Free False God of Rome by Robert Fabbri Page A

slightly from the effects of the date wine that had been served in copious quantities during the feast. Magnus had
been able to consume cup after cup without too many ill-effects but Corvinus and all of the troopers had drunk themselves, very quickly, unconscious. Vespasian had not been surprised, it was heady
stuff and he had limited himself, very early, to just a cup every so often; even so he was still less than sober. Ziri had not touched a drop all evening as he waited upon Magnus’ every need;
he now lay curled up, sleeping at his master’s feet.
    A metallic clink from outside the window caught Vespasian’s attention; he was sure that it was the same noise that had just woken him. He listened intently trying to filter out
Corvinus’ snores and Magnus’ heavy breathing. There it was again; there was someone or some people just outside the window, he was sure of it.
    He reached with his left hand for his spatha on the floor next to his mattress and eased it onto his chest; his right hand gripped the hilt as he listened again.
    Nothing; he started to relax.
    A distant, sudden crack of wood breaking followed by shouts jerked him upright; he unsheathed his spatha.
    ‘Magnus!’ he shouted but got no further.
    The door crashed to the floor; moonlight and dark figures spilled in.
    With a roar he leapt to his feet and hurled himself at them, spatha in the air. Briefly aware of Magnus drawing his sword and Ziri jumping up, he slashed wildly in the dark, felt his blade make
contact and was rewarded with a shrill scream and a jet of blood in his face. He kept his forward momentum going and with a backhand cut felled another of his shadowy assailants; Magnus hurtled
into the man next to him, flooring him with a body-check and a jab to the belly. Ziri threw himself at another of them, crunching his forehead into the man’s nose, taking him down. Driving
his left foot forwards, Vespasian brought his right knee up, squelching into the groin of the next figure who dropped like a dead man to the ground with a guttural roar that was stifled as he
started to hyperventilate with pain. Strangulated gurgles came from the floor as Ziri despatched his opponent with his bare hands. Magnus’ straight thrust into the right eye of his next
opponent was enough to convince their attackers to withdraw at speed.
    ‘What the fuck was that all about?’ Magnus asked, breathing heavily.
    ‘Don’t know, but we certainly should get out of here; help me with Corvinus,’ Vespasian replied, thrusting the tip of his spatha into the throat of the man clutching his
crushed testicles.
    Finding Corvinus in the dark from the direction of his snoring proved easy enough; what was not easy was waking him.
    ‘Shit, we’ll have to carry the bugger; Ziri, here,’ Magnus said after a third sharp slap had proven fruitless.
    Magnus and Ziri quickly slung an arm over each shoulder and dragged Corvinus to the open door.
    Peering outside into the moonlit agora, Vespasian could see no one close by, but their attackers were running over to the other side of the square where a group of figures surrounded the
storeroom to which the comatose troopers had earlier been dragged to sleep off the date wine.
    ‘There’s nothing that we can do about them,’ Vespasian hissed, turning away and grabbing Corvinus’ ankles, ‘they’ll have butchered them by now. Let’s
get out before those bastards get their reinforcements.’
    Running as fast as possible with the dead weight of Corvinus between them, they skirted around the edge of the agora; coming to an alley leading away, they turned up it as an almighty shout came
from over by the storeroom.
    ‘Shit! That’s them after us,’ Magnus said as they raced up the dark alley. Corvinus started to moan; his head lolled from side to side. ‘I fucking wish old matey-boy here
could hold his drink.’
    Suddenly the alley opened onto a main street; they paused and looked each way, it was deserted. Darting across