Read Online Saviour of Rome [Gaius Valerius Verrens 7] by Douglas Jackson - Free Book Online Page A

from the
caldarium.
He drew the thick curtain slowly to the side. At first his eyes struggled to interpret the scene in front of him. Two fully clothed men, stocky and bearded, were apparently working on something in the bath. A thrill of fear paralysed him for a moment, during which the anonymous something heaved up and thrashed, before the combined strength of the two men submerged it again. Pliny!
    Valerius crossed the marble floor in four strides, his left thumb automatically seeking the little button on the back of his wooden fist. The man holding Pliny’s lower half must have noticed movement because he looked up with a cry that alerted his fellow assassin. Too late. The second man rose and half turned to meet the threat, but Valerius had already launched into a scything punch that took him on the upper cheek.
    A blow from the wooden fist would stun any man. This blow was designed to kill. The button on the back of the fist released a four-inch blade that sprang from the centre knuckle. Now the needle pointentered the assassin’s right eye and pierced his brain. Valerius hauled the knife clear with a twist and the dying man dropped into the pool, his life blood turning the waters red. The second assassin gaped at his companion and released Pliny’s legs, backing away across the pool. Valerius had a choice of going after him or helping his drowning friend. There could only be one decision. He plunged into the water and felt for the submerged Pliny. The groping fingers of his left hand quickly found a hank of thinning hair and he pulled the governor’s head to the surface. The killer continued to glare from the far side of the pool, caught between an urge to finish the job and the greater call of survival.
    ‘Guards!’ Valerius roared. ‘Guards to me.’
    The surviving assassin spat an insult at Valerius before sprinting for the doorway. Pliny lay back with his eyes closed and his flabby chest chillingly still. Valerius hauled the inert body from the water on to the marble floor beside the pool. Drowning was nothing new to Valerius, but, by Fortuna’s favour, in his case it had never been permanent. He remembered looking up through a clear blue sea at the hull of a Roman merchant ship. How had they brought him back? Yes, that was it. His ribs had ached for a week. He heaved Pliny up, with the governor’s back against his chest, put both arms around him and squeezed with all his strength. Once, twice. Thrice. Jupiter’s wrinkled scrotum, was he too late? Finally, a long, rasping groan from Pliny’s throat followed by an enormous gout of water and the contents of his stomach. For a moment he lay in Valerius’s arms, his body shaking. His features were as pale as fresh milk and his eyes twitched open to peer up at his saviour. He was smiling.
    ‘Why, I do believe I was dead.’
    By the time Valerius supported Pliny from the bath house the failed assassin had been pinned to the packed earth of the courtyard by four snarling guards. The governor shrugged himself free and straightened to his full height. His face was a mask of fury and the guard commander turned pale before his wrath.
    ‘We will discuss how he came to be here later. For now prepare himfor the question.’ The guards dragged the man up and Pliny studied the swarthy bearded face. ‘You would do well to tell me what you know now, or it will be the worse for you.’ The assassin’s only reply was to spit at his feet. Pliny nodded slowly as if the gesture was what he’d expected. ‘Take him away.’
    A new Pliny this, the grim, unyielding interrogator, watching in silence as his subordinates prepared the familiar instruments: the hot coals, the pincers and pliers, the shears, the hooks and the assorted glittering blades. The assassin watched too, from a position on the far wall of the stables where they’d strung him up by the arms from a pair of manacles. Stripped naked, his body gleamed with perspiration in the glow from the brazier, his manhood