Corvus (30 page)

“Easy on that,”
hulking Adurnos said. “It’s the last one.”

“He needs some
warmth in him,” Philemos protested, and uncorked the skin, holding the nozzle
to his father’s mouth. Phaestus choked and swallowed, the red liquid running down
his neck in trickled lines.

“You’ve done well
to get this far,” Sertorius said to Phaestus. “For a while there I thought we’d
be leaving you for the kites and ravens.”

Phaestus mastered
his heaving breath. “I have enough in me yet for the job to get done.”

“He should be on
the mule,” Philemos said, wiping his father’s mouth.

“The mule can
barely manage that barking brat as it is,” Adurnos grunted. “Another few days
and it’ll go the way of the last one.”

“Good eating,
though,” Bosca said with a grin. Adurnos and Sertorius laughed.

Philemos stared
across the fire at Aise and her children. They were hollow-eyed scarecrows,
flesh worn close to the bone, hair matted with filth. The company had been ten
days on the road, and the pasangs had left their mark upon them all, but the
three captives had fared worst.

He scrambled
through the grey leaf-litter and knelt in front of Aise, holding out the skin.

“It might help
her.”

Aise nodded, her
eyes flickering with gratitude. She held Ona in her arms and put the spout of
the wineskin to the child’s mouth. Rian raised the skin, almost empty now. She
looked at Philemos.

“Thank you.” The
words a cracked whisper, no more.

“That’s your share
you’re giving her, boy,” Bosca said loudly. “You want to waste it on the little
rat-cunt, it’s your affair, but don’t expect no more.”

“Fair enough,”
Philemos said without turning around. His dark curls hung in mud-fastened
strings either side of his face. He looked at Aise, at Ona, swallowing the wine
and whimpering, and lastly at Rian, who returned his gaze squarely, her eyes
grey as the shank of a spearhead.

His mouth worked,
but he took the skin back from Aise without saying anything.

The day died about
them, the fire brightening against the blue darkness of the world.

“There’s farmers
here have places for pigs to have a roof over their heads, and yet here we are
sleeping on dirt for I don’t know how many nights,” Bosca said. “I don’t see
the wisdom of it, is all - we’re not up in the fucking mountains anymore.”

“We don’t know
what’s been going on since we were up in the hills,” Phaestus said. “Or how far
Corvus’s army has come.” He wheezed wetly as he breathed, and when Philemos set
a hand on his arm he managed a laugh.

“I
’ve been hunting in the highlands
these twenty years, and now a two week jaunt has me like this. Phobos must have
a sense of humour.”

“Phobos hates all
men,” Sertorius said, chewing reflectively on a strip of roast mule meat. “Not
just you. You’re old, Phaestus - that’s all there is to it. You were a right
hard bastard when you were younger, but I think Antimone’s wings beat over you
now.”

“My father will
outlive you all,” Philemos said fiercely, the fire glinting out of his eyes.

“Maybe he will,
but I doubt it,” Sertorius said, tilting his head to one side. “Phaestus, we’re
back down in civilized lands now - how far do you make it to Machran?”

Phaestus pushed
his son away, sat up before the fire, drew his knife, and began pushing the
unburnt butts of the sticks into the bright core of flame.

“Two days. Maybe
less, if we make good time.”

“Well, Antimone’s
tits! That’s some news to savour at least. I take it back, Phaestus - you have
years of life in your bones yet. Two days! It’s enough to warm a man’s heart.”
Sertorius grinned. He leaned over and clapped Phaestus on the shoulder.

“What way lies
Machran?”

Phaestus’s jaw
worked. The air sawed in and out of his mouth. “You see the tree to my right,
Sertorius? That way is north, by Gaenion’s Pointer.”

Sertorius kept
looking at him.

“You can make your
way in the world by that star. For us it means that west is to my left. Where
Rictus’s wife sits - that is the way to Machran.”

Sertorius’s head
jabbed from one side to another, like that of a blackbird eyeing up a worm. He
winked at Phaestus.

“And it’s just
like that.”

Phaestus nodded. “Just
like that.” He seemed like a man too tired to care.

“Old friend, this
calls for something beyond the ordinary.” Sertorius stood up, strolled to the
edge of the firelight and took the mule by the halter. The animal blew through
its nose and he stroked it. “My little secret-keeper. Give us a kiss.” He
nuzzled the mule’s nose.

“You are one funny
bastard, boss,” Adurnos said.

Sertorius ran his
hands over the mule, his eyes dark as sloes in the firelight. Then he stood
leaning against it with an arm across its withers. The emaciated animal stood
patiently, ears down.

“I trust this poor
beast more than any of you - you know why? The fucker doesn’t talk.”

He whipped around,
reached into a pack on the ground, and began rummaging through it.

“That’s the last
of the food, chief,” Bosca said, uncertain, frowning.

“That’s why I said
no-one should touch it but me,” Sertorius retorted. He straightened, grinning. “Look
what I brought from the great Rictus’s country retreat, boys. Been saving it
until we were well out of all that fucking snow.”

It was a full skin
of wine.

Sertorius tossed
it towards the fire. “Go on, lads -I’d say we’ve earned it.”

Bosca and Adurnos
cackled like huge girls, scrabbled over the wineskin for a few moments until
Bosca gave in to Adurnos’s snarling bulk. The big man’s broken nose made him
snuffle and snort as he squeezed the skin into his mouth, eyes closed.

“Go easy on that
friend,” Phaestus rasped. “There’s enough for all.”

Adurnos paused for
breath, the wine dribbling red across his teeth.

“Fuck you, old
man,” he said.

Aise sat with
her back to the tree.
The firelight still touched her feet, but the rest of her was in darkness. Ona
slept, snuffling and whimpering, against her, while on her other side Rian was
as taut as a strung bow.

Aise and Rian were
bound with ropes of rawhide, strung to long wooden pickets hammered deep into
the ground at Sertorius’s side. Their wrists were bloody and inflamed, scabbed
and welted like raw meat, but they scarcely felt the pain any more.

Phaestus was
asleep, wrapped in his own blankets and those of his son. He moaned and
muttered in his sleep, muscles working in his face, every sinew tight against
the skin. He had taken the flux a few days out of Andunnon, and Aise knew that
he had been passing blood for some time now. Philemos hovered over him like a
protective hound, watching the three other men at the fire.

They were all
drunk now, these three, the wineskin drained almost flat. The strong yellow
wine that Aise and Rian had trodden out in the big tub the summer before, the
grapes popping and breaking under their bare feet. A last remnant of a life
destroyed.

Sertorius, Bosca
and Adurnos. They were sat side by side, their boasting and horseplay done
with, the wine working in their minds, setting their thoughts to other things.

A silence fell
across the little campsite, broken only by the snap and spit of the wet wood in
the fire, Phaestus’s stertorous breathing, and the whimpering of the sleeping
child at Aise’s side.

“What’s so special
about this Rictus fellow that his bitches will make a difference to Machran?”
Bosca asked. In the firelight, his bearded face was a mask of fur.

“You never heard
of the great Rictus of Isca?” Sertorius said. “Ignorant fuck; he led the Ten
Thousand. He’s a hero, a stone-hard red-cloaked mercenary with his own army.”

“So he’ll chuck it
all away for the sake of these?” Bosca asked. “What is he, soft in the head or
something?”

Sertorius grinned.
“He’s a thing you can’t understand, Bosca, a family man. A man of honour.
Phaestus here reckons Rictus would do pretty much anything to keep his women
safe.”

Big Adurnos was
running his eyes over Aise and Rian. “They’re not so pretty as they was, but I
like the young one. I bet she’s never been popped. They start late, the girls
up in the hills.”

“You think?” Bosca
said with a yellow grin. “Phobos! I can’t remember the last time I dipped into
a virgin’s cunny.” He turned to Sertorius. “What do you say, boss? We’ve been
good boys -how about allowing us a little taste before we have to hand them
over?”

Sertorius blinked
slowly. He looked at Aise and Rian across the fire, his eyes black and cold as
stones. He seemed to be rolling the idea around in his head.

“I can’t see what
the harm would be,” he said at last.

Philemos shook Phaestus
violently. “Father -father, wake up!”

Rian shrank closer
against her mother. Her face was set and white beneath the filth encrusting it.
“No,” she whispered.

The three men on
the other side of the fire got to their feet.

“You can go first,
boss,” Adurnos said. “Fair’s fair - you held on to that wine for us.”

“We’ll do the
older one while you have the girl,” Bosca said. “She’s got a nice face on her
yet.”

Aise and Rian
struggled to their feet, constrained by the rawhide ropes anchoring their
wrists. Ona woke up and uttered a thin cry, then clung to her mother’s knees.

“No!” Philemos
shouted. He slapped his father about the face. Phaestus stirred sluggishly.

The boy rose with
a snarl, drawing his knife.

“Don’t you touch
them, you fucking animals!”

Sertorius grinned.
“Careful, son - you might nick yourself with that thing.” “Out of the fucking
way, you little shit,” Bosca growled.

Phaestus was
awake. He struggled to his hands and knees, saw what was going on, and levered
himself erect using his spear. Then he stood holding the aichme out level.

“What’s all this,
Sertorius?”

“Nothing to get in
a twist about, my friend. Call off your son. His heart’s in the right place,
but I don’t like having a knife pulled on me by anyone, and if he don’t put it
away there will be blood. I warn you fair and square.”

A second’s
silence. Sparks cracking in the fire.

“Phaestus,” Aise
said calmly. “Are you going to allow this?”

Phaestus stood
still. The weight of the spear made his arms quiver, and there was sweat
running down the side of his face.

“Father -”

“Shut up,
Philemos. Put the knife away. You stand against Sertorius and you’ll be dead
before you can so much as blink.”

“Listen to the old
man, boy,” Sertorius said. “You have quality in you - I can see that. This is not
worth the fight.”

“Father,” Philemos
said again. He stared at Phaestus and there were tears in his eyes. “You cannot
allow it.”

“This is a time of
war, Philemos. These things happen. It is the way of the world.”

Philemos turned
and looked at Aise and Rian. They were frozen, mute.

“Not the girl,” he
said at last, desperation cracking his voice. “Leave her alone.”

Bosca guffawed. “So
that’s his game, eh? He wants the tenderest meat for himself.”

Philemos walked
over to the women crouched on the far side of the firelight. He knelt beside
them.

“I’m sorry,” he
whispered to Aise. Then he took his knife and cut the bindings that anchored
Rian to the pickets. He grabbed the stub of the rope and dragged her after him,
standing by his father. Raising his voice, he said; “This one’s mine.”

“You cocky little
bastard - you think you can keep the choice cut for yourself?” Adurnos snapped.
He started forward, reaching for his own knife.

The spearhead
swung round, bringing him up short. Phaestus stood holding it out at waist
height.

“My boy knows what
he wants. Let him have it.” Phaestus’s face was set and hard. “Take the woman,
if you have to. The girl is Philemos’s.”

Sertorius slapped
his thigh. “Good for you, lad!” he chortled. “I didn’t think you had it in you!”

He strode past the
fire, lifted Aise to her feet and slashed her picket-rope. He looked into her
eyes. “You’ll have to do us all.”

“Mother!” Rian
screamed, and Ona began to wail.

Aise bent and
kissed her youngest daughter. “It’s all right, honeybun. Go to Rian. It’ll be
all right.”

Rian tried to
lunge at Sertorius, but Philemos held her back. “Don’t, for God’s sake.” Ona
tottered over to her sister and Rian buried her face in the child’s shoulder,
sobbing.

“Come on,
sweetheart,” Sertorius crooned. “Come out into the dark with us. We’re not
barbarians; we’ll spare your brats the sight.”

The three men
gathered around Aise. Bosca gripped her dress at the shoulder and pulled at it.
There was a ripping sound, and the material slid down her torso.

“Nice,” Adurnos said.
He grabbed at one of her breasts and dug his fingers in. “I’m first,” Sertorius
said.

The three of them
dragged Aise beyond the firelight, out into the wet darkness of the olive
trees.