Читать книгу Atilus the Gladiator - E. C. Tubb - Страница 9

CHAPTER FIVE

Dawn broke with mist and a scud of rain, both unusual for the time of the year and, to a superstitious man, ominous. The conditions delayed our departure, and the sun was high in the east when we moved north along the Appian Way. Aurelius and Cadius, mounted, rode a little ahead. The women sat in litters borne by stalwart slaves, and from the first it was obvious that my protection was unnecessary.

A dozen armed men marched as escort, tough freedmen with a couple of ex-legionaires among them. Grizzled veterans of the German campaigns who strode along as if they could march forever. The guards who had surrounded the domus during the night, I guessed, hard men who wouldn’t hesitate in carrying out their orders. And from the way some of them looked at me, I had a good idea of what those orders were.

In effect, I was a prisoner in a cage, the bars of which would remain invisible until I tried to escape.

Heraculis snuffled as he trudged at my side, making much of the burden he carried. It was a light bundle containing a few clothes and little else. The equipment I’d used in the arena had been borrowed from Sentonius. Once I’d owned my own, but bad times had forced me to sell. Now, with gold, I could choose the best.

Early as it was, the road was fairly busy. Carts with solid wheels rumbled towards the town, carrying produce for sale in the market. A file of slaves trotted past, their necks shackled, their overseer busy with his whip. A scatter of pedestrians, some of whom had travelled through the night, risking the danger of brigands.

Despite the police patrolling the road, they were always to be feared. Savage men driven desperate by poverty who were willing to kill for the sake of a few coins. Some were runaway slaves, others deserters from the legions, and all faced the same punishment when caught.

‘Master!’ Heraculis lifted a hand to shield his eyes. ‘Something’s going on up there.’

My eyes were better than his and I recognised the figures of uniformed men. As we approached, an officer rode towards us.

‘Your name and business?’ He nodded respectfully as Aurelius gave the information. ‘You have women with you? I thought so.’ He glanced at the litters. ‘It might be a good idea not to linger.’

‘Why not?’ Racilia had thrust her head through the curtains. ‘What’s going on? Are we in danger?’

‘No.’ The officer masked his scorn with a smile. ‘Not with us around to take care of things. It’s just that we’ve caught a brigand and are giving him what he deserves.’

‘Then I want to watch!’ Emillia swung her legs over the side of her litter. ‘Racilia, may I? Cadius, say I can.’

‘You can watch,’ said Aurelius. ‘The slaves also. It will show them what to expect if they disobey.’ He sat on his horse, smiling, a Roman watching the might of Roman law. ‘Will you be long, officer?’

‘No.’ The man turned away. ‘Hurry with that cross there! Hurry!’

An upright had been set into the dirt at the side of the road, a crosspiece lashed firm some ten feet high. The man the patrol had captured was small, stooped, his face and body bruised and marked with old scars. Naked, the ribs stood out clear against the skin of his chest, and his stomach, shrunken, was a taut expanse between the prominent bones of his hips. He writhed as he was lifted up by soldiers, riding on the shoulders of their companions who laughed and joked as they lashed his wrist to the crosspiece. Another, his face expressionless, hammered a block to the upright beneath the man’s feet.

Aurelius said, ‘No doubt, officer?’

‘None. We caught him almost in the act. A dead man was found a mile down the road and we grabbed this thing as he tried to run into the bushes. He had a purse on him and a silver brooch. A mark on the dead man’s cloak showed from where it had been torn. Anyway, he’s a branded slave.’

Branded because once he had tried to run, and now, having run again, his fate was sealed. Naked, he hung from his lashings and already his skin was dewed with a patina of pain. It would grow worse as the day progressed and the sun began to scorch his flesh. Thirst would torment him but, above all, he would be racked by fierce cramps in the muscles of shoulders, back, arms, and torso.

A long and dragging death. In order to breathe, the man would have to support his weight on the block at his feet and so ease the constriction of his chest. Sagging, he would begin to asphyxiate and have to support his weight again.

‘Are you going to leave him like that?’ Emillia’s voice was ugly. ‘Suppose he has friends to cut him down?’

‘It’s unlikely that he has,’ said the officer. ‘But even if he should, they won’t get much. You there!’ He pointed at a soldier. ‘Blind him!’

Two pokes with a spear and it was done. The man screamed as the point found his eyes, ripping into the orbs, sending blood and limpid fluid running down his cheeks. Later the birds would come to peck at the ravaged tissue, tearing the flesh from his lips, his eyes.

He would hang until he died, until he rotted, a grim reminder of the harsh justice of Rome.

‘Move!’ snapped Aurelius. ‘Let’s be on our way. I want to reach Bovillae well before dark.’

For a mounted man the journey was nothing. For a man on foot a steady day’s walking, but for the litter-bearers it was hard going. Frequent pauses had to be made in order to give them rest.

During one of them Heraculis said, quietly, ‘Master, what is happening?’

‘Nothing.’

‘No?’ Like those of a wary animal his eyes were shrewd. ‘Men came to me in the night with their orders, and those same men watch every move we make. I may be a slave, master, but I’m not a fool. Patricians don’t hire a gladiator for protection when they have their own guards. And a guest isn’t watched as if he were a prisoner.’

‘You’ve nothing to worry about.’

‘No?’ His hand caressed his neck. ‘You’ll pardon me if I disagree. The last time I was told that my back smarted to the lash. A girl who asked me to do her a favour and, when caught, betrayed me. Be wary of women, master, none can be trusted.’ His eyes drifted towards the litters. ‘Especially the young one. Such bitches are dangerous.’

He could be right. Yet there was something which could be done.

‘Mix among the slaves,’ I said softly. ‘Find out what you can about the purpose of this journey. Mingle with the guards too, buy them wine if you must, but get them to talk. And be discreet.’

‘Always I am that, master, but wine does not come free.’ His hand was deft as he took the coins I gave him. ‘The veterans would be best,’ he decided. ‘I’ve never known a legionaire yet who wouldn’t sell his mother for an amphora of wine. But surely you could do better? The woman favours you, I can tell it from her eyes.’

‘Just do as I say.’

‘To hear is to obey,’ he said with false humility. ‘Tonight would be best. After we have reached Bovillae.’

We reached it at dusk, passing through the town to a large house beyond. The domus was owned by a friend of Aurelius who was absent in Rome, but his steward was expecting us and made us welcome. Wine was provided, food and the use of the baths.

Cadius shared the sunken tub with me. Aurelius was with Racilia, and Emillia, complaining of a headache, had retired early. Impatiently he waved aside the female slave who had come to attend us.

‘Women,’ he said contemptuously. ‘At times I cannot bear the sight of them. Soft, ignorant creatures only good for the bearing of children. We have much to learn from the Greeks, Atilus.’

‘Such as?’

‘Their sculpture, for example. Have you been to Athens? To Corinth?’

‘No.’ The water was soothingly warm and I relaxed in it, barely conscious of what my companion was saying.

‘I was there two years ago. It was an experience I shall never forget. The temples and palaces put Rome to shame. Poetry expressed in marble and stone. The theatres, the schools, they have to be seen to be believed.’ He made a gesture, water dripping from his hand. ‘The home of culture.’ Again he said, more meaningfully this time, ‘We have much to learn from Greece.’

He had, perhaps, already learned too much. I felt the touch of his hand on my thigh, the fingers sliding in an unmistakable caress. They fell as, turning, I rose from the bath and reached for a towel.

‘Atilus?’

With an exaggerated yawn I said, ‘By the gods, I’m tired. You must excuse me, Cadius, but I need an early night. All that walking—’ With a sudden movement I threw him the towel. It hit him in the face. Smiling, I said, ‘You were slow. Had we been in the arena, you would now be dead.’

Late that night Racilia came to my room.

I had been given a chamber on the upper floor, a small place equipped with the usual furnishings. A bronze lamp threw a shifting, yellow light, and one wall was decorated with a mosaic of ducks on a pond. I heard the scrape of a fingernail on the door and opened it, thinking that it was Heraculis, hoping that it wasn’t Cadius. The scent of perfume and the glow of auburn hair eased my fears.

‘Atilus, did I wake you?’ She entered the room on naked feet, a robe of diaphanous material wreathing her body. In one hand she held a soft bundle. A tunic made of silk and worth its weight in gold. ‘For you,’ she said, placing it on the bed. ‘In exchange for the one which was stained.’

The one I still wore. Her eyes widened as she noticed that I was fully dressed.

‘I was thinking,’ I said. ‘And must have dozed. I didn’t realise it was so late.’ Touching the gift, I added, ‘You are most kind.’

‘To those who serve me well, yes, Atilus. And you are willing to serve me, aren’t you?’

‘You, Domina?’

She sighed and turned to where wine stood on a table together with an earthenware bowl. Pouring, she sipped and handed it to me.

‘Drink, Atilus.’ As I obeyed she said, quietly, ‘You are a cautious man. I like that. And you have a reputation for being discreet. I like that even more. Nero has reason to remember you and he owes you much. It will be an easy matter for you to get close to him. That can be arranged and, when you are and everything is ready—you understand?’

A stab in the back, a cunning blow to the nape of the neck, poison administered in his wine—yes, I understood. But how was I to escape once the thing was done?

‘He is a beast,’ she said tightly. ‘Insane. Only his mother has been able to control his excesses and protect the welfare of Rome. Yet now her influence is on the wane. Do you realise what that degenerate filth has forced her to do? To sleep with him. To commit incest with her own son. Could anything be more vile?’

‘You plot to assassinate the Emperor,’ I said harshly. ‘And you want me to strike the blow. Woman, are you mad?’

‘Were the conspirators mad when they struck down Julius Caesar?’ she demanded fiercely. ‘They sought only to protect the Republic and killed for the good of Rome. Nero is a beast and must die. The old families must have their privileges restored. There must be an end to the Senate being filled with nonentities and a cleansing of the Rolls. Too many men unfitted for the honour now wear the equestrian ring. Commoners, ex-slaves—’

‘Like myself?’

‘Some deserve honour,’ she said quickly. ‘Atilus, co-operate with us and you will rise high. I can promise that you will be granted equestrian rank. A knight, Atilus, think of it! And money too,’ she added. ‘You will not find us ungenerous.’

‘Us?’ I saw the shadow veil her eyes and added, quickly, ‘You can’t be alone in this. And with Nero dead, who will rule? Even if Agrippinilla has the real power, she will have to work through a man. Who will it be?’

A question she didn’t answer, but guesses could be made. Aurelius Licinius, perhaps, or someone of his choice. Cadius? I doubted it, and yet it was possible. Whoever it was would have to have the backing of the Praetorian Guard, the strength of their weapons to cow the Senate. Money could buy their loyalty, and Aurelius was rich. And ancient families, jealous of their power, would be willing to back the new Emperor.

‘It can be done, Atilus,’ said Racilia softly as if reading my thoughts. ‘And you are the perfect weapon, which is why I came to find you. As an old friend you will be trusted. As a gladiator you will not be afraid to strike when the time comes. And you have proved your ability to be discreet.’

As she had said, a perfect weapon—and expendable. From what I knew of Agrippinilla, once the thing was done my life would be forfeit. Any woman who could plan the assassination of her own son would not hesitate to murder a freedman. And, if the thing was to be done without her actual consent, she would have reason for vengeance.

Racilia misunderstood my hesitation.

‘Money, Atilus,’ she said. ‘Estates in Gaul or Spain. Equestrian rank and a high official position if you want it. A patrician for a wife and the protection her family can give.’

I said, bluntly, ‘You?’

‘If you want me, yes.’ Her eyes were direct as they looked into my own. ‘Cossos will have no choice but to agree to a divorce. And, for me, it will be no hardship.’

Another bribe to add to the rest, and the most tempting of them all. With her for a wife, my future would be assured. As if to give me a taste of what was offered, she stepped a little closer towards me, the scent of her perfume heavy in my nostrils.

‘Atilus, kiss me!’

Her lips were soft and yielding, warm with passion, her tongue thrusting against my own. Her hands rose to clasp about my neck and her body, pressed hard against mine, radiated a demanding femininity. A demand which grew as she felt my response.

‘Atilus!’

The dancing flame of the lamp threw distorted shadows on the wall as, lifting her, I carried her to the bed.