Vespasian was surprised to see Magnus so agitated. ‘From what?’
‘I’m not sure exactly. A couple of hours ago we finally managed to get hold of one of the slippery bastards who’ve been watching Sabinus’ house and we took him back to the tavern for that chat we talked about.’
‘Did he talk?’
‘No, not a word, no matter what we did to him; I was really impressed.’
‘So we don’t even know where they come from?’
‘No, we don’t; but we do know one thing: he must have been a fanatic to endure what he did in silence.’
‘Either that or he’s more scared of whatever it is he’s protecting than of your knives and hot irons.’
‘Yeah, well, either way, they’re not just some hired thugs who’ve been paid to keep an eye on you; they evidently want something that’s in the house, so we need to get Clementina out.’
Sabinus increased his pace, forcing passers-by to dart out of his way. ‘What makes you think that it’s her they’re after?’
‘Nothing for sure; but the fact is that they’ve been watching just your house for a few days now, which would mean that whatever interests them is in there. I would guess that once they notice the disappearance of their mate this morning they’ll be prompted into some immediate action.’
A steady, thin drizzle from a heavy sky moistened the raised pavement as Vespasian, Magnus and Sabinus hurried up the Aventine Hill. A hundred paces to their left the massive hulk of the Circus Maximus towered above them, grey in the damp morning light. To their right the Appian Aqueduct carved its way across the hill to its final destination at its foot; turning towards it and passing under one of its diminishing arches, they skirted around the Temple of Diana and entered Sabinus’ street, which ran the last couple of hundred paces gently to the summit.
Having been destroyed by fire a dozen years before, most of the residences on the Aventine had been rebuilt and, on a normal day, the area had an elegant feel about it, unusual in the residential quarters of Rome, most of which had grown shabby through age. But this did not seem like a normal day as they drew in sight of Sabinus’ house. It was not the oppressive greyness of the weather or the dampness of the paving underfoot and the plastered brick to each side; nor was it the continual dripping from overhanging vegetation splashing into puddles below or down the necks of passers-by. It was not even the cold that had suddenly descended with unseasonal harshness as they approached their destination.
It was the emptiness and consequent quiet.
No other person moved in the street; no stray dog or darting cat crossed their path, nor were there any signs of birds flitting across the dull sky or sheltering from the rain in trees or on windowsills or in other nooks. It was as if a plague had carried off every living creature and the fear of its return had dissuaded others from taking their place.
Neither Vespasian nor his companions spoke as they approached the substantial façade of Sabinus’ house, painted ochre with dull, deep red outlines to the door and the few windows. They stopped at the foot of the steps and looked up at the door; it was intact and there was no sign of a forced entry, nor was there any sound of violence coming from within.
Vespasian glanced up and down the street. ‘Well, either they’ve stopped watching your house or they’ve got what they came for and have disappeared.’
‘Either way, Marius or Sextus, or both of them, should be around,’ Magnus said, clenching his thumb in his fingers and then spitting. ‘This ain’t natural, this quiet at the second hour of the day. Where is everyone?’
Sabinus took some tentative steps towards the door. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’ He knocked quietly on the wood and received no response; a slightly louder attempt also passed without notice from within. With a shrug he turned the handle and the door swung open, unbarred on the inside.
Vespasian’s innards turned and he and Magnus shared an uneasy look as Sabinus stepped into his house before following him in.
And then he felt it: it was the same cold sensation as the touch of the Lost Dead and yet he knew that they could not possibly be so far from the damp island that they infested; those spirits could not cross water. And then he remembered the cold malice of their masters and his stomach lurched.
Sabinus sensed it too. ‘There’s something in here,’ he whispered, stepping carefully through the vestibule. ‘There’s a dread reminiscent of the Vale of Sullis.’
Magnus sniffed the air as they entered the atrium. ‘Something’s burning and it don’t smell like it’s just the hearth-’ He stopped mid-sentence as they all three simultaneously drew breath and swallowed fast-rising bile. ‘Now that ain’t natural.’
To the left of the impluvium lay a bloodied mess, steaming faintly in the cold atmosphere of the chamber. Even at a distance of twenty paces it was only just recognisable as human. Its surface glistened with fluids; here and there a twitch or a muscle contraction showed faint evidence of life. Reacting to the sound of the three men entering the room, the ghastly vision lifted its head, its lidless eyes making unfocused contact.
‘Magnus,’ it croaked in an undertone, ‘finish it.’ It lifted its left arm; there was no hand attached and the stump was old.
‘Marius?’ Magnus ran over to the bloodied wreck. ‘What happened?’
Vespasian and Sabinus joined Magnus staring down in horror at Marius in his agony; the skin had been stripped from his head and limbs as if a Titan had sucked each in turn, scraping them with razor-teeth to remove the hide. His torso had received less damage but flayed strips of flesh hung from it in a surprisingly regular pattern as if it had been slashed by a mighty claw.
Marius’ eyes rolled in their sockets and blood and mucus seeped from the hole where his nose had been. ‘Don’t … know. Torn apart.’
Magnus knelt down. ‘Who by?’
‘I saw … nothing.’
‘Where’s Sextus?’
‘Gone. Finish me.’
Magnus pulled his knife from its sheath, placed the point under Marius’ ribcage and placed a hand around his raw shoulders. ‘You’ll be remembered, brother.’ The two men tensed and then with a brutal thrust the iron sliced through the exposed flesh and on up into his racing heart.
An agonised grimace set across Marius’ peeled lips. ‘Brother,’ he whispered with the last breath that left his lungs. His lidless eyes fixed and his body slumped; Magnus removed his arm and laid his crossroads brother down as a scream that curdled blood rang out and reverberated around the marble walls.
‘Clementina!’ Sabinus cried, spinning round and looking in the direction of the noise.
‘The garden!’ Vespasian shouted. ‘Have you any weapons handy?’
Sabinus nodded and ran to a closed door; a few moments later he emerged with a sword and a long knife that he threw to Vespasian. ‘That’s the best I can do.’
Vespasian caught the hilt in the air and, along with Magnus, rushed after his brother into the tablinum at the far end of the atrium and then on into the courtyard garden. They stopped, aghast at the sight that awaited them at the far end of the garden, forty paces away.
Their long hair and beards were matted and their ankle-length robes were smeared with filth; their dark eyes fixed on Vespasian and his companions. All five druids stretched out an arm towards them.
‘Juno’s fat arse!’ Magnus exclaimed. ‘What the fuck are they doing here?’
Vespasian stared in fearful disbelief at the Britannic priests, his heart chilling by the moment. Two held Clementina by the wrists, rigid with terror, and another two had Alienus, who shook and sobbed; his body was filthy and his hair and beard more disgusting than those of his captors. The lead druid stepped forward and Vespasian felt a jolt of recognition, and yet it could not be for the man was patently younger than when he had last seen him.
‘Myrddin?’
The druid stopped and smiled without mirth. ‘No, not yet. I have been Myrddin in a previous life and I will be him again when my time comes; until then I serve the living Myrddin and he demands the life of the treacherous Alienus and the sacrifice of two brothers. Myrddin always gets what he demands. Heylel himself, the Son of the Morning, is present to witness this triumph over the fiends who unchained his captive Sullis and the death of the man who was destined to let the canker that will destroy the old, true ways grow in Rome’s belly. And here you are, Vespasian, come of your own free will.’