The Ides of April

XX

As soon as the runner tried to move, pain kicked in and blood welled out. At that point he yelled. I thought I had probably missed damaging tendons, by sheer luck, but the situation was now tricky. He was still stuck to the table, for one thing. If I left him, my aunt would have something to say about that.

I switched moods. "Stand still," I ordered, adopting a sympathetic tone. "Don't worry. I got you into this, I'll get you out of it."

Tiberius had had time to react; he became incandescent. "Don't come any closer. Flavia Albia, go for a doctor, go fast, bring the nearest you can find. Otherwise, if you come within range, I will bite through your spinal column so you drop and die in this hole with me.

That was lively. I paused as if to admire his bravado, then exclaimed, "No doctor worth trusting will come to the Stargazer. And I'm certainly not carrying you to a surgery, stapled to the table… Oh no! Look!" As I pointed to a spot on the wall behind him, instinct betrayed him and he turned his head. I dragged out the skewer. He yowked with pain again. I grabbed a sponge Junillus used to mop up spills and pressed it hard on one side of his wound.

While Tiberius jerked away from me and jammed the sponge against the upper side of his hand, I found what looked like a clean drying-cloth to staunch the blood from his palm. I seized his wrist. He protested again, but I pressed against both the skewer's exit holes, with his hand caught between the pair of mine. It was not like the touch of lovers, believe me.

He had gone very white. With one elbow, I pushed him back onto the bench. He was pressing the wounds for himself now. "Sit down. Don't faint on me. Don't tell me you can't stand the sight of blood."

"There was no need to be vicious. I had to ask the question."

"Then you took your chance of a bad reaction."

"I am getting the feeling you dislike me, Albia."

I ignored that. "You need to get this cleaned."

"What has been on the skewer?"

"Pork nuggets. Lovely honey glaze with rosemary. Don't worry; I washed up. Anyway, they were thoroughly cooked; this caupona specialises in charring…"

The runner shoved himself back to his feet. He tossed away the sponge and cloth; he would regret that, as blood continued flowing. He was leaving. I let him go.

I sat down on my own bench, feeling squeamish myself, frankly. It was years since I had inflicted that kind of damage on anyone. Years since I had had to. Suddenly I was back in that dark period, a waif on the streets, fighting for her life. At the time, it was just the way I lived. In retrospect, I went weak with the misery of it.

I wanted to be respectable. I wanted to come from a nice Roman family, and lead a decent life.

I was still reminiscing bleakly, when the runner lurched back. Leaning on one of the counters, he stared down at me with an odd look as if he saw I had dark thoughts. If he knew, he made no attempt to discover them. "So answer the damned question, Albia. I don't want to be skewered a second time. Are you, or are you not one of the killers?"

"Logic, man! Why would I admit it, if I was?" Facing him down, I growled, "I am not."

"Keep saying that," he replied coldly. "Believe me, you want me to think you are innocent." He turned and disappeared again. I did walk out to the street in case there was a blood trail I could follow to check he was all right, but he must have stopped dripping.

I thought, I can't wait to tell Andronicus about this! Then something changed my eagerness so I knew I would not mention it. Too much of my past would have to be explained. Andronicus was not ready to hear what kind of woman I could be. I was not ready to tell him. Maybe I never would be. I was too used to concealing my old background.

I was shaken by what I did to Tiberius. I had not been filled with that much aggression since the old days, not since I came here to Rome to be civilised. Such violence belonged in the history that I wanted to forget. I hated this man for making me go back there.