Strategos: Born in the Borderlands (33 page)

‘My actions have spoken for me, sir, every time I have donned the armour and arms of the thema
.
’ Apion turned to Bracchus, sheathing his sword. ‘If any man thinks less of me for such a trivial aside as living with a peaceful Seljuk family then let them come forward and face me,’ his eyes narrowed on Bracchus, ‘then you will have your measure of blood; but I will not kill Dekarchos Sha.’

Bracchus’ eyes grew cold and he clicked his fingers. ‘Vadim. Finish them. Finish them both!’

But before Vadim could step forward, the clatter of hundreds of swords being grappled and partially drawn filled the air. The garrison moved forward, flanking Apion as he helped Sha to his feet. Vadim hesitated and then looked to Bracchus.

At that moment, Apion saw a glimmer of fear in the tourmarches’ eyes. It lasted for just an instant, then it transformed into something darker than he had ever seen, even within himself. If Bracchus was to die here at the hands of many, then the entire garrison would be to blame and he knew all too well the punishment the Agentes could exact on those who crossed or harmed one of their own. No, Bracchus would die as planned tonight, on the end of his dagger alone.

He held his hands up to the men of the garrison and then turned to Bracchus again. ‘The tourmarches is our senior officer. We must respect his word.’ Apion kept his expression firm despite the scowls from some of the men at this. ‘What happened here was an unfortunate misunderstanding.’ He cocked an eyebrow to Bracchus. At last the blackness in the man’s eyes faded and he nodded.

‘As you say, soldier. Men, at ease. This is an issue for myself, the dekarchos and this soldier to deal with.’

The garrison remained braced until Apion turned to them, nodding. With a muted sigh, all half-drawn swords were replaced. He clasped an arm to Sha’s shoulder and then looked to Bracchus. ‘We will accept the harshest punishment associated with our crime of what? Disorder while off-duty?’

‘Oh yes, you will,’ Bracchus seethed.

Apion offered him a humble nod, as the rasping voice echoed in his mind.

You will take no more lives. And tonight, you whoreson, I will drink your blood.

***

The summer night was balmy and the cricket song was as loud indoors as well as out. From a few bunks away, Procopius groaned some sleepy nonsense-talk about the war against the sheep. Apion shook his head clear of the distraction. His muscles ached from the skirmish and then the aborted death bout during the day, but his mind and his heart were alert and honed on one thing.

He heard the muttering of the change of guard. It was time.

He untied the prayer rope and mouthed an oath and then an apology to his parents. For tonight he was to become a cold-blooded murderer. He lifted his dagger, tucked it inside his belt and crept from the sleeping quarters to lurk in the shadow of the main doorway.

Outside was dark apart from the torch ablaze on the watchtower by the gate. An ordinary evening, like any other. Only tonight, when Bracchus made his way to the officers’ quarters with Vadim, both would have their throats opened. He felt shame as he realised he was grinning at the prospect, welcoming the image of the dark door, flexing his own fingers as he saw the knotted arm reach out for it.

He watched the guards on the tower until they turned to look out over the fortified town. Then he scuttled across the muster yard to crouch in the shadows of the hay bales by the stables, back pressed against the wall of the storeroom adjoining to the officers’ quarters. When Bracchus walked past, he would spring. All this time, all that pain, all the angst, it would be let tonight like a poisonous cyst. He peered around the corner. Still nothing. He frowned, scanning the muster yard. There were no other guards in the compound. Something didn’t feel right.

Suddenly, an arm wrapped around his throat and a sharp point pressed into his neck.

‘So the hero tries to flee the barracks under cover of night?’

His vision cleared to reveal Bracchus, stood before him. Vadim held him from behind, grunting in amusement, a ham-like hand clutching at Apion’s throat, the other hand holding a dagger, the tip resting on his jugular.

‘Well, not in my realm, you Seljuk loving whoreson; here you pay for your crimes and you pay heavily.’ His words grew into a snarl as he gripped Apion’s hair and wrenched his head back. ‘You tried to humiliate me on my own territory. Shrewd and bold, but, as countless souls would tell you if their throats had not been ripped out, I do not hesitate to stamp out those who displease me. That is not good news for you.’ Bracchus nodded and Vadim wrapped his arm around Apion’s chin.

Staring at the star-studded night sky, Apion knew it was too late to shout, too late to plead. The knife blade pressed deeper into his jugular and he winced at the hot blood that escaped and trickled down his neck.

‘That’s not all; I’ve got
two
reasons to cut your throat, end your pitiful life,’ Bracchus’ words stung in Apion’s ear. ‘A business friend of mine, a very profitable business friend, old Kyros – used to make me a fortune taking money from the fools riding the highways near Trebizond – went missing some years ago. My men used to collect a cut of his takings every winter, then one time he didn’t show. I sent word round to look out for him, and then I heard he and his mob had been found, slain in the grass by the Piksidis. When I heard this I was distraught; I’d have to do without the old bastard’s money. I put a price on the head of those responsible, but nobody had seen a thing. Last they’d heard he had set out to knock the coins from some fool.’ Bracchus’ glare sharpened. ‘Now, years later, when it is all forgotten, I get word that a farmer has been telling how that day he saw two young boys, one a cripple and the other a Seljuk, fleeing from the valley just before Kyros and his band were found.’

Apion’s thoughts swirled, then he hardened his expression. ‘I set out to buy information from him, the man tried to kill me. He got what he deserved for that.’

‘In turn, I could easily end your life in return for the lost revenue from Kyros.’ Bracchus nodded to Vadim, who pushed the knife blade in further, stinging Apion’s flesh.

Apion fixed a glare on the tourmarches. How many had been slaughtered and buried by him and his network, all with the emperor’s blessing? If he was to be the next victim, then he had failed. Rage boiled in his veins.

His muscles contorted and he thrashed backwards, kicking up from the ground. A dull crunch reverberated through the back of his skull and Vadim released his grip with a moan, staggering back, clutching the squashed mass of his nose, cupping the blood that gushed from his nostrils and the fine line where the cartilage had snapped, then the big Rus slumped to his knees.

Apion’s heart hammered as he stood locked in a glare with Bracchus. Both of them darted glances to the dagger, discarded in the dust. Apion heard a rasping voice scream inside him.
Take it
. He spotted the glint in Bracchus’ eye and dropped to one knee, snatching the blade, just as Bracchus made to do likewise.

Turning the blade over in his hand, a gleeful lust raced through Apion. This was the moment. The tourmarches would be found tomorrow, throat cut back to his spine, eyes gouged from his face. Apion shivered with desire for blood.

‘Think very carefully about what you do next,’ Bracchus spat, eyes trained on the glinting tip of the dagger. ‘A soldier breaking night curfew? What was he doing? What happened when his superior officers questioned him? He attacked them, tried to kill them?’ Then the tourmarches’ face curled into a grin under his razor of a nose. ‘You’re already covered in evidence, boy.’

Apion touched a hand to his scalp, warm and wet with Vadim’s blood.

‘You’ll die a disgrace, your Seljuk loving head on a spike, no doubt . . . ’ Bracchus said.

‘You don’t even know why I’m out here tonight, do you?’ Apion hissed. He heard his next words in his mind before he spoke them.
Let me tell you of my murdered parents, while I watch your lifeblood spill at my feet.

But Bracchus cut in before he could say it. ‘ . . . and I can assure you that they will die for this.’

Apion’s frown fell, the mist in his thoughts parted. ‘What did you say?’

‘Your dirty Seljuk farmer and his whore of a daughter.’ Bracchus pushed up against the blade, the point resting by his heart. Apion’s mind raged with the fires from behind the dark door and his fingers curled tight around the blade’s handle. Vengeance was within a dagger’s length. ‘Spill a drop of my blood and they will die on my order, an order that is already with my men across the thema.’

Apion flinched as Vadim also stood tall again, wiping his nose with the back of a shovel-like hand, drawing his spathion.

‘You heard him,’ Vadim growled, ‘drop the blade or your family will be a pile of blood and bone . . . after we’ve all had a shot of the girl, of course.’

A thousand voices screamed inside Apion’s mind. His chest heaved, spit jumped from his gritted teeth and his muscles seemed to be harder than iron, the blood raging through them.

‘My colleagues in and around Trebizond, they know who you are now, and I have an understanding with them,’ Bracchus said. ‘All they are waiting on is for my word. I just wanted us to have this little discussion before deciding whether to give that word or not. So if you somehow use that toothpick to kill both of us,’ Vadim grumbled in laughter at this, ‘then your family will be food for the vultures within a handful of days.’

‘You
whoreson!
’ Apion spat.

‘Well, my reputation rides on these qualities.’

Bracchus was back in his element and Apion fell to his knees, the dagger sliding from his wrist. Mansur, Maria, what had he brought upon them? Like a pestilence, these murderous dogs had followed him from the corpses of Mother and Father to his new family.
No, you have followed them
, the rasping voice countered.

‘So,’ Bracchus stooped, prodding the dagger away with a jab of the foot, ‘I have every reason to end your life. You have every reason to keep me healthy and in a fine mood. So you will become the dog that you are. You will follow my orders above anyone else’s. I see potential in you; you could be very useful . . . ’

Apion’s mind spun as he looked up into the tourmarches’ rapacious gaze. His lips moved but no words were forthcoming. The chance to end it all had evaporated like a mist.

Bracchus’ face remained unchanged. ‘When the strategos finally comes here, he will give the orders, but he knows his place with me as much as the next man. Let’s just say that I carry the weight of the imperial seal with me, and I have work for you, Seljuk lover,
bloody
work. So make no mistake, I am to be your master!’

Apion’s blood ran cold, but what choice was there? To retaliate would be a death sentence to those he loved. He pushed up to stand level with the man. There would be another time, and next time there would be no mistake. All the dark fury would be let on this murderous whoreson.

He nodded briskly. ‘You have spoken your piece. So let me return to my bunk.’

Bracchus’ grin turned up horribly to dominate his features, then he patted Apion’s cheek. ‘Good dog.’ Apion shivered at his touch.

Then the tourmarches turned to Vadim. ‘See the mutt has a good sleep, will you? He and his dekarchos have one hundred lashes to be ready for in the morning.’

Vadim grinned, and then slammed his ham of a fist into Apion’s nose.

A dull crack of breaking cartilage filled his head and then all was black.

***

‘Twenty-three!’ Vadim roared. The iron-tipped tendrils of the whip dug into Apion’s back again, gouging deep into his flesh before being wrenched out, pink strands of tissue flailing from their ends. Every strike brought a groan from the garrison, formed up and forced to watch the spectacle.

Apion stared straight ahead, through the iron barrack gates, through the town walls and through the mountains. A cold sweat bathed his skin and he saw the farm, he saw Mansur and Maria and knew what he had to do: he would have no choice but to be the lap dog that Bracchus was to make him, and this was just the start of it

‘Twenty-four!’

Bracchus walked around to stand between Apion and the gates, his eyes searing.