War Raven: Barbarian of Rome Chronicles Volume One (26 page)

He was certain that Caetes would come for him, and he might even succeed; such was his single-mindedness. Servannus realized that even a hundred guards might not be enough when faced with an adversary who was sufficiently deadly and patient. And, he had no intention of constantly searching the shadows, waiting for Caetes to strike. Now that he was no longer under the protection of the Imperial School, Servannus would take the initiative.

Yes, Caetes would die soon
, he decided,
but at the hand of another.
He grinned, confident that the individual he had in mind was sufficiently greedy, and possessed the right contacts to make his problem disappear.

* * *

Chapter XXXII

PLANS
BY
NIGHT

“Evil is fittest to consort with evil.”

Livy

Luba was vaguely aware of his horse nuzzling his hand as he looked back at the villa. Even in the fading light it was impressive.

Perched above Herculaneum, it proudly overlooked the bay, and was built on two levels. The upper-most was characterized by a large, banistered suite that was flanked on either side by sumptuous hanging gardens. The lower storey was surrounded by shaded colonnades on all four sides and decorated with fine marble. Luba marvelled at the small copper discs that hung between the columns, picturing them spinning in the breeze from the sea and flashing as they caught the sun’s rays.

He was admitted earlier at a secluded point on the villa’s northern edge, and was told to wait for his host in one of the sheltered gardens. He’d sat quietly in the shadow of a finely chiselled statue of Mithras, and waited, uneasy. In an attempt to distract his thoughts from the pending encounter, he’d focused his attention on the tinkling of the garden’s fountains. He wasn’t kept waiting long, and then his surroundings paled into irrelevance.

Luba’s recollection of the meeting was clear, as was his memory of the fear that Servannus always instilled in him.

After a brief exchange, he had agreed to the noble’s terms: a handsome payment in gold to arrange the death of a recently retired gladiator; a celebrity. Luba was shocked when his identity was disclosed. Caetes would not be an easy man to kill, although to refuse was not an option for him. Servannus made that clear. He also made it clear that if by chance or error, his own part in the scheme was discovered, then Luba and every member of his family would pay with their lives.

From the jumble of activity that gripped his mind, Luba knew that he was set a task unlike any before, and that he’d need to act with the utmost caution. To kill someone like Caetes required the skills of more than one trained killer. He’d need to choose his people very carefully, and even then it would be a difficult task to recruit men who’d risk their own lives to kill such a man. The scum he normally hired for such work would be of no use, competent only to dispose of the clumsy street thief or tumbled lover. This was very different.

Yet, all men made enemies, and Caetes was no different.

Curious by nature, Luba wondered why Servannus wanted him dead? He’d not asked of course, being familiar with the noble’s vicious temper and his contempt for those he was able to buy. But, one thing he was sure of: that after the deed was done, Servannus would remove all trace of his own involvement. Luba would disappear.

With Caetes settled in Hades and Servannus’s gold in my pocket
, mulled Luba
, it will be a good time to visit uncle Trebonnius in Gaul.

* * *

Chapter XXXIII

GRIEF
WITHOUT
END

“Death, expect him everywhere.”

Seneca

He hurried towards his lodgings, eager to break the news to Chayna about their plans for departure.

A merchant ship, The Aquila, was sailing north in two days, and Guntram had paid a reasonable price for passage without too much haggling with the captain. The Aquila would make brief trading stops at Ostia and Cecina, before sailing on to their port of debarkation, the Gaulish coastal town of Massilia. He felt the transaction was a good omen for the future.

Guntram was eager to depart, particularly after deciding not to kill Servannus, for now. That the noble lived was a constant blaze in his mind. He realized that Servannus would have been at the arena to witness his battle against Carpophorus and the granting of the
rudis
, and would be prepared for him. But, he was confident that he could still kill him – just as he knew that anyone could be killed – if the assassin planned well enough and struck without fear.

Yet, Guntram knew how well Servannus was protected and accepted that there’d be little chance of eluding capture with Chayna at his side. And, if he died, so did his life with Chayna and all hope of finding Strom and Jenell. Instead, he would safely settle Chayna in Gaul before returning to question and then kill the noble. After, he would rejoin Chayna and begin his search – where would depend on what information he could beat out of Servannus.

He lifted his arm to wipe sweat from his face, and noticed the tightness in his shoulder. The wound constantly itched, which, according to Neo, was a good sign. And, he was now able to breathe through his broken nose following the physician resetting it, although it was no longer straight. During his brief recovery, Neo had twice treated his injuries, despite Guntram no longer being the responsibility of the
ludus
.

At their final meeting, Neo had given him a pot of salve for his wounds, accompanied by his usual curt instructions about its application. Neo had quickly clasped his forearm in farewell, before marching away before Guntram could say a word. He didn’t know what he would have said, but he knew that he owed the physician much.

As he crossed the busy street, he pictured Chayna’s delighted face when he’d tell her about the Aquila. She was as excited as a child at the prospect of their departure from the city, and her fist time on a ship.

The Inn of Asellina briefly appeared through a gap in the throng, and he quickened his step.

Dodging past the usual hawkers, he spotted a hooded figure hurriedly leave the inn – too quickly – to join two men located across the street. They also wore hooded capes despite the day’s muggy heat. Their appearance screamed bad intentions, and anxious sweat broke out on his brow as he watched their backs melt into the crowd. Their rolling gait was unmistakable; bearing the trade-mark of men more used to a ship’s rolling deck than city streets.
Sailors
, he thought,
or perhaps...marines
.

Chayna
! The hairs at the back of his neck bolted erect and he exploded into a run.

He quickly reached the inn’s entrance, and dashing to the stairwell took the creaking steps three at a time.

“Chayna! Chayna!” his cries flared across the inn. Customers turned heads in the direction of the commotion.

Bursting into his room, Guntram staggered to a halt, his eyes disbelieving. Chayna lay face upwards in a creeping pool of blood. He dropped to her side, covering the great tear in her throat with his hands. A wet, rattling sound came from her lips.

“Oh Chayna! What have they done to you?” Then pleading, “Breathe Chayna, please. We are going home on a ship as I promised. Please.” Redness seeped through his fingers, and he pressed harder, trying to stem the flow.

“Chayna! Look at me,” he cried, his voice breaking. “You’re my heart and you can live. I’ll send for the surgeon and he will help you. Look at me!”

Bloody bubbles appeared at the corner of Chayna’s mouth, bright against the deathly pallor of her skin. Guntram realized that she was trying to speak through her ruined throat.

Suddenly, her eyes flickered open, and the beautiful pools that had captured his heart from the first moment of their meeting, shone with a strange brightness as they fought to see. For a moment they held his, and then the light was gone...

Drawing his hands to his face, Guntram wept.

* * *

Chapter XXXIV

RETRIBUTION

“Revenge does not long remain unrevenged.”

German proverb

Cloaked in shadow, he watched the entrance to The Rose of Campania. For two long nights he’d stood vigil on the adjacent roof-top, a vantage point that provided him with both cover and a good view of the Rose’s human traffic. It was a quarter characterized by its glut of taverns and whore-houses, and Guntram was aware that the brothel was popular with off-duty marines. His patience paid off when he spotted the one-eyed marine and his two companions enter the Rose four hours earlier.

The Rose was renowned as one of the better watering holes in the district and touted some of the city’s best wines and cleanest whores. Unusually, the night’s trade had been poor, with every movement and sound from the vicinity of the inn stirring Guntram to clench his fists in readiness.

The hours grinded by, without any sign of the marines, and dawn soon approached. Then, rough slurred voices carried up from the street, and they emerged. Spider-like, Guntram shimmied down the tenement wall into the dark alley-way below. The marines staggered away from the inn; jostling one another not ten paces from him, their coarse language ringing out in the pre-dawn air.

The one-eyed marine slapped a companion on the back as they lurched in the general direction of the harbour, reflecting, “Gluvius! You were right...the Egyptian was worth every coin.” Pressing a finger to each nostril in turn, he hawked its contents into the gutter. The others responded with crude sniggers.

“She’s certainly talented,” agreed the marine, Gluvius. “But, tell me Cico...don’t you regret not screwing that Jew before you carved her? Small, but a good shape hey?”

Rounding on the marine, one-eye’s voice dropped to a rasping whisper. “Quiet, you fool! Do you want us all on the cross? You know these walls have ears. It’s bad enough we’ve still a job to finish, without you fucking crowing our business to the city.”

One-eye stepped closer to the rebuked marine, lowering his voice even further. “Look at my face you dull bastard, and mark these stripes she put on me. I was lucky not to lose another eye, let alone get between her legs. She bit and clawed like a wild-cat...but my blade quietened her.”

Hate boiled in Guntram’s guts as he closed on the marines, their vile talk burning into his mind.

As they approached a nearby alley-way, someone poured their steaming urine from a window, eliciting a chorus of obscenities from the splattered men, distracting them. Guntram placed his knife between his teeth, and reaching back, tied up his hair with a leather thong, as he’d done so many times before entering the arena. He left his head bare, wanting them to see his face. When he’d finished there’d be no-one to carry the tale.

Quickening his pace, Guntram stepped close to the trailing marine, his left hand savagely clamping his mouth. He yanked the man backwards, breaking his balance. His dagger whipped out in a wide arc around the marine’s right arm, before curving back into his chest beneath the breast-bone. The blade skewered upwards, rupturing the heart. Like a soiled garment, Guntram threw the carcass aside. The dull thud of the body hitting the street brought one-eye and the marine Gluvius half around.

Guntram was into the second marine like a storm, his knife slashing an x-shaped pattern across the man’s face and upper chest. He seized the gasping marine by the back of the neck, and pulled him forwards onto the waiting blade. Its point stabbed through the soft flesh under his chin, cleaving the palate and snapping his mouth shut. In one motion Guntram adjusted his grip to the top of the marine’s head, the driven blade jerking upwards into the brain before being wrenched free. Gluvius dropped like a stone.

Stunned by the speed of attack, one-eye backed up against the alley wall, arms spread wide in fear, as if seeking escape through the stone itself. Guntram halted a step away, lifting his stained blade for the marine to see. There was no doubt that he recognised him, his single eye stretching wide before squeezing shut as he waited for the knife. The bronze hilt smashed into his mouth, splitting his lips and shattering his teeth. A second blow against his temple sent him crumpled to the street, where he flopped onto his back.

Guntram stood astride him, staring for long moments into the broken face. A slow tear creep down the bloody face. Guntram stooped and ripped off the marine’s soiled under-garment, exposing his lower belly and privates.

“Give me the answers I want, and I’ll finish you quick. If you don’t...” Guntram bent closer. “Why did you kill the woman?”

“We...we were paid to kill you.” The marine struggled between the pain and fear. “We didn’t plan for the woman to be there -”

“Paid! Who had paid you?” Guntram’s’ mind lurched.

The marine swallowed hard. “The
lanista
...Luba.”

“Why? Tell me why?” Guntram asked through clenched teeth.

“I don’t know...I swear it!” one–eye gasped. “We visited him after the girl, and he threatened us. He said we’d pay with our lives if the job wasn’t finished...and that an important nobleman would make us suffer badly if we didn’t keep our part of the bargain. We got suspicious and tried to make him tell us who this noble was. At first he told us nothing. He was very afraid, and we had to persuade him harder, but...we persuaded him too hard. As he died he cursed us, and the man who’d hired him.”

“The name! Give me the name!”

“Ser...Servannus...the name was Servannus.”

The name ripped into Guntram’s consciousness. He shook his head violently, groaning as he remembered, as understanding took hold. He tightened the grip on his knife.

*

He wiped the hot saltiness from his mouth with the back of his hand and stepped away from the dead marine. Blood raced through his veins following the release of violence. He felt as if his heart would burst from his chest and his whole body shook. He steeled himself, taking great breaths. Gradually, his heart slowed and tense muscles began to relax.