Street fighter

10

His heart pounding with dread, Marcus burst into the street on the far side of the basilica, narrowly avoiding a chain gang of slaves carrying bundles of animal pelts. Lupus and Corvus scrambled after him. Even though the street was wide, it was filled with people and Marcus couldn’t see far in either direction. He clambered on to a table, knocking a large jar off the edge to shatter on the flagstones below. At once the air was filled with a sweet, flowery fragrance.

‘Oi!’ a man at the counter of the neighbouring shop shouted. ‘What’s your game, lad? You’ll have to pay for that!’

Marcus ignored him as he searched the street to his right desperately. The crowds stretched away in the shadow of the tall wall of the basilica, but there was no sign of anything out of place. He turned the other way as some of the passers-by stopped to stare. Marcus strained his eyes and then saw them the two men he had spotted earlier, fifty paces away, and thrusting through the crowd while Portia’s fists pounded the broad back of the man holding her. Several people who had been knocked aside shouted angrily in their wake.

Marcus cupped a hand to his mouth and thrust the shaft of his club after the men. ‘Stop them!’

His voice was shrill with alarm and carried clearly down the street. One of the men glanced back, pulling at his companion’s arm, and they turned into a side alley, out of sight. Marcus jumped from the table and chased after them, weaving through the throng as Corvus and Lupus did their best to keep up. As he ran, Marcus’s mind was already racing ahead of him. He couldn’t lose Portia. How could he live with himself if he let something happen to her? Not only that, but Caesar would exact a terrible price from the person entrusted with guarding his niece. No excuse would be accepted. He forced himself on as fast as his feet would carry him.

Faces in the crowd passed in a whirl and he ignored the cries of surprise and angry protest as he and the other boys dashed along the street. A short distance ahead, Marcus saw the entrance of the alley and pointed it out to the others.

‘In there!’

He turned round the corner, half expecting to see the two men waiting for him, knives drawn. Instead, he met the sight of a gloomy passage winding up a gentle slope between closely packed tenement blocks. The ground was covered with packed-down refuse and at irregular intervals small heaps of rubbish were piled against the walls. The air was thick with the stink of sewage and an unpleasant trickle of dark liquid ran down the centre of the alley. There was a handful of people — a young mother leading a toddler by the hand, a struggling infant strapped to her chest and, further on, an old crone sitting on the steps beside the entrance to a tenement block, unpicking the stitching from a heap of old clothes.

Up ahead, two dark shapes, one burdened by Portia, were hurrying away. Marcus steeled himself to close on them as quickly as he could. Behind him, he heard the slap of the other boys’ feet and the gasp of their breath as they struggled to keep up.

Ahead, the alley turned a corner and Portia and her kidnappers were lost from view. Marcus forced himself on, and as he reached the bend he saw them again, realizing with a surge of hope that he had closed the distance. They hurried on a short distance before turning into another alley. By the time Marcus reached it and raced round the corner, they were lost from view again. He scrabbled to a halt, blood pounding in his ears. Ahead, an even smaller alley snaked into the slum area, so narrow that two men side by side could barely make their way along it. There was no sign of them. More side alleys led off on either side for as far as Marcus could discern in the gloom. He started forward and looked down the first one to his right, but there was no sign of movement. Nor was there anyone in the next one on the left. A stab of despair pierced his heart. If I’ve lost her, then Caesar will have me killed, or sent to the mines. .

Behind him there was a scramble of boots as Corvus and Lupus caught up.

‘Where. . are. . they?’ Lupus gasped, leaning forward to rest his hands on his thighs.

Marcus shook his head. ‘Don’t know. Must be close.’

Then ahead of him he saw an old man hunched up in a doorway — he hadn’t noticed him at first. Marcus ran over.

‘Have you seen two men pass just now?’

The man looked up and stared across the alley with a pair of milky-white eyes. With a sinking feeling, Marcus realized the man was blind. He began to turn away when the man gave a hoarse laugh.

‘Seen ’em? No. Heard ’em. And the child that was crying.’

‘They passed here? "Which way did they go?’

The old man extended a hand up the alley. ‘There, and then there was a crash of a pot before they continued.’

‘Thank you.’ Marcus patted him on the shoulder and waved the other two boys to follow him. After a short distance another alley, even darker, led off to the right. A pile of broken storage jars nearly filled the entrance, and Marcus turned into the winding passage, gesturing to his companions. ‘This way.’

The alley led between the rear of two rows of tenement blocks and there were few doors or openings along its length. Marcus and the others had only gone a little way when the passage bent sharply and they could see the end, where it opened out on to a busy street. There was no sign of the two kidnappers. Marcus drew up.

‘Where have. . they got. . to?’ gasped Lupus.

‘They must be along here somewhere,’ Marcus reasoned swiftly. ‘We must find them before they get away. We’ll split up. You two go back and try every door we passed, every possible way they might have left the alley. I’ll go on from here.’

Corvus looked at him. ‘And what do we do if we find ’em?’

Marcus had little doubt the two men he’d seen were more than a match for the two boys. He shrugged. ‘Shout for help and pray to the gods that it comes.’

‘Very useful,’ Corvus grumbled.

Lupus pushed him back down the alley. ‘Come on. There’s no time to waste.’

Once they had gone, Marcus walked slowly forwards, ears straining for any sound that might lead him to the men who had taken Portia. The steady hubbub of the Forum had faded to a faint hum, with just an occasional voice from the apartments overhead and the dripping from a drain that emptied above the alley. The first few doors on either side were securely bolted from within and rattled when he tried them. An opening to the right further on led into a small courtyard, dimly lit by a small opening high above. Several women sat beside a communal fountain chatting. They looked up and fell silent as Marcus cautiously entered the courtyard. Glancing round, he raised a finger to his lips.

‘Whacha want?’ asked an older woman in a grating voice.

‘I’m looking for some men.’

‘Ain’t we all, dearie?’ said another woman, and her companions let out a shrill chorus of cackles.

‘They had a girl with them,’ Marcus persisted. ‘Did they come this way?’

‘A girl? Then we’re out of luck, ladies. Seems the men are already taken.’

Marcus frowned angrily and left the courtyard, continuing his search further along the alley. He had tried two more doors when he heard a muffled cry a short distance ahead. He froze, ears straining as he held his breath. Then he heard it again, followed by a low growl. Marcus crept towards the sounds. There was a door ahead to the left and he edged towards it. The door was slightly ajar and looked as if it had been kicked in. There were sounds of a struggle before he heard a blow landing followed by a shrill cry of pain. Marcus reached the door and paused. He glanced back up the alley but there was no sign of the other boys. He dared not call out to them and alert the kidnappers, if they were the men beyond the door. Swallowing nervously, Marcus held his club ready while he eased the door back with the other hand. Slowly it began to open, revealing a large storeroom lined with shattered furniture and boxes, broken up for firewood. The two men stood a short distance inside the room, side on to Marcus. The one on the right held Portia, pinning her arms behind her back while his other hand was clamped over her mouth.

‘You try to bite me again, you little witch, and I’ll snap yer neck. Understand?’ He tugged her arms up painfully and Portia let out a brief whimper before she nodded.

‘That’s better,’ said the other man. ‘You need to be taught some manners. Who’d have thought such a well-brought-up lady would be so vicious? Well, it’s time you had a lesson. Something you’ll never forget. Nor that uncle of yours.’ He pulled out a knife from his belt and held it up to her cheek. ‘When he sees what’s happened to you, he’ll know the price for making enemies in the Senate. Not that he’ll be around long enough to grieve. Caesar will join you in the underworld soon enough, my lady,’ he concluded with a sneer.

Portia’s eyes widened in terror. Marcus swapped his club into his left hand and felt for the handle of one of the four throwing knives hidden in his belt. Kicking the door open, he stepped into the dimly lit storeroom.

‘Let go of her!’ he shouted.

The man grasping the folds of Portia’s tunic turned angrily. But when he saw Marcus his mouth opened in a bark of laughter. Then his expression instantly switched to irritation. ‘Get lost, boy! Or else. .’

Marcus’s throwing arm snapped forward and his fingers released the knife. The dull blade gleamed as it tumbled end over end across the room. With a loud whack, it struck the man’s shoulder, the lethal point punching deep into his flesh. He let out a howl of pain and surprise as Marcus snatched out another knife and hurled it towards the man’s face. This time the man threw up his arm to protect himself and the blade pierced the palm of his hand. But Marcus had lost the advantage of surprise and the other man released his grip on Portia, thrusting her to one side. She stumbled across the room, crashing on to a pile of kindling. Her captor snatched a dagger from under his cloak, long-bladed with a deadly point. Lowering himself into a balanced crouch, he moved towards Marcus. His friend growled like an enraged animal as he tried to pull the knife from his hand.

Marcus drew his club back as he focused his attention on the man coming at him.

‘You’ll pay for that, boy,’ the man snarled through gritted teeth. ‘I’ll cut you up good before I finish you.’