M. Scott: The Art of War

‘About two streets ahead of us,’ Pantera said, grimly. He thrust blue scarves at us, taken from dead men as we escaped. ‘Wind these on to your arms.’ And to Caenis, ‘Can you run?’

Caenis glanced at me, then bent down and took off her sandals. Barefoot, dust-lined, she looked like a slave until you saw the fire in her eyes. ‘Let’s go.’

*

‘Pantera! Stop!’

Trabo stood outside the temple of Isis, his blade in his hand. He looked exactly like the men fighting in the streets, but bigger, and more angry, and all his ire was directed at Pantera. ‘One step forward and you’re a dead man.’

Pantera stopped exactly where he was told, about ten paces from the white marble steps leading into the temple. ‘Is Jocasta inside?’ he asked.

A flicker of panic in Trabo’s eye betrayed him. He might have been a good legionary, but he would have been desperately bad at dice. ‘She’s not here.’

Pantera didn’t call him on the lie. ‘So why the blade?’

‘You’re working for Lucius. You’ll take Domitian and hand him over and all our work will be for nothing.’

‘And Jocasta, who isn’t here, told you that?’

‘She said it before she left.’

‘Then I suggest you bring Domitian and Horus and come with us. We’ll go somewhere safe. You can suggest the place and I’ll come with you. I won’t leave, I won’t signal anyone. We’ll sit in together and wait until Vitellius is deposed and Domitian can claim the throne. How does that sound to you?’

It sounded perfectly reasonable to me, but Trabo had gone beyond reason; he was in love with Jocasta and her lies had rotted his mind.

Pantera never took his eyes off him, didn’t nod at me or wink or crook a finger, but I saw a shift in the set of his shoulders and it was signal enough.

‘Haaaa!’

Trabo was a trained legionary, but I was bigger, and louder, and my father had been a warrior of the Ordovices; he had taught me all the moves a man might make against an armed opponent.

Trabo’s blade slashed fast past my face but I had already ducked and swerved. I came in under his arm. My fist took him in the side of the head and my hip caught his, sending him crashing back on to the marble steps. He didn’t make any attempt to rise.

‘Is he dead?’ Caenis asked.

‘Not yet.’ Pantera was kneeling at Trabo’s side, his hand on his neck. He looked up at me and there was a respect in his eyes that made my heart sing.

‘That was well done,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’ And then, ‘Jocasta’s inside with Domitian. Felix went round the back.’

We burst in together, saw the blood together.

‘Jocasta!’

‘Felix!’

We threw ourselves forward, for it was Jocasta’s blood that sprayed from a cut on her arm, but it was Felix who lay, purple-lipped, on the floor with no sign of life in his eyes.

I forgot about Domitian then; he might have been son of the emperor, but Felix had been my friend. I would have killed anyone who stood over him, and Jocasta must have seen that, for she whirled round, laughing, and leapt out of the back window, the one that Felix had come in through.

I held his hand, squeezed it, felt no squeeze back. His face was still, quiet, white. His uneven eyes were wide open, with the black points in them stretched as if he’d taken nightshade.

‘He’s dead. There was poison on the blade. See, where it entered?’ Pantera was kneeling at Felix’ side, his hand on his neck. ‘Borros, I’m so sorry. We nearly had her there.’

‘Do you want me to go after-’ I waved a hand at the window, but in truth I wanted to stay with Felix. He looked so peaceful, so young.

‘I’m sorry, we have to find Jocasta. She’s taken Domitian.’

We found Horus cowering behind the open door, invisible until we closed it again. He had hidden there, it transpired, when he saw Jocasta coming.

Horus said, ‘She would have killed me.’

Pantera was furious. He was on his feet and at the door but Horus caught his arm. ‘You won’t find her if she doesn’t want to be found,’ he said. ‘She can vanish as easily as you can and Domitian with her. Keep the lady Caenis safe. She’s the other half of the same coin.’

Pantera rounded on him, raging. I had never seen him angry before; it was a cold, fierce, frightening thing. ‘Did she pay you to say that?’

I was aghast. I had thought Horus was Pantera’s friend, but I watched the blood drain from his face and knew, then, that he was no friend. I stood, slowly; lifted my fist. If Felix had died because of him…

Horus whined like a struck hound. ‘Don’t! I am yours. I always was. When I wrote the letters, I didn’t know what she planned. I have done nothing for her since. If you believe nothing else, know that I am loyal to Mucianus, and his goals are yours.’

They locked eyes for a moment, as deer lock horns.

Stiffly, Pantera said, ‘We need to get Caenis to safety before Jocasta comes back with half of Vitellius’ Guard. Will you provide sanctuary at the House? With Borros and your Belgian, it’s probably one of the safest places in Rome just now.’

‘Of course.’ Horus leaked relief. He wept, silently, slowly. He looked like a bedraggled cat.

‘Good.’ Pantera looked my way. ‘If I carry Felix back, can you carry Trabo as well as you did Caenis?’

Of course I could. Why ask? He was heavier, but he was only a man. I have carried whole oxen in my time. I would rather have carried Felix, but Pantera took him, gently, and we walked side by side.

Rome, 20 December AD 69

Geminus

‘ What I’d give now for a company of Scythian bow-men!’

The ironsmiths’ boys were howling out our positions. The Blue Guards were racing at us as if we were the only men in Rome they had to hunt down. Bowmen would have been good, but we’d have needed a whole company, and if we had that we wouldn’t have been where we were.

Juvens knew this part of Rome; I had hardly been in it. I said, ‘Where do we go?’

‘This way.’ Juvens grabbed my sleeve and tugged me into an alley to our left. ‘If we run, we can get to the barracks and make a stand there.’

A last stand, a hero’s death; there was nothing else, now.

I said, ‘We’re south of the forum. It’s a mile away and all uphill.’

‘Then it’s a good thing you haven’t got soft on good living yet.’ Juvens threw me a wild grin. ‘Last one there pays the rest a month’s wages each!’ He smacked my arm, lightly, as children do, starting a race. ‘Go!’

Heads down, arms pumping, we ran. Half a hundred men ran after us.

Somewhere near the forum, we lost Lentulus to bad luck and a thrown spear; if someone hadn’t shouted his name, if he hadn’t turned just as the spear was cast, if the aim had been less true… but he was dead and left lying, which was shameful, and nobody would speak of it.

We ran on.

I tasted blood in my throat. My windpipe was on fire, my lungs fit to burst. When I closed my eyes, my pulse flashed bright across the black inside my lids and we hadn’t reached the steep part of the Quirinal yet.

Juvens was right; I had become soft in the few months in Vitellius’ company. It wouldn’t have mattered, but there was nothing soft at all about the blue-marked legionaries we faced, the men coming up the hill behind us, grim-faced and steady.

They were in no hurry; there was nowhere for us to go, except into the trap that was the barracks: one way in, one way out. And that exit could be blocked by a ten-man shield wall and held for as long as they felt like it once they had us trapped inside.

We had to stop for breath. I found I was leaning on a statue of Venus with my hand planted on her thigh, indecently high. I pushed myself away.