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"It'll be a trap" Axil had said earlier. "They know we're
coming, and as soon as we show ourselves, they'll suddenly appear behind us."
By the time all the attackers had converged on their bellies at the burnt
out fire, Axil was fuming. He stood up. Carefully they all stood up, turning the
while expectantly. Axil remembered a trick from the arena and started stabbing
at tufts of grass. They all started stabbing the ground, just in case anyone was
hiding under the turf.
Even the slowest witted of them started to think the same thing. There was
almost a sigh of relief when Axil finally said for all of them.
"They've gone. The bastards have run away."
"How could they get past us?" asked Sticklit. His weighted net was
ready.
"Is anyone missing?" asked Axil.
Neighbour checked neighbour.
"No, we're all here."
"So they didn't get past us."
"They're probably watching us from the hill and laughing" said
someone from the back.
They looked up. The clouds of flies seemed thicker today.
"No, I don't think so" said Axil. "Why would they go back to
that. Surely it would be preferable for them to stay here and fight."
Some of the men at the fringes of the attacking circle were still cautiously
stabbing at the grass.
"I think I see something" one of them called out.
Axil ran over.
A swathe of recently cut grass was lying next to the path. Another few paces
on, the same again. He looked closely at the the stalks that were left. They had
been clean cut, almost in a straight edge, by a very sharp blade. There was a
pattern, he could see to this. The first cut was on the left of the path. The
next, after ten paces was on the right. Then on the left again. It went on for
ten changes in total. Then it was on both sides, and the trail stopped by a
tree. Along the bark of the tree was inscribed the shape of two parallel swords
pointing in the direction of the trail.
"I think Spartak is trying to tell us he went this way" said Axil
quietly unslinging his main battle axe. "I'm really angry now."
The men closest to him stood back as he swung at the tree. With three heavy
strokes, the tree was cut down from below the line of the mocking swords.
"We don't want anyone seeing what fools he's made of us" he said
as if in explanation. "When we catch up him I want to kill him myself. Is
that clear?"
That was a bad time for the horseman to arrive behind them.
The rider almost fell off and ran up to Axil.
"Father" he called. He looked around, and saw the number of
living. "Thank goodness you haven't caught up with Spartak ." He ran
to his father's embrace. But Axil in a red rage just smashed his head with the
back of his hand. Axilka dropped, stunned.
"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at home. "
Axilka was surprised but not badly hurt. "You mustn't kill Spartak. He
was right all along."
Axil walked past the boy, as if he hadn't heard, and studied the saddle and
the brand. "This horse isn't from that stupid storekeeper.Where did you
steal it?"
Axilka wasn't expecting this question, but he tried to answer truthfully. "It
was a messenger."
"This is a storekeepers saddle, but it's not one of those plodding
horses... " He checked the shoes. "This is an army horse. You've
really done it now."
Axilka has got to his feet. Axil smashed his head again with the back of his
hand.
"But your still haven't answered my question. What are you"
he pointed to the boy "doing here"
"They had the games. There was a contest."
He rose to his feet again.
Axil walked around him. Then hit him again, this time with the palm of his
hand.
"You are the biggest liar I have ever know. And this is not a good time
to be upsetting me boy. How can there be games? Look around you boy. What do you
see?"
Most of the men knew about Axilka's lies and tricks. Some of them had been
on the wrong side of his practical jokes themselves. They wouldn't lay a finger
on the boy themselves, but most of them thought, at last he's getting what's
been long coming.
"The governor" said Axilka rising slowly "said there must be
games."
The men smiled. the boy usually had a better story than this. He was asking
for it. There couldn't be any games while they here. There were no gladiators
left at the arena.
"And where were you when these games were going on? "
"I was drunk. I was in the stores drinking brandy."
"Was that before or after you started stealing horses?"
"After. No. Before."
Another slap across his face, and his face was hot and flushed. He was
confused. This was not what he expected. His ears were ringing and he couldn't
make out the next question. Even if he'd seen the next blow coming he wouldn't
have been fast enogh to duck. He was panting on the ground.
"... and I'll ask you again, why aren't you at home with your mother?"
"She's dead. She's here."
"Axilka, don't give me that "everyone's dead" routine again.
It worked once, when you were much younger. This is not the time or place."
He grabbed Axilka by the back of his jacket and hauled him back to his feet.
"You'd better start thinking about some better stories."
"But it's true, there were games. Everyone's dead. The Etruscan
ambassador."
Axil paused. "That's a new one. The Etruscan ambassador." Axil
smiled. Axilka thought at last he was starting to be believed. So he didn't
expect the next blow. "But not good enough." Axilka crumpled, and
started retching.
"You must believe me."
Axil turned his attention back to the horse. He ran the soft leather bridle
through his fungers.
"And this horse. It was gift was it? It was your birthday." He
made a mock show of counting on his fingers. "But it was your birthday,
what two months ago. No don't tell me. It must have been a late birthday
present."
Most of the men smiled at this. They'd had a difficult day. This was light
relief after worring about getting killed. And that boy, had it coming to him.
He must be not quite right in the head though to keep trying these same old
tricks at his age.
"I stole the horse. I had to kill the rider. It was an army messenger.
I had to stab him in the back."
"I know you stole the horse" said Axil. Killing an army despatch
rider does not make it any better. Stabbing him the back, is good if you have to
kill someone. But what are you doing killing people and stealing horses and
wasting my time here, when we've got work to do?"
"You have to find Spartak."
"Don't tell me my job boy. We found him this morning. We had a nice
pleasant little breakfast, and then we arranged to meet him here. But before we
go after him and kill him, I'm going to ask you one last time. What are you
doing here?"
"I was drunk. The governor wanted an entertainment for the Etruscans.
They came to see about the uprising. The governor was embarrassed. They rounded
everyone up. Everyone..." he looked around. Not a single person believed
him. They were losing patience with this game.
"The truth boy. Tell your dad the truth before he really hurts you."
Axilka started to stagger towards his horse. His father blocked the way. He
tried to walk around. His legs were kicked away from under him.
"You don't walk past me boy. Nobody walks past me."
Axilka crawled around to the back of the horse and tried to stand up.
"Please believe me" he said. "I don't want to show you, but I
brought proof."
Once before, Axilka had told a story about his sister having an accident.
He'd torn off part of an old dress and dipped it in pig's blood. His mother had
been frantic with worry. But his father had sniffed the blood, then licked it. "You
think I don't know the difference between a girl's blood and pig's blood? What
do you think I do in the arena boy? Sell flowers?" But his father had
laughed at the time. "You bring me the rest of that pig boy, roasted, and
we'll say no more about it."
Axilka had been younger then. He should know better by now. His father was
beyond rage. He was angry at being tricked by Spartak. He was angry at this
delay. He was angry that his son was trying to make a fool of him at a very bad
time. Axilka was groaning. The boy must be mad if he believed he was going to
fall for this one. Stealing the horse was bad enough, but they could blame that
on Spartak. What was the fool doing? He felt around behind the saddle. There was
a rolled up blanket. He unrolled it. The stench was familiar. A leather satchel
was inside. This was no pig. But if he'd stolen the horse. He couldn't see where
this joke was leading. He guessed what was in the bag. Without looking first, he
emptied it onto the boy who was now lying quietly, not even moaning.
The head fell out, bounced off the boy and rolled on the ground. He knew
those curls. He knew that head, which had lain so often beside his own. He had
always known that face to be smiling. He had never seen such a terrible
expression of pain. The blood and the scorch marks told their story. He knew
that the agony softened in death. It had been very bad.
The men looking on were expecting a joke. Some of them had started to smile.
Some who knew that face didn't see her face, but instead saw what it signified.
The faces of the loved ones they had left behind. Those who stood further away
saw the reaction of those who stood close by. Their frozen shock was more
frightening being seen on the faces of men who killed for their living every
day.
Axil bent down to lift his son who flinched expecting another blow. With one
hand he held his son close. With the other he lifted the diembodied head. Bowing
down he held both close.
"I wish this time you had been lying to me boy."
"So do I father. I didn't want you to see. But I had to bring her."
"All of them?" Axil asked for everyone.
The boy turned around. They could see his answer in the flooding of his
eyes. He knew these men. His pain was for them.There was no good way to tell it.
But they had to know. He nodded. He suddenly realised a companionship with them
he had never felt before. He was the only survivor. For these men he was the
only family that remained.
One by one they came to him to pat his head, or dust the grass off his
jacket.
"Good boy" they said.
"You need to take care of yourself."
"It must have been a hard road."
"Father there's an army coming up the road behind you."
"You got past them? Well done" said Axil absent mindedly as he
rolled the blanket up around its prescious contents.
"What are you going to do?" asked Axilka for all the men.
Axil went back to the tree stump to reclaim his axe.
"I'm going to kill a citizen for every hair that was on my wife's head,
and my daughter's too. And then I'm going to get the Etruscan ambassador and the
governor and get them to take part in my own special version of their favourite
entertainment."
The men started to move back in the direction of the woods and the city.
Axil slung his axe over his shoulder, and helped his son get back onto his
horse. Alone, at first, they started walking in the direction that had been
indicated by the two swords on the tree.
"Where are they going?" asked Axilka.
"The wrong way" replied Axil. His cheeks were wet. He looked up at
the sun, as if to guess the time, and brushed away the tears which no man would
ever see with the back of his hand. He took a deep breath and strode onwards.
One by one the men who were going the wrong way, turned around and followed
behind.
"But the city is back that way."
"Spartak went this way. We were going after him when you arrived. "
"You're not still going to fight him?" asked the boy wondering if
he was still confused from the blows to his head.
"No. We wouldn't win against him anyway. Not now. When I find Spartak
I'm going to say that he was right, and I was wrong. After what's happened, it
will be easy to eat humble pie"
"And then?"
"And then I hope he'll agree to lead us back that way for revenge.
We'll kill a lot more with him leading us." |
