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Legionary(79)

By:Gordon Doherty


Legio II Parthica.

He heard Khaled’s words as if from a faraway place; ‘Some Persians can survive in the dry, stale air down there for that length of time, perhaps, but not Romans. No, they have surely perished in that deepest chamber. Indeed, we consider any souls sent down there as dead men.’

The breath froze in Pavo’s lungs. One word rang over and over in his thoughts. Romans? ‘They were Roman? The men sent to the seventh chamber?’

Khaled looked up, eyebrows raised, then nodded. ‘Yes. This place was once worked by many of your kind. Not so many recently. It was a surprise when you and your comrades arrived.’

Pavo slid off the stone shelf and knelt before Khaled. ‘But they were Romans?’

‘Aye,’ Khaled nodded, then jabbed a finger to the phalera, ‘some wore trinkets just like yours.’

An intense shiver danced across Pavo’s skin. ‘Khaled, I need you to think back,’ he said holding up the phalera. ‘The engraving on this – did the Romans you speak of have the same markings, exactly the same?’

Khaled curled his bottom lip and nodded. ‘Yes. I’m sure of it.’

‘Romans in the seventh chamber know the whereabouts of the scroll? Legionaries of the II Parthica . . . ’ Pavo staggered back, his head swimming, his eyes combing the floor of the cell as if to organise his jumbled thoughts. A bewildered laugh toppled from his lips.

Khaled smoothed the ends of his moustache. ‘Remember, this was some twelve years ago. These men are likely to be nothing but bones now. Do not trouble yourself with thoughts of their fate . . . ’

‘My father may well have been one of them,’ he cut Khaled off.

Khaled’s eyes widened. ‘Your father? The one you speak of in your nightmares.’ He nodded in realisation. ‘Of course.’

‘So you realise that I must go down there. When my legion set out to the east, I promised myself I would find my Father or honour his bones.’

A long silence passed, then a sorrowful smile crept across Khaled’s face and he laid his hands on Pavo’s shoulders. ‘I understand, friend. Just as I long to be reunited with my loved ones, you feel you must do this.’

‘It is not a feeling, nor a compulsion of some sort.’ He fixed Khaled with an unblinking gaze. ‘It is a certainty. I am going down there.’

Tears appeared in Khaled’s eyes. ‘I once had your fire in me, lad. Many years past.’ He blinked the glassiness away and came closer to Pavo. ‘If you are to do this, then know that you are not alone. I will do all I can to aid you . . . ’ his words trailed off and he gawped over Pavo’s shoulder, to the cell gates.

An icy chill danced across Pavo’s skin as the iron bars groaned open. He hurriedly tucked the phalera into his loincloth then spun to see Gorzam, trembling with rage. A second guard fumbled with the keys to the cell whilst another figure stood behind the pair. Bashu failed to meet their gaze.

‘It was them?’ Gorzam seethed.

Bashu nodded. ‘Aye, it was them who poisoned you. I saw them put the concoction in your water – they threatened to kill me if I told you this.’

Pavo scrambled to the back of the cell and Khaled joined him. ‘Bashu? No . . . ’

Gorzam stomped in and raised his whip. Khaled’s cries were drowned out by the thrashing of the barbed tails, the ripping of flesh and the thick blood-spray that coated all in the cell. As Khaled cowered, Pavo tried to grapple him and pull him clear of the next lash, but Gorzam was unstoppable, and the barbs gouged at Pavo’s arm, sending him staggering back. As Khaled took the brunt of the next blow, the second guard pinned Pavo back with his spear tip. ‘Move . . . die,’ he grunted in broken Greek.

Pavo winced at every blow, hearing Khaled’s cries grow fainter with each. Eventually, the lash carried on to utter silence. Pavo was wet with Khaled’s blood and Gorzam wore a dripping, crimson mask. After an eternity, the whipping stopped. Gorzam panted, resting his hands on his knees. Pavo saw Khaled’s staring eyes, the light in them dimming. He reached out for his friend, but Gorzam booted him away.

The giant glared at Pavo. ‘I will be back to take the skin from your back later. And then every day after that. I plan to keep you alive for a few weeks. I want to see how long a man can live with the flesh ripped clear of his bones.’ He nodded to the second guard and stabbed a finger at the mutilated, flayed mass that was Khaled. ‘Come; let us haul this dog to the shaft.’ They lifted the still body and then with a clanging of the cell door, they were gone.

Pavo stared at the spot where Khaled had been moments ago. The flesh on his arm where he had been struck was raw, ripped to the bone. Fresh barbs, he realised, sickened. He found himself praying hurriedly to Mithras that Khaled was already dead and would not have to suffer being thrown down the main shaft. ‘I pray you meet with your family soon, friend,’ he sobbed, a chill settling on his heart.