It was unpleasant and, had Glaucus not been one of the friendliest men Rufinus had met in years, he would probably have killed the man by now. Fortunately, tonight the young guardsman was weary enough that he’d be able to sleep through anything.
Padding up the stairs, he slipped in through the doorway and entered the dimly-lit room. Like all chambers in the barracks, the one the three men shared was set up for four occupants with two double bunks. Glaucus had graciously agreed to occupy one of the top bunks on the general scientific belief that his warm, odorous emissions would rise and occupy the rafters and that his companions would be saved the worst of it, sleeping below the rising cloud. The theory may be sound, but the result was hardly noticeable. Fastus, apparently a light sleeper all his life, claimed the other lower bunk with the unoccupied upper, leaving Rufinus sleeping below the gurgling, trumpeting Glaucus.
An oil lamp guttered, the flame in its dying moments. Clearly it had been lit some time ago and left burning. Why, Rufinus had no idea, given that Glaucus was fast asleep, issuing his usual nightly stream of awfulness, and Fastus was absent, though his blankets were ruffled. The man must recently have gone out on his night shift.
Trying to ignore the unpleasant noises and smells, Rufinus trod over to his bunk and, with a glance at the pasty white buttocks protruding from the blanket four feet above, sank into his bed with relief. The day had started dull but ended with far too much excitement for Rufinus’ liking.
Sleep came instantly and overwhelmingly.
Rufinus awoke with a slight snort, but his reflexes, honed by his years of military service, told him to stay quiet and still. He couldn’t quite figure what had woken him. A noise? A smell, or a rush of air? Possibly even just that uncomfortable prickle that occurs on the spine when a man knows he is being observed.
Apart from that one, brief, involuntary snort, Rufinus lay absolutely still, carefully measuring his breathing to maintain the impression that he was fast asleep. A low, wet sounding rush of foul air seeped into the atmosphere a few feet above his head.
With careful attention to detail, Rufinus made a sleepy groaning noise and rolled over, his arm flopping limply over the side of the cot, granting him just enough access to look over his arm towards the door. Keeping his eye to a narrow slit, he peered at the entrance.
It was now deep in the night. The lamp in the room had burned out long ago. The room was pitch black but, as was always the case, the courtyard area outside was lit with guttering torches to aid men in their journey up and down the stairs for night duties or latrine trips.
Most of the guard chambers were closed off with doors to keep out any chill and provide privacy for the occupants. The three men’s door remained open to provide the necessary fresh air for humans to survive a night with Glaucus, the portal wedged open with a brick.
A black shape filled the lower part of the doorway.
Rufinus’ heart began to beat extraordinarily fast.
One of those damn hounds of Hades was sitting upright and alert in the doorway. Acheron or Cerberus? It was near impossible to tell the difference between the animals together in broad daylight. At night, as a simple silhouette? Somehow he knew it was Acheron, though. The bastard hound had been the one who threatened him earlier on at the slave quarters. He’d be willing to bet an arm that this was the same dog.
Rufinus’ eye rolled upwards in the gloom and he opened the slit between his eyelids slightly wider to peer into the dark interior of the room, still keeping his head absolutely still. It took a moment to focus. Fastus’ cot remained empty and rumpled as it had when Rufinus had returned, what… hours ago?
He suddenly became aware with a thrill of fear that the dog had begun to growl; a low rumble, protracted and wicked, issuing from deep in its chest. It was a sound of pure malice. Rufinus swallowed as quietly as he could. Somehow, the animal knew he was awake, though how, he couldn’t say.
Aware that the sleeping guise he had maintained was now useless, he shuffled until he was propped up on his elbows. Had the dog taken a personal dislike to him for some unknown reason, or was Dis somehow setting his beasts to watch the new man. Clearly it wasn’t Fastus they were interested in, unless perhaps Acheron was here while Cerberus was busy watching Fastus somewhere?
Rufinus rolled his eyes as he remembered that the other new man would be on duty, patrolling the grounds in the dark – an unenviable task. And to do that job while being stalked by Dis’ awful dogs… Rufinus shivered.
‘Go on. Scat!’ he hissed at the door, aware that he was starting to sweat with fear. He could stand against any man fist to fist and would face any foe of woman born with a sword and shield. But unarmed and facing these two hounds, he was pretty sure he would come off very badly indeed. No amount of legionary training or boxing practice taught a man how to fight off a savage, killer dog.
Acheron moved not a muscle, the growl rising in pitch and volume as the menacing shadow watched him. Rufinus, his wits returning to him rapidly, was suddenly acutely aware that he was fully dressed in soggy clothes, his boots still on. He had collapsed with exhaustion and slept before even undressing. His eye strayed to the sword in its scabbard, still attached to his belt and discarded upon arrival at the room, a couple of feet from the cot.
His fingertips would just about reach the pommel. He doubted very much that he could grasp it, close his hand around the hilt, pull it back and draw the blade from the sheath before the dog had his elbow in its cruel jaws and was shaking him back and forth like a child’s rag toy.
His fingertips reached out slowly, inching their way to the cold bronze of the pommel as the dog’s growl continued, white drool dripping to the floor.
And suddenly, as if it had been summoned silently, the beast rose from its haunches and turned from Rufinus, padding away along the balcony.
His heart still pounding and his nerves twanging, mind alert and body poised despite the exhaustion that still weighed upon him, Rufinus scrambled and grasped the sword, drawing it from the sheath and allowing the leather and belt to fall beneath the bed as he brought the plain soldier’s blade beneath the blankets with him, cold steel touching his bare leg and making him recoil.
Settling, he kept the sword in the bed and in his hand as his eyes continued to stare at the open doorway. He fancied that he could hear big paws padding down the wooden staircase, but after a while he decided that it was simply the endless patter of the rain he could hear.
Sleep entirely failed to come.
For more than an hour, Rufinus lay in the darkness, unable to think of anything but Dis and his damn dogs, unable to do anything but watch the doorway intently while lying motionless in the bed, hand on the hilt of his sword.
He heard a distant clang, very quiet and largely muffled by the waning rain and recognised in it the signal from the slave quarters to rouse the household’s multitude of workers to the coming day. It must be very late then, two hours from dawn at most. He’d slept in his wet clothes longer than he’d imagined.
He was just beginning to wonder whether it was worth even trying to sleep any more, or whether he should simply get up, change his clothes and head out for an early bath and bite of food when he heard the quiet clatter of boots on the flags of the courtyard. The rain had temporarily receded to a light drizzle, allowing sounds to carry better, and Rufinus frowned. Someone was trying not to disturb the sleeping guards, walking in their military, hob-nailed boots, but with as light a step as they could.