He had a brief glimpse of Hormus being dragged down the stairs to his left as, to his right, Magnus was hauled out of his room, his splinted arm impeding his ability to defend himself. Without pausing, Vespasian crunched his knee into the thigh of the nearest of Magnus’ assailants, deadening the muscle so that the man half stumbled, loosening his grip. Magnus used his freed right hand to grab the throat of his other detainer as Vespasian pounced on the limping man with an anger that expressed itself as a guttural animal roar. With his limbs working as fast as an athlete’s in a foot race, he pounded his prey into screaming submission as Magnus deprived air from his victim’s lungs with a merciless grip around his neck. His clamp-like fingers ever tightening, he cursed and spat into the dying man’s purpling face as urine trickled down his legs and the stench of voided bowels clouded the air.
‘That’s enough!’ Vespasian shouted, leaping towards the stairs.
Magnus heard the urgency in his friend’s voice and bounded after him, leaving his man gasping and soiled.
Taking the stairs three at a time they clattered down to the common room on the ground floor. The innkeeper cowered behind the bar but there was no sign of Hormus or Bagoas. Caring not whether the man had had anything to do with the surprise attack, Vespasian ran straight for the door, pushing tables and chairs aside. With the one objective of freeing his slave before he disappeared into a city that could swallow a legion whole, he pulled back the door and ran out into a semicircle of club-wielding men.
He was dimly aware of Magnus screaming as a dark shape surged towards his head, heralding a splitting pain and a flash of light, closely followed by oblivion.
His head throbbed with every thundering beat of his heart as consciousness returned to Vespasian.
He felt himself lying on cold stone.
He opened his eyes and at first saw nothing; the room was dark. Then, as he grew accustomed to the gloom, he could make out a dim light not more than two paces away. It was seeping through a small, square window.
He peered harder and saw that the window was in fact a viewing hole in a door; a viewing hole with bars in it.
He was in a cell.
He was back in a cell.
Vespasian drew his knees up to his chest and clutched them; tight.
The wail started at the pit of his stomach and grew until it seemed to shake his entire being; it was long, hollow and full of emptiness and despair.
How long he had lain there, Vespasian did not know, but eventually the door opened and he was hauled to his feet; he moaned, it was more of a whimper. Unresisting, he was dragged through a series of dim corridors, passing the occasional flaming torch, and then up some steps; finally, a stout door was unbolted and he was thrown through to collapse onto some foul-smelling straw.
‘It’s good of you to join us, sir; although I’m sure we all wish for less limited circumstances, if you take my meaning?’
Vespasian looked up to see Magnus and Hormus sitting with their backs against the wall; above them daylight flooded in through a barred window. ‘How long have we been here?’
‘Two days,’ Magnus replied.
‘What happened?’
Hormus’ whole body suddenly wracked with sobs.
Magnus looked accusingly at the slave and then turned back to Vespasian. ‘I’m going to treat myself to an “I told you so”.’
Vespasian understood. ‘Bagoas?’
‘It would seem that way. I said his passion for boys would get him into trouble one day; I didn’t think that it would have us all wallowing in fucked-arse turds.’
‘I’m so sorry, master,’ Hormus cried, getting onto his knees and holding his hands out, pleading. ‘I beg you to forgive me.’
‘What did you do?’
Hormus sobbed a couple of times before managing to get himself under control. ‘After we had … well, I fell asleep. The next thing I knew they were breaking down my door and Bagoas wasn’t there; neither was our sack.’
Magnus shook his head. ‘I reckon he stole the sack and then finding our swords and other stuff that’s obviously Roman he made the right deduction, and him and his cousin must have decided to make a little extra on top of the boat and our cash and reported us to the civic authorities.’
Hormus wrung his hands. ‘It’s all my fault, master. I translated Magnus’ comment about Fortuna to Bagoas.’
Vespasian could see it all. ‘And he would have become suspicious about us as soon as he learnt that we worshipped a Roman goddess; especially as only you spoke Aramaic. That was a foolish mistake, Hormus.’
The slave nodded mournfully, his eyes never leaving the floor.
‘What’s done is done.’ Vespasian patted Hormus’ arm in a comforting manner and looked at Magnus. ‘So, what do they plan for us?’