Indavara shook his head. ‘Gladiator.’
‘Well then that explains it. Don’t think I ever killed me a gladiator.’ Carnifex threw his sword to the ground. ‘But I reckon I’ll do all right against a man with one arm. Ready for your last fight, boy?’
Indavara answered by darting forward and swinging his leg straight into Carnifex’s left knee. He caught it with his shin but the pain barely registered when he saw the old centurion grit his teeth to stop himself crying out. Indavara sidestepped to his right, away from the wall.
Carnifex turned towards him, snarling.
This time Indavara came at him from the left. Ducking under the centurion’s swinging right hook, he lashed out a kick and hit the knee with the reinforced front of his boot.
Carnifex’s leg almost buckled yet he straightened himself and raised his fists. But it was a show of strength. A show.
‘Slow, old man. Very slow.’
Carnifex was ready this time. He reached down to grab Indavara’s boot but the kick was a feint and he was struck only by a short punch that caught him on the nose. Not the hardest of blows, it nonetheless froze him for a moment and a moment was all Indavara needed. He shifted right and pounced, smashing another kick into the old centurion’s knee.
The thin layer of flesh over Indavara’s shin was ablaze but he knew he could take it; knew he could take more than Carnifex. He reckoned Carnifex hadn’t been hurt like that for a long time.
Indavara just kept on kicking. The centurion swung wildly at him — a glancing blow that did more damage to his hand than to Indavara’s jaw. Then Carnifex tried to lurch clear, but at the sixth blow his knee finally gave way. A final sweep from Indavara into his standing leg and he fell flat on his back.
Carnifex’s last attack was a desperate kick of his own, but Indavara stayed clear of the sharpened studs. There was little point striking the cuirass, so he stamped straight down into his groin. That ended any remaining resistance.
Indavara’s next swing of his boot hit Carnifex’s helmet so hard that he almost fell over. He drove his foot into that horrid pink face again and again, only stopping when there was no sound or movement from below. Then he looked down.
The helmet’s angular cheek guards had been pushed deep into Carnifex’s face, not that you could really call it a face now. The eyes had disappeared under riven flesh and pooling blood. Indavara spat into the mess.
Ship. Harbour. Walk.
He took three steps and pitched forwards on to the sand.
As Cassius reached the end of the breakwater, he saw a young Maseene on the other side of the causeway. The tribesman looked in his direction, then ran back under the arch towards the square. Somehow Cassius forgot all the weariness and pain as he sprinted along the side of the warehouses.
All three men were lying on the ground but only Indavara was moving. He opened his eyes as Cassius crouched down next to him.
‘By the great gods. Can you move?’
‘Left arm’s screwed.’
Cassius helped him to his knees. ‘We have to go. The Maseene. Can you walk?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my legs.’
Cassius didn’t think it wise to tell him what state his right shin was in. Once Indavara was on his feet, Cassius glanced over at Eborius. Even though he was lying face down in the sand, motionless, he wanted to go over to him.
Indavara shook his head. ‘He’s gone.’
There was no need to ask about Carnifex; the old centurion’s face resembled something from a butcher’s slab.
To Cassius’s astonishment, Indavara managed a kind of limping jog. He kept hold of him as they ran, blood leaking from the bodyguard’s head on to his arm. By the time they reached the breakwater, dozens of Maseene were coming across the causeway.
Indavara almost fell with his very first step on to the concrete. Throwing the sword aside, Cassius grabbed his belt and kept him upright. In doing so he knocked the dislocated arm, prompting Indavara to unleash a vicious stream of curses.
‘Sorry.’
Cassius looked back over his shoulder. The Maseene seemed to be racing each other to reach them first.
‘We need to hurry up.’
Indavara turned.
‘Don’t look back,’ advised Cassius.
Indavara ignored him. Seeing the Maseene, he somehow sped up.
The two of them stumbled and scrambled on as best they could until they were close to the Fortuna. As Simo came forward to meet them, Indavara caught his left foot and would have gone down if Cassius hadn’t grabbed a handful of tunic.
‘Indavara, you can do it. Almost there.’
Korinth and Desenna were waving them on and shouting encouragement.
‘Oh Lord,’ said Simo.
Cassius wasn’t sure if he was more concerned about Indavara or the pursuing tribesmen.
‘Watch his arm,’ he told the Gaul as they helped Indavara the last few yards. Once they reached the Fortuna, the bodyguard’s last surge of energy seemed to fade. His eyes rolled and his mouth dropped open; he looked about ready to pass out. Korinth and Desenna threw their lines aboard and leapt down on to the ship.
Cassius looked back. The closest warriors were a hundred feet away, bounding across the concrete with great leaps.
With Squint on the helm, Asdribar came to help as Cassius and Simo lowered Indavara on to the side-rail. Cassius held his right hand as long as he could, then let go. Simo kept hold of Indavara’s tunic but lost his balance and fell on to the deck. As Indavara collapsed into Asdribar’s arms, Korinth and Desenna were already pushing the ship away from the breakwater.
‘Get on, lad,’ yelled Squint.
‘Sir, look out!’ shouted Simo.
Cassius was about to jump but he turned and saw a javelin flashing through the air towards his face. He threw himself to the side, yelping as he landed on a sharp concrete edge.
He looked up to see a dozen Maseene coming at him. The Fortuna was already three yards clear of the breakwater; too far to jump from a standing start.
‘Master Cassius!’ cried Simo.
Cassius got to his feet and set off for the end of the breakwater, doing his best to emulate the long, loping strides of the tribesmen. He heard a javelin whoosh past his right ear and saw it hit the water. The oars were out on the port side of the Fortuna but hadn’t been lowered yet. He took a deep breath.
Cassius’s last step took him straight off the end of the breakwater. He doubted it was the most graceful dive of his life but he got his arms out in front of him and arrowed deep into the cold, choppy water. Without even waiting for his eyes to clear, he turned towards where the ship would be and kicked out hard. Broad strokes took him deeper. He saw the Fortuna’s hull sliding past and oars striking the water above him.
He put in a spurt then let himself rise, hoping not to catch a javelin or an oar in the head. As he surfaced about ten feet from the rudder housing, something splashed into the water behind him. He snatched another breath and dived under again. One of his boots came loose and fell away as he made for the ship. He stayed as low as he could until he was in front of the rudder housing, then came up again. The top edge of the housing was two feet above him and the timbers slimy and wet, but he reached up and held on.
‘… is he?’ came the shout from above.
Cassius’s first attempt to speak came out as a gurgle. He spat out salty water and tried again. ‘I’m here. Go!’
‘He’s there!’ cried Simo.
‘Oars in,’ ordered Asdribar. ‘Pull away.’
‘Hold on, sir!’ added Simo.
‘I intend to!’
Unable to see anything other than the hardwood an inch in front of his face, Cassius heard the oars hit the water behind him, then felt his legs being pulled towards the stern as the Fortuna picked up speed. All the strength seemed to have drained out of him once more and it was all he could do to retain his grip.