Since my two previous versions of the story have been archived i am re posting it here. I finally found the time to completely re edit and fix the entire body and add a new chapter.
A Tale of Romans
Vibius ripped his pilum from the dead man’s carcass, and cleaned its head on his tunic. Ahead of him Marcus was doing the same. Many men were washing their armor at the banks off the Tiber and collecting their pila, or wiping the blood of their gladius. A sickly humidity hung in the air and every breath of was intertwined with the smell of blood. Vibius cut a small section of his tunic away with his pugio, the small knife all Hastati carried, and wrapped it tightly around his bleeding forearm. He pulled off his helmet to cool off, revealing his short black hair.
“Well that was a massacre,” Marcus said.
Vibius, still in a state of shock, was silent.
“We wiped out their entire warhost,” Marcus gave a low whistle.
If one could call it a war host, the only members of the army that resembled soldiers were the few Hastati defectors and the members of Bucco’s personal battalion. The general had risen in status from the African campaigns, apparently high enough that he thought he could seize power. He had massive support from many of the plebeians in his hometown of Capua, and some of their Hastati, but now they all lay dead on the field. No quarter was given to traitors, and Rome never was kind to backstabbers.
In Africa, Vibius had fought every thing from elephants to Numidian raiders, but nothing had ever shaken him like this. The thought of killing fellow Romans sickened him. He shuddered at the expressions of shock he had seen as he ran his gladius through Roman hearts.
“Some of them were not even armed,” Marcus, continued, “I swear that one of them came at me with a shepherd's staff.” Marcus chuckled and put a reassuring hand on Vibius shoulder.
“So who won the injury count? I've got a stubbed toe and a welt were the shepherd hit me on the head” Marcus laughed again, a deep, rich chuckle that lightened the mood.
“I see you have a gash on your shoulder, how did you let that happen”
Vibius still did not reply.
“Oh come on, it’s like talking to a recruit here. Where is the Vibius I know, the slayer of Libyans, who single-handedly took the walls of Aspis in Carthage?”
This brought a smile forth from Vibius. At Aspis the city had surrendered as the Roman ladders hit the walls. Vibius had kept climbing however and he jumped over the top of the walls to find that all the Iberians had laid down their weapons.
“Don't think about the battle, Vibius. Think about the Roman women we will meet tonight, ehhh. Old Sextus has given all us Hastati the night off.”
“You wouldn’t call him that to his face, now would you?” Vibius finally spoke, “It’s always ‘Yes General Agrippa, No General Agrippa”
He continued to mimic his friend as Marcus expressed mock astonishment.
“I would have you know, that Sextus and I are old pals, and, on a side note, it never hurts to butter up your superiors if you know what I'm saying.”
“You always were a kiss ass, Marcus.” Vibius laughed and shoved his old friend.
“Hey save it for tonight, Vibius” Marcus replied. He donned his helmet and sheathed his gladius. “You’ll need your strength; the city is still four miles away and I want to be there before Sol reaches his zenith”
Vibius put on his armor as well and the both of them joined the other Hastati, weary but excited, to visit the exalted city of Rome.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Trumpets sounded in the courtyard below, waking Kahn to a glorious sunrise. He rolled out of the white sheets and slipped on the silk toga resting on the chair beside his bed. He washed his face with water that seemed to magically appear from the pipe positioned above his washstand. His feet then slipped uncomfortably into the sandals that were laid at his feet. A servant entered and laid a tray of breakfast fruit on a table, and then cleared his throat.
“Will there be anything else Senator Tatanius?”
“No, that is fine,” Kahn replied and then, as an after thought, he added, “Call me Kahn; I am unaccustomed to that formal name”
“Yes, Senator,” the servant replied rejecting the alien request. He bowed low and quickly left the room.
This ornament was wasted on Kahn. In place of a white bed he longed for moss under a tall Spruce, in the place of sandals he yearned for the freedom of bare feet. Kahn strolled to the ivy-covered balcony and looked down on the parade ground below. The trumpeters had exited leaving the courtyard quite empty. A Roman guard lay on a bench while his fellow guard slumped against the wall beside him. The courtyard was square with a decorative roof covering a bordering walkway that passed around the three sides. The fourth side was dominated by the three-story villa covered in marble balconies like the one Kahn stood on. Opposite Kahn past the iron-rail gate lay the city of Rome with the Pantheon visible in the distance. Kahn stepped back into his chambers at the beckoning of a second servant who had pried open the door.
“You have been summoned to the Senate chambers, Sir,” he called out.
“And I shall be there shortly” Kahn replied.
As the servant withdrew his head, Kahn grabbed a fresh apple from the table beside the door. He strode to the door and paused for a second before he returned to his bed stand and grabbed a dagger. He concealed the knife beneath his toga and finally left through the door.
Kahn walked to the courtyard by way of the lobby, an architectural achievement renowned throughout all of Rome. In the center lay a glistening rainwater fountain, its floor by an intricate mosaic of its patron, Senator Poplicola. Underwater mosaics, it turns out, are awful places for one’s face and the water distorted his features. The countenance, which was intended to look heroic, now portrayed a wide-eyed fearful man who seemed to be terrified of some skyward danger. Kahn chuckled and glided out into the courtyard.
As he entered the courtyard the guards jumped to attention, which proved difficult for the one lying on the bench. He sat up, knocking his helmet off the bench and onto the hard cobblestone, where it reverberated loudly. Already embarrassed he bent down to retrieve his helmet, causing his half sheathed sword to promptly fall out of its scabbard, joining his helmet on the ground.
“Glad to see I’m under disciplined protection,” Kahn joked
The ashamed guard managed a smile while his fellow opened the gate.
“We’ll be sure to give you a better showing when you return” The second guard declared.
“I’ll look forward to the occasion,” Kahn replied and with a friendly wave he stepped into the streets of Rome.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The early morning mist was evaporating quickly in the streets of the great city, and with it the silence that had gripped the previous night. Chatter could be heard from the villas on either sides of the street, the servants of the rich and fanciful preparing the morning meal. Kahn walked briskly down the street towards the center of the city. The courtyards and villas that lined the streets were gradually replaced by houses and markets as Kahn left the rich district of the city behind. As the sun separated itself from the horizon the city slowly began to wake. Above Kahn, a woman threw open her shutters and dumped a bucket of waste into the street below. To his right a potter delicately set up his wares for sale. A group of small boys burst from a doorway in front of Kahn and sprinted off down the street. Like a colony of ants, the city dwellers prepared themselves for the days bustle that lay before them.
When Kahn had first arrived in the city he had been awestruck. The sheer size of the city had simply overwhelmed him. He remembered the gates opening, like the parting of a waterfall, to reveal the glorious city. The city was in constant motion. Action defined the days and crowds moved all about running errands or completing any number of tasks that always needed doing. For Kahn it was in many ways refreshing, a stark contrast to the often-staid lifestyle in his hometown. All the energy in the city had originally given him purpose and he felt lively.
Kahn took in a deep breath. That was one thing he disliked about the city. The smell was plagued by the foul odor of human waste, nothing like the clean air of his village. The poorer districts reeked of it, while it was cleverly covered up in the central forays and rich gardens. It had taken him a few days to discover the stench of the city and by now some of the capital’s luster had worn off. Corruption was rampant, even among many of the senators, and the poor suffered in some of the worst areas from overcrowding and disease. The senators, it seemed, were more concerned with their own reputations than the good of the plebeians. The worst of these in Kahn’s opinion was Poplicola, a sad satire of his name. His elitist attitude appalled Kahn. But this difference of opinion lay embedded in Kahn’s roots. HE was not a descendant of a long line of Patricians. Instead Kahn had risen through the ranks as a soldier in the Roman campaigns to unify the north of Italy. He supported their movements against the Gauls and had helped Rome solidify its position in the top of the peninsula.
Kahn was a people’s general. He bore the title of war hero in his native province and his deeds had already inspired legends. Despite his fame he had lived abstemiously and modestly. That is, until the Roman Senate had called. In need of a friendly supporter in the north who was adored by the people, Rome had sent an emissary to offer him a seat in the senate. The mighty Rome had humbled itself for a man of the provinces. The people of the north were impressed and for the people Kahn had accepted.
He now left the poorer streets and passed Circus Maximus entering the center of the city and the heart of the Roman government. Ahead of him lay the Curia Hostilia the seat of the senate. Kahn stopped and prepared himself for another day with the politicians whom he had grown to despise. Rome had certainly taken its toll on him. He wondered for how much longer he could keep his faith in the good of the Republic.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The walls were visible from a mile away and the troops followed the famously straight Roman roads. Vibius had heard that all roads lead to Rome, but he had never expected to follow one to the city itself. They walked the cobblestone road with many merchants and farmers, with intentions of selling in the great roman markets, as well as travelers who hoped to find a good variety to buy. One entrepreneurial vendor decided to cut out the middleman and started selling his goods right off the back of his cart to the hungry Hastati.
“Fresh cheese at a price lower than any you’ll find in Rome, only 4 Quadrans”
Marcus and a few other Hastati crowded the vendor who gave out good sized wedges of cheese from the back of his wagon as his son drove the horses.
Rome was approaching quickly now, and the walls loomed higher and higher.
He nudged Marcus, “These walls are as tall as some of the mountains we crossed in Africa.”
Vibius stopped and marveled at the symbol of Roman defense and power.
Marcus chuckled. “You know Vibius, there is a lot more to see once you get inside the walls,” he joked between mouthfuls of cheese.
“Eating already I see” Vibius retorted.
“Hey I’m hungry, and at four Quadrans it’s a steal.”
The gates of Rome parted like a massive curtain as the soldiers approached, and Vibius almost had to bend over backwards to see the tops of the walls. As the gates opened they revealed the bustling streets filled with people of every kind. It was as if the rainbow, Vibius thought, had been broken up and pasted on the city. The well off walked around in Togas with dye so bright they could be pieces of the rainbow. Colorful awnings hung over shops that shouted out all sorts of offers.
“The best wheat in all of Roma comes from my market”
“Food so good Senators demand it, all at an affordable price”
“Exotic fruits from Pontus, try a fig”
“Best cheese in Rome, well worth 1 Quadran”
“The blighter,” Marcus exploded at this last announcement, “that cheese man ripped me off.”
‘How does that cheese taste now” Vibius smiled.
Marcus looked for the wagon, but it had been lost in the swarms of people that flowed like a river this way and that. The forceful current captured Marcus and Vibius and swept them toward the interior of the city. The river moved through the meandering streets at a rapid pace and people dove in from the harbors of their doorways to join the ever-growing tide. Finally the stream emptied into a square where the two Hastati stopped to catch their bearings.
“We need a place to stay.” Marcus practically shouted.
“How about that inn behind you?”
“Worth a shot, lets go check it out.”
Vibius reached the old wooden door, grabbed the handle and pushed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jax sat in the corner of the room, his face hidden by his blue hood. His black hair hung slightly above his crystal grey eyes, which reflected the flickering light of the candle. He observed the room silently, as a forgotten spectator practically invisible to the rest of the room. On his right, impatiently tapping his foot sat a large man, an African moor. He was muscular and had the appearance of a military commander or tribal war chief. His face displayed the scars to prove it. They sat at a circular table facing the rest of the room. Past them in the room beyond, a festive scene took place as men and woman drank. They drank beer, the poor man’s drink. You would not catch a senator in here, and hopefully not a city guard either.
“He will not show,” the larger man grumbled.
“Patience, Udaba, he will come.”
Udaba leaned back and crossed his arms. When the waitress returned he grunted to signify he wanted anther drink. She looked expectantly at Jax but he held up an open hand. Minutes passed and the drunkards in the bar became more and more intoxicated. Udaba downed another glass, but he seemed unaffected by the alcohol.
At the unmistakable squeak of wooden hinges, Jax’s eyes darted to the door. In stepped two men, both muscular, one with short black hair and the other with slightly longer dirty blond. The hope that had briefly lit up Jax’s face disappeared; Weezel still had not shown. They walked over to the bar and began to order drinks.
“They look like guards” Udaba remarked.
“I agree, but we’ve done nothing wrong,” Jax paused “…yet.”
“Ill find out” Udaba replied and he stood up and strode across the room.
The face of the of the smaller dark haired one looked familiar, an impossible notion. To think that he knew a guard. Jax chided himself and dismissed the foolish idea. They seemed harmless. Up at the bar Udaba seemed to have determined the same. He finished eavesdropping, downed a beer, and relinquished his stool, returning to the table.
“Nothing to worry about”
“I agree,” Jax replied.
They sat down to resume their wait. It wasn’t long until another man entered the bar. This time there was no lack of recognition. The man was halted by the doorman, who made him remove his weapons. He removed his arrows from his quiver and they slid past his short blonde hair. He flashed the doorman a winning smile and asked to keep his bow, slung over his shoulder. The doorman consented and the man strode into the midst of the tables. He looked around for a minute, almost turning in a complete circle, before sighting Udaba and making a beeline for the table.
“Should have guessed you guys would be in the corner,” Canus said.
“Guess the doorman missed your tongue”
“Well that’s not all he missed, Jax”
Canus discreetly lifted up his cloak, revealing the handles of two sharp daggers protruding from either side.
“But my tongue is the unbeatable weapon.” Again Canus flashed his grin.
“Unless someone cuts it out,” Udaba muttered.
Ignoring the side comments, Canus continued on.
“I thought I would be late. Where is this guy?”
“He still hasn’t arrived.”
“Well, you know I hate waiting.”
Canus began to walk off towards the bar, but he did not get far. The door creaked open once again and a small man stepped in. He was dressed in a simple white tunic and he looked nervously around the room. He walked uncertainly about until finding the group and even then he stared for a few moments before making his way to the table. The table sat silently waiting for Weezel to speak; however he seemed more comfortable in silence. Finally Udaba became impatient.
“Well, have you got the key?”
The heavy mettle key clanked on the table and Weezel gave it a halfhearted push across to Udaba. It made it about halfway before Jax grasped it and tucked it away in his cloak.
“What about the other information we asked for?” Udaba continued.
Weezel was sweating profusely now, even though he had yet to speak a word.
Finally he stuttered “There are t-two guards until the ssun goes down, and then the shift ends.” He looked around nervously, “The s-second change in shift is in the morning. The guards typically fall asleep before they change shifts a-at night.”
“So the best time to raid this armory would be half way through the night.”
Udaba glanced dangerously at Canus, but it seemed no one had heard.
“So, what kind of loot should we expect?” Canus continued.
Weezel turned to Canus to answer, and seemed to find comfort in his face.
His response was more forthcoming.
“All k-kinds” he said, but then the stutter disappeared. “There are swords, shields, bows, all of the best quality. Shields made in Tarentum, the best armor from Cremona, and even a gold plated centurion outfit. You could equip a small army from this place, and it is just a minor armory on the outskirts of Rome. You should see the Principe armory in the center of town; it has one hundred times more stuff. Although I have no idea how you will carry it all”
While he chattered on about what he would buy if he could sell just one of those sets of armor Canus signaled for a beer.
“And how often do they check the stores?” Canus asked.
“Not that often,” he said, “You would be long gone before then.”
And then Canus offered him the beer. Weezle’s free tongue shriveled in his mouth.
“I really must go”, he said.
No amount of convincing from Canus could make him stay. He left quickly and disappeared into the crowd.
“Well that was strange. I was afraid I he had stayed any longer we might have all drowned in sweat,” Canus joked.
“We got the info we needed at least” Udaba remarked.
“We need to leave.”
Both men looked at Jax questioningly. Jax reached under his cloak and pulled out a bag of coins.
“He didn’t even take his pay.”
And that was when the three looked up and saw the four fully armored guards walk through the door.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The bar was crowded and most of the people were drunk, but the place was friendly enough. A host of smells greeted Vibius as he entered, fresh beer, old bread, sizzling lamb, and human sweat. He and Marcus sat down at the bar and ordered wine but the bartender laughed and returned with two pints of beer.
“This is all we got”
He picked up a tankard and began polishing it.
“But you seem like a soldier, so ill give the beers to you for free if you can tell us a good story”
Vibius looked expectantly to Marcus.
“Story telling is your talent”
So Marcus took a half bow, or as much of a bow you could take sitting on a stool, and began his story.
Far from the war story Vibius would have told, Marcus’ story of inept love held the bartender and everyone on the nearby stools at rapt attention as they rolled in laughter at Marcus’ antics. The story even began to pull guests from other parts of the room; a large Algerian looking man came over to listen for a few moments. Marcus told how he managed to bungle every situation in the presence of his love, but still managed to eventually win her heart. The audience loved it and the bartender even offered him a room on the second floor, free of charge.
“Where is she now?” A question shot from the audience.
“Back in my home town, north of Tarentum, I got called into the army by this new draft process. They put me into a legion of Hastati and I haven’t seen her since.”
“When I was younger the army was a noble career choice, a necessity to protect our selves,” an older man spoke from the crowd, “Now we’re drafting these soldiers all of a sudden, and sending them off to far flung campaigns”
“Yeah it is unnecessary,” another man chimed in. “ We already crushed the Carthaginians twice, and yet these boys have just returned from campaigns in Numidia of all places.”
A heavyset man muscled forward. “I think we need more wars, not less. The barbarians are knocking on our northern doorstep and unless we create some kind of buffer they will be pillaging our northern provinces before the year is out.”
Again the old man spoke up. “But that’s just it, we conquered the north of our peninsula as a buffer, and now they are like a central province. Every time we create another buffer eventually it becomes too central causing us to push forward again. What we need is to….”
Any further conversation was silenced by a four guards bursting through the doors. The debating crowd froze standing, and conversation ceased. The guards began walking through the tables, pulling the hoods off men and looking at faces. One guard was particularly forceful, twisting heads so he could get a good look. As he passed the table next to Vibius, a man stood up. He was poor looking with a torn faded green tunic, tied hastily by a worn rope waistband. He stood up and defiantly stared down the guard.
“I know you” he cried, “You’re the man who came to collect taxes.”
The guard squinted confusedly, his face twisted as he tried hard to remember. The strain however seemed to prove too much. He snapped back to a blank face and simply uttered.
“No”
“Yeah,” the man replied, “Yeah, ya broke my mother’s arm when she couldn’t come up with the sum; now she can’t work and we won’t be able to pay next week. And I don’t know watcha gonna break next time.”
“Move,” the guard grunted.
“Na, I think you should leave.”
The guard had heard enough. He tried to take a step forward but the man blocked his move. Again the guard tried to pass him and again was blocked. So the big guard, in a lightning move, gave the man a mighty shove. He sailed trough the air a few feet, and probably would have for many more, if he hadn’t collided with the bar counter. Blood spurted out of the back of the man’s head and he slumped on the ground.
Events happened simultaneously.
A guard from across the room called out, “There they are.”
The big guard turned to look towards his fellow, and Vibius immediately stood up and delivered a forceful uppercut.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Like a drop of ink in a clear river, panic quickly diffused throughout the bar. Tension that had mounted when the guards entered now exploded in one powerful punch. Sides that had earlier debated peacefully now traded punches instead of words. At the bar one guard was detained in a fight against two others. Jax was elated. The prospect of certain capture and death now melted away into a fighting chance. But Jax had little time to think.
The three available guards turned on Jax and his company, still sitting at the table.
“By mandate of the Roman legion I am empowered to place you under arrest,” the first guard proclaimed.
The guards began to draw swords. In a flash the three men were on their feet. Canus drew his blades and flashed them at the guards.
“Never.”
The first guard began to speak again.
“Then by my sword you will die in this stinking …Oumph.”
His sentence was finished by Udaba’s bodily tackle. Immediately Canus struck out at the second guard. The guard parried the swing and the pair battled off into the rest of the room. Jax and the remaining guard stared at each other for a brief moment.
Then, with a roar like an angry bull, the guard hurled himself forward. Jax neatly sidestepped and gave the guard a shove as he passed. Momentum carried the guard headlong into the table. Recovering, the guard turned and blindly swung his sword in a wide arc as he turned around. Jax barely had time to duck under the whoosh of silver. Seeing an opening, Jax stepped forward and rammed his knee into the guard’s unprotected belly. As he doubled over in pain, Jax grabbed the hilt of the sword and twisted in an attempt to disarm the guard. With a yelp, the guard involuntarily released his grasp and Jax ripped the sword free. Jax raised the sword high into the air to deliver the killing blow. He stared down into the eyes of the guard as they melted. The guard knew he was finished, and yet the burning hatred that Jax expected to see was instead replaced by a calm serenity, an acceptance of fate. He swung the sword downwards, but instead of slicing into his foe with the blade, Jax brought the butt of the sword down onto the crown the guards head. He crumpled to the ground unconscious, but alive.
He turned to face the rest of the room. Canus was struggling under the vicious blows that rained down on him from the second guard. Although he had two blades to the guard’s one, every attack he made was blocked. It seemed like a tempest was assaulting Canus with a fury of near-lethal gusts. Canus was clearly out matched. They fought backwards into the brawl near the bar and Jax lost sight of them.
He turned his attention to his other companion. Udaba was rolling on the floor and exchanging punches with a guard nearly the same size. They flipped and turned on ground, one gaining the upper hand for a fleeting moment before being rolled back down. The guard suddenly rolled right and pinned Udaba beneath him delivering two punches to the Moor’s face. In a great feat of strength he thrust out his hands and feet, launching the guard backward through the air. He landed on a table, full of farmers too drunk to notice the fight and they made an uproarious objection to the guard’s impact, which had spilled their tankards. The guard painstakingly rose from the spilled beer and turned towards his opponent. Udaba rose at the same time and the men the two faced off in a slowly forming circle around the two remaining combatants. As the two stared at each other, a crowd began to form. Udaba wiped blood off his lower lip with the back of his hand. The heavyset guard ripped off his helmet and tossed it away. A stealthy hush descended over the crowd. The guard leaned down and picked up his sword, he pointed it at Udaba.
“I’m going to skewer you like a pig!”
With a yell, the guard charged at Udaba. Udaba lashed out with a strong side kick hitting the guard directly in the gut. As the guard fell to his knees, Udaba spun around and slammed his heel into the guard’s temple. The guards neck twisted violently he slowly collapsed onto the floor. Jax began to elbow his way through the crowd to reach Udaba.
Yet even as the guard’s head hit the ground, across the bar the door burst open. This time more than a dozen soldiers piled through. Udaba picked up a bar stool as the guards pushed through the crowd towards the two law breakers. Udaba remained still as they pushed closer and closer. Almost all of them were in the back corner now.
“We can’t win this fight,” Jax whispered.
“I know,” Udaba replied.
And with the speed Udaba turned and slammed the stool into the wooden window shutters splintering them open.
“After you, Jax,” he courteously gestured to the window.
Jax crawled out of the window like a monkey and reached for the handhold of the window frame above. Using the embossed pillars as a climbing wall he quickly scaled the building to its tile roof. As he reached the top he looked back down for Udaba. Despite his size, Udaba managed to climb to the roof just as fast. The two only had time for quick words.
“Canus?”
“I lost sight of him,” Udaba replied.
Jax merely nodded in response. In the building below shouts began as the guards began to push back to the door. Jax pointed to a nearby rooftop connected to the roof of the inn by an arch. Like acrobats at the coliseum, Udaba and Jax tightroped over the arch and onto the nearby roof. They jumped from building to building running towards the center of the city. As Jax ran across the roofs, tiles dislodged under his feet and slid into the street below. Angry cries rose from below.
“Hey, watch it!”
“Ow!”
“Get off my roof, you vandals!”
Udaba yelled from behind.
“We will never lose the city watch with this racket following us; we need to get off the roofs.”
“Then follow me,” Jax shouted in response.
He ran to the side of a roof overlooking a market stall. Spotting an awning covering a stand he leaped down onto it, hoping it would cushion his fall. Jax’s graceful leap shattered the pole supports and he tore through the fabric, landing in a wagon of red grapes. Grape juice flew everywhere splattering several passersby and coating the vendor. Udaba landed in the cabbage stand one down, his leap was as graceful but it was much cleaner. Jax leaped out of the wagon and sprinted down the street with Udaba close behind. The market vendors gave chase for a few steps then gave up and instead shouted profanities after the men. The two men ran down narrow and windy streets heading closer and closer to the city center where large crowds would hide them. However, with guards close behind them Jax took any detours he saw in an effort to lose them. Soon enough the two found themselves in the poorest district of the city. Jax spotted an empty side street where the two could rest. He darted down it and ran to the first door.
“Looks like nobody is home.” Jax stared at the shaky wooden door.
“Let me do the honors.” With a mighty boot Udaba kicked open the door. The two men slipped in side closing it after them.
The walls were mostly bare and the room was sparsely furnished. Simple wicker chairs sat around a worn wooden table, lit by a box of sunlight projected from a small window just below the ceiling. Jax gasped for breath. Udaba searched through drawers in the kitchen searching for some sort of weapon. He tossed Jax a simple cooking dagger and grabbed a poker for himself from a pile of ashes. Jax stared down at his cloak. Most of his back was stained with red juice and as it dried it began to resemble blood. Udaba brushed off the few stray cabbage leaves had managed to cling to him in the chase. Suddenly the sound of stampeding sandals became audible.
“Duck!” Jax whispered.
Udabba crouched underneath the windowsill and Jax flattened himself against the wall. The box of sunlight on the table flickered as the shadows over a dozen soldiers marched by. Jax held his breath. The soldiers passed the building and ignored the side street all together. Yet Jax waited for the patrol to completely pass before releasing his breath.
“Phew,” he let out a gasp.
Jax looked to Udaba who straightened up.
“They’ll keep going till they reach the coliseum crowd and assume they lost us there,” Jax said
“I agree, but we should stay low. We could stay in this house until night fall,” Udaba replied, “Judging by the fire, this house hasn’t been used in a couple of days.”
Udaba returned the poker to the fire.
“We should….”
The door opened silently, so before either Jax or Udaba realized them man with the white toga was standing in the room. He dropped his basket of bread when he saw the two bloody men.
“What are you doing in my house?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A Tale of Romans
Vibius ripped his pilum from the dead man’s carcass, and cleaned its head on his tunic. Ahead of him Marcus was doing the same. Many men were washing their armor at the banks off the Tiber and collecting their pila, or wiping the blood of their gladius. A sickly humidity hung in the air and every breath of was intertwined with the smell of blood. Vibius cut a small section of his tunic away with his pugio, the small knife all Hastati carried, and wrapped it tightly around his bleeding forearm. He pulled off his helmet to cool off, revealing his short black hair.
“Well that was a massacre,” Marcus said.
Vibius, still in a state of shock, was silent.
“We wiped out their entire warhost,” Marcus gave a low whistle.
If one could call it a war host, the only members of the army that resembled soldiers were the few Hastati defectors and the members of Bucco’s personal battalion. The general had risen in status from the African campaigns, apparently high enough that he thought he could seize power. He had massive support from many of the plebeians in his hometown of Capua, and some of their Hastati, but now they all lay dead on the field. No quarter was given to traitors, and Rome never was kind to backstabbers.
In Africa, Vibius had fought every thing from elephants to Numidian raiders, but nothing had ever shaken him like this. The thought of killing fellow Romans sickened him. He shuddered at the expressions of shock he had seen as he ran his gladius through Roman hearts.
“Some of them were not even armed,” Marcus, continued, “I swear that one of them came at me with a shepherd's staff.” Marcus chuckled and put a reassuring hand on Vibius shoulder.
“So who won the injury count? I've got a stubbed toe and a welt were the shepherd hit me on the head” Marcus laughed again, a deep, rich chuckle that lightened the mood.
“I see you have a gash on your shoulder, how did you let that happen”
Vibius still did not reply.
“Oh come on, it’s like talking to a recruit here. Where is the Vibius I know, the slayer of Libyans, who single-handedly took the walls of Aspis in Carthage?”
This brought a smile forth from Vibius. At Aspis the city had surrendered as the Roman ladders hit the walls. Vibius had kept climbing however and he jumped over the top of the walls to find that all the Iberians had laid down their weapons.
“Don't think about the battle, Vibius. Think about the Roman women we will meet tonight, ehhh. Old Sextus has given all us Hastati the night off.”
“You wouldn’t call him that to his face, now would you?” Vibius finally spoke, “It’s always ‘Yes General Agrippa, No General Agrippa”
He continued to mimic his friend as Marcus expressed mock astonishment.
“I would have you know, that Sextus and I are old pals, and, on a side note, it never hurts to butter up your superiors if you know what I'm saying.”
“You always were a kiss ass, Marcus.” Vibius laughed and shoved his old friend.
“Hey save it for tonight, Vibius” Marcus replied. He donned his helmet and sheathed his gladius. “You’ll need your strength; the city is still four miles away and I want to be there before Sol reaches his zenith”
Vibius put on his armor as well and the both of them joined the other Hastati, weary but excited, to visit the exalted city of Rome.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Trumpets sounded in the courtyard below, waking Kahn to a glorious sunrise. He rolled out of the white sheets and slipped on the silk toga resting on the chair beside his bed. He washed his face with water that seemed to magically appear from the pipe positioned above his washstand. His feet then slipped uncomfortably into the sandals that were laid at his feet. A servant entered and laid a tray of breakfast fruit on a table, and then cleared his throat.
“Will there be anything else Senator Tatanius?”
“No, that is fine,” Kahn replied and then, as an after thought, he added, “Call me Kahn; I am unaccustomed to that formal name”
“Yes, Senator,” the servant replied rejecting the alien request. He bowed low and quickly left the room.
This ornament was wasted on Kahn. In place of a white bed he longed for moss under a tall Spruce, in the place of sandals he yearned for the freedom of bare feet. Kahn strolled to the ivy-covered balcony and looked down on the parade ground below. The trumpeters had exited leaving the courtyard quite empty. A Roman guard lay on a bench while his fellow guard slumped against the wall beside him. The courtyard was square with a decorative roof covering a bordering walkway that passed around the three sides. The fourth side was dominated by the three-story villa covered in marble balconies like the one Kahn stood on. Opposite Kahn past the iron-rail gate lay the city of Rome with the Pantheon visible in the distance. Kahn stepped back into his chambers at the beckoning of a second servant who had pried open the door.
“You have been summoned to the Senate chambers, Sir,” he called out.
“And I shall be there shortly” Kahn replied.
As the servant withdrew his head, Kahn grabbed a fresh apple from the table beside the door. He strode to the door and paused for a second before he returned to his bed stand and grabbed a dagger. He concealed the knife beneath his toga and finally left through the door.
Kahn walked to the courtyard by way of the lobby, an architectural achievement renowned throughout all of Rome. In the center lay a glistening rainwater fountain, its floor by an intricate mosaic of its patron, Senator Poplicola. Underwater mosaics, it turns out, are awful places for one’s face and the water distorted his features. The countenance, which was intended to look heroic, now portrayed a wide-eyed fearful man who seemed to be terrified of some skyward danger. Kahn chuckled and glided out into the courtyard.
As he entered the courtyard the guards jumped to attention, which proved difficult for the one lying on the bench. He sat up, knocking his helmet off the bench and onto the hard cobblestone, where it reverberated loudly. Already embarrassed he bent down to retrieve his helmet, causing his half sheathed sword to promptly fall out of its scabbard, joining his helmet on the ground.
“Glad to see I’m under disciplined protection,” Kahn joked
The ashamed guard managed a smile while his fellow opened the gate.
“We’ll be sure to give you a better showing when you return” The second guard declared.
“I’ll look forward to the occasion,” Kahn replied and with a friendly wave he stepped into the streets of Rome.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The early morning mist was evaporating quickly in the streets of the great city, and with it the silence that had gripped the previous night. Chatter could be heard from the villas on either sides of the street, the servants of the rich and fanciful preparing the morning meal. Kahn walked briskly down the street towards the center of the city. The courtyards and villas that lined the streets were gradually replaced by houses and markets as Kahn left the rich district of the city behind. As the sun separated itself from the horizon the city slowly began to wake. Above Kahn, a woman threw open her shutters and dumped a bucket of waste into the street below. To his right a potter delicately set up his wares for sale. A group of small boys burst from a doorway in front of Kahn and sprinted off down the street. Like a colony of ants, the city dwellers prepared themselves for the days bustle that lay before them.
When Kahn had first arrived in the city he had been awestruck. The sheer size of the city had simply overwhelmed him. He remembered the gates opening, like the parting of a waterfall, to reveal the glorious city. The city was in constant motion. Action defined the days and crowds moved all about running errands or completing any number of tasks that always needed doing. For Kahn it was in many ways refreshing, a stark contrast to the often-staid lifestyle in his hometown. All the energy in the city had originally given him purpose and he felt lively.
Kahn took in a deep breath. That was one thing he disliked about the city. The smell was plagued by the foul odor of human waste, nothing like the clean air of his village. The poorer districts reeked of it, while it was cleverly covered up in the central forays and rich gardens. It had taken him a few days to discover the stench of the city and by now some of the capital’s luster had worn off. Corruption was rampant, even among many of the senators, and the poor suffered in some of the worst areas from overcrowding and disease. The senators, it seemed, were more concerned with their own reputations than the good of the plebeians. The worst of these in Kahn’s opinion was Poplicola, a sad satire of his name. His elitist attitude appalled Kahn. But this difference of opinion lay embedded in Kahn’s roots. HE was not a descendant of a long line of Patricians. Instead Kahn had risen through the ranks as a soldier in the Roman campaigns to unify the north of Italy. He supported their movements against the Gauls and had helped Rome solidify its position in the top of the peninsula.
Kahn was a people’s general. He bore the title of war hero in his native province and his deeds had already inspired legends. Despite his fame he had lived abstemiously and modestly. That is, until the Roman Senate had called. In need of a friendly supporter in the north who was adored by the people, Rome had sent an emissary to offer him a seat in the senate. The mighty Rome had humbled itself for a man of the provinces. The people of the north were impressed and for the people Kahn had accepted.
He now left the poorer streets and passed Circus Maximus entering the center of the city and the heart of the Roman government. Ahead of him lay the Curia Hostilia the seat of the senate. Kahn stopped and prepared himself for another day with the politicians whom he had grown to despise. Rome had certainly taken its toll on him. He wondered for how much longer he could keep his faith in the good of the Republic.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The walls were visible from a mile away and the troops followed the famously straight Roman roads. Vibius had heard that all roads lead to Rome, but he had never expected to follow one to the city itself. They walked the cobblestone road with many merchants and farmers, with intentions of selling in the great roman markets, as well as travelers who hoped to find a good variety to buy. One entrepreneurial vendor decided to cut out the middleman and started selling his goods right off the back of his cart to the hungry Hastati.
“Fresh cheese at a price lower than any you’ll find in Rome, only 4 Quadrans”
Marcus and a few other Hastati crowded the vendor who gave out good sized wedges of cheese from the back of his wagon as his son drove the horses.
Rome was approaching quickly now, and the walls loomed higher and higher.
He nudged Marcus, “These walls are as tall as some of the mountains we crossed in Africa.”
Vibius stopped and marveled at the symbol of Roman defense and power.
Marcus chuckled. “You know Vibius, there is a lot more to see once you get inside the walls,” he joked between mouthfuls of cheese.
“Eating already I see” Vibius retorted.
“Hey I’m hungry, and at four Quadrans it’s a steal.”
The gates of Rome parted like a massive curtain as the soldiers approached, and Vibius almost had to bend over backwards to see the tops of the walls. As the gates opened they revealed the bustling streets filled with people of every kind. It was as if the rainbow, Vibius thought, had been broken up and pasted on the city. The well off walked around in Togas with dye so bright they could be pieces of the rainbow. Colorful awnings hung over shops that shouted out all sorts of offers.
“The best wheat in all of Roma comes from my market”
“Food so good Senators demand it, all at an affordable price”
“Exotic fruits from Pontus, try a fig”
“Best cheese in Rome, well worth 1 Quadran”
“The blighter,” Marcus exploded at this last announcement, “that cheese man ripped me off.”
‘How does that cheese taste now” Vibius smiled.
Marcus looked for the wagon, but it had been lost in the swarms of people that flowed like a river this way and that. The forceful current captured Marcus and Vibius and swept them toward the interior of the city. The river moved through the meandering streets at a rapid pace and people dove in from the harbors of their doorways to join the ever-growing tide. Finally the stream emptied into a square where the two Hastati stopped to catch their bearings.
“We need a place to stay.” Marcus practically shouted.
“How about that inn behind you?”
“Worth a shot, lets go check it out.”
Vibius reached the old wooden door, grabbed the handle and pushed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jax sat in the corner of the room, his face hidden by his blue hood. His black hair hung slightly above his crystal grey eyes, which reflected the flickering light of the candle. He observed the room silently, as a forgotten spectator practically invisible to the rest of the room. On his right, impatiently tapping his foot sat a large man, an African moor. He was muscular and had the appearance of a military commander or tribal war chief. His face displayed the scars to prove it. They sat at a circular table facing the rest of the room. Past them in the room beyond, a festive scene took place as men and woman drank. They drank beer, the poor man’s drink. You would not catch a senator in here, and hopefully not a city guard either.
“He will not show,” the larger man grumbled.
“Patience, Udaba, he will come.”
Udaba leaned back and crossed his arms. When the waitress returned he grunted to signify he wanted anther drink. She looked expectantly at Jax but he held up an open hand. Minutes passed and the drunkards in the bar became more and more intoxicated. Udaba downed another glass, but he seemed unaffected by the alcohol.
At the unmistakable squeak of wooden hinges, Jax’s eyes darted to the door. In stepped two men, both muscular, one with short black hair and the other with slightly longer dirty blond. The hope that had briefly lit up Jax’s face disappeared; Weezel still had not shown. They walked over to the bar and began to order drinks.
“They look like guards” Udaba remarked.
“I agree, but we’ve done nothing wrong,” Jax paused “…yet.”
“Ill find out” Udaba replied and he stood up and strode across the room.
The face of the of the smaller dark haired one looked familiar, an impossible notion. To think that he knew a guard. Jax chided himself and dismissed the foolish idea. They seemed harmless. Up at the bar Udaba seemed to have determined the same. He finished eavesdropping, downed a beer, and relinquished his stool, returning to the table.
“Nothing to worry about”
“I agree,” Jax replied.
They sat down to resume their wait. It wasn’t long until another man entered the bar. This time there was no lack of recognition. The man was halted by the doorman, who made him remove his weapons. He removed his arrows from his quiver and they slid past his short blonde hair. He flashed the doorman a winning smile and asked to keep his bow, slung over his shoulder. The doorman consented and the man strode into the midst of the tables. He looked around for a minute, almost turning in a complete circle, before sighting Udaba and making a beeline for the table.
“Should have guessed you guys would be in the corner,” Canus said.
“Guess the doorman missed your tongue”
“Well that’s not all he missed, Jax”
Canus discreetly lifted up his cloak, revealing the handles of two sharp daggers protruding from either side.
“But my tongue is the unbeatable weapon.” Again Canus flashed his grin.
“Unless someone cuts it out,” Udaba muttered.
Ignoring the side comments, Canus continued on.
“I thought I would be late. Where is this guy?”
“He still hasn’t arrived.”
“Well, you know I hate waiting.”
Canus began to walk off towards the bar, but he did not get far. The door creaked open once again and a small man stepped in. He was dressed in a simple white tunic and he looked nervously around the room. He walked uncertainly about until finding the group and even then he stared for a few moments before making his way to the table. The table sat silently waiting for Weezel to speak; however he seemed more comfortable in silence. Finally Udaba became impatient.
“Well, have you got the key?”
The heavy mettle key clanked on the table and Weezel gave it a halfhearted push across to Udaba. It made it about halfway before Jax grasped it and tucked it away in his cloak.
“What about the other information we asked for?” Udaba continued.
Weezel was sweating profusely now, even though he had yet to speak a word.
Finally he stuttered “There are t-two guards until the ssun goes down, and then the shift ends.” He looked around nervously, “The s-second change in shift is in the morning. The guards typically fall asleep before they change shifts a-at night.”
“So the best time to raid this armory would be half way through the night.”
Udaba glanced dangerously at Canus, but it seemed no one had heard.
“So, what kind of loot should we expect?” Canus continued.
Weezel turned to Canus to answer, and seemed to find comfort in his face.
His response was more forthcoming.
“All k-kinds” he said, but then the stutter disappeared. “There are swords, shields, bows, all of the best quality. Shields made in Tarentum, the best armor from Cremona, and even a gold plated centurion outfit. You could equip a small army from this place, and it is just a minor armory on the outskirts of Rome. You should see the Principe armory in the center of town; it has one hundred times more stuff. Although I have no idea how you will carry it all”
While he chattered on about what he would buy if he could sell just one of those sets of armor Canus signaled for a beer.
“And how often do they check the stores?” Canus asked.
“Not that often,” he said, “You would be long gone before then.”
And then Canus offered him the beer. Weezle’s free tongue shriveled in his mouth.
“I really must go”, he said.
No amount of convincing from Canus could make him stay. He left quickly and disappeared into the crowd.
“Well that was strange. I was afraid I he had stayed any longer we might have all drowned in sweat,” Canus joked.
“We got the info we needed at least” Udaba remarked.
“We need to leave.”
Both men looked at Jax questioningly. Jax reached under his cloak and pulled out a bag of coins.
“He didn’t even take his pay.”
And that was when the three looked up and saw the four fully armored guards walk through the door.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The bar was crowded and most of the people were drunk, but the place was friendly enough. A host of smells greeted Vibius as he entered, fresh beer, old bread, sizzling lamb, and human sweat. He and Marcus sat down at the bar and ordered wine but the bartender laughed and returned with two pints of beer.
“This is all we got”
He picked up a tankard and began polishing it.
“But you seem like a soldier, so ill give the beers to you for free if you can tell us a good story”
Vibius looked expectantly to Marcus.
“Story telling is your talent”
So Marcus took a half bow, or as much of a bow you could take sitting on a stool, and began his story.
Far from the war story Vibius would have told, Marcus’ story of inept love held the bartender and everyone on the nearby stools at rapt attention as they rolled in laughter at Marcus’ antics. The story even began to pull guests from other parts of the room; a large Algerian looking man came over to listen for a few moments. Marcus told how he managed to bungle every situation in the presence of his love, but still managed to eventually win her heart. The audience loved it and the bartender even offered him a room on the second floor, free of charge.
“Where is she now?” A question shot from the audience.
“Back in my home town, north of Tarentum, I got called into the army by this new draft process. They put me into a legion of Hastati and I haven’t seen her since.”
“When I was younger the army was a noble career choice, a necessity to protect our selves,” an older man spoke from the crowd, “Now we’re drafting these soldiers all of a sudden, and sending them off to far flung campaigns”
“Yeah it is unnecessary,” another man chimed in. “ We already crushed the Carthaginians twice, and yet these boys have just returned from campaigns in Numidia of all places.”
A heavyset man muscled forward. “I think we need more wars, not less. The barbarians are knocking on our northern doorstep and unless we create some kind of buffer they will be pillaging our northern provinces before the year is out.”
Again the old man spoke up. “But that’s just it, we conquered the north of our peninsula as a buffer, and now they are like a central province. Every time we create another buffer eventually it becomes too central causing us to push forward again. What we need is to….”
Any further conversation was silenced by a four guards bursting through the doors. The debating crowd froze standing, and conversation ceased. The guards began walking through the tables, pulling the hoods off men and looking at faces. One guard was particularly forceful, twisting heads so he could get a good look. As he passed the table next to Vibius, a man stood up. He was poor looking with a torn faded green tunic, tied hastily by a worn rope waistband. He stood up and defiantly stared down the guard.
“I know you” he cried, “You’re the man who came to collect taxes.”
The guard squinted confusedly, his face twisted as he tried hard to remember. The strain however seemed to prove too much. He snapped back to a blank face and simply uttered.
“No”
“Yeah,” the man replied, “Yeah, ya broke my mother’s arm when she couldn’t come up with the sum; now she can’t work and we won’t be able to pay next week. And I don’t know watcha gonna break next time.”
“Move,” the guard grunted.
“Na, I think you should leave.”
The guard had heard enough. He tried to take a step forward but the man blocked his move. Again the guard tried to pass him and again was blocked. So the big guard, in a lightning move, gave the man a mighty shove. He sailed trough the air a few feet, and probably would have for many more, if he hadn’t collided with the bar counter. Blood spurted out of the back of the man’s head and he slumped on the ground.
Events happened simultaneously.
A guard from across the room called out, “There they are.”
The big guard turned to look towards his fellow, and Vibius immediately stood up and delivered a forceful uppercut.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Like a drop of ink in a clear river, panic quickly diffused throughout the bar. Tension that had mounted when the guards entered now exploded in one powerful punch. Sides that had earlier debated peacefully now traded punches instead of words. At the bar one guard was detained in a fight against two others. Jax was elated. The prospect of certain capture and death now melted away into a fighting chance. But Jax had little time to think.
The three available guards turned on Jax and his company, still sitting at the table.
“By mandate of the Roman legion I am empowered to place you under arrest,” the first guard proclaimed.
The guards began to draw swords. In a flash the three men were on their feet. Canus drew his blades and flashed them at the guards.
“Never.”
The first guard began to speak again.
“Then by my sword you will die in this stinking …Oumph.”
His sentence was finished by Udaba’s bodily tackle. Immediately Canus struck out at the second guard. The guard parried the swing and the pair battled off into the rest of the room. Jax and the remaining guard stared at each other for a brief moment.
Then, with a roar like an angry bull, the guard hurled himself forward. Jax neatly sidestepped and gave the guard a shove as he passed. Momentum carried the guard headlong into the table. Recovering, the guard turned and blindly swung his sword in a wide arc as he turned around. Jax barely had time to duck under the whoosh of silver. Seeing an opening, Jax stepped forward and rammed his knee into the guard’s unprotected belly. As he doubled over in pain, Jax grabbed the hilt of the sword and twisted in an attempt to disarm the guard. With a yelp, the guard involuntarily released his grasp and Jax ripped the sword free. Jax raised the sword high into the air to deliver the killing blow. He stared down into the eyes of the guard as they melted. The guard knew he was finished, and yet the burning hatred that Jax expected to see was instead replaced by a calm serenity, an acceptance of fate. He swung the sword downwards, but instead of slicing into his foe with the blade, Jax brought the butt of the sword down onto the crown the guards head. He crumpled to the ground unconscious, but alive.
He turned to face the rest of the room. Canus was struggling under the vicious blows that rained down on him from the second guard. Although he had two blades to the guard’s one, every attack he made was blocked. It seemed like a tempest was assaulting Canus with a fury of near-lethal gusts. Canus was clearly out matched. They fought backwards into the brawl near the bar and Jax lost sight of them.
He turned his attention to his other companion. Udaba was rolling on the floor and exchanging punches with a guard nearly the same size. They flipped and turned on ground, one gaining the upper hand for a fleeting moment before being rolled back down. The guard suddenly rolled right and pinned Udaba beneath him delivering two punches to the Moor’s face. In a great feat of strength he thrust out his hands and feet, launching the guard backward through the air. He landed on a table, full of farmers too drunk to notice the fight and they made an uproarious objection to the guard’s impact, which had spilled their tankards. The guard painstakingly rose from the spilled beer and turned towards his opponent. Udaba rose at the same time and the men the two faced off in a slowly forming circle around the two remaining combatants. As the two stared at each other, a crowd began to form. Udaba wiped blood off his lower lip with the back of his hand. The heavyset guard ripped off his helmet and tossed it away. A stealthy hush descended over the crowd. The guard leaned down and picked up his sword, he pointed it at Udaba.
“I’m going to skewer you like a pig!”
With a yell, the guard charged at Udaba. Udaba lashed out with a strong side kick hitting the guard directly in the gut. As the guard fell to his knees, Udaba spun around and slammed his heel into the guard’s temple. The guards neck twisted violently he slowly collapsed onto the floor. Jax began to elbow his way through the crowd to reach Udaba.
Yet even as the guard’s head hit the ground, across the bar the door burst open. This time more than a dozen soldiers piled through. Udaba picked up a bar stool as the guards pushed through the crowd towards the two law breakers. Udaba remained still as they pushed closer and closer. Almost all of them were in the back corner now.
“We can’t win this fight,” Jax whispered.
“I know,” Udaba replied.
And with the speed Udaba turned and slammed the stool into the wooden window shutters splintering them open.
“After you, Jax,” he courteously gestured to the window.
Jax crawled out of the window like a monkey and reached for the handhold of the window frame above. Using the embossed pillars as a climbing wall he quickly scaled the building to its tile roof. As he reached the top he looked back down for Udaba. Despite his size, Udaba managed to climb to the roof just as fast. The two only had time for quick words.
“Canus?”
“I lost sight of him,” Udaba replied.
Jax merely nodded in response. In the building below shouts began as the guards began to push back to the door. Jax pointed to a nearby rooftop connected to the roof of the inn by an arch. Like acrobats at the coliseum, Udaba and Jax tightroped over the arch and onto the nearby roof. They jumped from building to building running towards the center of the city. As Jax ran across the roofs, tiles dislodged under his feet and slid into the street below. Angry cries rose from below.
“Hey, watch it!”
“Ow!”
“Get off my roof, you vandals!”
Udaba yelled from behind.
“We will never lose the city watch with this racket following us; we need to get off the roofs.”
“Then follow me,” Jax shouted in response.
He ran to the side of a roof overlooking a market stall. Spotting an awning covering a stand he leaped down onto it, hoping it would cushion his fall. Jax’s graceful leap shattered the pole supports and he tore through the fabric, landing in a wagon of red grapes. Grape juice flew everywhere splattering several passersby and coating the vendor. Udaba landed in the cabbage stand one down, his leap was as graceful but it was much cleaner. Jax leaped out of the wagon and sprinted down the street with Udaba close behind. The market vendors gave chase for a few steps then gave up and instead shouted profanities after the men. The two men ran down narrow and windy streets heading closer and closer to the city center where large crowds would hide them. However, with guards close behind them Jax took any detours he saw in an effort to lose them. Soon enough the two found themselves in the poorest district of the city. Jax spotted an empty side street where the two could rest. He darted down it and ran to the first door.
“Looks like nobody is home.” Jax stared at the shaky wooden door.
“Let me do the honors.” With a mighty boot Udaba kicked open the door. The two men slipped in side closing it after them.
The walls were mostly bare and the room was sparsely furnished. Simple wicker chairs sat around a worn wooden table, lit by a box of sunlight projected from a small window just below the ceiling. Jax gasped for breath. Udaba searched through drawers in the kitchen searching for some sort of weapon. He tossed Jax a simple cooking dagger and grabbed a poker for himself from a pile of ashes. Jax stared down at his cloak. Most of his back was stained with red juice and as it dried it began to resemble blood. Udaba brushed off the few stray cabbage leaves had managed to cling to him in the chase. Suddenly the sound of stampeding sandals became audible.
“Duck!” Jax whispered.
Udabba crouched underneath the windowsill and Jax flattened himself against the wall. The box of sunlight on the table flickered as the shadows over a dozen soldiers marched by. Jax held his breath. The soldiers passed the building and ignored the side street all together. Yet Jax waited for the patrol to completely pass before releasing his breath.
“Phew,” he let out a gasp.
Jax looked to Udaba who straightened up.
“They’ll keep going till they reach the coliseum crowd and assume they lost us there,” Jax said
“I agree, but we should stay low. We could stay in this house until night fall,” Udaba replied, “Judging by the fire, this house hasn’t been used in a couple of days.”
Udaba returned the poker to the fire.
“We should….”
The door opened silently, so before either Jax or Udaba realized them man with the white toga was standing in the room. He dropped his basket of bread when he saw the two bloody men.
“What are you doing in my house?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
[This message has been edited by Sicilian_Steel (edited 03-20-2012 @ 05:45 PM).]