‘Just stay calm. Let go of the rope.’
‘What?’
Cassius could feel the mud bubbling around his thighs.
‘Let go.’
‘I’m sinking!’
‘Me too, now let go of the rope, you cretin.’
Indavara unravelled it from his wrist and threw it at him. Cassius began coiling it.
‘What are you doing?’
Instead of answering, Cassius tied one end of the rope around his belt. He had no idea how long it was. Thirty feet? Forty? Long enough?
He reached down with his left hand and pulled his sword out of the sheath.
‘Oh, gods,’ wailed Indavara. ‘It’s coming over my chest. Corbulo!’
Cassius guessed that the bodyguard’s fear of mud was probably not all that different to his fear of water. As he tied the other end of the rope around the handle of the sword, he spoke to him as calmly as he could. ‘A prayer to Fortuna. Repeat it – she’ll get us out of this.’
As the bodyguard stammered something, Cassius tied off the knot. He reckoned he’d worked out where they were. This was a settling basin, a stone tank designed to catch any remaining pollution in the water before it reached baths or a reservoir. The water would flow into and through the mud, leaving foreign bodies and sediment behind. This one was clearly in desperate need of clearing out.
Holding the base of the hilt in his right hand and the blade in his left, he drew his right arm back and threw the sword high into the air. The tremor through the rope told him it had landed.
He pulled it in. The sword caught for a moment but as soon as he yanked on it, it came easily. ‘Gods.’
‘Corbulo, give me the rope!’
‘Stay still. One minute and we’ll be out of here.’
Cassius had recovered the sword but his legs were now almost completely submerged. It was difficult to get his right arm out of the mud to prepare for the throw. He looked again; he could see the pillars and – closer – the side of the basin. No more than thirty feet, maybe less.
Come on. This time.
Cassius stretched his arm out wide to get the maximum leverage then launched the sword high. It seemed to be in the air for an impossibly long time. Then came the clatter of metal on stone.
‘It’s there!’
But he knew it would count for nothing if he couldn’t get it to catch on something.
‘Corbulo!’
‘Just hold on.’
Please, Jupiter. Please.
Three heaves and the rope straightened. The sword was caught.
‘Corbulo!’ Indavara had somehow got over to him and was pawing at his right arm. ‘Is it holding?’
Cassius felt the mud seep over his chest and slide up his neck.
He pulled hard on the rope. It seemed to hold for a moment but then came loose.
‘No!’ He inhaled half a mouthful of mud. Spitting out what he could, he turned to his right. He could see only Indavara’s head and shoulders and now his own legs were sliding under him. He yanked on the rope and felt the sword move. Was there even time for another throw? He pulled on it again but this time it wouldn’t move. He heaved with both hands to make sure.
It was stuck.
‘It’s holding! Come here.’ He reached out, grabbed Indavara’s arm and pulled him closer.
The bodyguard stretched past him and clutched the rope. ‘Well done. Now just hold on to my belt.’
Cassius didn’t need much encouragement. He gripped tight with both hands and Indavara was soon hauling their combined weight through the stinking, clinging mud. Gradually the pillars emerged out of the gloom, then the side of the basin. As the sound of the water grew weaker, the bodyguard pulled them to safety.
There were still several yards to go when Cassius finally realised what had saved them. Numerous branches and other bits of refuse had collected by the side of the basin, forming a semi-solid strip several feet thick. Once there, they scrambled up it and threw their hands over the lip of the basin.
While Indavara recovered, Cassius reached down and disentangled the sword. If it hadn’t been covered with mud he would have kissed it. ‘Glad I insisted we brought that rope.’
‘I thought that was the end,’ breathed Indavara. ‘Really.’
Cassius wiped his sleeve across his mouth, which added to the dirt rather than reducing it. ‘Ugh.’
He spat again but the horrid taste remained. ‘Submerged beneath a sea of shit – an apt metaphor and a fitting end for these last few years, but I must say I’m rather glad we avoided it.’
‘Corbulo, listen. Sorry if I panicked.’
‘Think nothing of it. Come on, let’s get out of here. There has to be a way up to the surface.’
Cassius was about to pull himself over the lip when he saw flickering light and heard quickly moving footsteps. From nowhere, the bald head of their pursuer appeared, face in shadow with the light behind him. He stepped higher and looked down at them over the lip, tapping the tip of his sword against the stone.
‘You two have a nasty habit of getting away,’ he rasped. ‘But not this time.’ He retracted the blade and aimed at Indavara’s head. ‘Say hello to the ferryman for-’
His whole body went still. The sword dropped between them. The bald man’s head snapped upward then shook. He lasted only a few more moments then fell forward over the lip, arms dangling.
Behind him, still holding the lantern, was a wide-eyed fellow with a head of curly black hair. He stared down at the slick, red blade of his dagger and gulped.
‘Thanks,’ said Indavara. He nabbed the old man’s sword then pulled himself up and sat on the lip of the basin, eyeing the interloper. Cassius watched him too and stayed well clear of the blade as he dropped down beside him.
‘Who are you?’
The stranger was still looking at the man he had killed. He had struck into the back of his heart; there was a tear in the tunic and a bloody smear.
‘I couldn’t let him do it,’ he said in Greek. ‘I have been weak, gone along with them for too long. I should never have got involved.’
‘Who are you?’ repeated Cassius.
‘My name is Kallikres.’
XXXIV
At Cassius’s insistence, Kallikres told his tale while they looked for a way out. Even so, a considerable amount of prompting was required to get the sergeant to admit why he’d finally been forced to cooperate with the gang. His main concern now seemed to be getting the boy out of the villa unharmed.
‘We will do what we can,’ said Cassius. ‘Now what are their names, this brother and sister?’
‘I don’t know. I was never told that. The only names I know are Skiron and Bathyllos. Gods, will we ever get back above ground?’
The way out of the settling basin had been via a staircase at one end of the chamber. They now found themselves in a low, narrow tunnel just below the street. Built into the roof was a series of circular iron gratings, but every one of the eight they had so far passed was bolted from above.
‘What if the work crew have warned them?’ said Kallikres as he marched along behind Cassius.
Cassius was trying not to consider that possibility. The thought of fumbling around in these accursed tunnels while the architects of the counterfeiting operation got clean away was maddening.
‘You’re sure nobody saw Cosmas?’ he asked.
‘Definitely.’
‘Then he got away. Which hopefully means he got help and apprehended the crew. We may still have time.’
Indavara ran forward to the next grating. He reached up and gave it a shove. Unlike the others, it moved. Cassius came up beside him with Kallikres’ lantern and saw that half of the iron bars had been crushed by a heavy impact from above. Indavara got both hands on it and pushed again. The grating flew up then clanged on to the street.
‘Thank the gods,’ said Kallikres.
All things considered, Cassius reckoned the sergeant would be wise to consider his own well-being rather than that of his lover. Having colluded with a criminal gang who had sought to exploit the image of the Emperor, he might face the harshest of sanctions.