‘Then what?’
‘Go for that tunnel opposite.’
‘We don’t know where it goes. What do you think happened to-’
‘Quiet. Get behind me.’
Cassius did so and heard Indavara’s blade slide out of the sheath. The lamplight coming from the right grew brighter. Then came a shout; and a conversation in a language Cassius couldn’t identify.
‘Use Greek!’ yelled someone. ‘Did you hit them?’
‘Not sure.’
The light was close. Indavara pressed himself against the wall and moved forward.
‘Keep coming,’ said a voice from the left. It sounded like an older man. ‘Quick, they might be in the other tunnel.’
‘What other tunnel?’
Indavara was gone. Cassius leaped out behind him and saw the agonised terror on his victim’s face as the blade pierced his neck.
‘Lantern!’
Cassius reached around Indavara and pulled it from the dying man’s grip. Once he had it, Indavara kicked his victim in the chest, sending him flying back into whoever was behind him.
Cassius was on his way. Hearing shouts from both sides, he sprang into the tunnel. Here at least he could stand up straight; the curved roof was a foot above him. Like the floor and walls it was brick: dank, mouldy and crumbling. Cassius couldn’t run at full pace; apart from the armour and the uneven surface underfoot, he had to keep the lantern alight.
‘Hurry!’ bawled Indavara. ‘If we don’t find cover we’re sitting ducks for those bows.’
In his efforts to speed up, the bodyguard lost his footing and nearly fell. Pausing to wait for him, Cassius glanced back along the tunnel. The two lanterns were bobbing, the dark figures moving quickly – no more than thirty feet away.
They ran on, side by side. An arrow flew past, so close to Cassius’s ear that he flinched and almost stumbled. ‘Gods!’
‘Least you’ve got your armour,’ said Indavara. ‘Where’s a bloody turn when we need one?’
Another bolt clattered into the wall just behind them.
‘What’s that?’ said Indavara. ‘On your side.’
They stopped by a narrow opening in the brickwork. Two rats that been running away from them scurried inside. Cassius looked back; their pursuers had stopped.
‘Down,’ snapped Indavara.
Just as they crouched, a third bolt shot past.
‘No good,’ said Cassius, reading the Greek on a plaque attached to the wall. ‘A crypt. There’ll be no way through.’
Indavara shuttered the lantern. ‘We can still use it. You go on. I’ll give them a surprise.’
‘You sure?’
‘Just go. But you must show them the light.’
‘Right.’ Cassius opened the shutter then got to his feet and pounded away along the tunnel, weaving from side to side as best he could.
Not now, please, Jupiter, not now. Not here. Not like this. Not like-
The arrow thumped into him. He stopped, waited for the pain.
But it didn’t come. He looked down. The bolt had gone through one side of the satchel and stuck there.
Jupiter, thank you!
He ran on, even though no more arrows came.
After a few more paces he belatedly noticed that the colour of the bricks had changed. They were newer and in better condition. And he spied little channels in the walls dripping water on to the floor. Then he realised something else. The tunnel had begun to slope downwards.
XXXIII
Indavara had no plan other than to come out swinging. He was glad Corbulo was out of the way; this would be basic and bloody. The thrum of the footsteps came quickly, the grainy yellow light too. At the first glimpse he leapt out at them.
The first man was lucky. He tried to slow himself but slipped and was already falling when Indavara struck. The blade caught the bow in his hand, slicing the string but doing no other damage.
The others – three or four, he couldn’t be sure – were almost past him when they realised they were under attack. One reacted far quicker than the others. Eyes glinting in a dark, bearded face, he dropped his bow and plucked a long knife from his belt.
Indavara sidestepped to his right; he had to protect his escape route.
The quick-thinking warrior charged past an older, bald-headed man, arm and knife outstretched.
Indavara swatted the knife away, rolled his wrists and sliced up at his face.
The warrior threw himself backwards, avoiding the blade by inches.
Indavara was about to strike again when a second wild-looking warrior came at him from the left. Knowing he couldn’t get the sword around in time, he ducked low.
The knife edge scraped his skull. He threw an elbow up and caught the warrior on the wrist. As the blade clattered into the roof, Indavara drove up off his ankles and hacked two-handed into the warrior’s side. The sword cut deep – like an axe into a tree. He only just kept hold of the blade as his victim groaned and fell.
The bald man took his turn. Calmly holding a lantern with one hand, he flicked his sword at Indavara’s face, forcing him back against the wall.
With a bestial cry, the first knife-man rejoined the fray. Hair hanging over his face, he swung his blade in a wide arc. Indavara parried, then shuffled right again to stop the bald man cutting him off. He sensed movement to his left, a third man closing in. Two he could just about handle. Three?
Something flew out of the darkness and struck the bald man on the face. Shocked but apparently unharmed, he looked down at the ground. Lying on the tunnel floor was a hunk of bread.
‘Indavara, there’s a way out!’
He didn’t need a second invitation and soon found himself running again beside Corbulo. ‘Where?’
‘We just have to keep going. This is a feeder channel, I think it runs down into the main aqueduct – remember how close to the baths we are.’
‘Here?’ Indavara slowed as they passed an intersecting tunnel of similar dimensions.
‘No, straight on.’
Indavara snatched a look over his shoulder. Their pursuers were already on the move again. When he turned back he realised that the floor underfoot was now smooth and that they were splashing through several inches of water.
‘Careful,’ said Corbulo. ‘It suddenly gets very steep up-’
He fell first, fractionally ahead of Indavara. The stolen lantern smashed, leaving them in utter darkness once again.
Indavara came down on his backside. His right arm hit a moment later, knocking the sword out of his hand. He slid down the slope, stone scraping his skin. Just as he spied a little light up ahead his legs plunged into cold water. Then it was up to his chest, then his head went under.
The shock of it froze him.
He couldn’t think, couldn’t tell himself what to do. His boots slid, unable to find purchase. His arms flailed around, trapped in the horrible nothingness he feared above all else. He felt it in his nose, his mouth, forcing its way inside. The water was trying to kill him again.
Something pulled his belt up, then fingers circled his arm.
Cassius hauled him out of the water. ‘Just stand up, man! Stand up straight – it’s only three feet deep.’
Coughing and panting, the bodyguard put out his hands and finally steadied himself.
‘Gods. Calm yourself.’
Indavara sucked in some breaths, then crashed a fist into the water.
‘Where in Hades are we?’
‘I told you. The main channel.’
‘We were better off up there! You should have left me to it.’
Ignoring this idiocy, Cassius looked around. The channel was about five yards across with a high, curved roof. Directly above them was a circular grille providing a bit of light from the streets above. The water was waist deep and flowing past them at some rate. Cassius had already taken his hands out to avoid the weed and other detritus. Unlike in the dank, musty tunnels, here there was a sweet tang to the air that somehow seemed even more unpleasant.