Underbelly (37 page)

Octavius’ senses had led him to the islands and after a few weeks we went out on a new boat, provided by the people, five of their bravest men coming out with us. Octavius sensed he was near as we travelled between islands but it was one of the islanders who spotted him first, swimming well below the surface of the clear water in the distance. I thought it was a large fish when he first pointed it out, the fastest fish I’d ever seen. He bobbed to the surface well away from us, staring at us, a naked blond youth with Chinese eyes and the powerful build of one who swam constantly. Octavius shouted at him to come closer, telling him to feel free to sink the boat, making the offer in several languages – I don’t think he understood any language, but he smiled at us and disappeared under the water. He didn’t return until late at night, taking us all by surprise by shooting up suddenly at the side of our boat and grabbing Octavius and pulling him down into the water. We all knew that we might need to go in the water and we weren’t wearing our armour and myself and a couple of others dived into the water after them with our weapons. I could see them struggling and tried to help Octavius as they wrestled but Lastoor, as they called him, which meant something like water demon in their language, was too powerful in the water and was able to pull Octavius too far down and dragged him away from us. We tried to follow where they went in the boat but Lastoor swam faster with a struggling prisoner than we could row. We lost him but I wouldn’t give up, even when everyone else said we should return to the chieftain. We searched the waters for four days before we returned to the chieftain, and that was only to load up with fresh supplies before we headed out again. Octavius was there, asking us what took us so long and inviting us to join in the celebrations. If there was one emotional moment in my life it was seeing him alive; there was enormous relief. Octavius figured out that Lastoor sensed that he was different and took him to his underground cave as a trophy. On dry land and with air to breathe Octavius had beaten him to death with ease and had even returned his body back as proof of his absolute victory. The chieftain had wanted to dismember the body and Octavius had refused and ordered a decent burial for Lastoor, giving him a small measure of respect as he had come the closest to killing him. Octavius was man enough to admit this to us and he advised the villagers to set traps on their shores in case others like Lastoor showed up, which he felt was doubtful, but in that eventuality he told them that they had to fight them on land and not in the water where they would lose.

Octavius brought something else back from Lastoor’s cave, a prisoner who had been presumed dead for two years. Her name was Slene and she was a plain, utterly humourless and joyless woman. The other villagers of her age, in their early 20s, were generally attractive while her face was made of stone, her long blonde hair her only redeeming feature. Her husband had married again and was not pleased to see her and Octavius chose to take her back to join his household, the woman a reminder of his victory over a worthy adversary. The villagers were very sad to see us go and Octavius allowed three young men to return with us, an unprecedented move, the first time he let men who were not Romans join his century. They became excellent soldiers in time and particular favourites of his, though he quickly tired of Mirag when we returned to Rome and she ended up as just another member of the household, and certainly not one of the privileged few.

Octavius offered me Slene after two years. I was not enthusiastic but I would not go against his wishes and I married her, and our marriage was as joyless as she was. The language barrier was a blessing, as it meant I didn’t have to try to talk to her.

Do you think she had feelings for you?

That’s hard to say. Her facial expression never changed from bored indifference, which would make me believe not, but she was even like that with Octavius and she was his willing thrall, perpetually thanking him monotonously for releasing her from Lastoor’s bondage. Octavius did sleep with her after we were married and it didn’t bother me.

Why do you think he did that, if he had so many other women to choose from?

Slene was a trophy; she had been Lastoor’s woman. Sleeping with her was just like polishing H’rath’s horns, a reminder of glory.

She was your woman too.
Whatever Cassius’ flaws (and they were massive), he had been unswervingly loyal to Octavius and Grey felt that Octavius was needlessly rubbing his nose in the dirt.

Octavius sleeping with her made it easier for me to.
Cassius’ explanation made sense to Grey, who decided not to probe deeper. Cassius and Slene’s marriage lasted seven years, Slene outliving him, Cassius dying naturally in his sleep a year after Siena’s death. He told Grey of the last supernatural threat he faced, remembering a visitor to the mansion, an African slaver called Agar Meshuna.

He arrived with five nubile women and five strong men, none of whom were restrained, all willingly accompanying him into bondage, all naked while he was dressed like a nobleman. At first I thought that he must have tricked them into it but before I knew it my thoughts changed and instead of chiding the men for letting him enter without consulting me, I was on my knees kissing the many rings on his hand. That was the scene Octavius walked in on, me on my knees fawning to a Moor. Meshuna had powers of persuasion, insidious abilities that would have been undetectable to anyone bar Octavius. Just like with Lucia, Octavius heard him out, expecting Meshuna to suggest an alliance, but Meshuna’s arrogance and avarice were his undoing. He offered the slaves to Octavius for a ridiculously high figure, testing his abilities on Octavius. If he had succeeded in enthralling him we would all have become his property, but Octavius’ mind was beyond his grasp. Octavius gave me a potion to drink that made me immune to Meshuna’s powers and allowed me to choose his fate. I crucified him in the garden.

What about the men and women he brought with him?

The slaves? They couldn’t be trusted. We sold them on to someone else.
Grey felt that it was a sorry state of affairs when the news that ten men and women had been sold into slavery came as a relief, all too aware that Cassius and Octavius were capable of worse things.

Cassius claimed to have no capacity for emotions and as the days dragged on Grey began to believe him. He certainly had very little compassion, viewing death very differently to Grey, able to dispense it with ease. Grey did not know how to help him find his release, for while Cassius thought that they were similar, Grey viewed himself as very different to Cassius and he didn’t know how to reach him. Octavius seemed the best route, but he was dead and Cassius already knew this. He did not view Cassius as evil, and was prepared to talk to him until he had helped him, appreciating that Cassius had been very honest and revealing with him, but the thought of Cassius being an ever present visitor like Del was unbearable.

Cassius sensed that he was unwelcome and departed from Grey’s consciousness of his own free will. He had done what he wanted to, spreading the word of Octavius which would hopefully help his name gain fresh recognition. A legend of his status deserved to be revered and feared by another generation.

Dr Brennan promised Grey that he would let him leave on Monday morning, which would be his tenth day in the hospital, but Germaine managed to talk him into letting him leave on Saturday afternoon by promising she’d take good care of him. Grey thought that they would be going back to the flat and was impressed when Germaine led him to a small baseball ground to see a game – it was only two local work teams lining up against each other but the thought meant a lot. She tried to downplay it though he was having none of it, hugely appreciative of the gesture.

“
I know that you love the sport, I just wish you could see a big game,” Germaine said.

“
It’s the sport I love, the level doesn’t matter. It’s a better sport than Stratt-baiting; I’ve retired from that one. I think Doc Brennan would say I wouldn’t even be able to play this one,” he said, his eyes remaining fixed on the action as he spoke.

“
I wouldn’t,” Germaine said, viewing baseball as quite a leisurely, non-contact sport, much safer than both forms of football, what she considered true football, soccer, and what seemed to be a rugby variant, which the Americans called football. Grey smiled at her and she said, “I’d rather you didn’t work though, for a little while at least, but whatever you decide I won’t whine about it.”

“
I won’t look for work until Monday and I’ll take it easy until then. I am fine, Germaine, truly, and the reason I am is because of you. My appendix burst in the hospital, and it was because you got me there so quickly that I’m okay now. It could have been bad, but because you got help so quick it isn’t. You saved me,” he said, taking her hand in his.

“
The doctors did that,” she said modestly.

“
Your actions got me to them. You did really well and I promise I won’t put you in that position again. Do you think this guy will get another home run?” he said as one of the best batters walked to the plate.

“
I don’t know, the catcher is quite good,” she said, mixing him up with the pitcher. Grey knew what she meant, and didn’t point out her error, savouring the occasion, which made him keen to play again. On Monday he applied at both factories, keen for a job at either place and even keener to try out for a place on the team, taking a very lowly paid job sweeping the factory floors of the losing team (which worked out well as they weren’t a good team and he stood a better chance of earning a place in the team). Grey’s hospitalisation had affected their plans, as did the news of Germaine’s pregnancy, travelling extensively and passing on messages that caused untold misery perhaps not the right course of action. Dr Brennan wanted Grey to remain in town to follow his recovery, Grey agreeing to return as an outpatient, just in case there was any truth in his dire warning. He could wiggle his toes and he could walk and jog, his feet certainly not gangrenous, but they were often numb for extended periods, up to several hours at a time, so he went back to see him (he had no problems about going to hospital provided he didn’t have to stay in overnight).

His visits to the doctor kept Germaine happy, unlike her job. Grey could switch off when people ran him down, Germaine lacking that ability, waitressing the wrong profession for one who took things to heart. The proprietors, Chester and Lou, were pleasant enough, both in their early 50s and good at dealing with the public. Chester and Lou were married to other partners and were obviously romantically entangled, Germaine not judging their adultery which was none of her business, grateful that they were overlooking her shortcomings, unlike her customers. Her position had become available because the previous waitress, Rosie, had left to have a baby, and Germaine heard her name frequently, customers comparing her unfavourably to Rosie (‘She’s not Rosie’, ‘When you had a bad day Rosie always used to lift you, and now…’, ‘They’ll lose trade’), her politeness and good temperament impressing no one. As her shift drew to a close, after several rowdy customers had mocked her accent and slid their money from the table onto the floor so that she had to bend down to pick it up, she saw a friendly face enter, the first person to smile at her in hours. The sight of him instantly lifted her spirits and she went to him as he sat down at a table.

It was quiet and Grey said, “If you’ve had a hard day then this is one customer you can take it out on.” He pulled her hand to his lips, kissing the back of her hand briefly, out of sight of Chester and Lou.

“
Never. I want this customer to come back,” she said affectionately. Grey ordered a snack in French, impressing her by learning new words and with his improved pronunciation and even the composition of his sentence was passable. He received extra syrup as a reward, Grey making sure to thank her gratefully to make up for all of those that likely hadn’t. He always finished before her, his working day shorter than what he was used to (7am – 3pm) and he would meet her at work and they would make plans for the evening, which proved easier than the big decisions that they had to make. Where was their child going to be born? Where were they going to live? Was he going to keep on delivering the messages? Was he going to put on another show or was he going to let Stratt retire him? Choosing how to spend their evening was easier than answering the big questions.

They couldn’t stay in the town forever and after a week Grey began to talk about their future, asking Germaine if she wanted to stop travelling now that she was pregnant. She was adamant that she could travel and suggested that it would likely be easier to travel before she gave birth, both of them agreeing that it would be time to find a home when their child was born. Germaine accepted that Grey’s performances would mean they would have to travel from time to time, which she didn’t mind as long as they had a base to return to.