His eyes strayed back down to his own figure. Naked as the day he was born. No wonder he was cold. No apparent wounding, mind. His eyes fell upon the heavy iron shackle on his wrist and followed the chain up to the deeply embedded iron ring in the green, slimy wall. His heart started to pound in his chest and his blood ran cold.
‘How did I get here?’
Rufinus, finished with the lamps, returned to crouch opposite the naked guardsman.
‘Guile, subterfuge, and a few judicious prayers to both Fortuna and Nemesis.’
‘I had a message from the prefect? Went to the Lucullan mausoleum by the second milestone?’
‘Sadly, it was not Perennis who sent your orders. I’m glad you’re awake. I was about to have to rouse you - I was beginning to
worry the branch I used was too heavy; that it had smashed your brains, such as they are.
Scopius narrowed his eyes. ‘You know you’ll die for this, argentulum?’
Rufinus shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. No one’s seen us together. I left about an hour ago on a courier job to the Castra Peregrina, while the last time you were seen was early this morning when you left camp and headed out of the city toward Praeneste. All very neat, really.’
With an unpleasant rasp, Rufinus drew a dagger from his belt. Scopius stared at it. The blade was not a military one, but a plain, straight knife with one sharp edge. Placing the point on the dank, green floor, Rufinus idly twirled the weapon in his fingers. Scopius sneered.
‘Torture? And you hold yourself so high and mighty. You’re worse than any of us!’
Rufinus smiled a predator’s smile. ‘I do not do anything lightly, Scopius. I don’t even take barbarian life unless driven to it by necessity. I certainly wouldn’t torture even a Goth, let alone a Roman, no matter how base, loathsome and deserving of it he might be. But I’ve had to push my boundaries a little in your case. You’re a disease, Scopius.’
Again, the naked guardsman’s eyes narrowed.
Somewhere high above in the dark, cavernous space, a heavy thud sounded, echoing repeatedly.
‘What was that?’
‘The spirits of vengeance winging their way towards us.’
For the first time a hint of fear appeared in the guardsman’s eyes. Before, they had been filled with a mixture of disbelief, anger and scorn. Scopius swallowed loudly.
‘Look… this is something we can sort out between ourselves, Rufinus!’
‘I agree entirely, Scopius. That’s what we’re doing now.’
The naked man reached up and grasped the chain leading from his wrist. ‘But this?’
Rufinus nodded. ‘I hope you like it. It cost me an arm and a leg from a reputable ironworker on the Aventine. Strong enough to restrain an ox, the man reckoned, so I wouldn’t bother pulling too hard.’
A look of defeat bled into Scopius’ eyes.
‘What did I do to you? A few pranks was all!’
Rufinus blinked, genuinely taken aback. ‘Trying to beat me to death? Blackening my name and having me disciplined and dishonoured in front of the officers for things that
you
did? A knife in the back by a barbarian is a
prank
?’
Scopius shrank back. Rufinus was grateful that confirmation of the man’s guilt was plastered across his features. For a moment he’d doubted whether he’d been thorough enough; whether he was right. His resolve had almost given. He had to stay strong.
‘There comes a time, Scopius, when this sort of thing has to stop. I’d hoped back in Vindobona that the lesson I taught you had stuck and we’d have no further troubles. I would happily have gone through my entire life paying you no further attention, but you’re not capable of letting things lie, are you?’
Rufinus twirled the knife in his fingers once and shuffled a step closer, laying the blade on the floor out of the reach of the restrained man, where it glinted and threatened in the prisoner’s field of view.
‘That’s the problem with bullies. You’ll never truly learn. We teach you a lesson and it just escalates the whole thing. I have to end it here, because who knows what you’ll try next? I cannot spend my days looking over my shoulder for the next knife or checking my bedclothes for scorpions.’
‘Then fight me like a man!’ Scopius snarled, leaping for Rufinus’ throat and stopping a foot out of reach as the chain jerked tight. He dropped to the floor, trying to reach for the knife, but it remained just out of reach.
Rufinus shook his head sadly. ‘I could kill you in a fair fight, but I have better plans for you.’
‘Scum!’ Scopius spat. ‘You’re going to murder me? What makes you better than me, then? Don’t fool yourself, boy. You’re no hero.’
Rufinus laughed lightly, a sound that was cut short by a heavy echoing boom far above. Scopius looked up in fear again.
‘What
is
that?’
‘That’s option three.’
Scopius stared in confusion at his captor and Rufinus grinned.
‘I never claimed to be a hero. I’m a soldier. I like to think that I’m a good and fair man, but it’s Paternus and Commodus who make me out to be a hero.’
Again a look of panic flashed into Scopius eyes, intensifying as a deep groan like straining timbers far away echoed in the chamber.
‘So what are you going to do?’ he asked, his voice cracking.
Rufinus shrugged. ‘I’m going to give you a chance to redeem yourself, and buy yourself option one and two.’
With a smile he stood and walked slowly around the dark space, staying on the edge of the circle of low light.
‘Tell me everything about Perennis and Lucilla and you expand your options.’
Scopius frowned. ‘What
is
option three?’
Rufinus smiled and shook his head.
‘Alright. Let’s approach this from another direction. Option three: I leave. Then those bangs and groans stop and you hear a roar. That will be the engineers removing the final block from the Aqua Claudia and letting the water flow again. It’ll begin to pour into this settling basin and will, I think, fill the building in a little less than quarter of an hour before flowing on to the Palatine.’
Scopius’ eyes widened.
‘Needless to say, the shackles will hold you here and you’ll just have to see if you can hold your breath for a couple of years until the next time the basin’s scheduled for emptying.’
Scopius began to scrabble at the shackle.
‘No use doing that. The cuff is solid. Had to bang it closed with a big mallet, ‘cause there’s no lock. It’s on for good.’
Scopius was making strange squeaking noises now as he scrabbled at the cuff.
‘Option two is a little better. You tell me what I want to know and I leave this knife with you. Take it and cut across your neck or thigh or wrist. The pain will be quite short and I’m pretty sure you’ll bleed out before you can drown.’
Now, Scopius was panting, trying to force his hand through the ring; it would clearly never fit, and the skin bled as he worked.
‘Option one is also reliant on your information buying the knife from me. You cut off that hand and you’ll still have one free to escape the coming torrents. I think that’s a test of true courage, don’t you? Are you willing to disfigure yourself and end your military career in order to save your life? Do you have the guts? I really don’t think so.’
Scopius, exhausted, stopped scrabbling, eying the knife glinting just out of reach with mixed feelings.
‘Tell me about Perennis and Lucilla’ Rufinus repeated calmly.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’
Rufinus shook his head and tutted. Somewhere high above there was another echoing creak and bang. ‘That’s not true. The secretive meeting at the baths two days ago? I was there, Scopius. I saw you.’
Scopius stared down at the ring around his wrist and then up at the man before him, panic in his eyes. ‘I don’t know. They’ve met a couple of times. None of the guards are allowed in when they speak. They use us to keep people away and then they go have their arguments in private!’
Rufinus frowned. ‘Arguments?’
Scopius nodded wildly. ‘Whatever they’re meeting for, there’s always raised voices. Most of the time, the prefect comes out in a real mood. They disagree about something.’
Rufinus nodded to himself. That, at least, was good news. The panic in Scopius’ voice confirmed this was undeniably the truth. Perennis disagreeing with Lucilla could only be good.
There was another loud crack above and a strange feeling of building pressure. Rufinus looked down at the naked man before him. Scopius was crying and shaking uncontrollably; tears and snot mingling on his lip, his eyes reddened circles.
‘
Please
, Rufinus!’
‘I gave you your options. Scopius. Is there anything else you can tell me?’
He watched the tears streaming down the man’s face; saw the terror in his eyes, and felt the resolve crumbling in his heart. Scopius had tried to kill him several times. The man was a snake. He
deserved
to die. Letting him live would just cause problems later.
Big
ones.
But what he said earlier was true. He’d always considered himself a good and fair man. He’d made libations in his quest for revenge at the temple of Nemesis; even the Gods were on his side. There would be no retribution for the death of this animal. And yet the resolve was melting away like snow in the sun.
He could kill a man in combat, easily. But this? Could he really watch the man wait for his doom? Was he comfortable being a murderer?
Rufinus bit his tongue hard.
Turning, he strode out of the circle of light. Behind him, Scopius screamed in panic, blabbering wildly, begging him not to leave.
‘I’m
not
leaving, Scopius!’
In the darkness, Rufinus’ hand fell on the shaft of the huge, iron-headed mallet he’d used to close the shackle. Gripping the three-foot shaft, he lifted it and carried it back to the lit area.
Scopius looked up at the approaching man with the huge hammer and screamed.
‘Oh be quiet. It’s not to stove your head in.’
With a deep breath, he stepped past Scopius and inserted the long, ash handle in the iron ring protruding from the wall. Gritting his teeth, he pushed with every ounce of strength. In a count of thirty the wall of the cistern groaned and the loop made a pinging noise. Redoubling his efforts, Rufinus looked up nervously. Another groan echoed through the cavernous structure and the pressure in his ears increased.
With a shattering metallic din, the ring burst from the wall and Scopius fell forward onto his face, blubbering and shaking. The pressure was continuing to build and a distant roar was now faintly audible.
Throwing the hammer aside, Rufinus grasped the naked guardsman by the shoulder and hauled him off the floor, throwing him over his shoulder with relative ease. Desperately now, he left the circle of low, orange light, and made for the steep staircase down which he had entered the basin. With the blubbing man slung on his back, he felt the first stone step with his toe, almost tripping over it.
The roar was becoming ever louder, the pressure building to headache-inducing levels. Rufinus cursed himself. He’d left it too late. Had he been harder in his resolve, he’d already be outside by now and Scopius would be busy watching in panic as the water flowed into the tank.
But no. Here he was, staggering up the slimy steps with the man he hated most in the world on his back, trying to get out as fast as possible.
A thunderous crash of water burst out of the unseen darkness above, leaving the channel of the aqueduct and flowing in to fill the basin. The sheer force and quantity took Rufinus by surprise. His estimate had clearly been wrong. A couple of hundred heartbeats at
most and this whole place would be full. The spray battered at his face and the surfaces around him, further endangering his ascent.
Sudden agony ripped through Rufinus and he staggered against the wall in shock, Scopius falling from his shoulders. He stared down at the naked guardsman, who quickly came up into a crouch and then straightened, the sharp-edged knife bloody in his hands. Again, Rufinus cursed himself. Why hadn’t he retrieved the knife before freeing Scopius? He reached up gingerly to the wound: a deep cut that crossed his right shoulder. Lucky. The blow had been poor in the dark. A couple of fingers to the right and he’d have cut Rufinus’ vein, causing him to bleed out in moments. Damn lucky, all things considered.
Rufinus hissed in pain as the man lunged for him again, and he rolled out of the way along the slimy, green wall of the structure, almost losing his balance and tumbling back down the stairs in the darkness. The cloak was a hindrance now, though not as much as the stygian blackness.
Grateful that, despite the murk, he had chosen to wear soft leather shoes for their stealth rather than the easily audible hobnailed boots, Rufinus danced lightly up three steps, trying to decide whether to deal with Scopius or make a run for it.
The thunderous waterfall rumbled overhead, closer with each step. The exit to the aqueduct top was only a few feet from where the channel emptied into the basin, giving him a clear direction to aim by sound alone.
‘Where are you, Argentulum?’ called a sing-song voice a few steps below, followed by the slash of a blade through empty air, barely audible over the din of water. Rufinus could feel the blood running down his neck and back. There was plenty of it; the cut had been deep and intended as a killing blow.
Silently, he took another step up.
A skittering noise down half a dozen steps announced that Scopius had almost lost his footing. It also gave Rufinus a rough location and helped him make up his mind. To run back down the stairs was just to plunge deeper into danger, all for the sake of trying to finish the maniac off. Better to run away and leave him to his fate.
Rufinus nodded to himself in the darkness and turned back to face the ascent.
The turn saved his life.
Of the four oil lamps below, the three that lay on the floor had now been extinguished by the rising water. The fourth, standing on a stone ledge some three feet high, had so far escaped. The light twinkled in the oppressive gloom but, as Rufinus turned, was suddenly blotted out by a black mass.
As the knife came for him, Rufinus lunged out with both arms at whatever it was that had obscured the lamp. Scopius, ever the plotter, had thrown a few pebbles down the stairs to attract his quarry’s attention.