broken.

Gaius opened his eyes again. He still felt too weak to move, but the feeling of liquid moving inside him had gone. He could breathe again.

‘What did you do?’ he murmured.

‘Helped a little, yes? You needed a little help, even after all my skills as a surgeon.’ The old face was deeply lined with exhaustion, but his eyes still shone out from the dark creases. The hand was pressed against his forehead again.

‘Who are you?’ he whispered.

The old man shrugged. ‘I am still working on an answer to that. I have been a beggar and the chief of a village. I think of myself as a seeker after truths, with a new truth for each place I reach.’

‘Can you help my mother?’ Gaius kept his eyes closed, but he could hear the soft sigh that came from the man.

‘No, Gaius. Her problem is in her mind, or the soul, perhaps. I can help a little with physical hurt, but nothing more. It is much simpler. I am sorry. Sleep now, lad. Sleep is the real healer, not I.’

Darkness came, as if ordered.

When he woke again, Renius was sitting on the bed, his face unreadable as always. As Gaius opened his eyes, he took in the changed appearance of his teacher. His left shoulder was heavily bound close to the body and there was a pallor under the sun-darkened skin.

‘How are you, lad? I can't tell you how good it is to see you getting better. That old tribesman must be a miracle worker.’ The voice at least was the same, curt and hard.

‘I think he may be, yes. I'm surprised to see you here after almost killing me,’ Gaius murmured, feeling his heart pump faster as the memories came fresh. He felt sweat break out on his forehead.

‘I did not mean to cut you badly. It was a mistake. I am sorry.’ The old man looked into his eyes for forgiveness and found it there waiting for him.

‘Don't be sorry. I am alive and you are alive. Even you make mistakes.’

‘When I thought I'd killed you …’ There was pain in the old face.

Gaius struggled to sit up and found, to his surprise, that his strength was growing.

‘You did not kill me. I will always be proud to say it was you who trained me. Let there be no more words on this. It is done.’

For a second Gaius was struck by the ridiculousness of a thirteen-year-old boy comforting the old gladiator, but the words came easily as he realised he felt a genuine affection for this man, especially now he could see him as a man and not a perfect warrior, cut from some strange stone.

‘Is my father still here?’ he asked, hoping he would be.

Renius shook his head. ‘He had to return to the city, though he sat by your bed for the first few days, until we were sure you were on the mend. The riots grow worse and Sulla's legion has been recalled to establish order.’

Gaius nodded and held out his clenched hand before him.

‘I would like to be there, to see the legion come through the gates.’

Renius smiled at the young man's enthusiasm.

‘Not this time, I think, but you will see more of the city when you are well again. Tubruk is outside. Are you strong enough to see him?’

‘I feel much better, almost normal. How long has it been?’

‘A week. Cabera gave you herbs to keep you asleep. Even so, you've healed incredibly quickly, and I've seen a lot of wounds. That old man calls himself a seer. I think he does have a little magic about him, that one. I'll call Tubruk.’

As Renius rose, Gaius put out his hand. ‘Will you be staying on?’

Renius smiled, but shook his head. ‘The training is over. I am retiring to my own little villa, to grow old in peace.’

Gaius hesitated for a second. ‘Do you … have a family?’

‘I had one, once, but they are long gone. I will spend my evenings with the other old men, telling lies and drinking good red wine. I will keep an eye on your life, though. Cabera says you are someone special, and I don't believe that old devil is wrong very often.’

‘Thank you,’ Gaius said, unable to put into words what the gladiator had given him.

Renius nodded and took his hand and wrist in a firm grip. Then he was gone and the room felt suddenly empty.

Tubruk filled the doorway and smiled a slow smile. ‘You look better. There is colour in your cheeks.’

Gaius grinned at him, beginning to feel like his old self again. ‘I feel stronger. I have been lucky.’

‘No such thing. Cabera's responsible. He is an amazing man. He must be eighty, but when your mother's latest doctor complained about how you were treated, Cabera took him outside and gave him a hiding. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time. He has a lot of strength in those skinny arms and a fast right cross as well. You should have seen it.’ He chuckled at the memory, then his face became sober.

‘Your mother wanted to see you, but we thought it would … distress her too much until you were well. I'll bring her in tomorrow.’

‘Now would be all right. I am not too tired.’

‘No. You are still weak and Cabera says you shouldn't be overworked with visitors.’

Gaius' face showed mock surprise at Tubruk taking advice from anyone.

Tubruk smiled again. ‘Well, as I said, he is an amazing man and, after what he managed with you, what he says goes, as far as your care is concerned. I only let Renius in here because he was leaving today.’

‘I am glad you did. I would not have liked to leave unfinished business.’

‘That's what I thought.’

‘I'm surprised you didn't take his head off,’ Gaius said cheerfully.

‘I thought about it, but accidents happen in training. He just went too far, that's all. For what it's worth, he's proud of both of you. I think the old bastard developed a liking for you, probably for your stubbornness – you're as bad as he is, I think.’

‘How is Marcus?’ Gaius asked.

‘Itching to get in here, of course. You might try to convince him it wasn't his fault. He says he should have forced you to let him fight first, but …’

‘It was my decision and I don't regret it. I lived, after all.’

Tubruk snorted. ‘Don't become overconfident. It makes a man believe in the power of prayer to see you survive a wound like that. If it wasn't for Cabera, you would not have survived it. You do owe him your life. Your father has been trying to get him to accept some sort of reward, but he won't take anything except his keep. I still don't really know why he is here. He seems to believe … that we are moved by the gods like we throw dice, and they wanted him to see the glorious city of Rome before he was too old.’ The bluff freedman looked perplexed and Gaius thought that it wouldn't help to mention his strange memory of the heat from Cabera's hands. That would keep, no doubt.

‘I will get some soup brought in. Would you like some fresh bread with it?’

Gaius' stomach agreed wholeheartedly and Tubruk left, smiling once again.

Renius gained the saddle of his gelding with difficulty. His left arm felt useless, the pain more than the simple ache of healing gashes he had known so many times before.

He was pleased there were no servants or slaves around to see his clumsiness. The great estate house seemed deserted.

At last, he was able to grip the body of the horse with his legs, allowing his muscles to support their weight. Even with evening coming on, he would make it back to the city before complete darkness. He sighed at the thought. What was there, really, for him now? He would sell his town house, although the prices had dropped during the rioting. Perhaps it would be better to wait until the streets were quiet again. With Sulla leading his legion into the city, there would be executions and public floggings, but order would eventually be restored. It had happened before. The Romans did not like war on their doorstep. They thrilled to hear of broken armies of barbarians, but no one enjoyed the brutality of martial law, with a curfew and the scarcity of food that would inevitably …

He heard a sound behind him and his thoughts were interrupted.

Marcus stood watching him, his face calm. ‘I came to wish you goodbye.’

Almost unconsciously, Renius noticed the developed shoulders and the easy way of standing the boy had. He would make a name for himself in some future the old warrior would not be there to see.

A shiver touched him at the thought. No one lives for ever, not an Alexander, not a Scipio or a Hannibal, not even a Renius.

‘I am glad Gaius is healing,’ Renius replied, clearly.

‘I know. I did not come to be angry at you, but to apologise,’ Marcus replied, looking at the sand at his feet.

Renius raised his eyebrows.

Marcus took a deep breath. ‘I am sorry I did not kill you, you twisted, evil bastard. If our paths ever cross in later years, I will take your throat out.’

Renius swayed in the saddle, as if the words were blows. He could feel the hatred and it cheered him up immensely. Laughter threatened to overcome him as the little cockerel made its threats, but he realised he could give a last gift to his pupil, if he chose his words carefully.

‘Such hatred will kill you, boy. And then you won't be there to protect Gaius.’

‘I will always be there for him.’

‘No. Not until you can keep your temper. You will die in some brawl in a stinking bar room, unless you can find calm in yourself. You would have killed me, yes; at my age, my stamina melts faster than I care to admit. But if we had met when I was young, I would have cut through you faster than corn falls to the knife. Remember that the next time you meet a young man with a reputation to make.’ Renius grinned then and it was like seeing the teeth of a shark, lips sliding back over a cruel expression.

‘He may get the chance sooner than you think,’ Cabera said, coming out of the shadows.

‘What? You were listening, you old devil?’ Renius said, still smiling, although his expression eased at the sight of the healer, whom he had come to respect.

‘Look to the city. You will not be going anywhere tonight, I think,’ Cabera continued, his expression serious.

Both Marcus and Renius turned to look out over the hills. Although Rome was hidden by the rise of the land, an orange glow grew brighter as they watched in horror.

‘Jupiter's balls – they've set the city on fire!’ Renius spat. His beloved city.

For a moment, he thought of spurring the horse away, knowing his place should be in the streets. Men knew his face, he could help restore order. A cool hand touched his ankle and he looked down into the face of old Cabera.

‘I see the future occasionally. If you go there now, you will be dead by dawn. This is truth.’

Renius shifted his weight and the gelding clopped its hooves on the sand, feeling his emotions.

‘And if I stay?’ he snapped.

Cabera shrugged. ‘You may die here too. The slaves will be coming to loot this place. We don't have long now.’

Marcus gaped at the words. There were close to five hundred slaves on the estate. If they all went wild, there would be butchery. Without another word, he ran back into the buildings, shouting for Tubruk to raise the alarm.

‘Would you like a hand dismounting from that fine gelding?’ asked Cabera, his eyes wide and innocent.

Renius grimaced, suddenly able to muster his usual anger despite the cheerful old man.

‘The gods don't tell us what is going to happen,’ he said.

Cabera smiled wistfully. ‘I used to believe that. When I was young and arrogant I used to think I could somehow read people, see their true selves and guess at what they would do. It was years before I was humble enough to know it could not be me. It isn't like glancing through a clear window. I just look at you and towards the city and I feel death. Why not? Many men have talents that could almost be magic to those without them. Think of it like that if it makes you more comfortable. Come on. You will be needed here tonight.’

Renius snorted. ‘I suppose you have made a lot of money with this talent of yours?’

‘Once or twice I have, but money does not stay with me. It steals out into the hands of wine merchants and loose women and gamblers. All I have is my experiences, but they are worth more than coin.’

After a few moments of thought, Renius accepted the helping hand and was not surprised to find it steady and strong, not after seeing those skinny shoulders pull the heavy bow in the training yard.

‘You will have to hold my scabbard for me, old man. I will be all right when my sword is out.’ He began to lead the horse back into the stables, stroking its nose and murmuring that they would ride later, when all the excitement was over. He paused for a moment.

‘You can see the future?’

Cabera grinned and hopped from one foot to the other, amused.

‘You want to know if you will live or die here, yes?’ he chattered. ‘That is what everyone asks.’

Renius found his usual sourness coming back in force.

‘No. I don't think I do want to know that. Keep it to yourself, magician.’ He led the horse away without looking back, his shoulders showing his irritation.

When he had gone, Cabera's face filled with grief. He liked the man and was pleased to find that a sort of decency still resided in his heart, despite the fame and money he had won in his life.

‘Perhaps I should have let you go and wither with the other old men, my friend,’ he muttered to himself. ‘You might even have found happiness somewhere. Yet if you had left, the boys would have been surely killed, so this is a sin I can live with, I think.’ His eyes were bleak as he turned to the great gates of the estate outer wall and began to push them closed. He wondered if he too would die in this foreign land, unknown in his own. He wondered if his father's spirit was close by and watching and decided that it probably wasn't. His father at least had the sense not to sit in the cave and wait for the bear to come home.

Galloping hoof-beats sounded in the distance. Cabera held the main gate open as he watched the approaching figure. Was it the first of the attackers, or a messenger from Rome? He cursed his vision that allowed him such fragmentary glimpses into the future, and never anything that involved himself. Here he was holding the door for the rider, so he had had no warning. The clearest visions were those in which he wasn't involved at all, which was probably meant to be a lesson from the gods – one rather wasted on him, on the whole. He had found that he could not live life as an observer.

A tail of dark dust followed the figure, barely showing in the gloom of the gathering twilight.

‘Hold the gate!’ a voice commanded.

Cabera raised an eyebrow. What did the man think he was doing

Gaius' father Julius came thundering through the opening. His face was red and his rich clothes were stained with soot.

‘Rome is on fire,’ he said as he jumped to the ground. ‘But they will not get my home.’ In that moment, he recognised Cabera and patted his shoulder in greeting.

‘How is my son?’

‘Doing well. I am …’ Cabera tailed off, as the vigorous older version of Gaius strode away to organise the defences. Tubruk's name echoed around the internal corridors of the estate.

Cabera looked puzzled for a moment. The visions had changed a little – the man was a force of nature and might just be enough to tip the balance in their favour.

His mind went blank again as he heard the shouts rise in the fields. Muttering in frustration, Cabera climbed the steps up to the estate wall, to use his eyes where his internal vision had failed.

Darkness filled every horizon, but Cabera could see pinpoint pricks of light moving in the fields, meeting and multiplying like fireflies. Each would be a lamp or a torch held by angry slaves, their blood warmed by the heat of the sky over the capital. They were already marching towards the great estate.