The Beast in the Labyrinth, page 54
I nodded. I didn’t doubt him. I opened my cloak, hoisted my tunic and put the little knife back in its sheath.
“Very well. By the way, what are you both doing here, Sergeant? Your company’s over at Labdalum. And Needle’s supposed to be at Euryalus, isn’t he?”
Ajax looked at me sheepishly.
“Captain Castor’s orders, sir. Ever since the prince was killed, he’s had Needle and me following you around when you go out. He brought us both back to the palace for the job. Not that you really need much babysitting, of course, sir. The captain probably just wanted to make sure someone would be on hand to cheer you along, if you ever picked yourself another fight with a thousand men.”
I grunted.
“I’ll see you later, Sergeant,” I said and turned away, wincing and trying not to limp as I walked off. I had only taken a few paces when a cold gust of wind caught me in the face and brought me to a halt. I heard my great-aunt’s voice in my head.
“The way to me is dangerous,” it chirruped.
Could this be what the goddess had meant? That I would be attacked outside her temple?
The priestess of Apollo at Delphi demands a large sum of gold for every prophecy she utters, but the true meaning of her words only ever becomes clear after the prophecy has been fulfilled. I was far from convinced that the idiot dangling from his rope was a serious enough threat to be worthy of a warning from the goddess. Whatever the danger that hung over me, I decided it had not passed yet.
*
Not fancying a second freezing bath, I had Agbal sponge me down in my bedroom. A large bruise had erupted on my left shoulder and upper arm, and there was another on my thigh, but apart from my swollen ankle, those were the extent of my injuries. Vita sat on the bed watching us and after a few minutes burst into tears.
“But who could possibly want to kill you?” she sobbed.
“It was probably the husband of one of your new friends,” I replied offhandedly. “I don’t know which one yet, but don’t worry, I will before the evening’s over.” I smiled, but she didn’t seem to find my answer very reassuring.
Omega knocked on the door as I was drying myself, to let me know Needle and Ajax had arrived with my prisoner, who was being made ready for me.
“See the two of them are given some supper, would you Omega?” I told him. “And they may as well sleep here. And have the steward find me a whip… Agbal, fetch me a plain tunic. I don’t want to ruin another good one tonight.”
Vita and I ate together in the small dining room, but all my efforts to lighten the mood seemed to fail. After a while, I gave up. My prisoner had probably been allowed to stew for long enough, I decided, so I excused myself and took the back stairs down to the slaves’ yard.
The drizzle had finally stopped, at least. A dozen torches had already been lit and placed in brackets around the walls.
Ajax, Needle and five or six of the City Guards who were now quartered at my house were waiting for me outside, together with my steward. A dozen or more slaves were leaning silently out of the windows of their dormitories.
The steward stepped forward nervously, bowed and handed me a whip. It was a fairly tatty old thing that had started to come apart at the end. I couldn’t remember the last time it had been used, but as I took it, a strange sensation ran down my spine, as if a cat were scratching the back of my neck.
My incompetent would-be murderer stood trembling in the far corner of the yard. His hands had been tied to the post.
“So you got him down eventually, I see,” I said to Ajax. For some reason, my mouth had gone dry.
Ajax grunted.
“He’s an annoying bastard, sir. Needle had to climb up onto the roof himself and threaten to cut the rope, before we could get the silly sod to jump… You’ll never guess who it is, sir.”
“I know him?” I asked in surprise.
I gave the whip a crack to loosen my arm. And, as I did so, something inside me seemed to crack as well.
I looked down at my hand, which was shaking.
The whip it held seemed to have been transformed into a long, thin black snake that I was grasping by the tail.
I felt a terror that I have never experienced before or since.
The hissing head slowly coiled round to stare at me and, as I watched, it began to rear and gather itself to strike at my face.
“I imagine you do, sir,” Ajax was saying. “Why don’t you come and take a… Sir? Are you alright, sir?”
The sweat was already breaking out across my forehead and my back. I gasped and threw the whip aside in a mix of horror and revulsion. For a moment I stood frozen, too scared to move; and then I bent down to clutch my knees and started throwing up.
“Fetch a doctor, someone, for fuck’s sake!” Ajax yelled, putting one hand on my shoulder and the other round my back.
I held out my arm and waved my hand, still heaving spasmodically. I tried to catch my breath.
“No,” I said eventually, shaking my head.
I took a few deep breaths and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
“It’s alright, Ajax… I’m fine.”
I turned my face up towards him and did my best to smile reassuringly.
“It’s alright…” I exhaled. He took his arm off my back as I straightened myself.
“It must have just been something I ate… I’m fine now… Thank you.”
“Are you sure, sir?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Just something I ate, I imagine. I’m better now…”
I wiped my brow with my forearm and turned to my frightened steward.
“Fetch me a cup of water, would you? And a bowl of water too.”
He turned and hurried off. I glanced over at the whip. It was just an old whip. I looked down at my hand and was relieved to see it had stopped trembling.
“Don’t worry, Ajax, I’m alright.” I forced another smile.
He exhaled in relief.
“You gave me a fright there, sir.”
“Nothing to worry about…” I was anxious to change the subject. I tried to remember what he had been saying before.
“So you say I know the man?”
He nodded. I took one last deep breath.
“Very well. Let’s go and have a look at him, then.”
I still felt a little shaky as we walked across the yard together, and my ankle wasn’t helping. I was uncomfortably aware of my tunic clinging damply to my back.
My prisoner stared at me. Tears were streaming down his face and he was desperately trying to say something, but the rag in his mouth made him unintelligible.
Even by the dim light of the torches, I recognised him at once.
I gazed at him, as I considered what to do.
The steward came running over to hand me a cup of water; behind him, a slave was carrying a bowl. I rinsed and spat several times to clear the taste from my mouth, and then I washed my face and the back of my neck. I was finally starting to feel myself again. Maybe it really was just something I’d eaten, I thought, although it hadn’t seemed like that. But I had no idea what else it could have been.
I pulled the rag from my prisoner’s mouth, and he immediately began whimpering.
“Shut up,” I said.
He gulped and went silent.
“What were you offered to kill me?” I demanded.
“Master, please be merciful, I swear I didn’t…”
“I asked what you were offered to kill me. I won’t ask you again.”
“My freedom, Master. And the quarries if I refused.”
“I take it this was all your master’s clever plan?”
He nodded vigorously.
“Where is he now? He’s not in the city, is he?”
“No, Master. He’s at his estate in the country.”
“Where’s that?”
“About four hours’ ride away, Master, just before the village of Cyros, off the road to Acrae.”
I stared into his face.
“Has your master had any important visitors recently?” I asked. “Is there anyone he has been seeing more often than usual?”
“No, Master, I don’t think so,” he stammered.
I sighed. He seemed to have nothing useful to tell me.
“Cut him down, Ajax,” I said.
Ajax looked at me in surprise, but took out his knife without question and walked behind the post. As he cut the knot binding the man’s wrists, the slave collapsed to his knees. Ajax stooped down and freed the man’s ankles, and the sorry creature rolled over onto his side and began to sob.
“Have a couple of men take him to the Euryalus gate and throw him out of the city,” I said. “As for you, go home and tell your master I will be calling on him tomorrow. Tell him I intend him no harm. I only wish to talk to him.”
I gave him a parting kick, but not a particularly hard one, and turned and limped away. My slaves were still staring down at the scene from their dormitory windows. I wondered what they had made at the sight of me retching like that; I wasn’t sure what to make of it myself. I felt embarrassed.
“Get to work or get to bed,” I bellowed up at them.
I still didn’t know for certain who was behind Gelon’s murder, but at least I was finally beginning to understand how the puzzle might fit together. The following day should bring confirmation of my suspicions. And if I was right, there was more than one traitor.
I could feel the red-eyed beast, tossing its head impatiently. After my strange turn in the yard, it was a relief to have him back.
*
The stables once more smelt as they should: I kept about a dozen horses at the villa now. Most were common geldings for the use of the household, but I had also stabled two of my own stallions there for the winter. The other two were at the palace. No one else was permitted to ride those black giants. They had been trained as warhorses, and in inexpert hands they were just as much a danger to their rider as to anyone within reach of their teeth or hooves.
I rode out at dawn. Ajax, Needle and Agbal followed behind on three of the geldings, although only Agbal seemed comfortable on horseback. Needle looked as though he had never even ridden before, so Agbal kept his own horse alongside Needle’s until he got the hang of it.
We stopped at the palace on the way out of the city. I wanted to speak with Castor.
“Please take more men with you, Dion,” Castor implored me, when I had explained where I was going and why. We were sitting in my office overlooking the exercise yard.
“No need, my friend,” I replied. “What’s the old fool going to do? He’s hardly going to set his slaves on me. Besides, I don’t want to scare him. Not unless I have to. But just in case something does happen, and I’m not back by tomorrow, you must finish this for me. Can I trust you to do that, Castor? For Gelon’s sake?”
“But you still don’t know for sure it was them, do you?” he said, looking at me uncertainly.
I shrugged.
“Perhaps not,” I said. “But it all makes sense… So kill the three of them anyway.”
He furrowed his brows and stroked his neat little beard thoughtfully.
“I’m sorry, but I won’t do that, Dion,” he said eventually.
I stared at him.
“What?” I said.
“Sorry, but I won’t. We can’t just start killing everyone we don’t trust.”
“What’s got into you?” I demanded, more in surprise than anger. “You’re a soldier, for fuck’s sake. And you’re supposed to be my friend.”
“And you’re supposed to be mine. What kind of friend would ask such a thing?”
“Then I’ll make it a fucking order.”
“That won’t change my mind. But it would probably make me despise you.”
That threw me. Castor had never spoken to me like that before; I don’t think anyone had.
“How dare you?” I asked quietly.
“Oh, so do you want to add me to your list now?” he said.
“Of course I don’t,” I snarled.
“I’m pleased to hear it… But I still won’t do it, Dion. Every noble in the city is shitting himself, trying to guess what’s going on in your head. Where does this all end? With the murder of anyone you don’t like? That’s probably half the city. If that’s the road you want to travel, I’m afraid you’ll have to follow it without me. I’m honoured and more grateful than you can ever imagine for all you’ve done for me, but you ask too much. You’ll have my resignation, of course.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” I snapped.
“Then come to your senses, Dion. Hannibal could be at our gates in a few months. Just think about that, will you? Make yourself king when the old man dies, if that’s what you want. Everyone is praying that you will. I’m certainly praying that you will. But do it to save the kingdom, for fuck’s sake, not to rip it to pieces.”
“They killed Gelon,” I shouted.
“Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t,” he shouted back. “But I won’t start murdering people for you, just in the hope they happen to deserve it.”
We glared at each other.
“You’re dismissed, Captain,” I said finally.
He stood, saluted, and walked stiffly to the door.
“They all fucking deserve it,” I muttered to myself, as he closed it behind him.
XXIV
The Ostomachion
The gates by the Euryalus fortress open onto a dirt road, which twists its way through the hills towards Acrae, where our recently renovated summer home still awaited a visit from its new mistress. A few trees cling like broken-backed beggars to their precarious holds between the rocks, but otherwise only scrub relieves the landscape immediately behind the city. You must travel several miles inland before you round a high, jagged shoulder of stone, and abruptly find yourself on the edge of a dense forest. The highway skirts the treeline, but a little way beyond the stone shoulder, a spur road, barely wide enough for two carts to pass each other, splits off and leads into the gloom of the trees. We took the spur road. The trees closest to the edge of the forest are mostly pine, and of little value, but further in you come to the hardwoods, which are harvested to feed our shipyards. Rutted tracks run off the lane at erratic intervals, ending in distant clearings where choice trees have been felled. In the summer, the canopy is thick, but even though the branches overhanging our heads were now bare, the lane remained dark and oppressive under the winter sky.
Ajax, Needle and I had all put on our armour at the palace, and under my heavy woollen cloak I wore my captain’s sword. Only Agbal appeared unarmed, although I imagine he had his knives hidden on him somewhere. Not that they seemed likely to be of much use in his hands.
Despite the precautions, I was not concerned for our safety. Absconding slaves sometimes sought refuge in this forest, but they would stay well clear of men in breastplates. Those who did not starve to death usually ended up slinking home to their owners after a few weeks. Providing they had not committed any other crime, returning slaves were almost always taken back in and commonly suffered no worse punishment than a facial branding. The key to making a success of slavery is not fear, but dependency. My slaves led far more comfortable lives than the freeborn poor of Syracuse, and were grateful for it. They had a roof over their heads, the certainty of regular meals, and even medical attention if they needed it. Only a fool would trade all that for the insecurities of freedom.
In any event, the only people we met in the woods that day were occasional wagon drivers, taking timber into the city. We had to follow the lane for two hours before we finally emerged from the tree line and saw the village of Cyros a couple of miles ahead of us. It was a place I had never previously had cause to visit, and it had nothing obvious to commend it. The village sat on the summit of a small hill, surrounded by an expanse of upland meadows. The road curled up round the hill and ended at the perimeter wall, which appeared to be fairly low and useless. The people here clearly relied for their security on the fact that they lived out of the way of anywhere, and on the way to nowhere.
About half a mile distant from us, between the woods and the village, stood a complex of farm buildings adjoining a fairly grand villa. It was probably the only substantial house for many miles in any direction; its owners must have led a very thin social life whenever they were in residence here.
We rode past the farm buildings to the main gates, which had been left open. I could see no porter on duty, which seemed curiously lax, but visitors here were probably few and far between. Half a dozen chickens wandered around the forecourt, pecking at whatever caught their eye. They squawked and scattered as our horses clattered across the cobbles.
We tethered the horses to a wooden railing that separated the forecourt from the adjoining meadows, and Ajax and I led the way up the short flight of steps to the main door. He hammered on it with his fist.
“Open up,” he shouted. “Open up for General Dion.”
We waited for a short while but there was no response.
I scanned the length of the villa’s wall as Ajax banged on the door again. Like every other country house in the kingdom, its high, outward-facing windows were little more than slits, made too narrow for a man to climb through. I wondered if the slave had lied to me about his master’s whereabouts. I decided I wasn’t going to leave without finding out.
“Looks like you’re up on the roof again, Needle,” I said, and gestured with my thumb.
“Yes, sir,” he sighed. He unfastened his sword belt and laid it on the ground.
Ajax braced his back against the wall and locked his fingers together. A moment later, Needle was standing on his shoulders, grasping the overhang. I put my hand under one of the little man’s sandals and pushed it up, locking my elbow to give him a higher footing. I felt the pressure increase on my palm as he nimbly swung his other leg onto the tiles and then he was out of sight. Ajax picked up Needle’s sword and we took a few steps back, to see him perching near the edge of the shallow-pitched roof like a cat. Ajax threw him up the sword. He drew it and tossed the scabbard and belt back down, then scampered up and disappeared over the ridge.
