One of the soldiers in the yard saw the movement at my window and looked across at me. My companion drew back slightly further into the room, a mere half-step, but it alerted me. This man did not want to be seen. I waved casually to the soldier and turned back to the room behind me, resting my buttocks on the edge of the window and carefully looking at no one, although I had no reason for such caution, other than the vague stirring of a soldier's instinct. I heard a door open and close in the yard outside, then the measured, heavy tread of nailed boots on cobbles and the raised, unmistakable voice of a centurion. "Right, you people! Get these animals on their feet and unshackle them. Tribune wants them. Bring them along. Come on, get moving!" There was a shuffling and cursing and the sound of metal links being drawn through an iron ring. The man beside me turned and walked back to his original place, and as he did so, I watched the others in the room and saw four sets of eyes follow him, staring at his face. I might not have noticed his tiny nod of the head, had I not been looking for it. Behind me, the sound of hobnailed boots started up again. I didn't know what was happening here, but every instinct I had was screaming at me that there was trouble brewing.
A new sound caught my attention, coming from the main hallway outside the room we were in: more booted feet, approaching rapidly. I turned and glanced over my shoulder again, out into the yard. A smartly turned-out centurion appeared to be marching directly towards my window, followed at a distance by the six guards, who flanked the four prisoners. Presumably they were headed for the door through which the centurion had entered the yard. Hearing a stirring in the room behind me, I turned back. Three officers, the leading one a giant who stretched a full head taller than his companions, were framed in the doorway of the anteroom, gazing blank-faced with surprise at the horde of people awaiting them.
"What in...?" The tall officer's voice unleashed a babel of voices from the room's previously silent occupants, and then they all moved towards him in a surging mass. The two merchants started it, standing up and moving quickly towards the door, but in less than a moment everyone in the room was afoot, and the noise was indescribable as each tried to capture the attention of the tall officer.
The melee that followed developed almost faster than I can describe. I saw the big, evil-smelling, cross-eyed lout pushing his way towards the big officer, and in the same glance I realized the officer was Picus. On an impulse, and asking myself even as I did so if I had lost my mind, I turned and jumped up onto the long bench that had been packed with bodies only moments before, my eyes searching urgently for the other four men I had identified as being part of the cross-eyed man's party. Another of them was very close to Picus, on his other side.
"Picus!" I roared above the din. "Assassins — behind you!"
He heard me and his reaction was immediate. He threw himself forward, stiffening his arms and thrusting his two companions ahead of him, but even as they staggered forward, he was twisting and drawing his blade. I had a brief impression of a swiping knife blade sweeping up and across where his neck should have been, and then I became fully conscious of the danger I myself was in. Three of the four men I had noticed earlier were pushing through the crowd towards me, their eyes hungry for me as they scattered the bodies of those unfortunate enough to be in their way. People were shouting now, alarmed, unable to comprehend what was going on, but knowing that they were in mortal danger.
I looked around me, quickly, weighing the odds in my favour. There were none. The guards in the outer vestibule were stuck there, unable to enter the room because of the mass of panic-stricken people jamming the doorway. The guards against the double doors leading into the audience chamber were pinned there, too, unable to move forward against the press of bodies. Only Picus seemed mobile and armed. I saw no sign of his attackers.
The killer closest to me lunged at me with a gladium, and I cursed myself for having no sword of my own. His blade came close to catching me as I sucked in my belly and stabbed at his face with my skystone knife — it was all I had time for, and I had no memory of drawing the knife from its sheath. The point went deep into his right eye and he screamed and threw his hands over his face, falling to his knees.
As the first man fell, one of his companions, pushing close behind him, became entangled in the legs of another fallen man, who had been shoved to the floor and was now scrabbling to escape. This second assassin fell, too, cursing loudly and stabbing viciously at the unfortunate fellow who had tripped him. I raised my good leg to the top of the back of the bench I was on, pushed myself up to teeter there for a moment, and then launched myself at the third and last of my assailants. I saw his sword arm sweep up to chop at me, but I was on top of him before he had a chance to swing, and we crashed down together onto a pile of writhing, squirming bodies. In the chaos of the struggle, I lost him completely. Then I heard someone yelling, "Out, out, away!" and when I managed to sit up I saw three of the original five men, including the one I had just leaped on, making their way hurriedly to the open window. I followed them as quickly as I could, vaulting through the window into the yard, landing on my bad leg and sprawling immediately and painfully on the cobblestones.
Before I could even begin to collect myself, I was flat on my back, with the centurion's sword at my throat. The door he had been about to enter was less than three paces from my window. I had a glimpse of the four prisoners being dragged backwards by their guards, realized how quickly events had transpired, and then I had to give all of my attention to the centurion, who was preparing to kill me.
"Not me! Those others," I roared. "The three ahead of me! They're after your judge, the Regent's deputy! Call out the guard!"
He was a quick thinker. His eyes went quickly to the open window above my head and took in the chaos of noise and movement.
"Shit!" he hissed, dragging me bodily, sideways, towards the door in the wall and releasing me immediately. "Who are they?"
"Don't know, I only caught on by accident. But it's not over."
The evil-smelling lout landed beside me as I said the words. He must have seen me jump and it had taken him this long to cross the crowded room and follow me through the window. His long cloak was gone and he held an axe in one hand and a sword in the other, but that was his undoing. He swung the axe high and took the full force of the centurion's lunging sword at the point of his rib-cage. He staggered backwards with a roar as the blade failed to penetrate the mail shirt he wore under his tunic. I spun sideways on my hip and fought to regain my feet, seeing a guard running full tilt towards our attacker then jerking and spinning and falling with an arrow through his neck. I had seen the flashing flight of the missile and I turned to see who had fired, on my feet at last. Two bowmen, in the entrance to the yard, one of them firing at me even as I looked. I threw myself aside and the arrow zipped past me and struck the centurion on the inside point of the left elbow, jerking him violently around and throwing him to the ground. I heard screams coming from the window above me, and then they were drowned out by a roaring, iron clatter as a four-wheeled wagon, drawn by a team of horses, came swerving into the cobbled yard through the now-open gateway, knocking one of the two bowmen flying before the driver regained control of the vehicle's swing and came charging towards me. I turned and ran to the door in the wall, hauling it open. The men guarding the prisoners still held them, their eyes popping from their heads with indecision.