Conn Iggulden - The Gates Of Rome

"Walk home now."

He stayed silent as Marcus handed him the bronze blade and walked away into the dark.

The fort wall was black in the darkness as Marcus approached. While he was still some distance away, he whistled a tune so that the soldiers would hear him and not put a crossbow bolt into his chest as he drew close.

"I'm alone! Peppis, throw that rope back down," he called into the silence.

There was scrambling inside as the others moved to peer over the edge.

A head appeared above him in the gloom and Marcus recognized the sour features of Peritas.

"Marcus? Peppis said the 'skins had you."

"They did, but they let me go. Are you going to throw a rope down to me or not?" Marcus snapped. It was colder away from the fires and he held his damaged hand in his armpit to keep the stiff fingers warm. He could hear whispered conversations above and cursed Peritas for his cautious ways. Why would the tribesmen set a trap when they could just wait for them all to die of thirst?

Finally, a rope came slithering over the wall and he pulled himself up it, his arms burning with tiredness. At the top, there were hands to help pull him onto the inner wall ledge, and then he was almost knocked from his feet by Peppis, who threw his arms around him.

"I thought they was going to eat you," the boy said. His dirty face was streaked where he had been crying, and Marcus felt a pang of sorrow that he had brought the boy to this dismal place for his last night.

He reached out a hand and ruffled his hair affectionately. "No, lad. They said I was too stringy. They like them young and tender."

Peppis gasped in horror and Peritas chuckled. "You have all night to tell us what happened. I don't think anyone will sleep. Are there many of them out there?"

Marcus looked at the older man and understood what couldn't be said openly in front of the boy.

"There's enough," he replied, his voice low.

Peritas looked away and nodded to himself.

As dawn broke, Marcus and the others waited grimly for the assault, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep. Every man of them stood on the walls, swinging their heads nervously at the slightest movement of a bird or rabbit down on the scrubland. The silence was frightening, but when a sword falling over interrupted it, more than a few swore at the soldier who'd let it slip.

Then, in the distance, they heard the brassy horns of a Roman legion, echoing in the hills. Peritas jogged along the narrow walkway inside the walls and cheered as they watched three centuries of men come out of the mountain trails at a double-speed march.

It was only a few minutes before a voice sounded, "Approaching the fort," and the gates were thrown open.

The legion commanders had not been slow in sending out a strike force when the caravan was late returning. After the recent attacks, they wanted a show of strength and had marched through the dark hours over rough terrain, making twenty miles in the night.

"Did you see any sign of the blueskins?" Peritas asked, frowning. "There were hundreds around the fort when we arrived. We were expecting an attack."

A centurion shook his head and pursed his lips. "We saw signs of them, smoldering campfires and rubbish. It looks like they all moved out in the night. There is no accounting for the way savages think, you know. One of their magic men probably saw an unlucky bird or some kind of omen."

He looked around at the fort and caught the stench of the bodies.

"Looks like we have work to do here. Orders are to man this place until relieved. I'll send a Fifty back with you to permanent camp. No one moves without a heavy armed force from now on. This is hostile territory, you know."

Marcus opened his mouth to reply and Peritas turned him deftly around with an arm on his shoulder, sending him off with a gentle push.

"We know," he said, before turning away to ready his men for the march home.

The street gang was already draped in expensive bolts of cloth, stolen from a shop or seamstress. They carried clay vessels that sloshed red wine onto the stone street as they wove and staggered along.

Alexandria peered out of the locked gates of Marius's town house, frowning.

"The filth of Rome," she muttered to herself. With all the soldiers in the city engaged in battle, it had not taken long for those who enjoyed chaos to come out onto the streets. As always, it was the poor who suffered the most. Without guards of any kind, houses were broken into and everything of value carried away by yelling, jeering looters.

Alexandria could see one of the bolts of cloth was splashed with blood, and her fingers itched for a bow to send a shaft into the man's drunken mouth.

She ducked back behind the gatepost as they went past, wincing as a burly hand reached out to rattle the gate, testing for weakness. She gripped the hammer she had taken from Bant's workshop. If they tried to climb the gates, she was ready to crack someone's head. Her heart thudded as they paused and she could hear every slurred word between them.

"There's a whorehouse on Via Tantius, lads. We could get a little free trade," came a rough voice.

"They'll have guards, Brac. I wouldn't leave a post like that, would you? I'd make sure I got paid for my service as well. Those whores would be glad to have a strong man protecting them. What we want is another nice little wife with a couple of young daughters. We'll offer to look after them while the husband's away."

"I'm first, though. I didn't get much of a turn last time," the first voice said.

"I was too much for her, that's why. After me, a woman don't want another."

The laughter was coarse and brutal and Alexandria shuddered as they moved away.

She heard light footsteps behind her and spun, raising the hammer.

"It's all right, it's me," Metella said, her face pale. She had heard the end of it. Both women had tears in their eyes.

"Are you certain about this, mistress?"

"Quite certain, Alexandria, but you'll have to run. It will be worse if you stay here. Sulla is a vengeful man and there is no reason for you to be caught up in his spite. Go and find this Tabbic. You have the paper I signed?"

"Of course. It is the dearest thing I own."

"Keep it safe. The next few months will be difficult and dangerous. You will need proof you are a free woman. Invest the money Gaius left for you and stay safe until the city legion has restored order."

"I just wish I could thank him."

"I hope you have the chance one day." Metella stepped up to the bars and unlocked them, looking up and down the street. "Go quickly now. The road is clear for the moment, but you must hurry down to the market. Don't stop for anything, you understand?"

Alexandria nodded stiffly, not needing to be told after what she had heard. She looked at Metella's pale skin and dark eyes and felt fear touch her.

"I just worry about you in this great house, all alone. Who will look after you, with the house empty?"

Metella held up a hand in a gentle gesture. "Have no fear for me, Alexandria. I have friends who will spirit me away from the city. I will find a warm foreign land and retire there, away from all the intrigue and pains of a growing city. Somewhere ancient appeals to me, where all the struggle of youth is but a distant memory. Stay to the main street. I can't relax until the last of my family is safely away."

Alexandria held her gaze for a second, her eyes bright with tears. Then she nodded once and passed through the gates, closing them firmly behind her and hurrying away.

Metella watched her go, feeling every one of her years in comparison to the young girl's light steps. She envied the ability of the young to start anew, without looking back at the old. Metella kept her in sight until she turned a street corner, and then looked inward to her empty, echoing home. The great house and gardens were empty at last.