The little Armenian still had one more show to do before she could take off, so Casca just kind of sat there and laid back, letting his mind and senses absorb the sounds and color. Jerusalem wasn't the best liberty town in the Empire, but it did have a lot of different types come through it, and that was entertaining if you were a people watcher. Right now he was getting off on watching Rheza doing her number on a tourist. The dummy really believed that he was turning her on because she smiled at him while dancing.
It never changes… but tonight's my night. While old Sarge protects the honor of Rome, I'll be doing my number for Astarte.
He had had just enough wine to mellow him and make the night seem warmer than it was as he and Rheza made their way through the narrow, winding streets. A beggar called to them: "Alms. Alms, noble Roman. Alms for the lame." He showed an incredibly filthy leg twisted under him, obviously a terrible deformity, and Casca ignored him completely.
As Casca and Rheza passed out of earshot, the lame man stood, spit at the back of the noble Roman, and nimbly moved on to a more likely place.
As they walked, Rheza's breast formed a sweet, warm spot against Casca's side. He put his arm around her and pulled her close, taking advantage of a doorway to get in a little preliminary loving.
Rheza jerked her body against him and sank tiny white teeth into his lower lip and slipped out of his encircling arms. Teasing, she ran away from Casca, not fast enough to lose him, just fast enough to get him aroused. "Little she-devil," he gurgled through a leering grin and took off after her.
They played their game until she ran into the doorway of the building where she lived. The old man watching the doorway for the tenants while they were out gave a knowing smile at seeing the Roman soldier follow the dancing girl up to the second floor where her room was. The smile was toothless, but the old man leaned back against the wall to dream of long lost youth, long gone but not forgotten. Women, he sighed in his mind…They are the only thing really worthwhile.
Entering Rheza's room, Casca closed the door behind him and took from his pouch his flint and iron striker. He struck off on a piece of flint and lit the oil lamp in the room. The light of the single flame cast a soft red glow over the place. Casca caught his breath as Rheza slipped out of her clothing and let it fall to the floor. She was well aware of the power she had in her body. Casca removed his tunic, still watching her, comparing her to Salome. She didn't come out too bad.
He reached out for her.
This time she didn't run away, but melted into him, letting her body mold itself to him. Casca reached behind her and took one firm cheek of that lovely ass and began to squeeze… while she tried to strangle him with her tongue.
Then "What the hell is this, you slut?"
Where the caved-in door had been, Sporus" s bearlike frame stood, his face livid with rage.
"Casca, you son of a bitch, I am going to rip your arms off and beat you to death with the bloody stumps. But first I am going to carve you up a little." Sporus pulled out his hideout knife, a slick poniard-type blade, one meant for stabbing, not slicing.
Casca stood there in shock.
"Hey, wait a minute, Sarge. You don't want to cut me. Hell, there's nothing serious going on here. We're just friends. And you're supposed to be on duty."
"Friends, my ass, you sneaky traitor. I got off early when I had to escort a prisoner to the stockade. The night officer said I could take off-and now I find you two taking it off. Well, right now, young soldier, you are going to pay for messing with my woman-and then I am going to slice her ears off so she won't ever listen to anyone else's bullshit."
Sporus lunged, making a low upward slice to the belly.
Casca stumbled back, his feet caught in Rheza's clothing, and fell, Sporus on him like an enraged beast. Almost without realizing it until the pain hit, Casca knew he had been stabbed. The blade was sunk to the hilt in his stomach, and the pain was like fire.
Sporus let loose of the blade and stepped back.
Both of them knew it was a death blow.
Looking down at the handle of the knife protruding from his abdomen, Casca at first felt a sensation akin to embarrassment… then a rage came over him.
"Kill me, will you?" he screamed. He reached down with his right hand and pulled the blade from his gut, crying out in pain and rage.
Sporus stood there, stunned by what was happening, and then started to back out the door.
Casca leaped on him, and sank the blade into Sporus's throat, opening the esophagus. Sporus fell down to his knees, his hands around his throat as if he were trying to close the wound and keep from drowning in his blood, but his lungs filled with the red arterial blood from his carotid artery, and, eyes not really understanding, he slipped into darkness, the rattling sound of his death breath beating on his ears as he died.
And Casca fell down beside Sporus. He knew he was bleeding inside, that the blade had severed the great artery that runs along the spine behind the stomach. He was a dead man, and he knew it.
Lying there on the dark floor he felt the weakness coming over him. His mind said, I am going to die. But… a cold shiver of fear… and something else… raced through his veins. He heard a voice, the voice of the Jew:
So you shall remain until we meet again…
SEVEN
Rheza gave one short squeaking scream and sat down in a corner of the room, her hands over her mouth, in semishock.
Sporus lay dead, looking as though someone had given him another mouth.
Casca lay moaning and mumbling to himself, his hands over his gut as if trying to squeeze the pain out of his stomach.
Rheza's eyes clicked up in panic as a shadow entered her doorway, then another.
Verianus and the Syrian stood in the room.
In silence Verianus checked Sporus to see if there was anything he could do, but when he got a good look at the slit throat he turned to Casca, rolled him over, and pulled Casca's hands away from his stomach.
"You dumb shit. I told you to leave that slut alone. You knew how crazy old Sporus was for her. I tried. When Kleton here told me that Sporus had come back to barracks and changed into civvies, we got here as fast as we could. But too damn late. By Moloch, you're a greater ass than I would have believed. Did you have to kill him? Move your damn hands away. How can I see if you keep getting in the way?"
Casca gurgled something unintelligible about a crucifixion.
"Casca, old boy, I can't tell too much, but if the wound's not too deep, you'll be all right. If it is deep, you're a dead man. Which might be the best thing for you anyway. The CO's going to hit the roof when he hears about this. Kleton, go and get the vigiles and let's get this over with. Casca, you clot, if you live, the old man's going to burn your ass. You know he's been bucking for a promotion, and crap like this does not look good on his record. Goddammit, man, why did you have to kill him? I know you're a better fighter than that."
Casca burbled something like "… till we meet again…"
"What the hell is that you're mumbling? I'm not going anywhere. But if you live to be court-martialed, you will be."
The vigiles arrived, and, as most policemen would in such circumstances, the first thing they did was to search the girl. It should not have taken as long as it did, seeing that she was already naked when they started, but Rome demanded that its military police be efficient. The repeated handling brought Rheza back to her senses, and she began to enjoy herself a little. The senior MP pinched her on the butt and whispered in her ear, "Later?" Rheza nodded and rubbed her ripe tits along his arm. After all, a girl needed a protector. Sporus was dead, and Casca was going to go to jail-or die — either way he was out of the picture. Besides, a Roman policeman could be very handy to have around when some customer felt he had not received his proper change…