Douglas Jackson: Scourge of Rome

Valerius waited for the next scream before he moved forward another step.

The hidden guard’s mistake was to charge from the bushes before calling out. Valerius caught the movement in the corner of his eye, and turned to meet the danger knowing he was already too late. The mouth of the swarthy, bearded face gaped wide as the man prepared to shout a warning to his friends. Before Valerius could even raise his sword, something like a silver bird flashed across his vision and the guard’s head snapped back, the mouth gaping still further. The only sound that emerged was a soft croak caused by the little throwing axe that had cut his vocal cords and severed his windpipe.

Valerius stepped forward and caught the swaying body, taking the weight and easing the dying guard to the ground. A tall, emaciated figure with a shaven head and burning eyes stepped from the darkness. Valerius pulled the axe free and held it as if ready to throw. Instead, he wiped it on the dead man’s ragged tunic before handing it silently back and nodding his thanks. He could still barely understand what had happened or why, but for the moment the newcomer’s eyes held a question. Valerius answered it with a raised hand showing five fingers. His companion registered no emotion at the number.

Valerius pointed east, his mouth silently mouthing the word ‘horses’.

The newcomer raised a rebellious eyebrow and held up a hand showing an identical five fingers, a gesture that suggested the odds would require more than one man. Valerius knew he was probably right, but something told him it was important that none of these men escape. That meant someone had to find their mounts and kill whoever was looking after them. He shook his head and repeated, ‘Horses.’

The thin man acknowledged this with a soft grunt and set off silently over the rough ground on an arc that would take him to the far side of the camp without being seen. When he was gone, Valerius advanced directly towards the firelight.

The questioning must have been completed to the leader’s satisfaction because he laughed and the four men began to tear at the screaming woman’s remaining clothing. Two of them forced her legs apart while the others held her arms and pawed at her naked breasts. Valerius’s instinct was to rush straight to her aid, but he knew this was not the moment for impetuousness. For the time being she must endure. He forced himself to wait.

His opportunity came when the tall man advanced towards his helpless victim. Dark eyes gleamed in the cloth-covered face as he hitched up his tunic in a movement that left no doubt what was to come. The woman squirmed beneath her captors’ hands, but they only mocked her all the more, spitting in her face and making gestures that indicated they would be next.

Wait.

The big man forced his way between the pair holding the captive’s legs and knelt over his victim. Valerius could hear him talking to her in a soft voice, but without warning the tone turned savage and guttural. The man’s head rose and his hips prepared to thrust forward.

None of the torturers noticed the shadowy figure who emerged from the darkness and ran silently towards them. The triangular point of the gladius is its true strength in battle, but Valerius had always made sure the edge was keen enough to shave the hair on his arms. By the time the men detected his presence the sword was already coming down in a scything arc aimed at the point where the big man’s skull joined his neck. The razor-edged iron would have taken his head off at the shoulders had it not been partially blunted by the cloth of the headscarf. As it was, the blow was powerful enough to slice through the spine; his skull flopped forward and the rapist’s enormous body collapsed on top of his victim. The two men holding her legs were momentarily trapped beneath the still-shuddering corpse and Valerius used the split second to transform his sword swing into a neat back cut that slashed across a second man’s throat.

Ignoring the torturer struggling to free himself, Valerius confronted the pair who’d been holding the woman’s arms. They’d reacted to the sudden outburst of lethal violence by scuttling away from the danger on their backsides. Now they simultaneously clawed for their daggers as they struggled to regain their feet.

Valerius knew he had moments to win back the initiative. In desperation he leapt on the partially decapitated man’s back and launched himself in a flying kick. It took the closer of the two full in the face and the blow sent the man backwards spraying blood and teeth. A spear of pain shot up Valerius’s leg, reminding him he’d left his hobnailed sandals back at the camp. But the bloodied knifeman was far from finished. He sprang up and parried a thrust aimed at his abdomen. Somehow Valerius managed to turn his attack into a clumsy hack that chopped off his opponent’s left ear and four inches of scalp. As the shrieking man collapsed the Roman just had time to whirl with a panicked slash that blocked the wickedly curved blade aimed at his midriff.

Valerius had practised with the sword almost every day for a dozen years. On many of those days he’d found himself up against former gladiators like Serpentius, fighters whose speed so mesmerized their opponents that they were knocking at the gates of Elysium before they realized they were dead. A civilian with a knife, however deadly in appearance, should have been no match for him.

But nobody had told this civilian. He had the balance of a gymnast and Valerius felt as if he’d been pegged to the ground as the man danced around him seeking an advantage. If ever there was a moment to regret sending his unexpected saviour to deal with the horse holders this was it. The knife darted and weaved in little half-moon arcs that threatened first one flank then the other. Valerius knew that somewhere behind him the man he’d left untouched would have freed himself, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off that glinting blade. A howl of terror from the direction of the fire drew his attention for a fatal heartbeat. He realized his mistake just in time to suck in his stomach so the dagger point barely scored his flesh in a white hot bolt of fire. Another desperate hack at his opponent won him the room to hobble out of range, but it was only a matter of time. Where in the name of Hades was his ally?

The sound of galloping horses from the darkness behind the knifeman answered his question and the resolve faded from the snarling features. With a frustrated glance towards the fire the killer darted off, pausing to casually run his blade across his wounded comrade’s throat as he went.

If Valerius was honest he’d expected the woman to be dead by now, but she had other ideas. She’d taken advantage of the surviving attacker’s momentary incapacity to snatch up a flaming brand and defend herself. From the look of his face, now a blackened, unrecognizable mess, it appeared she’d been all too successful. As Valerius watched, she continued to hammer the branch home with short, vicious, left-handed blows that landed with a wet slapping sound.

‘I’d have liked to be able to talk to at least one of them.’ The words were in Greek and his weariness tempered any tendency towards sympathy.

The woman looked up and he felt as if someone had run a gladius point down his spine. The deepest blue eyes he’d ever seen glared at him from beneath slanted lids. ‘Get this pig off me. Why did you let the other one get away?’

Her reply was also in Greek, which surprised him, because in Syria, as in Rome, it was the language of the educated and more affluent. He’d created an image of her as a village woman snatched by bandits to be used at their leisure and then discarded with her throat slit. But she was young, probably not yet twenty, and her tone was anything but that of a serving girl. If she’d been the daughter of a farmer or a merchant her skin would have been reddened by years of outdoor toil; instead it had the startling luminosity of a new-harvested pearl. A bruise to her right cheek was the only visible sign of her ordeal. She pushed vainly at the big man whose blood had drenched her torso and Valerius looked around for something to cover her.