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  "The will of the Gods happened," Marcus said, staring intently into the cup of water in front of him. He rubbed his hand over the rough patches of stubble which had accumulated on his cheeks over the last several days. "It was a little something to stir up some fear in Vestatian's heart, nothing more."

  "Nothing more? The building is completely obliterated," Domitian exclaimed. "Your escape would have been enough to strike fear into our false Governor's heart."

  "No," Marcus said. "My escape would have been enough to strike annoyance and anger into his heart. An escape alone would have done nothing to further our cause."

  "And what good did destroying the prison do," Vito asked, "exactly? Aside from bringing attention to our little movement, of course - which, if you recall, is exactly what we wanted to avoid!"

  "Believe me," Marcus grinned, "the attention we have garnered is exactly the sort of attention we want. Think of it - first Vestatian sees the complete and utter annihilation of a major institution in this city. An institution which ostensibly holds a potentially great threat to his rule, no less. His immediate reaction will be that the destruction of the building is a divine omen."

  "And since he's begun to worship the Sicambrii's heathen gods," Alexandra said with a dawning realization, "he will believe that it is a sign that he is favoured by the Sicambrii gods, who have favoured him with the destruction of an enemy."

  "He won't think twice about the fact that some of his men were killed," Marcus said, "because that's exactly the sort of thing you might expect from the heathen gods. As far as Julianus Vestatian is concerned, I am deceased."

  "So," Domitian asked, "how will that strike fear into his heart? If he thinks that you are dead and that he is favoured by his new masters, wouldn't that inspire him to become even more controlling and vicious towards the Roman populace?"

  "Yes," Marcus said. "And no. He should be lulled into a sense of complacency - feeling that he is invincible. That is the time we shall strike fear into his heart."

  "How do we do that?" Vito asked.

  "It should be as simple as letting him know that I'm alive and well," Marcus said, his grin expanding wider than ever. "Maybe he'll catch a glimpse of me as his procession parades through the streets one day, or maybe he'll catch a glimpse of me on the balcony of his mansion one night, watching him as he tries to sleep. That will be enough to rouse his suspicions; once he hears of members of the city guard being found violently slaughtered on the city streets, he'll be terrified."

  "He'll think that your spirit has returned to wreak vengeance on him," Domitian said with a laugh.

  "Either that," Marcus said, "or he'll think that I'm the child of a God, invulnerable to all harm, and set on killing him at all costs. It's a win-win scenario."

  "Good," Domitian said. "For now, I think we should -"

  Domitian was interrupted by the sound of yelling and splintering wood from the floor above them. The men all leapt to their feet instinctively, looking in every direction to see if they could find the source of the sound. The yelling continued with increasing volume, followed by the shrill, piercing scream of the elderly housekeeper.

  "Weapons," Marcus urged Domitian. "Do you have weapons? A sword, a dagger, an axe - even a pointy stick? Anything at all that we can use to defend ourselves?"

  "Yes," Domitian said, rushing across the room and flipping open a large wooden chest. Stacked neatly inside was a veritable treasure trove of weaponry - half a dozen swords, a few daggers, some small metal darts, and more. Marcus grabbed two of the shortswords, flipping and twisting them around in his hands as if it was his second nature. Picking up a sword for himself, Domitian handed Vito and Alexandra each a dagger. The yelling intensified as it approached closer and closer to the basement door; after the deadbolt prevented the yellers from entering, the door shuddered violently under the weight of a hard kick. Marcus calmly took a position facing the door, standing back just far enough that the door would not hit him if it swung open. He balanced on the balls of his feet, holding both swords at the ready.

  "Those voices sound like they belong to Sicambrii warriors," Marcus said. "How did they find us?"

  "There's only one possibility," Vito said. "They must have found out the same way you did."

  "I sincerely hope that you haven't entrusted all of our valuable secrets to the keeping of men who are so easily swayed into divulging such sensitive information," Marcus said dryly. "Open the door."

  "Are you insane? If I open the door," Vito said, "they'll get in!"

  "If you don't open the door," Marcus growled, "they'll break it down and get in anyway. I'd rather fight them on our own terms, rather than theirs."

  With a resigned shrug, Vito reached over and pulled the deadbolt back. Almost immediately, the heavy thud of another kick knocked the door wide open. Marcus leapt forward, thrusting out with his right hand at the first figure in the doorway. The dawning realization that the door had actually been knocked open came a fraction of a second too late for the unfortunate warrior; he saw neither Marcus rushing at him nor the sword which tore into his neck with such force that he was nearly beheaded.

  The death of the lead warrior did nothing to slow down the advance of the Sicambrii behind him. The corpse was knocked into Marcus by another of the warriors; as the unexpected force of the body crashed into him, Marcus stumbled back a step. That stumble was the only opening that the Sicambrii required - by the time Marcus had thrown the corpse to the ground, four warriors had pushed their way into the room and stood watching the room's occupants with their weapons ready. More warriors waited beyond the room's doorway, glaring menacingly as they brandished their battleaxes. The largest and fiercest-looking of the Sicambrii in the room gestured at Alexandra and growled a few words in the Sicambrii tongue.

  "What in the name of the Gods did he just say?" Marcus shouted.

  "He said," Vito told Marcus, "that they're looking for your wife. He also mentioned that the rest of us are to be killed."

  "You speak," the largest Sicambrii said in a slow and rumbling pidgin Latin, "our language? It does not matter. By order of our Governor, we are here to arrest the woman. Anyone who stands in our way is to die."

  "Oh," Marcus said, feigning resignation. "Well, if you've been ordered to take her, I suppose you should take her. But first," his voice said, taking on a hardened homicidal edge, "you're going to have to come through me."

  As his last word tumbled out of his mouth, Marcus brought both of his shortswords up and slashed out at the nearest Sicambrii warrior. The first sword sliced clean through the warrior's wrist, severing the man's hand from his body. He opened his mouth to scream, but not before Marcus' second sword cleaved upward into his jaw. The blade ripped through muscle and bone, literally cutting the warrior's face off. The warrior's body fell to the ground, writhing in agony which could not be given voice. Without a pause, Marcus dropped to one knee and brought his lead sword down in a brutal slash. The razor-sharp blade tore into the largest Sicambrii's thigh with all the ease of a knife cutting into warm butter. Even as that blade was hacking into the warrior's thigh, Marcus's second sword thrust forward into his chest, piercing the ribcage and slicing through internal organs, finally erupting through the warrior's back. The tip of the sword severed vertebrae, breaking the warrior's spine and dropping him to the ground.

  While Marcus had busied himself dealing with the two warriors he had felled, Domitian and Vito had taken care of the remaining two warriors in the room. All four warriors were now laid in the middle of the basement floor; the largest of them, the one whose spine Marcus had severed, was still alive and writhing in pain. Marcus pulled his sword from the body of the still-living warrior and rose to his feet, letting his gaze fall on the doorway. The remaining Sicambrii warriors hesitated on the threshold, astonished at how quickly their comrades had been overcome. With a baleful glare, Marcus stared at the Sicambrii and tossed his swords aside. The weapons fell to the ground with a hollow clank as Marcus balled his hands into f
ists and brough them to chest level.

  "Come on," he screamed at the Sicambrii. "Or are you cowards? Will you stand by and watch me kill your friends, or will you take action?"

  The appearance of a warrior of Marcus' stature standing unarmed before them was more than enough to provoke the remaining Sicambrii into action; the four warriors rushed through the narrow doorway one at a time. As the first warrior came close to Marcus, he lashed out with his axe. Marcus ducked the blow and delivered a stunning punch to the warrior's stomach, causing the man to double over in pain. It took only a fraction of a second for Marcus to grab hold of the warrior's head in both hands, twisting it violently to the side with enough force to snap his neck and nearly tear his head off. Twirling around to the right of the now-dead first warrior, Marcus snapped a vicious kick at the second warrior's kneecap. The kick connected, shattering the kneecap and stopping the warrior in his tracks. Marcus yanked the warrior's axe from his hands, twisting it free of the warrior's grip and swinging it in an upward arc from the ground to between the warrior's legs. The warrior, who could no longer be called a man in the conventional sense of the term, stared down at the axe buried between his legs with a look of detached shock. Marcus kicked the warrior in the chest again, knocking him backward against the third warrior. The third warrior was knocked off balance for a moment, just long enough for Marcus to get a solid hold on the man's shirt. He threw the warrior headfirst into the nearest wall, crushing the man's skull against the stone surface and letting the corpse fall to the ground with an undignified thud. Without knowing why, he instinctively tumbled down to his right. As he fell to the floor, he felt rather than heard the fourth warrior's axe whistle over his head. Marcus leapt to his feet again, grabbing the warrior's arm with his left hand and driving his right fist into the warrior's wrist. The warrior yelped in pain and dropped his battleaxe. Marcus kicked the axe across the room, leaving the fouth and final warrior standing defenseless in the middle of the basement, staring helplessly at Marcus, Domitian, and Vito.

  "Do you understand Latin?" Marcus asked. The warrior stared at Marcus silently. "Vito, can you translate for me?"

  "Of course," Vito said. "What do you want me to tell him?"

  "Tell him that if he cooperates with us, we'll treat him well and let him go. If he doesn't cooperate, he will die a very slow death."

  Vito uttered a long string of words in the gutteral Sicambrii language. The warrior barked more of the harsh words back at Vito.

  "He says," Vito said, "that he won't cooperate with us. He'd rather die than betray his people."

  "That's exactly what's going to happen to him," Marcus said with a mirthless laugh. He stepped in front of the Sicambrii, standing only inches away from the warrior's face. "Tell me, warrior, who ordered you to capture my wife?"

  Vito translated the sentiment for the warrior, who replied only by staring blankly at Marcus. Rolling his eyes in frustration at the warrior's stubbornness, Marcus punched the warrior hard in the stomach. The Sicambrii man wheezed and doubled over momentarily, but quickly returned to the same blank-gazing stance in front of Marcus.

  "Who sent you?"

  Once again, Vito translated and received no answer from the warrior. Marcus slammed his fist down in a chopping motion against the juncture of the warrior's neck and shoulders. The impact of Marcus' fist against the bundle of nerves drove the warrior down to his knees, yelling in agony. Once again, he recovered quickly and returned to his blank-gazing stance.

  "Listen to me, you half-witted sack of excrement," Marcus growled, "I'm not in the mood for games. In the last two days, I've gone through more than you can possibly imagine - now tell me who sent you, or suffer my wrath!"

  Again, Vito translated and received no answer. Marcus gestured for Domitian to hand him a dagger, and Domitian complied.

  "Hold him," Marcus instructed Domitian and Vito. "And extend his right hand. Vito, tell him that if he doesn't cooperate, he'll begin losing his fingers, one at a time." Domitian and Vito did as Marcus instructed, grabbing hold of the warrior in a steely grip. Domitian wrestled the warrior's right hand up to Marcus' waist level while Vito uttered Marcus' threat in the Sicambrii tongue. This time, the warrior began to jabber quickly as Marcus set the edge of the dagger against the base of his index finger.

  "Hold," Vito said to Marcus. "He says he's willing to talk. He doesn't want to lose his fingers for some damnable Roman - the Captain of the city guard. That's who instructed them to find and capture Alexandra. It seems that the Captain, upon hearing of your escape from the prison, decided that the best way to find you would be through your wife. They also...oh."

  "Oh, what?" Marcus asked, his voice turning cold and hostile.

  "You don't want to know," Vito said.

  "If I didn't want to know," Marcus growled, "I wouldn't have asked you. Now tell me what he said. Everything."

  "He said that they were given orders to...to have their way with Alexandra before bringing her to the captain."

  "What did you say?" Marcus' voice quaked with rage.

  "I told you that you didn't want to know."

  With a cry that fell somewhere between sheer, unmitigated rage and total disgust, Marcus thrust his dagger into the Sicambrii warrior's eye socket with so much force that the blade not only buried itself to the hilt in the warrior's skull, the hilt itself crushed the bone that it was forced to grind against. The blade pierced so far into the warrior's skull that the dagger's tip sliced into the man's brain. The warrior's life drained out of his body in a second, causing his knees to buckle and his corpse to fall to the ground.

  "Marcus," Domitian said, trying his best to be diplomatic, "I know that the Sicambrii are our enemy, but didn't you promise that you would let him go if he cooperated?"

  "I'm not holding him here against his will anymore," Marcus said, shooting a furious glance to Domitian. "If he wants to get up and leave, that's his choice."

  "But," Domitian said, "he's dead."

  "That's not my problem, is it? Like I said, I'm fulfilling my purpose. He's free now. Tell me, Domitian, when I was captured, did you make sure to recover my posessions from my room at the inn?"

  "Yes," Domitian said. The colour had drained completely from his face. He had never seen Marcus so wild-eyed and furious before, and obviously didn't like the sight. "We have it stored down here...the chest over in the corner there holds everything. There wasn't much - just your armour and sword, and a few pieces of clothing."

  "That's all I need," Marcus said. He flung the chest open wide and pulled out his sword and battle armour. With a smoothly practiced hand, he began to don the armour, closing the elaborate clasps and buckles in a flash, finally girding his sword onto his belt when the armour was properly in place.

  "Marcus, tell me you're not planning on doing what I think you're going to do," Vito said.

  "I would," Marcus said, storming out of the basement and up the stairs. Domitian, Vito, and Alexandra followed close on his heels. "But I'd be lying. I think I'm going to do exactly what you think I'm going to do."

  "But -"

  Stopping at the top of the stairs, Marcus whirled to face Vito. "But what? Will we just stand by," he shouted, "and let the Captain of the damnable city guard get away with this? They sent a few Sicambrii this time - next time it will be an army! By the Gods, I expect the cowards to come after me - I am their enemy. But if you think I will stand by and let them hunt my wife, then you are seriously mistaken. It's time that Ceresius learned exactly what he's dealing with. It's time for every single member of the city guard to meet a very painful death, along with whoever tries to stop me. Now, are you coming to help me, or are you planning on standing in my way?"

  "If you're set on this insane course of action," Domitian said with a heavy sigh, "we'll support you. Just give us a minute to get our gear."

  "No. I'm going there now. Get your gear and catch up. I won't be hard to find. Just follow the trail of blood and corpses."

  Chapter XIV

>   Polonius Auroram, the Captain of Cologne's city guard, reclined in the seat behind his desk with a heavy sigh. Over the preceding six months, his job had become almost exponentially more difficult. Riots broke out on the city streets with increasing frequency, only to be violently dispersed by the Sicambrii guardsmen whom the Governor had given virtually free reign over law enforcement in the city. The violence of the barbarians served only to further enrage the populace, which lead to more riots, which were broken up with more violence from the Sicambrii. The vicious cycle showed no good end in sight - in fact, things had taken a very violent turn for the worst lately with the reappearance of Marcus Ulpius. Rumours circulated the streets about an underground syndicate dedicated to overthrowing Governor Ceresius, and the recent capture of Marcus had only added fuel to the fire of the rumours. The complete and utter destruction of the city prison had put the entire city on edge; terrified whispers carried alternating speculations that the destruction of the prison was the wrath of the Olympian Gods and some sort of sign from the Sicambrii Gods - the complete lack of information about the circumstances surrounding the destruction of the prison did nothing to alleviate concerns on either side of the rumour mill. Fortunately, Polonius felt that answers would be forthcoming shortly. Only a matter of hours earlier, he had dispatched several units of Sicambrii warriors with orders to find Marcus Ulpius' wife at any cost. The destruction of the prison corresponded too closely to the capture of Marcus for the two events to be unconnected, and if anyone could shed some light on the events, it would be Marcus' wife. She is, after all, Polonius thought, not only the wife of Marcus Ulpius, but also the Oracle of Mars. If anyone knows what is going on in this city, it will be her.

  "I'm sure they'll be back soon, sir," said a voice on the opposite side of Polonius' desk, snapping the Captain out of his reverie. The voice belonged to the Seargent of the Night Watch; he had been sitting opposite Polonius for nearly a full hour, going over routine reports and paperwork.