The Snake Catcher Page 9

  Cassia muttered something.

  “What did you say, love?” I asked her.

  “Nothing, love,” she answered. “Just praising this life on the road, which seems to go on forever.”

  “Only until it is safe to settle down,” I growled. “I should have left you at Moganticum.”

  “Last time I was safe, they nearly killed me in Gulldrum,” she reminded me.

  “That won’t happen again,” I said stiffly.

  Mathildis pitched in. “I’m happy to leave. The job is to expose the daughter of the Princeps as a murderer and a traitor,” she said with a subdued voice. “I’m happy to have and raise my child away from here. Cassia will be as well. There’s so much resentment and anger in their family. Old wounds that seep, and grudges we don’t understand.” She looked at Brimwulf. “Would also be nice if my man was with me.”

  Brimwulf slumped. “I gave Hraban my oaths. Romans as well.”

  “Unoath yourself,” she muttered. “And guard Cassia and I while they hit their head in Roman marble.”

  Cassia looked at me rebelliously, holding her belly. “I’ll know more, if I stay with Livia and serve her. I can be useful.”

  “You’re going back north, wife,” I hissed and cursed.

  She pushed me so hard I nearly fell from my saddle. “You are caring and loving, and I know you mean well. Yet, I’ve got a feeling you didn’t look at Livia’s eyes hard enough. She is not used to being denied.”

  Tudrus sighed. “Argue later. What if we find proof of this Julia’s guilt? What then? Who shall we speak to?”

  Gernot opened his mouth. The rest scowled at him, but he ignored their sullen mood. “Then what? Yes, that’s the question. What shall you do, if her father is part of the scheme? That’s what Hraban keeps wondering, no?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I don’t think he is, but—”

  “But, you cannot be sure,” he said. “You’ll find out things that will hurt the family. Perhaps things they will kill to guard—probably have already. Cassia is right, in a way. There is a dark history that’s hidden, and you will unveil some of it. Cassia might find out some interesting things, if she stayed with Livia.”

  Cassia gave Gernot a grateful smiled, and I cursed them both. I didn’t like Gernot getting too close to my friends, and especially my wife. I turned to call him a turd, but he raised a hand.

  He went on. “But, I think the girls should turn back and go away. Right away. The weakest ones will suffer the most.”

  “What?” Cassia hissed. “You—”

  I grinned at Gernot gratefully. “What shall we do if we find out something about Julia? We will let Tiberius decide. And Livia, I suppose. We are tools, and we need to be vigilant tools. There are secrets we will discover, that is for sure. Make sure not to relax.”

  Gernot shook his head. “Make sure they won’t dare to be rid of you. You need to make sure they, no matter whom, cannot simply murder you to make it all go away. I’d not trust anyone. Be ready to lose things you love, if you take the women to Rome.”

  With the ominous words, we progressed solemnly. They rode near me, silent, dusty, the horse’s hooves making dull sounds on the stone road. Peasants in plain tunics were leaning on their tools, and stared at the procession in awe.

  The centurion, bored, walked back to us and turned our way with a wink. “It will be one more day. You’ll be surprised when you see Rome. If we came by the river, you would barely notice anything. If by ship, it’s the island. Built like a ship, the whole damned thing. Aesculapius, a god of healing, lives there. You’d pass a string of ancient bridges, muddy banks, and you’d see a simple harbor. You would have to climb up to the bank see the endless streets opening up. They would just suddenly appear. Coming this way, we see the hills and the roofs, and you’ll see many of the mostly famous ones from the distance. It’s the most vibrant city in the world, you vagrants and barbarians. Try not to make a mess inside. Nay, I’m just joking. You’ll fit right in. Keep your coin close. Lots of thieves. Look out at night, should you totter around. Keep your swords near. Few Romans have them, and robbers will be desperate as packs of dogs. There are those there, too. Don’t feed them. They’ll eat you next.”

  I looked at Cassia, who had our coins. She shook her head, and pointed at Gernot.

  Gernot clutched the bag of coins on his hip. Cassia had given them to him. He frowned at my covetous and suspicious look. Cassia looked ready to give a fight, and so I ignored the coins, nodding thanks to the centurion.

  We’d trust no one.

  It was fall; the summer was passing, but it was still uncomfortably hot in Italy. Yet, I felt cold shivers, and knew there would be trouble soon.

  Slowly, the company wound its way towards another town, a much smaller one. We halted and were all called to guard Tiberius.

  ***

  It was late night. Wandal and I stood guard on the doorway of a house, staring at the muddy streets leading left and right, and everything was quiet. Few people were about. Wandal chuckled. “I thought it would be different, you know.”

  “Huh?” I asked. I was staring at the domus near ours, where the children and wife of Drusus were spending their night.

  “Oh, you know. This is the big world, isn’t it? Back home, everyone slept when Sunna rode her chariot down and Mani took over the sky. I figured every street here would be bathed in light, but no, they sleep like we do. Only some feast deep into the night. They are not very different, and still so very, eh?”

  “They gamble, drink,” Tudrus said from the doorway, stalking the inside of the house like a restless wolf. “Just like any man.” He gestured back at the house. “Except there. Everyone sleeps, save for the man guarding the house treasures. The master of the house told him not to move an inch. I think the slave has a desperate need to take a piss, but stoutly, he sits next to the cabinet filled with silver, holding his head. Doesn’t trust us one bit.” He winked. “And possibly not Tiberius either. He showed all his wealth to Augustus, but when Tiberius entered with us, he went white as a cloud. Shut the cabinet down with a clang and looked damned nervous.”

  “We’d be robbers in a heartbeat, if we didn’t serve the family, eh?” Wandal chortled. “He has good nose.”

  “Who’s guarding Antonia’s house?” Tudrus said with a frown. “Three or four of Drusus’s former lictors?”

  I nodded. “Those, indeed. They were mostly killed during the battle, but four survived. Two former centurions, and some are obviously professional fighters. Soldiers, likely, all of them. Men who failed, like we did.”

  “Shamed men all,” Wandal agreed. “Soiled like a baby’s blanket.”

  Tudrus was about to go back inside, when he froze, squinting as he looked hard at the domus. “What’s that in the second floor? A window with a ledge?”

  “A balcony, I think they called it,” I frowned. “King Vago had one in Burbetomagus.”

  “That’s where the women live, right? In the second floor, eh?” Wandal asked.

  Tudrus frowned, and took an uncertain step forward and out of the house.

  “Slaves, servants, women. Men live downstairs,” I confirmed. “Why?”

  “A man poked his face out just now,” Tudrus said. “A scraggly, ugly man. Not the sort who would run errands in a domus. More like a dirty squirrel.”

  I took a step that way. “It’s dark. You sure you didn’t see a ghost?”

  “There was a face,” Tudrus growled. “I saw it. Ugly as a mule.”

  I hesitated, taking a step to the street. It was muddy, and my caligae sunk into the morass, but I made it across the street, and managed to glimpse at the second story of the building. Around the white washed walls, the balcony stood out like a gaping maw. The window’s shutters were open, and there was little light somewhere in the recesses of that darkness.

  And something moved.

  A hand waved briefly in the semi darkness. Then I thought I saw a flash of an anxious face.

  The face disappeare
d.

  “You are right,” I said. “Should we—”

  A group of six men walked out of the shadows, following the street. The guards at Antonia’s doorway tensed, looking that way. The approaching group of men was obviously drunk, unstably slipping in mud with their inexpensive shoes and caligae. Their chins had, at best, been shaved days ago. All were unkempt, looking desperate as street dogs. Many had cudgels on their belts, and some held staffs. Most everyone had obviously been fighting lately, since their knuckles were scabbed. They were passing the house, when one of them spat at a lictor.

  “Hey!” the man answered. “What in Hades do you think you are doing, you horse-faced cunt?”

  I shook my head at the coarse, former warrior’s speech, which exploded into many more expletives, as crude as the first insult, and the growling bastards answered in kind.

  I turned to Wandal. “Go kick Agetan and Bohscyld up. Wake Brimwulf as well, and keep an eye on the doorways. Tudrus, come on, there is someone up there, and he—”

  Violence exploded on the street.

  A thug threw a punch, a lictor fell to the mud, and a melee began, as the former soldiers drew blades. More guards opened the door, drowsy and shaken, to see a sudden nocturnal fight wash across the doorway.

  Tudrus pulled his gladius and hefted his shield. I pulled Nightbright and rushed forward.

  I heard Wandal growling orders behind, with a voice of an irascible giant. He was kicking at the door, but we rushed forward, our swords pulled. “Tiw’s shrunken balls,” I muttered, as ten more ruffians ran from the shadows, and hacked down a lictor with brutal cudgels. “Dammit.”

  Tudrus grunted, his voice brutal. His teeth gleamed in the darkness. “Kill ‘em?”

  “Kill what stands in the way,” I agreed, “and get inside.”

  We pushed forward. A tall ruffian and a fat thief, in ill-fitting tunics, were wrestling a sword away from a guard. They clobbered at the lictor with clubs while the man stubbornly held on to his weapon. I stepped close, rammed Nightbright to the tall ruffian’s back, pulling it out and stabbing over the screaming, dying man’s shoulder for the fat man’s throat. He ducked away like a cat, but the blade sliced to his chin, tore away a chunk of meat, and put the bastard into bleeding flight. Tudrus stabbed his blade at another man, who parried with a cudgel, but failed to see the shield coming, and fell dazed to the ground, where Tudrus kicked him in the face and stabbed down. He had no training with the sword, not really, but he made it seem effortless. I pulled him after me.

  The lictor we had saved panted, turned to slay another man, and the guards, shields out, six of them, were now holding their own against the ill-equipped men.

  “There’s someone inside!” I yelled at them, but none heard me, as they killed and wounded men. I cursed and dodged inside the open doorway.

  I rushed past the corridor, saw there was no night guard there. In the atrium painted with sea scenery and happy people sailing long, slender galleys, I spied a man on the stairway upstairs. He retreated to the shadows, and I heard someone growl an order there. “Come on,” I yelled, and rushed up the stairway, shield out. I entered the semidarkness, where one oil lamp lit the corridor.

  I heard a woman shriek. “Stay out! Please, no!”

  Antonia?

  I squinted, and saw a corpse of an older servant, or a slave, and a young, slaughtered body of a girl. Both had slit throats. In the corridor, two men turned from a doorway they had been forcing open. I pointed a sword at them. “Come then. You’ll fight men, not women and children this night.”

  One of the men rammed himself to the door savagely, apparently rather desiring to fight women and children after all. It cracked, and the woman screamed again. The other man lifted a short spear, and two more men emerged from a dark room near him. Tudrus cursed and pushed me, and I ran at the lot with him. It was dark, and we felt the weapons were coming for us as the enemy charged us. My shield rang with hits. I rammed it forward, a man fell back.

  Another shadow retreated and struck again. A spear went past my thigh. Tudrus pushed past me, roaring a challenge, and his sword split a face of a man in a red tunic. The man passed out in an eye blink, though his pugio stabbed ineffectively at Tudrus’s side, making my friend howl with rage. I cursed the stubborn enemy, whose blades kept coming. I stabbed, hit nothing, the shield saved me again, until one spear thrust slashed to my armored belly. I felt the sting, then thrashing as the man ripped it off my armor. Another man grabbed my shield, trying to pull it away. The door ahead gave in, and the man who had been trying to push in, disappeared inside.

  And with that, I raged.

  I felt the call of Woden. I embraced his savage, shadowy dance, and let go of the shield. I rammed the blade up at a mass before me, felt the blade graze on backbone. I pushed the dying meat to another man, who fell with it. I ripped the blade out, and left Tudrus to deal with the last of the foe. I rushed to the room.

  There, a brave sight greeted me.

  The relative of Augustus, daughter of Antony, widow of Drusus, and the future mother and grandmother of emperors and empresses, stood her ground against a lithe, cowled man, with a pair of swords. His forearms were bare, and tattooed, black snakes were slithering around them. She was slashing furiously a dagger at the assailant, who seemed to be chuckling, having grasped a hem of her tunic. The man was green-eyed, with short, blond hair and thin, cruel face.

  “You’ll not get them,” she shrieked. She was beautiful as Sunna in her fury, shielding the children of my former lord. Tiberius Claudius Nero, the future, famous and hated Germanicus, a boy of but few years, held to the tunic of Livilla, the girl of exceptionally haughty beauty, even at the age of four. And there, too, the baby, tiny Claudius, was whimpering in his richly decorated cradle.

  The man’s sword went up.

  I rushed him with the speed of the berserker, and slammed into him with my shield. He let go of the tunic and spun away, regaining his balance. I placed myself between him and Antonia. I stared at him from the eyeholes in my Athenian helmet, my eyes promising to slaughter him like a lamb. He thrust at me, I parried, and he rolled expertly past me. Antonia shuffled to guard her children, and I roared as I rushed him. He stabbed at me, dodged under my thrust, and nearly got to the family past my back. I moved like a ferret and kicked at him in fury, while my sword came down. He took the kick, deflecting the sword, which travelled along the blade and stuck his thigh. He howled with the wound and hacked the hilt of one sword on my helmet, facing me. He dodged a stab.

  He decided to kill me first. You could see it in the pale green animal’s eyes.

  He wielded his two swords masterfully, and not since Nihta had I seen a man move like that. “Istros!” he yelled, as he charged me. It seemed to me he appeared out of the thin air before me. Nightbright was not ready, when one of his blades punched into my buckle, and another clanged into my helmet. I rammed my shield at him, then my sword. He casually took the shield with his blades, eluding Nightbright with lightning fast movement. I doggedly stabbed at his face, he dodged under the thrust, and suddenly stood to my unprotected side, and I was sure I’d die. I threw myself back.

  I was too slow.

  The swords slashed at my head, and one banged into my cheek guard, but the other grazed my throat, drawing blood. I wasn’t sure if I was mortally wounded. I slashed wildly to keep him at bay, roared, and cursed, and thrust at the shadow of the man I saw charging at me. He parried again, kicked me back, and turned to Antonia. I got up, not sure I’d be able to stop him in time.

  He lifted his swords, laughed, and then yelped, as a spear struck his back.

  He turned to look at Tudrus, who was entering, covered in blood.

  I rushed forward, hoping to catch him unawares.

  The man chuckled, slamming the hilts of his swords to my helmet. He ran back with a limp, kicked open the shutters, and disappeared like a cat into the darkness. He screamed in pain as he landed somewhere in the alley below, and I surged to see where he
ran.

  He was gone.

  I turned to look at Tudrus, who was facing the doorway with his sword out, and shield covering it. Shouts could be heard in the house, and footsteps. Antonia got up unsteadily, her children clutching at her tunic. Livilla’s eyes were serious and measured, and the future Germanicus was staring at the wound in my neck.

  Antonia put a hand on my arm, gingerly, as if touching something she didn’t believe was real. I bowed, and flipped the helmet off my head. She flinched as she saw the savage scar on my face, and took a step forward, holding her finger out as she traced the bloody wound on my throat. She spoke with relief. “It … you were lucky. I think you’ll survive it.”

  “He was good, very good,” I said, and felt Woden’s rage fade. “Thank Tudrus here. I would have failed. I’m happy you survived.”

  “You both did your parts,” she said, her light brown hair curling down to her chest. “They were after me. And the children.”

  I frowned at that and shrugged. She was right, of course. “They will have to guard you better.” I knew I could not easily leave Rome. Julia, perhaps, truly tried to kill the wife of Drusus, as well as Tiberius.

  She squinted. “You are the one who serves Tiberius now? The strange one of the tall warriors who Tiberius picked up where my husband died?”

  I swallowed and bowed again. “I am. I served your husband. He … spoke often of you. Hraban.”

  Her eyes enlarged. “You are that raven?”

  “They named me Nero Claudius Corvus.” I said uncomfortably. “I’m knows as Hraban where I come from.”

  She was nodding empathetically. “Hraban. Yes, he wrote to me of you.” She smiled dutifully. “And spoke of you during our last winter. Only the good things, I’m able to assure you. And I can see your merits on my own. Your Latin is …passable.”

  “I sound like a stone grinding against a tile, my lady,” I smiled. She chuckled and went serious.

  “You saw him die?” she asked.