Fists of Iron: Barbarian of Rome Chronicles Volume Two (29 page)

“Come now Zamura, such naivety is so unlike you.”

“What is it you want?” she enquired bluntly.

“I would prefer to speak of it privately. Perhaps your slave could take a short stroll and my man too.”

She felt Vespillo stiffen at her side. She placed a calming hand over his.

“Vespillo is no slave and you’d be wise to choose your words more carefully”

“I meant no offence,” stated Gordeo, sounding fairly sincere. “I’m never my best
in the mornings as you well know, and I would be very grateful if you’d grant my request.”

She studied his face, his double chins wobbling slightly as his mount skipped skittishly sideways. She saw no subterfuge there.

“Would you mind?” She addressed Vespillo, who responded by handing her the reins. Jumping down he walked off a short way to stand arms akimbo looking back at the city. Gordeo’s man dismounted and led his horse away, towards Vespillo. She wondered if the two men knew each other.

She met the
procurator’s
look, feeling too numb inside to really care what he had to say.

“I believe you are aware of my fondness for you,” Gordeo began, his voice having a tentative edge. “And, I’m very aware of the loss you have recently suffered. Yet, I have an offer I’d like you to consider; an alternative to leaving, and one that might make your grief a little easier to bear.”

“Go on,” she prompted.

“Would you consider living with me?” His face was very red, his expression very serious.”

“I’d have thought that you have enough women to fill your bed,” she responded, smiling glibly, well aware of his harem of attractive bed-companions, although she doubted that he’d be able to satisfy them, such was his size. He was a fat man getting ever fatter.

“You mistake me, I meant as my wife,”

Despite the flatness of her feelings, she was shocked, and it showed on her face.

“I would of course relocate my...companions. You would have no need to visit the city, as I understand it has many sad memories for you. Eventually, I plan to leave Campania and retire somewhere where our pasts would be only our business.” He nervously cleared his throat. “I’ve always regarded you as a rare woman as well as a great beauty, despite your profession. I also knew that someone like me had no chance of winning your affections while Prudes was alive. I would have waited as long as was respectful after his death, but, I discovered that you were leaving and knew this would be my only opportunity.” He paused, seeming relieved that he’d said his piece. “And there it is.”

She studied his chubby, flushed face and recognised an honest vulnerability that she’s never witnessed in her former patron before today. She could hurt him with her answer but she did not have it in her, probably never had.

“You surprise and honour me, Gordeo,” she began. “But, there is no place in my life right now for another. Perhaps one day?”

“A pity,” said Gordeo. “Perhaps one day you’ll return?”

“Maybe?” She lied.

“Well then, I’ll detain you no longer,” said Godeo, the vulnerability replaced by his usual business-like expression.

“I hope you find what you are looking for?” she ventured, her tone softer.

“Who knows,” he replied, guiding his mount away, towards the city.

He negotiated the last step, his chest wheezing like an old bellows. He was soaked in sweat and his face was the colour of cherries. Feeling light-headed, Gordeo swayed unsteadily as he walked the short distance to Belua‘s room.

“And for what do I owe the pleasure?” Belua asked, filling the doorway. He must have heard his laboured breathing and awkward foot-steps, and had come to investigate.

“Pray, let me sit a while...to get my breath.” Belua pointed him to the room’s only chair. Belua walked to stand by the open window, arms folded. His face was stern, wary.
Not surprising in light of what’s transpired
, admonished Gordeo.

“Well?” Belua prompted.

“No offer of a cup of Falerian?”

“You’re out of luck.”

“I see,” said Gordeo, moistening his lips with his tongue.

“I have water.”

“No thank you. I’ll give that particular poison a miss.”

“Out with it then, before I take root,” prompted Belua, his expression unyielding.

“Very well, I’ll get straight to the point,” Gordeo said, feeling more than a little nervous. “I understand that Clodian’s manhood ceremony takes place tomorrow.”

“It does,” confirmed Belua, his brow creasing. Gordeo knew that he was on sensitive ground and would have to choose his words very carefully.

“I come with a proposition from his step-mother.” His face felt hot again.

“So now you do her bidding,” said Belua, his words clipped.

“I have no choice,” he responded, “not if I want to sleep at night.”

“Others are not so lucky.”

“I know.”

“The woman is a snake and needs to be crushed like one,” said Belua with feeling. He began to pace around the room, rubbing his knuckles.
Like a great wolf,
thought Gordeo.

“I agree with you on both counts. But, she has asked me to be the intermediary between herself and you and Clodian.”

“The inter…what?”

“The go between.” He paused a moment to collect himself. “Will you listen?”

“Go on.”

“I have my own sources and I’m aware of the attempts on Clodian’s life, and who has plotted them. I also know how committed you and Neo are to his continued safety and welfare. Prudes’ death was terrible and the girl-”

“Get on with it before I fucking scream!” interjected Belua, his anger getting the better of him. Startled, Gordeo flinched back in his seat.

“Flavia proposes,” he began, feeling increasingly edgy, “a private match between you and Drilgisa.”

“What!” exclaimed Belua. “Has she lost her mind?”

“Please let me finish,” he persevered. “Flavia will back the Dacian. If he wins, Clodian will pay her a yearly dowry of twenty thousand sesterces for the rest of her days. She promises to leave Pompeii and to never return. And, if
you
win, she will return to her father in Rome, and into obscurity as far as Clodian’s future is concerned. Either way, Clodian’s life will no longer be in danger.”

“Hah! The bitch knows that her days are marked. She fears that after tomorrow’s ceremony Clodian will snuff out her life like the cockroach she is. Does she take us for fools?”

“She’s no fool, and she knows like you and I that Clodian will not have her throat slit, nor drowned while bathing. The boy is very different to his father, and you know this as well as anyone.”

Belua, seeming to be weigh up the significance of his words, asked, “What if we don’t agree to the match?”

“She swears that wherever she may be expelled to, and that will doubtless be her fate, that she will
never
cease in her efforts to take Clodian’s life.”

“She’s confessed this to you?” said Belua, his voice sounding briefly hopeful. “So we’ll go to the magistrates with it!”

“It will be her word against mine I’m afraid,” said Gordeo.

Belua cursed, turning to the window. He stared far out over the sea, perhaps trying to find an answer there?

Gordeo spoke to his back. “I pray that you’ll not agree to this match. Ten years ago, five even, I would have backed you against any fighter I’ve seen with confidence. Now, if you face the Dacian, it will go badly for you. You realize this too.”

After a long silence, a tired looking Belua turned to face him. “Where’s the match to be fought?”

“In the grounds of Clodian’s family home.”

“When?”

“Three days hence at the twelfth hour.”

“Very well,” said Belua, before adding, “at least it will be cool.”

“Can I say anything at all to make you change your mind?” asked Gordeo, despite knowing Belua’s nature well.

“Nothing.”

“Once last thing,” said Gordeo, getting to his feet with considerable effort. “Flavia insisted that the match is fought to the death,”

“Of course.” said Belua, returning his attention to the window and his view of the city.

“Ahh, that’s better!” commented Belua after taking a long draught of water gingered with a small amount of Falerian, of course. His
ludus’
quarters felt cool, although he’d not had the chance to bathe after training, and his body was encrusted with sweat and grime.

He’d recently enrolled the services of two old friends, one being a retired
pugile
named Malleolus. He’d earned the nick-name the
‘hammer’
for a good reason, being a strong, dogged fighter with a murderous right hand. He was similar in many ways to the Dacian. “But not as fucking ugly,” Malleolus had joked when they met up. He’d told his old stable-mate to push him as hard as he could in training with the match looming. He’d forgotten how tough Malleolus was and how the intensity of sparring could take its toll on the body. His memory was rapidly improving.

The other was Kaeso, another retired gladiator, a
laquerarius
– a lasso and spear fighter. A renowned competitor, Kaeso had used the money from his early successes to buy his freedom. He’d consequently bought a small fishing boat and now earned a simple living in the bay. Like Belua he’d been a fisherman before the time of the arena. Unlike many other gladiators he’d saved his winnings rather than squandering it on wine and whores. The two of them had shared stories about their common heritage when in the
ludus
and a strong bond had developed between them. Kaeso was a man of simple tastes, but Belua had rarely encountered anyone with a keener eye and sharper mind.

Kaeso had agreed to guard Clodian now that he was in training. Clodian, in daze after the recent tragic events, had hardly seemed to hear him when he made the suggestion about Kaeso. He eventually agreed. Along with Clodian, Kaeso had moved into the family home. With the manhood ceremony drawing near, the hell-bitch along with her entourage had moved out, purchasing elaborate lodgings near the Ercolano Gate.

Both of his old friends could be trusted, relied upon.

He slapped his belly, and then pinched the layer of fat that covered the bands of muscle beneath.

“At least you could look as if I’m not already in the ground,” he jibed at Neo, who sat stoically observing him.

“Your body is not used to training in such a way. You risk tearing a muscle or worse. And the task you face is great enough as it is.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“Training yes, but not recklessly. Even Malleolus was out on his feet.”

“Malleolus can look after himself, and the old ways have always worked for me,” said Belua, taking another drink.

“Leaving the Falerian alone will also help.”

“I knew that was coming.”

“You’ll not listen to me, you never have. But, I have something that will help you during the match.”

“I’ll not cheat,” retorted Belua indignantly.

“We have formidable opponents, have we not?”

“Yes.”

“Then we use must use all the skills at our disposal. Don’t argue, just trust me on this.”

“Very well, if it makes you feel better, and as long as it won’t make my tool drop off.” He made a snorting noise through his nose, keen to change the topic of discussion. “How is Clodian?” he ventured.

“Quiet, not leaving his home apart from each morning visiting the room where Orbiana was…where she died, with Kaeso in tow. He seems drawn to that place, as if he will find an answer there to explain her actions. He keeps asking me what I think were her reasons, and I have told him that we are all as puzzled as he is. I haven’t the clear answers he needs; to give him a little peace.”

Belua swirled the contents of his cup around. His face was glum when he spoke.

“I blame myself. Firstly for purchasing the girl, and after for not suspecting what was at play. She fooled me totally. I really felt that she loved him, particularly after the way she acted on the night of the assassin’s attack. She could have finished him off then if she wanted him dead.”

“True,” said Neo. “But, it was unfortunate for her that others quickly arrived; witnesses to her actions or lack of.”

“Clodian told me that she fished him out of the sea, when she just could have let him drown.”

“Perhaps she was under instructions to act only if the assassin failed? Or, maybe she did have some feelings for him and simply hesitated at that vital moment?” proffered Neo, rubbing his temple with his finger.

“Yet, if I’d bought a different girl,” said Belua.

“You’re too harsh on yourself,” consoled Neo. “Your intentions were good, with Clodian’s welfare your prime concern. And the girl fooled us all. I’m just mystified by her motivation. If she told Clodian the truth he would have endeavoured to protect her, as if it were his own life. Flavia’s influence over her must have been great – something we’ll likely never know.”

“My father told me that there was nothing as strange as us mortals, and he was right,” confirmed Belua.

Neo scratched his forehead thoughtfully. “You know we cannot trust Flavia’s word, no matter what the outcome of the match. The woman is envenomed to the core.”

“True, but what other choice do we have? And you know what my remedy would be. I thought Clodian may change his mind after what happened with the woman, but he’ll still have none of it.”

“He’s in a dark place,” said Neo. “Where life has become a terrible lie. He believed he had something good, special. Then it was snatched away in the bat of an eye, and part of his soul with it. When the dust of his loss settles, I think he will be a changed man. Will he be able to trust again? Who can know? Regarding your remedy – he has seen so much blood the thought of more is a canker to him. He may one day think differently.”

Mulling over Neo’s words, Belua posed the question, “And, if I fall, who will then protect him? Apart from Kaeso…You?”

“Don’t underestimate Clodian’s durability, and you know he has courage. Don’t underestimate my resourcefulness too,” said Neo wryly. He stood, and with a casual swiftness that surprised Belua, scooped up the amphora of watered wine.

“What the-” he blurted out.