Fists of Iron: Barbarian of Rome Chronicles Volume Two (16 page)

“Just Clodian, no more.”

Unbidden, she leaned forwards to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

He felt the tension slowly ease away.

Prudes clubbed the knife-blade aside with the outside of his forearm, and then cut his own blade roughly across Clodian’s bicep as he lunged in. Clodian yelped as he jumped back.

“You’re lucky the knives are blunted or you’d be finished! You must learn not to over-commit yourself when you attack.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t concentrating,” said Clodian, red-faced. He rubbed the welt on his arm where he’d been raked by the
pugio
.

Prudes shook his head. “Do you remember the rules I taught you when facing a man with a knife?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me, then.”

“If unarmed and you face a man with a knife – run. A knife in a closed space is more dangerous that the sword. When armed and in a knife fight accept the fact that you
will
be cut. Keep good balance and look to attack your opponent’s knife arm on its underside, where it’s most vulnerable.” He hesitated before continuing. “Use
any
tactic that will help you...and don’t lose focus for a moment. When your knife enters your opponent’s body, twist the blade as it will ensure that there will be greater damage and the wound will be fatal…later if not immediately.” He scratched the side of his head, before adding, “That’s it.”

“Well, your memory’s fine.” Prudes took guard position and then instructed. “Again, attack!”

Clodian went into a crouch; his pugio held before him, covering the centre line of his body as taught, his elbow slightly bent. He edged forward, then feinted to Prudes’s left side, seeking an opening, but now with more caution.
Good lad
, acknowledged Prudes.

Clodian attacked in a flurry of good strong slashes and stabs. He was fast and committed. He stepped back to get his breath.

“Better, but let’s make it easier for you.” Prudes slowly bent down and never taking his eyes off Clodian placed his
pugio
on the ground.”

“Attack!” was the command.

“But, you’re unarmed.”

“Do not make that assumption, and believe me when I say you are the one in danger here. Are you deaf? Attack I say, if you have the nerve!”

Clodian darted in, his blade spearing forwards towards Prudes’ belly, the disembowelling cut.

Prudes’ hand punched forwards, opening, the dirt and sand he’d collected when laying his knife down splattering into Clodian’s face and eyes. Clodian gasped, blinded, his empty hand streaking to his eyes.

Prudes struck Clodian’s wrist with the edge of his hand, the
pugio
dropping to the ground. He walked briskly to a nearby jug of water.

“Hands away, head up and open your eyes,” he instructed. He proceeded to wash out the young noble’s eyes.

Clodian blinked rapidly, his vision clearing. Prudes slapped his hands down, telling him to flush them with more water and not to rub them.

Once completed, Clodian accused, “That was unfair.”

“Everything is fair in a fight for one’s life, and don’t forget it. Remember that the seemingly helpless opponent is often the most desperate and dangerous. You must not let your guard down for a second, nor let your mind wander during training, because your life will one day depend on the discipline forged here.”

“You’re right, as usual,” said Clodian, his head dropping a little.

Prudes cleared his throat. “It’s probably this young woman of yours, the one I’ve heard is very pretty.”

“I think so,” said Clodian, looking up.

Prudes was now smiling. “You may think that I’m too hard on you, but it’s for a good reason. You must try your best to keep love matters in the bed-chamber and survival matters on the training ground.”

“I’ll do my best,” said Clodian, looking brighter.

Draping his arm around the young noble’s shoulders, Prudes guided him towards the bathing rooms. “Training’s now officially ended, so you must tell me about this young woman that Belua’s so impressed with.”

Chapter 17

FRUIT OF THE SERPENT

The garden smelled delightful, a marked contrast to the effluvium of the bed-chamber. Flavia hoped that the honey’s work would soon be complete and then she’d no longer have to suffer the ordeal of being in her husband’s presence.

Eyes closed she enjoyed the feel of Akana brushing her hair. She felt relaxed, the sun’s rays pleasantly warm on her skin. Her mouth felt dry and she reached up from her wicker seat to pluck a ripe damson from an over-reaching branch. She bit into it, the sweet juice wetting her tongue. She finished it quickly, flicking the stone into the nearest fountain. She used the hem of Akana’s thin dress to wipe her mouth clean. She closed her eyes again.

“I need to speak to you,” Clodian’s voice disturbed her reverie. She’d not heard him approach.

“As always, I’m at your service Clodian.”

“My father deteriorates more with each passing day.” Flavia saw the dark pouches under his eyes, proof that he’d not been sleeping well.

“We are doing everything we can, but, I agree that he shows no improvement.”

“No improvement!” Clodian raised his voice, a rare occurrence. “There’s barely any flesh left on him, and he’s awake for only moments. And he can hardly tolerate a mouthful of that honey that’s been fed to him.”

“It’s what he likes,” stated Flavia matter of factly.

“My father liked many things, and I mean to try him with other foods that will be gentle on his stomach.”

“As you wish,” agreed Flavia, thinking,
it’s too late for that, boy.

“I will also ask Neo to see him. "

“The Greek?”

“Yes.”

“Trust me, there is nothing that he could recommend that Akana has not tried. “

“It’s not something that is open to debate. I will ask him and he
will
come.”

There was steel in his eyes when he spoke.

So the young lion is showing his teeth,
she admonished
. No matter, the Greek will not change things.

Her step-son was clearly maturing. She’d noticed insidious changes since he’d been under the tutelage of the
doctore.
Having always regarding him as a weakling she now recognised resolve beneath that mellow façade. He talked more assertively and there was a subtle confidence in the way he carried himself. In fact, there’d been times when she’d seen his father in him: evidenced when he was committed to a chosen task and in the firm set to his jaw when he’d made up his mind. Thankfully, he’d not inherited his father’s ruthlessness when it came to dealing with those who opposed him. Despite these changes he’d not stand in her way – the young lion was no match for the tiger. He’d also made new friends; but the feeble Greek and the crippled swordsman would pose no threat. Now the
doctore
was a different proposition. He was a fighter and survivor, with the reputation in the city as a man not to be crossed. But, she had no doubt that he could be dealt with if he stood in her way.

“You must do what you think is best, and with my blessing,” said Flavia, shaping one of her most empathetic expressions.

“Very well, then I’ll bid you a good day,” responded Clodian, before briskly turning about.

“Take care,” she replied in her most gentle voice, watching his back as he headed towards the house.

“His efforts will be in vain,” stated Akana, when he was out of ear-shot.

“I know,” acknowledged Flavia. “And, my step-son will soon have more than his father to worry about.” She took Akana’s smooth hand and placed her middle finger into her mouth, sucking it gently, rolling her tongue around its length. Akana stopped her brushing and began stroking the back of her neck, the sensitive place that sent a tingling right through her, made her wet.

She turned around, smiling invitingly.

Soon, she’d have no worries about who may be watching her, and no censure to any pleasure.

Chapter 18

FLYING FISH

A favourable wind drove them gently northwards along the coast towards Herculaneum. Orbiana sat next to him on the small sailing boat, a floppy straw hat on her head; protection against the sun’s glare off the sea. Clodian wore one, too, as did the old sea dog sat at the tiller.

The boat was owned by Clodian’s family and he’d felt it was time that he took a break from his training, and from the constant worry about his father. He hoped that Orbiana would enjoy the trip. Neo had agreed that it would do him good, as did Belua; a little surprisingly. He’d asked Neo to see his father and he’d agreed to visit immediately after his planned trip to his own father’s grave in Stabiae. He’d only be away for a day, and Clodian was relieved that he’d made the request.

Herculaneum was one of Clodian’s favourite places, and he’d regularly visited from a young age with his parents, although usually by land. But, he loved boats and Orbiana had told him that she’d always enjoyed her times by the sea.

The small coastal town slowly materialized out of the morning haze. It was very different from Pompeii; smaller, quieter, without the profusion of brothels and bustle of humanity. It sat slumbering at the base of Vesuvius.

Orbiana squeezed his hand. He turned to face her and she kissed him gently on the lips.

“Thank you,” she stated simply.

“For what?”

“For today.”

“I thought it would do the both of us some good,” he said, smiling. He realized that his feelings for this young woman who’d recently entered his life grew stronger by the day. Her patience and her sensitivity to his concerns had endeared her to him at a worrying time. He’d not forget her kindness...and she was so pretty.

Placing his hand under her chin he kissed her back, this time longer and with more passion. She responded in kind and he felt his heart beat quicken, his desire steadily mounting. He broke away, breathing heavily, before he did something that would embarrass him. Her eyes were still closed, her mouth half-open, and her cheeks flushed. It seemed that she’d equally enjoyed the embrace.

“You said that you enjoyed the sea too?” he queried.

“Yes, my parents would take my sister and I to a small bay near Alsium in the summer, when the heat in Rome would be insufferable, and the Tiber smelled like a latrine. Her eyes were now wide open as she remembered. “It was pretty there and my sister and I collected small crabs in a rock pool, and swam every day. It was a happy time.” She looked out to sea. “It was a long time ago.”

“I’ve never been to Rome, although my father used to talk about it. It was not one of his favourite places, and I think he only ever went there when necessary – for business or political reasons,” said Clodian. “I would like visit one day, though. Do you think I’ll like it?”

Orbiana momentarily frowned, and Clodian wondered if he’d been insensitive asking about Rome, knowing it was where she’d lived, where her parents had died.

“Some things are wonderful,” she began. “The gleaming temples and monuments on the hills are breath-taking. The Temple of Apollo high on the Palatine has always filled me with wonder. Built of the finest marble, its façade of towering columns seem to reach the heavens themselves. The temple’s doors are made of ivory and it’s surrounded by a gallery of yellow marble, interspersed by statues of the daughters of Egyptian kings finely carved from black stone and sculptures of equestrian princes. I think you’d be greatly impressed by such sights.”

“Yet, other things are less impressive,” she went on, eyeing him levelly. “There are places in the valleys between the hills where the sun seems not to shine, where robbery, murder and whore-mongering are rife. Disease of every kind has found a home there, and babies are born and abandoned in the filth. The Emperor and Rome’s elite turn a blind eye to it…because they do not care, high on their lofty hills.”

“And what do Rome’s citizens think?”

“In the main, they care only about their quota of bread and their seats in the Great Circus.”

“Not everyone, surely?” he questioned.

“Not everyone it’s true,” she admonished, her expression intense. “But, the Roman mob has become drunk on a diet of inactivity and bloody spectacle. What can be expected when an army of slaves do the work and the rulers are only concerned with keeping the idle citizenry content by sponsoring ever more lavish and cruel games.” She looked away before adding quietly, “My own father was such a man.”

Clodian bit his lip, realizing how remembering must hurt. “I’m sorry for what happened to your family, Orbiana.”

She met his look again, a single tear brimming out of her eye, slowly making its way down her cheek.

“Thank you,” she replied, brushing the tear away with a finger.

“Look!” he suddenly pointed, ”flying fish!”

A short distance off the starboard side a shoal of the winged creatures leaped at incredible speeds out of the water.

“I’ve never seen them before, they’re wonderful!” said Orbiana, her face lighting up. At the rear of the ship the old sailor smiled wryly, having seen the winged exhibition many times.

“Like you,” said Clodian. The words were out almost without thinking, but he knew that he genuinely felt them.

“You’re a kind man Clodian, and I know you feel sorry for me. But, do you really mean those words?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You are special to me, too, and I would take away the pain in your heart for your father if I could.” She held his hand in both of hers.

“Those words greatly please me. But, I fear my father’s fate now lies in the hands of the gods.” He looked out to sea again, the mention of his father drawing a dark veil over his mood.

“What shall we do when we arrive at Herculaneum?” asked Orbiana, in an attempt to distract him out of his reverie.

“I think we must first find a rock pool and some crabs.”

Orbiana laughed; a light, happy sound.

“You’re teasing me,” she replied.

“A little,” he said. “The view from the harbour is excellent, and I think we should take refreshment there on arrival. After a brief tour of the town I thought we might have meal at an eatery that is renowned for its sea food. What do you think?”