Fists of Iron: Barbarian of Rome Chronicles Volume Two (33 page)

There’d been no news of the Egyptian bitch. Akana had stolen away in the night and her people had so far failed to locate her. She’d been
planning to get rid of the slut if the Dacian had won his match – she knew too many secrets – but that plan had gone arse up.
Gods, how she’d make her fucking suffer when she was brought back! The bitch would beg for death!
In the meantime she’d have to find another who she could rely on to liaise with her tried and tested confederates. She’d already formulated another plan to snuff the life out of Clodian; someone who was proving particularly difficult to eradicate. Regardless, she’d eventually succeed, she always did. But, it was a shame that she’d have to vacate the villa in the short term – for appearances sake. It wouldn’t be wise to let Clodian think that she had no intention of keeping her word. Yet, the villa was so beautiful – a special place that she deserved and where she belonged.

The soft clip of sandaled feet brought her about.

A darkly cloaked figure materialized out of the shadows of her bed-chamber and she felt her heart begin to race.
Where are my fucking guards?

The figure slowly, deliberately approached her. She tried to force down her mounting feeling of panic, as it would do her no good.
If you don’t wish to die here, get busy doing something, saying something
, she told herself.

“Come any closer and I will cry out,” she warned, the clarity of her voice belying her creeping fear. “Think carefully before you act. I will pay you double what your master has offered for my life.”

The intruder pushed back his cowl, his features slowly taking form.

She felt a sudden release of tension, her fear.

“For what do I owe the pleasure of such a visit, Greek?” She spat out the last word as her confidence grew.

“My visit is one that I’d not associate with any kind of pleasure,” the physician responded, his words clipped, his tone unusually hard.

“I agree. Perhaps you’d enlighten me how you managed to evade my guards?”

“I learned other skills in my youth, before I was a physician,” he replied, stepping closer. “Evading your guards was a simple matter. The money you pay them is definitely not well spent.”

Her initial shock was quickly being replaced by anger and resentment.
That this …this Greek dog should deem to lecture me.

“Who do think you are to speak to me in this fashion, you pitiful excuse for a man! If I had a whip I’d thrash you like the cur you are!”

“I can assure you that your thrashing days are over.”

The Greek’s hand whipped forwards, a glint of steel cutting across her line of vision. Her cheek opened up like a ripe damson. Horrified, she stared at the thin blade that he held out in front of her. She tried to stem the hot flow of blood from her face with both hands, but it seeped around her fingers, running in thick trails down her neck. She was too shocked to say anything.

“I want you to answer some questions for me,” stated the Greek, his voice cold, deliberate. “If you do and I believe you, I will not cut you again. Understood?”

The top of her night-gown was soaked with blood and she quickly nodded her head. She carefully glanced around her, wondering if she dared risk dashing past him. But he’d moved so quickly, and she feared that he would cut her from behind and then kill her before someone could come to her aid. If she jumped from the balcony she’d likely break her legs and back, or worse. No, she needed to play his game, and wait for an opportunity to distract and elude him. She had to remain calm despite the pain that now came in waves down the side of her face.

“What hold did you have over Orbiana to cause her to carry out such a foul act of betrayal?” the Greek asked.

She struggled to swallow the blood that was filling her mouth and seeping down her throat. She thought her voice sounded thick when she answered. “Vulso has always had uses that I’ve taken advantage of, and, I used
family
as my lever of choice. I convinced the naïve bitch that I’d bought her younger sister, and that I’d not hesitate to place her in a busy brothel if she did not comply with my instructions. It was not easy, particularly when she developed feelings for your fucking Clodian. I had to be at my most persuasive…and descriptive.”

“And where is the child?”

“I’ve no idea. I never knew. But I knew that Orbiana loved the child dearly, and that was enough.”She coughed, droplets of blood speckling the Greek’s face. “Personally, I’ve found the bonds of family to be extremely over-valued.”

There was a sudden rush of air from her throat, followed by a gush of dark red. She managed to blurt out, “You said…you’d not...!”

“I lied.”

The dog’s words registered in her brain, and then she slumped forwards.

She didn’t feel her face hit the beautiful mosaic of a frolicking Venus and Apollo.

Neo crouched in the shadow of the villa’s perimeter wall. He bent and cleaned his scalpel on the grass, then wiped the blood stains from his face, hoping that the blood on his black tunic and cloak would not be noticeable on his re-entry to the city. He planned to walk to the Stabian Gate – it was the city’s busiest even at night and there was less chance that he’d draw any attention. And, as a busy surgeon he was regularly stained with the blood of his patients. He could lie very convincingly when needed, if he was stopped.

He stood up straight and took a deep breath. His hand shook as a he hid the scalpel beneath his cloak. He’d managed to do it, despite his nagging doubts that he could take her life. Now, he was relieved that he’d done it. There’d been no other choice, not if Clodian was to remain alive, and Neo believed that he was probably the one person that no one would suspect. Suspicion would doubtless fall on Clodian, but he’s ensured that his noble friend had a water-tight alibi. Tonight, Clodian was the house-guest of one of the city’s leading
quaestores.
Clodian had no idea about his night’s work. Neo would tell him when he felt the time was right
.

Despite the queasiness that lingered in his belly, Neo didn’t challenge the quiet voice in his mind that affirmed that the Empire was a better place without Flavia Inciatus – a vile creature who’d gotten through her young life using scheming, cruelty and murder…but no more
.

Bracing himself for a long walk, he set out for the Stabian Gate.

The moon was very bright, its bright face lighting up the sea, gleaming silver on black.

Akana pushed back her hood and straightened her back for the first time in days when in public view.

She felt happy and relieved, knowing that her arrival at Ostia was assured. Ostia, lying north of Rome was a hectic centre of trade and shipping. She knew that she’d never be discovered amongst the large port’s clamour and chaos. With the first stage of her journey complete, she’d book passage to Carthage before taking ship to Alexandria and her home. She’s been cautious and decided to travel via Carthage in order elude any of Flavia’s dogs on her trail. It would prolong her journey, but she was in no hurry.

She smiled, acknowledging that she’d foiled her mistress. She’s picked the time of her departure perfectly and imagined that Flavia must be enraged.

Akana had thought well about her disguise for some time, and it had proved successful. Following the defeat of the Dacian, Flavia had been livid, and Akana knew that her own usefulness would soon come to an end. Flavia had begun to show increasingly less interest in her as a lover, and had bedded a selection of others in her place, notably one of the recently employed, well-endowed guards. She knew the axe’s shadow was upon her and that she needed to disappear before it fell.

As planned, she’d cut her hair short and bleached it white. She’d coated her face and other visible parts with a blended powder that gave her skin a greyish-yellow pallor. Carefully etched crows’ feet completed the deception, along with filthy garb and a practiced stooped gait.
Too clever by far, you fucking whore
, she mused, a smile splitting her made-up face.

She’d spent long hours thinking about her future when in Egypt, planning what her life would become. She’d already chosen a new name: Nabirye. It meant
mother
and she liked the sound of it. With her savings she would rent a small house, somewhere busy, well placed for business. Her money would not last indefinitely and she understood that she had to earn a living. She would advertise herself as a ‘healer’. She had the basic knowledge and would not attempt anything too elaborate. She’d decided to leave her poisoning days behind, although she knew that there would be a demand for such a service wherever she went. No, it was a quieter life that she now sought, one free from the risk of discovery and the nagging fear of retribution.

She would probably get herself a husband; someone who could give her a baby. She’s always dreamed that one day she’d have a child, a boy or girl, it didn’t matter. She’d cherish it, as it would be part of her. Could she love a husband? She was doubtful, as there’d been so many men and women during her time with Flavia. Some she’d been attracted to, but others she’d been revolted by and despised, and had never been able to show it. The years of forced desire and unwavering sexual service had drained her dry. Perhaps it might one day change…in time? And time was something that she now had plenty of.

A strong wind blew up from the west, and invigorated she could contain her joy no longer. Alone on this part of the deck she spoke the words aloud for the first time, “Going home at last, going home.”

She closed her eyes, breathing the wind deep into her lungs.

She was stronger than he thought, fighting desperately to push her fingers under the ligature that was choking the life from her.

She couldn’t cry out. Instead, she made grunting, gasping noises as her hands strained backwards, trying to reach his eyes. It was no use and he savagely yanked her head towards him. At the same time he drove his knee into the base of her spine, crossing his wrists and tightening the knotted rope deeper into her throat.

Her struggling got steadily weaker, and then ceased. As she slumped to the deck he saw that she’d wet herself. He placed his boot on her neck and gave the ligature a final twist.

He quickly looked around and saw that there were still no witnesses. He prised the embedded rope from the woman’s neck, then lifted and toppled the body over the side. There was a faint splash in the ship’s wake.

She’s probably dead on hitting the water
, he thought
.
If not, good enough for the treacherous slut.

He leaned on the ship’s handrail, in the same spot that the woman had just occupied. He made sure he avoided the wetness pooled at his feet. Staring out at the waves he recounted how easily he’d found his victim. She’d made a fair attempt to disguise herself, he gave her that. He’d bribed two servants in Flavia’s household to closely watch her and follow her if she suddenly made any unusual trips, particularly at night. He’d been immediately informed of her clandestine departure from the villa and where she’d taken lodgings. The disguise was good but not good enough to fool him. Her return visit to
The Dolphin
had confirmed his suspicions. Her fate was sealed.

He removed a small flask from the inside of his cloak. Uncorking it, he raised his hand to the sky. “To you, old friend.” He took a long swallow.

He believed that his friend would have been pleased with his night’s work. He’d say nothing to the young master, and he’d been instructed to say nothing to Neo as well.

And, Belua knew that Kaeso was a man of his word.

The Stabian Baths was reasonably quiet and he easily spotted Clodian on the opposite side of the
cold room
. He was reclining against the cool marble of the far wall with Malleolus sat at his side. Gordeo waved to gain his attention, and Clodian waved back. Unfastening the towel from around his
considerable girth he descended the few steps into the pool. The cold water took his breath away, a marked contrast to the cloying heat of the
hot room
he’d just left. He waded slowly towards the young noble who’d invited him to a meeting there. He mounted the opposite steps, breathless after the exertion
. Gods, I need to lose some of this blubber,
he chastised himself
.

“Welcome,” greeted Clodian as he rose to his feet, “and thank you for coming at such short notice.”

“Please, sit, because I intend to, before I collapse,” said Gordeo, dropping to the floor with a loud, wet slap. He covered his privates with his towel, his chest wheezing like an old bellows.

“Are you all right,” Clodian asked.

“Fine…just give me a moment.” He rested his head back against the stone wall for long seconds before turning his face towards the young noble.

“How can I be of help?” he asked, studying Clodian’s face. The scar aside, he’d changed: the smile was still there, but the eyes were much older, thoughtful.

“I’m planning to leave Campania.”

“I see,” said Gordeo, taken aback. “Can I enquire when?”

“As soon as I’ve put some business affairs in order, and after I secure the services of a suitable manager to look after my family’s estates when I’m away. You see, I plan to accompany Neo to Greece, and, I’m not sure when I’ll return.”

“Well, that‘s quite a surprise, I must say,” said Gordeo. “Forgive me if I sound presumptuous, but with Flavia’s death I thought…” He hesitated before continuing, “I thought that Pompeii would be a better and safer place for you.”

“I’m aware of the rumours regarding my suspected involvement in her murder, but I can assure you that the city’s
quaestores
are quite satisfied that I played no part in it.”

“I meant no offence.”

“None taken. I’m certainly sleeping easier at night, and it’s true that I had good reason to kill her. However, someone else has done the city that service.”

“That I agree with, and I suspect that the assassin is long gone by now.”