‘Bugger it, they haven’t got the keys,’ Sabinus spat. ‘Look around, see if they’re hidden somewhere.’
A quick search in the guttering light of the single oil lamp proved futile.
‘Pass me that crowbar, Pallas; we’ll do this as quickly and quietly as possible.’
‘What if there’s a guard in there with her?’ Vespasian asked.
‘Fuck knows. Bring the lamp, Caligula.’ Sabinus snatched the crowbar from Pallas and headed off up the tunnel, intent on getting the thing over with as fast as possible.
The solid oak door had a thick bar across it to prevent people breaking out, not in. Sabinus slipped it out of its housings with minimal noise and eased the thin wedge of the crowbar into the crack between the door and its frame, next to the lock.
‘Right,’ he whispered, ‘Pallas and Cassandros, guard the tunnel entrance. Caligula, you hold the lamp up. Magnus and Vespasian, put your weight against the door and follow me through.’
‘What if it’s bolted on the inside and we can’t shift it?’ Vespasian asked. He was getting increasingly nervous about this ad hoc rescue attempt; concern for Caenis’ wellbeing gnawed at his belly. His brother looked at him with fire in his eyes,
‘It’s not, all right? It’s not. Now, on the count of three push as if the harpies themselves are after you.’
Magnus and Vespasian braced themselves against the door and Sabinus took a firm grip on the crowbar.
‘One, two, three.’ He wrenched back on the bar with all his weight as his companions launched themselves at the door; there was a loud crack and Vespasian and Magnus went tumbling into the darkness.
Vespasian landed on the cold stone floor, grazing his knees. He could hear a suppressed whimper, as if someone was trying not to scream, coming from somewhere in the dark. Sabinus came dashing in still holding the crowbar.
‘Quick, Caligula, get that lamp in here.’
Caligula did as he was told. The room was low and damp. There was another door in the wall opposite that led to the stairs up to the house. To his left Vespasian could see a small, shaking body covered completely by a blanket. He rushed over and stripped it away,
‘Caenis,’ he whispered, looking down at the trembling form buried in a small pile of straw on the floor; her face was covered by an arm. Vespasian gently touched her hair and the whimpering stopped.
She looked round; disbelief registered in her eyes. ‘You! What are you doing here?’
‘Antonia sent us to get you out. Come on, quick.’
‘Have you got the key?’
‘What key?’
‘For this.’ Caenis lifted her left arm; around the wrist was a manacle attached by a large chain to the wall.
‘Shit! Sabinus, look at this.’
‘Fuck!’
‘What do we do?’
‘Well, we’ll have to get the key, or lop her hand off.’
Caenis’ eyes widened in horror at the suggestion.
‘Very funny, Sabinus,’ Vespasian hissed.
‘I’m serious, how else can we get her out?’
‘There’s a guard at the top of the stairs, he keeps the key,’ Caenis whispered quickly.
‘We can’t break down that door to get him without alerting the whole house, and we need to hurry.’ Sabinus was getting impatient.
‘Then we’ll get him to come here,’ Vespasian whispered urgently. ‘Magnus, close the tunnel door. Caligula, put out the lamp.’
The room descended into complete darkness.
‘Caenis, I want you to start screaming and don’t stop until the guard opens the door. Let’s hope there’s only one of them.’
Caenis had no problems screaming. Soon there was a thump on the door.
‘Shut your noise, you little bitch,’ a gruff voice called from the other side. Caenis went on shrieking. There were a couple more bangs and then they heard the sound of a key being inserted into the lock; the door opened quickly and a man holding a torch burst into the room straight on to the point of Vespasian’s sword. Vespasian’s arm tensed as he drove the point up through the guard’s throat; he dropped gurgling to the floor, dead.
Vespasian snatched up the burning torch. ‘Sabinus, get the key.’
‘Got it!’ Sabinus ripped the key off a bloody string around the dead guard’s neck. He quickly undid the manacle’s lock and helped Caenis up.
More footsteps came clattering down the steps and into the cell burst a bull of a man. Long, oiled black hair fell to his shoulders. His much-battered, pock-marked face was the colour of oak and adorned with a close-clipped goatee beard.
Caenis screamed again. Magnus hurled himself at the door and rammed it into the brute’s face, throwing him back on to the stone steps behind, knocking him senseless.
‘Magnus, Caligula, lock the stair door and pile all the straw you can find against it,’ Vespasian hissed.
It was the work of moments.
‘Let’s go!’
No one needed a second invitation and they dashed through the tunnel door. Vespasian hurled the torch into the pile of straw and pelted after his comrades. They found Pallas and Cassandros waiting nervously. Shouts could be heard coming from the house.
‘They’re on to us. That was a bright idea of yours, little brother, all that screaming. Quick as you like, Caligula,’ Sabinus urged.
‘This way,’ Caligula said, heading off into the sodden night.
Vespasian took Caenis’ arm and followed. From behind him in the house he could hear the shouting intensify.
They stumbled through the moonless garden, crashing into trees and bushes that tore at their clothes and scratched their skins. The shouting was now outside; looking quickly over his shoulder in its direction Vespasian saw, in the distance, three or four torches coming around the side of the house.
‘They’re heading for the tunnel. Once they find the dead guards they’ll be after us,’ he panted as he held on to Caenis, trying to prevent her from tripping.
Caligula stopped abruptly. ‘Here’s the wall. The tree should be to the right, come on.’
The going was slightly easier now that they had the wall to follow, but it seemed to Vespasian that the shouting was growing nearer; he dared not look behind again for fear of tripping. Caenis was gasping for breath at his side as she struggled on, terrified for her life. The wind drove the rain into their faces making it almost impossible for them to keep their eyes open.
After a gut-wrenching length of time Caligula slowed. ‘Thank the gods, we’re here.’
The crossroads brother on the wall chucked the rope down.
‘The girl goes first,’ Sabinus hissed.
Caenis leapt at the rope and with surprising agility hauled herself up and over the wall. As Caligula took his turn Vespasian looked around; the torches were no more than a hundred paces away and closing fast. Pallas and Cassandros scaled quickly, followed by Magnus.
‘Hurry, hurry,’ Sabinus urged. With Magnus over he grabbed Vespasian. ‘Come on, get up there.’
Vespasian clambered up the rope and got to the top of the wall; he could see the torches, now just thirty paces away, and could make out in their orange halos nearly twenty figures. He reached down to help his brother up, hauling him on to the top of the wall and then pulling the rope up behind him as Sabinus jumped down.
‘There they are, get them,’ came a shout from the garden. Vespasian looked up; their pursuers were almost on them, light from their torches illuminating the tree. An instant before he jumped he locked eyes with their leader; he had only seen him once before, from a distance, but recognised him immediately. Sejanus, he thought as he hit the ground.
CHAPTER XIII
Vespasian picked himself up and sprinted down the alley in his brother’s wake. They found their companions waiting for them on the main street. Apart from them it was completely deserted; the increasingly atrocious weather was keeping even the Night Watch sheltering inside. Back down the alley they could see the torches appearing over the wall as the first Praetorians made it over.