Rubria and Dragus followed the riverbank downstream as fast as they could. Behind them the population fought to save their city from the flames and the two fugitives passed many human chains passing water from the Tiber to some nearby burning street. Occasionally they heard the metallic rhythm of running soldiers as squads ran to unknown tasks in the darkness. Dragus knew that it was only a matter of time before one or more of those squads were given the task of finding them.
‘Dragus, please, I can’t go on much further,’ pleaded Rubria.
‘We can’t afford to slow down, Rubria,’ said Dragus, ‘As soon as they find that Decurion they will send squads after us. We have to get out of the city.’
Rubria collapsed to the floor and her head hung low.
‘I can’t, Dragus,’ she said. ‘I have no more strength.’
Dragus looked down at her and for the first time realised how exhausted and bedraggled she looked. Her once white dress was torn and filthy. Her beautiful hair was bedraggled and she smelled of a mixture of sewage and smoke. He placed his hand under her chin and lifted her tear stained face up to look into her eyes. Once again he was transfixed by their piercing beauty and for a second, forgot where and who he was.
‘Dragus?’ she said eventually.
The Centurion blinked and snapped back to reality.
‘Sorry, Priestess,’ he mumbled. It was obvious she couldn’t go much further yet they had to get outside the city walls. If they could just do that they may have a slim chance. He looked around, searching for inspiration and spotted a fishing boat on the opposite bank. The river was in full flood due to heavy rain in the Apennine mountains two hundred miles upstream, and, though every Roman soldier learned to swim during their training, he knew there was no way he would get across the torrent.
‘Priestess, listen to me,’ he said, thinking furiously, ‘I want you to wait for me here. Sit back in the shadows and I will come for you as soon as possible. Do you think you can do that for me?’
She nodded weakly.
‘I’ve had enough, Dragus,’ she said, ‘Just let them come. I have nothing left.’
Dragus wiped the tears from her face on the sleeve of his tunic.
‘Almost there, Priestess,’ he said, ‘Do this one last thing for me and you will be able to rest as long you want, I promise. Don’t talk to anyone, I will be as quick as I can.’
‘I will wait until dawn, Dragus,’ she said. ‘If you are not there, I will hand myself in to the Praetorian.’
‘You won’t have to do that, Priestess,’ he said, ‘I will be back.’
Dragus watched her limp into a nearby doorway before making his way back upstream. He knew that half a mile away there was one of the ten bridges that crossed the Tiber and he ran as fast as he could through the crowds. Within ten minutes he had reached the bridge and joined a group of slaves fleeing the flames on the west bank. The whole thing went better than expected and he soon reached the boat he had seen on the opposite bank of the river. He undid the rope, and, after pushing the boat into the flow, rowed strongly into the fierce current. Within seconds the boat caught the flow and picked up speed as it sped downstream. He pulled fiercely on the oars, driving his craft across the river, using the strength of the current to help propel him towards the other side. Suddenly he stopped rowing as he spotted a squad of ten men searching the riverbank downstream.
‘Search everywhere,’ he heard someone shout, ‘They can’t have gone far.’
‘Shit,’ cursed Dragus and shipped his oars. He ducked down and peered over the edge as the boat span passed the soldiers in the gloom. He peered frantically downstream, desperate to spot Rubria. For a second he thought he had missed her but suddenly she appeared out of the gloom, sat back against a wall, cradling her revered package in her arms.
‘Priestess,’ he called, ‘Over here.’
She looked up and he picked up one oar to try and drive the boat closer.
‘Quick,’ he shouted, ‘The guards are close.’
He tried driving closer but the current was too strong. Rubria started to run alongside the boat but it stayed tantalizingly out of reach as Dragus fought the current.
‘It’s no good,’ cried Rubria, ‘I can’t reach you.’
The boat passed her by and Dragus stared at the fear in her eyes as he passed. He looked around frantically hoping for an answer. Suddenly he realised that the river bent to the right and the current would naturally drive the small boat into the bank, but that was a hundred metres away.
‘Keep running,’ he shouted, ‘I will wait for you down stream.’ Within seconds he saw the river bend and a few seconds later the boat bumped against the bank. He jumped out and searched for an anchorage point. The bank was empty except for a small frightened boy.
‘You,’ he shouted, ‘Come here, Now!’
The youngster walked forward nervously.
‘Hold this,’ ordered Dragus, giving him the rope, ‘I will be a few minutes and when I return, you will have the blessing of a Goddess. If you let go, you will be cursed and be haunted by Phasmas for the rest of your life. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir,’ gasped the boy in fear.
‘Good,’ said Dragus and ran up the riverbank. Immediately he could see Rubria stumbling towards him but in the distance he could see the squad of soldiers getting closer. He ran up to her and she fell into his arms, sobbing.
‘Come on,’ he said, looking over her shoulder, ‘A few more yards and we will be safe.’
Suddenly a voice called out from the squad.
‘There they are, further down the bank.’
‘Shit,’ said Dragus and started to run down the bank, half dragging Rubria with him. As fast as they went, the squad was three times as fast, hampered only by the weight of their armour. They turned the bend and Dragus was relieved to see the boat was still there. The boy’s eyes widened with fear when he saw the pursuing soldiers, and he dropped the rope before skulking away into the shadows.
Rubria stumbled and fell forward, hitting her head on the floor. Dragus stopped and scooped her up in his arms, sprinting as fast as he could before the boat drifted away.
‘The Statue,’ screamed Rubria as Dragus placed her in the boat.
Dragus looked back up the bank. He could just make out the red fabric that wrapped the statue fifty metres away where she had dropped it.
‘Please,’ begged Rubria, ‘Nero will destroy it.’
With no time to think, Dragus climbed back out onto the bank. He pushed the boat out into the slower flow of the river bend and ran back towards the approaching soldiers. Even though he was an experienced veteran of many battles, Dragus knew he could not better ten armed legionaries. It was all down to speed. He reached the wrapped Palladium, and picked it up before sprinting back downstream. The boat was moving faster now, and, as Dragus drew close, he threw the Palladium across the water to land in the craft with a satisfying thud. He stooped to grab the rope trailing across the bank but lost his footing and sprawled forward into the dirt. He jumped up, momentarily stunned and looked at the soldiers, only metres away. The boat was now out of reach and picking up speed. There was nothing else he could do, so, without wasting any more time he dived headlong into the river and swam strongly towards the boat.
The squad stopped in frustration, but, just as Dragus heaved himself over the edge of the boat, the Decurion in charge of the pursuing squad drew his Pugio from his belt and sent it spinning across the water.
Dragus caught his breath and grabbed an oar to help steer the boat, but, as he placed the oar into the water, he stopped suddenly, a look of shock and pain on his face.
‘Dragus, what’s the matter?’ asked Rubria, but then screamed in horror as the Centurion fell forward, the hilt of the knife sticking out of his back.
As the squad watched, the boat picked up speed and span out of control down the swollen river, disappearing into the darkness, faster than a man could run.