Black Salamander

XXXIII

How long did they sit there, Claudia and Arcas-one hour? two?-without speaking? At one point he lit the fire, since the need for pretence was over, but far from comforting, the flames made the cave steamy and because the damp wood smoked badly, he kicked over the logs. Now only a few wayward coils of grey rose from the fragrant fir ash. No sound intruded into this subterranean grotto, only the constant drip-drip-drip of water from the roof and the blood pounding in Claudia’s temple.

Her teeth chattered from the fear and the cold, and she tried not to think where this would lead. The rebels would not give up on her, so how would Arcas proceed from here? He had given himself thirty-six hours to win her confidence and ultimately the map. Then what? She shuddered as she saw the Spider’s thugs storm the grotto, cart her off to that torture-house in the valley where they burned men in front of their families That wouldn’t happen, she vowed. Somehow she must break free of these bonds. Kill Arcas. Kill herself. A silent tear trickled down her cheek. Big words from a big mouth, she thought. I’m trussed up like a game bird, and what of Drusilla? The single raindrop became a thunderstorm as Claudia realized she would have to kill Drusilla, too. Think, girl, think. There is a way out of this. There has to be.

‘He’s my brother,’ Arcas said out of nowhere. ‘Sualinos. He’s older than me by three years.’

‘What?’ Claudia’s spinning brain tried to focus. ‘You’re related to that psychotic piece of shit??’ Dammit, she hadn’t meant to say that. Caught on the hop, it slipped out. Still. The damage was done now the damage was done. ‘And because he’s your brother, you back his campaign to the hilt without questioning his motives or his methods?’

‘His methods are not my methods,’ the huntsman said, staring at the ash in the hearth. ‘But he acts within Druid law and he has a just claim to the throne. For my part, I’m happy living in the wild.’ With his toe, he flicked over a smouldering log. ‘Fresh air, open skies, that’s all I want, but I am Sequani. Above all, I want my people set free.’

Claudia stared at this man who had, in the past couple of hours, become a stranger to her. The face was still familiar, of course. The muscled torso, the torque, the long white hair, the headband. But the guide she believed she understood no longer existed.

Thirty-six years old, she thought, and while he knows the backwoods inside out, he has seen nothing of life, of what lies beyond these vast tracts of forest. In the villagers’ eyes, he would be cultured-gentry, who’d been to Vesontio!-and as such they’d have viewed him in awe. Shunned or not, he was a man of the world, a sophisticate, while his brother would be venerated somewhere between demon and god. A man who wielded terror on the one hand and on the other, a true romantic hero preparing to shake off the yoke of Roman oppression.

Did they not see that, even in the unlikely event the Sequani gained independence, together the Spider and the Druids would conspire to keep them under the cosh? Even Arcas was blind to the fact that men like his brother and Galba sought power for its own sake and cared not a fig for the responsibility that went with it. She thought again of the stockbreeder, robbed of his horses. That was responsibility. Ensuring they were cared for, not thrown to the wolves. No wonder the incident stuck in her throat. The theft was as cruel as it was unnecessary, and she wished now she’d listened to what her heart had told her at the time.

Without self-pity. Without compassion, either.

So much old Hanno had known, and yet Claudia had suspected the muleteer as their traitor. Purely on the grounds of monetary rewards. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Because that’s how your mind works, you mercenary bitch, you tar them all with the same brush.

Snap out of that, a little voice barked. Maudlin self-pity won’t get you out of this mess. You can indulge as much as you like once you’re free, in the meantime think of the Spider’s house. The patrol.

‘I need to pee,’ she said firmly.

There. That jarred him. ‘Oh.’ It was too dingy in the cave to be sure, but she thought Arcas blushed. For the first time, his voice lacked confidence.

‘Urgently.’ That’s it. Up the pressure.

‘Well, I…’ He rubbed a nervous hand over his mouth. Good. This situation hadn’t occurred to him. ‘I, um, usually go down there. Near the foot of the cave.’

‘Then I’ll go down there,’ she said. ‘But I can’t hang on much longer.’

Blue eyes scoured her face for tricks, and saw only lips twisted in female anxiety.

‘This way, then.’ With one hand, he gripped her upper arm and hauled her to her feet. The other grasped the torch.

Outside, the narrow walkway was slippery, the air damp. Drip-drip-drip. Didn’t the continuous ooze grate on his nerves? The path became steeper, more sinister. Lit only by the flickering brand, the wall of ice seemed to move in. Whenever I want, it cried out, I can crush you. Claudia fought to control the shakes which had gripped her. Deep breaths. One, two, three. Keep pushing down on your stomach. One, two, that’s better. Remember. Only by remaining in control can you hope to escape.

‘There.’ He pointed in the Stygian gloom. ‘The ice levels off. You can…’ His voice trailed miserably off. ‘I-I’ll hold the light for you.’

For thousands of years, the people who had dwelt in these caves must have used this for perhaps ceremonial purposes. Weddings. Funeral services, even, for it was not a natural plate, but man made. Hollowed out of the ice, many hands must have laboured to create this flat space.

‘I’m not having a man stand over me while I am…indisposed,’ she snapped, and relief flooded his face. ‘Cut me free, will you, Arcas.’

‘You’ll have to manage the best you can.’

Damn. Damn, damn and double damn. Nice try, but now what?

‘Spoken like a true gentleman,’ she said, heaping on the discomposure, because it’s funny how a simple female bodily function can set even the most hardened member of the opposite sex squirming with embarrassment. And how a different female function-wile-can exploit it.

Down here, conditions were arctic. This was almost the floor of the cavern, ice would have lain here for centuries. Maybe hundreds of centuries. What she was looking at was creation itself.

‘I can’t see you,’ Arcas called.

‘That’s the idea,’ she yelled back.

Her eyes quickly grew used to the gloom. What she needed was a stalactite-mite-whatever it was. A sharp splinter of ice to hack through her bonds. There’s one! Under a flickering halo of gold, she could see the misty silhouette of the hunter, stamping his feet to keep out the cold. Her teeth were chattering as she chafed leather against ice. Come on, come on.

‘What’s keeping you?’ he asked.

‘How do you expect me to manage?’ she retorted. ‘With my hands behind my back?’

It was no use. The ice was simply melting against the heat of her arms, wetting the leather. Shit! Angry tears prickled her eyes. There had to be a way, surely?

In the dark, eerie silence of the cavern, two hundred feet below ground, Claudia let out a scream.

‘What’s wrong?’ he called. ‘What’s the matter.’

She waited several seconds. ‘I slipped,’ she called back, and there was a catch in her voice. ‘Hit my head when I toppled backwards.’ She limped towards the huntsman, who was holding the torch out as far as he could. ‘I…’ Tears of shame welled up. ‘I can’t manage alone. I…need your help.’

Contrition swept over his face. ‘Look, I’ll cut your hands loose, just while you, er-’

‘Thank you.’ She sniffed. With the back of her hand, she scrubbed away the tears. ‘Only I couldn’t get my underclothes off…’

‘Yes, yes.’ Arcas didn’t want to know the details. ‘Well you, um-I’ll wait here.’ He watched the pitiful figure dissolve into the blackness.

Free of her bonds, Claudia’s mind span like a mill race. Backtracking to make a break for the entrance was out of the question, since that entailed leaving Drusilla behind, the best she could hope for was to creep up and try to surprise him.

A betting man would have laughed and walked away.

Claudia wouldn’t have blamed him.

Maybe, though… Maybe there is another way…

‘This is better,’ she called out to Arcas. ‘I can take off my thong without falling over.’

The misty silhouette did not require intimate details. It shuffled in acute embarrassment and stared at the cave roof and did not see the figure which flitted past him on the floor of the cave. Before the ice rose up into a wall again, Claudia pulled off her shoes, stuffed them into the waistband of her thong and jumped. Her fingers caught the ledge of the walkway and quickly she heaved herself up. Keeping her back to the rock, she scuttled barefoot up the spiral tunnel.

‘Claudia?’ Anger echoed round the grotto. ‘Come here, you bitch!’

Arcas held up his torch. No one! He swore under his breath.

‘I’ll find you,’ he yelled. ‘You won’t get far.’

In the darkness, his ears strained for sounds. They heard nothing. Just a drip-drip-drip from the roof.

‘Even if you make it to the entrance, I can track you,’ he shouted. Track-you-ack-you-ack-you echoed back at him, that was all. No frantic footsteps, no scrabbling against rock.

‘You can’t get away from me, Claudia.’ He paused to listen. ‘I have your cat,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to harm it, but if I have to, I will.’

Still no sounds. Where the hell was she? Hiding on the flat part of the ice? He sprang down and made a quick search. Maybe hiding between the rock and the ice? His light moved back and forth over the gap. Nothing there.

‘You can’t stay hidden,’ he called. ‘I’ll find you. Frozen to death, more than likely.’

Goddammit, she was hiding somewhere. He looked around, hoping to see telltale steam from her breath. She could not have gone far. He’d have seen her.

‘That’s it,’ he said warningly. ‘I’m coming after you, Claudia.’

He ran back up the walkway to the little cave. Carefully he approached the entrance. Could she have made it this far without him hearing her? He didn’t think so. His memory replayed the sounds when he’d guided her down the ramp. The sounds their shoes made on the stone, her ragged breathing, the shivering, the chattering of her teeth with the cold. Pausing in the doorway, he saw that nothing had changed. The blankets she’d wrapped round herself were still heaped. Coils of smoke rose from the fire. He listened hard. Nothing. Confident, he strode inside and reached down for his sword.

‘Meeowrrrr.’

Something black flew at his face. ‘Aaargh!’ As the torch fell from his grasp, blood streamed from his face, where the cat’s claws had left wide open gashes.

‘ Mrrrrrow! ’ Drusilla, incensed that she’d been used as a weapon, shot past his legs.

‘Bitch,’ he cried, but before his hand closed over his weapon, the full force of a log sent him spinning sideways, knocking his sword out of reach. ‘I’ll see you pay for this.’

‘You and who else?’ Claudia sneered. Think he was the only one who had tactics? What’s the first thing a child learns when it grows up in the slums? The art of invisibility. When your parents are drunk, fighting drunk, pulling the hair out of one another drunk, you learn pretty fast. Flatten yourself against the wall. Take short, soundless breaths through your nose. Never seen. Never heard. Hey presto. Invisible.

In the last rays of guttering torchlight, Claudia saw him draw a dagger from his belt. She lunged for the sword and swung. It swooshed through the blackness and clanged against the stone wall, sending shock waves up to her shoulder. Shit! She hadn’t realized it would be so heavy.

‘Think you can fight me and win, do you?’ he hissed. ‘Well, I have news for you, pretty lady. We need that map, and by old Father Dis, I’ll see that we get it, and if you think my brother’s tactics are brutal, think again, because I won’t just kill that fucking cat of yours.’

He lunged in the darkness, and she knew he’d mistaken her for the log with which she’d hoped to poleaxe him. With a clang, the log bounced down the walkway. He wouldn’t make that mistake twice.

She held the sword in both hands. Holy Jupiter, what a weight!

‘I swear I’ll torture that cat before your very eyes. In the end, I’ll have you begging to hand over that map.’

She believed him! ‘You’re two of a kind, you and your brother. One a repellent insect. The other vermin.’ Whoooosh. Again the sword sliced through thin air. ‘That’s how foxes are viewed, isn’t it, Arcas? As vermin?’

She heard him scuttle across the cave and so she dodged sideways. ‘You think I give a fuck about your Roman insults?’ A hand lashed out and grabbed hold of her tunic. Another trap. He’d anticipated such a move.

So had she. Like an earwig, she wriggled free of the shirt. The cold air against her naked flesh made her gasp. He heard the sound and his arm followed instinctively. The blow caught Claudia full in the mouth. Sent her reeling. Blood spurted out.

‘All I care about is freeing my people,’ he said, and she caught the sweet whiff of dried ceps. ‘You should have given me the map when I asked.’

Why didn’t I? she wondered. Why didn’t I just hand it over?

Her head was pounding from the force of the blow. She saw stars.

Dammit, she’d landed right in the hearth. Blood from her mouth dripped into the ashes. The air here was dry. Tickly. Any second now she would-‘Atchoo!’

Bugger. The sounds in her head intensified, the stars grew ever brighter. She was cold. Bitterly cold. The heat from the fire had long died. She was weak from the cold, the sword was a ton weight in her hand…

‘So that’s where you’re hiding.’ His laugh was soft and gentle. Superior in victory. ‘Very smart.’ A fist grabbed her hair and yanked her bodily out of the hearth.

‘No, you don’t,’ she spluttered, and threw a handful of ash in his face. Choking, Arcas released her.

Claudia took a wild swing with the sword. Whoooosh, through thin air. Frantically she swung it backwards. There was a crack. A dull thud. Then a roll. Great shot, girl. You’ve cut down a ham.

Suddenly the stars in her head became lanterns. The pounding in her ears turned to voices. Male voices. The Spider’s men! A crowd filled up the doorway. Clamouring. Shouting. With both hands, she hefted the sword. By the gods, it was heavy, but they wouldn’t take her alive. She would fall on it first.

‘Claudia?’

Tears streamed down her face, runnels in the blood and the ash. Sweet Janus, I’m hallucinating with fear. Now I’m seeing It was a trick. Another of the Spider’s ruses. That in the sudden burst of lamplight, she’d mistake his man for Marcus. Look, that one even looks like Junius. His arm and shoulder bandaged convincingly ‘Claudia?’

Both men rushed towards her, but it was the patrician who reached her first. ‘Arcas,’ she babbled. ‘You have to arrest him.’

Dammit, he’d escaped! He’d known they weren’t his allies and scarpered.

‘I know where he’s hiding,’ she said. ‘Down-’

‘He’s dead,’ Orbilio cut in, wiping her face with the hem of his tunic. ‘You killed him, remember?’

‘Me? Don’t be daft.’ One minute we were fighting. I threw ashes at him. He choked. I slashed with the sword. Cut down a ham…

Claudia’s stomach flipped somersaults.

‘Oh, no…’ She could hardly form the words.

‘You didn’t realize?’ Gently Marcus blotted the cut on her lip.

Her heart set to burst free of her ribcage, Claudia grabbed the torch from his hand and with quaking hands held it aloft. It can’t be…

Arcas lay sprawled across the slimy cavern floor, his russet pantaloons the colour of dried blood, his double tunics barely concealing the bulging muscles of his arms and chest. The dagger was still clutched tight in his hand.

Claudia’s trembling eyes moved across to the hearth, where a mane of silver hair was camouflaged in a pile of white ash.

In the little cavern, Claudia swayed, and before the blackness closed in to swallow her up she finally accepted that it was not Arcas’s smoked ham she’d chopped down from the beam.

Claudia had chopped off his head.