Acheron, the larger of Dis’ huge dark hounds, leapt from the shadow of the gate, his huge, slavering, serrated jaws closing around Tad’s wrist and snapping shut with an audible crunch.
Rufinus stared. The huge cannibal turned in surprise to see the dog hanging from his outstretched arm, the knife already falling away to the floor as the animal swung back and forth from the limb, blood spraying from a torn artery and fountaining up into the air.
Almost as if playing with a rag doll, Tad swung his damaged arm sharply, the dog coming away in another spray of blood and tattered skin, its large paws skittering across the hard, icy gravel before turning, hackles up and snarling as though on a hunt, facing the stag.
Both Rufinus and Tad stared in disbelief at the dog and the young spy turned back to his enormous adversary just in time to see Cerberus, the other huge hound, leap and close its jaws around Tad’s other wrist. Again the sound of snapping bones between those powerful jaws was audible in the freezing air.
What in the name of Fates and Gods was going on?
Clearly Tad was as baffled as he, turning to this new threat and shaking the second dog from his damaged arm. His right hand hung at an odd angle and waggled as he shook his arm. The spray from the ruptured artery in the other hand passed across Rufinus, washing his face with warm blood and making him close his eyes, suddenly oblivious to the pain he was suffering. He was numbed by the shock of his sudden salvation at the hands of two beasts that he’d been expecting to savage him every day for weeks.
Tad stood, arms still out by his sides, staring at the two hounds that growled and snarled, tensed and ready to leap again. Rufinus gaped.
‘Acheron! Cerberus! Down!’ The familiar shape of Dis, thin and grey, appeared through the gate. Rufinus’ heart skipped another beat. He genuinely had no idea what was going on and couldn’t decide whether the man’s sudden appearance was a good thing or a bad one.
‘Dis?’
The huge barbarian, lifeblood gushing from his shredded wrist, turned to his compatriot, his eyes wide with confusion.
‘I am afraid this is the end, Tad. Unfortunate that it had to happen so precipitously, but you forced it and now events are in motion.’
Still the big brute stared in confusion, a feeling shared by Rufinus as he slumped to his backside on the freezing gravel, leaning against the wall, the pain and effort suddenly too much, his knees buckling beneath him.
He watched as though in a dream as the hollow-eyed second in command, a man he had feared his greatest enemy for months, stepped forward, drawing a gladius from his side. Tad’s head was shaking. The confusion was too much for him, suppressing his understanding, belief, and ability to react.
As Dis stepped close to him, Tad’s brain suddenly began to race and he realised what was about to happen. Both his knives had gone, his hands useless, wrists shredded and broken. Desperately, he held up an arm to block the sword that began to descend toward him, slowly and inexorably, point first.
Rufinus watched in amazed horror as the blade slid into the man’s forearm, angled down at the last moment expertly so that it slid neatly between the bones in the arm. The point appeared through the other side and continued its deadly path, entering his right eye and sliding onwards with a nightmare bony rasp until it touched the inside of the back of Tad’s skull.
With what appeared to be a look of genuine regret, Dis turned and gave Rufinus a sad glance as his arm moved, twisting the blade a half turn left and then right, mincing the enormous man’s brain.
There was a sound that would stay with Rufinus for the rest of his life as Dis withdraw the sword with terrible slowness to avoid catching and nicking the blade. With a slopping noise, the point came free and the Sarmatian hovered upright for a moment before toppling backwards.
Rufinus stared into that gory hole of an eye for a moment before turning away. A man’s spirit leaving his body was a private thing – even a savage monster who would spend the rest of eternity wailing and screaming in the dead plains of Tarterus.
Bending, Dis grasped the dead brute’s tunic and used it to clean his blade before calmly sliding it back into its sheath and striding across to Rufinus.
‘You are a mess.’
Rufinus blinked in confusion. ‘You… Tad? What?’
Dis grasped him and helped him up. ‘We need to get you out of sight immediately. The next guard that passes that arch will see all of this and then you, my dangerous little friend, are well and truly screwed.’
Rufinus stared at the man. ‘But… what?’
‘Come on.’
Ignoring the burbled confusion from the wounded man, the hollow-eyed guard officer helped him carefully across the slippery gravel, careful not to cross the grass where they would leave tell-tale tracks. Rufinus was still spinning in confusion as they reached the door to Pompeianus’ apartments proper. Rapping quickly, Dis stepped back.
Rufinus’ head spun, wondering where the two huge dogs were. Acheron and Cerberus sat patiently beside the mound of flesh that was the Sarmatian cannibal at the far end of the garden.
The door opened and the servant opened his mouth to speak, his eyes widening in surprise at the state of Rufinus. Dis gave him a hard look and gently pushed the wounded young man into the door, addressing the servant.
‘Take him inside and get him cleaned up. And leave the door ajar; I shall be back in a moment.’
Rufinus shook his head in confusion. ‘Where are you going?’
‘To dispose of two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle and bone and throw a few buckets of water across the mess. Let the man clean you up, then we’ll talk.’
Rufinus allowed the smaller servant to draw him inside as he watched Dis vanish out through the doorway once again. His mind continued to reel.
‘Come, sir.’
The servant led him unprotesting through the corridors and rooms of the luxurious complex, up a flight of stairs and into a huge triclinium. ‘Triclinium’ hardly did the room justice, for this was no simple dining area, but a gold-and-black marble banqueting hall with a fabulous polychrome mosaic that stretched across the floor from wall to wall, full of representations of the great structures and earthshaking buildings of all the provinces of the empire. Partially illuminated by braziers that also provided adequate warmth, most of the light came from an enormous arch that overlooked that beautiful garden, itself subdivided into smaller arched windows, each twice the height of a man and filled with leaded, glass-paned windows.
The couches and low tables standing upon pelts and fleeces in the centre were lost in the enormous space. Rufinus almost forgot his aches and pains as his eyes drank in the splendour around him while the servant led him across to the seat and sat him down.
‘Please stay here, and I shall return with water and linen.’
Rufinus nodded, though as soon as the servant had left the room, he strode across to the huge window to look out, his breath taken once more. Not only did the titanic window overlook the garden but, due to the design of the complex and the height of the building opposite, the view took in the roofs of much of the villa, the enormous ‘pecile’ garden with its ornamental pond that rose above the slave quarters and, stretching off into the distance, the hills and fields of Latium, all the way to a distant smudge on the horizon that marked the great city of Rome.
He was still goggling a few moments later when the servant returned and called him over to the table. Seating himself carefully, Rufinus tried to relax, though this disturbing and unexpected turn of events denied such possibilities. The servant asked him where all the wounds were and Rufinus reported them almost mechanically, describing each one. Rufinus was surprised when the man produced a medical bag, filled with needles and eye-watering implements.
‘Please relax. I am not unskilled in the medical arts.’