Conn Iggulden - The Gates Of Rome

Marcus grunted.

"Take a seat, boy. We have a long night ahead of us." He went over to his small wood fire and placed a long metal poker in its fiery heart.

"What is happening?" Marcus asked.

Renius sighed. "My brother was a surgeon. He is going to take my arm off."

Marcus felt a sick horror come over him as he realized what he was going to see. Guilt too flushed his face. He hoped Renius wouldn't mention how he had been injured. To cover his embarrassment, he spoke quickly. "Lucius or Cabera could have done it, I'm sure."

Renius silenced him with a raised hand.

"Many people could do the job, but Primus was… is the best."

Primus cackled, revealing a mouth with very few teeth. "My little brother used to chop people up and I would stitch them back together," he said cheerfully. "Let us have a light for this." He turned to an oil lamp and lit it from a candle. When he turned back, he squinted at Renius.

"I know my eyes are not what they were, but did you dye your hair?"

Renius flushed. "I do not want to be told your eyes are failing before you start cutting me, Primus. I am aging well, that is all."

"Damned well," Primus agreed. He emptied a leather satchel of tools onto a table surface and gestured to his brother to sit down. Looking at the saws and needles, Marcus wished he had taken the advice and gone on to the docks, but it was too late. Renius sat and sweat dripped from his forehead. Primus gave him a bottle of brown liquid and he raised it, taking great swallows.

"You, boy, get that rope and tie him to the chair. I don't want him thrashing around and breaking my furniture."

Feeling sick, Marcus took the lengths of rope, noting with a quiet horror that they were all stained with ancient blood. He busied himself with the knots and tried not to think about it.

After a few minutes, Renius was immobile and Primus poured the last of the brown liquid into his throat.

"That's all I have, I'm afraid. It will take the edge off, but not much."

"Just get on with it," Renius growled through clenched teeth.

Primus raised a thick piece of leather to his mouth and told him to bite it. "It will save your teeth, at least."

He turned to Marcus. "You hold the arm still. It will make the sawing quicker." He placed Marcus's hands on the corded bicep and checked that the ropes held the wrist and elbow securely. He slid a vicious-looking blade from his pack and held it up to the light, squinting at the edge.

"I will cut a circle around the bone, then another below it to give the saw room. We will take out a ring of flesh, saw the bone, and cauterize the leaks. It must be fast, or he will bleed to death. I will leave enough skin to fold over the stump, then it must be bound securely. He must not touch it for the first week, then, each morning and night, he should rub in an ointment I will give you. I have no leather cup for the stump; you will have to make or buy one yourself."

Marcus swallowed nervously.

Primus plunged his fingers into the muscles and nerves of the useless arm, feeling around. After a minute, he tutted to himself, his face sad.

"It is as you said. There is no feeling at all. The muscles are cut and beginning to waste. Was it a fight?"

Involuntarily, Marcus glanced up at Renius. The eyes above the bared teeth were manic and he looked away. "A training accident," he said softly, his voice muffled by the leather piece.

Primus nodded and pressed the blade to the skin. Renius tensed and Marcus gripped the arm.

With deft, sure strokes, Primus cut deep, stopping only to dab at the wound with a piece of cloth to remove obscuring gouts of blood. Marcus felt his stomach heave, but Renius's brother seemed completely relaxed, blowing air between his teeth in something close to a little tune. White bone sheathed in a pink curtain appeared, and Primus grunted in satisfaction. After only a few seconds, he had reached the bone all the way around and begun the second cut.

Renius looked down at the gory hands of his brother, and his lip curled into a bitter grimace. After that, he stared at the wall, his jaw clenched. A slight tremble of his breathing was the only sign of his fear.

Blood spilled over Marcus's hands, the chair, the floor, everything. There were lakes of it inside Renius and it was all coming out, shining and wet. The second ring was gouged out, leaving great flaps of hanging skin. Primus notched and sliced, removing the dark lumps of meat and dropping them carelessly on the floor.

"Don't worry about the mess. I have two dogs that will love this when I let them in."

Marcus turned his head away and vomited helplessly. Primus tutted and rearranged the hands that held the arm. A white spike of bone was visible a hand's breadth up from the elbow.

Renius had begun to breathe in hard blasts from his nose, and Primus pressed a hand against his brother's neck, feeling for the pulse.

"I'll be as quick as I can," he muttered.

Renius nodded, unblinking.

Primus stood up and wiped his hands on a cloth. He looked his brother in the eyes and grimaced at what he found there.

"This is the hard part. You will feel the pain when I cut the bone, and the vibration is very unpleasant. I will be as fast as I can. Hold him very still. For two minutes, you must be like a rock. No more of this puking, understand?"

Marcus took deep breaths, miserably, and Primus brought out a thin-bladed saw, set in a wooden handle like a kitchen knife.

"Ready?"

They both muttered assent and Primus set the blade and began to cut, his elbow moving back and forth almost in a blur.

Renius went rigid and his whole body rose against the ropes holding him. Marcus gripped as if his life depended on it, and winced whenever the blood made his fingers slip and the saw snagged.

Without warning, the arm came free, leaning sideways and away from Renius. Renius looked down at it and grunted in anger. Primus wiped his hands and pressed a wad of cloth into the wound. He gestured to Marcus to hold it in place and fetched the iron bar that had been heating in the fire. The tip glowed and Marcus winced in anticipation.

When the cloth was removed, Primus worked quickly, stabbing the tip into every spot of welling blood. Each contact sizzled and the stench was horrible. Marcus dry-heaved onto the floor, a line of sticky yellow bile connecting him with it.

"Put this back in the fire, quickly. I will hold the cloth while it heats again."

Marcus staggered upright and took the bar, jamming it back into the flames. Renius's head lolled on his shoulders and the leather strip fell from his slack mouth.

Primus kept holding the cloth, then removing it to watch the blood come. He swore viciously.

"I've missed half the pipes at least. Used to be, I could hit each one with one go, but I haven't done this in a few years. It has to be done right, or the wound will poison itself. Is the iron ready yet?"

Marcus withdrew it, but the point was still black. "No. Will he be all right?"

"Not if I can't seal the wound, no. Get outside and fetch some wood to build up the fire."

Marcus was thankful for the excuse and left quickly, taking great gulps of sweet air as he stood outside. It was almost dark-gods, how long had they been in there? He noticed a couple of large hounds tied to a wall around the side, asleep. He shuddered and gathered heavy chunks of wood from the pile near them. They woke at his approach and growled softly, but didn't get up. Without looking at them, he went back inside, dumping two billets onto the flames.

"Bring me the iron as soon as the tip is red," Primus muttered, pressing the wad of cloth hard against the stump.

Marcus avoided looking at the detached arm. It seemed wrong, away from a body, and his stomach heaved in a series of quick spasms before he had the sense to gaze back at the flames.