Immediately the five ladders were unloaded, and the fourteen men who were to accompany Servius over the rear wall made their way up the alley.
Once the ladders were set against the wall with three men waiting behind each one Magnus patted Servius on the shoulder. ‘Keep the boys quiet brother whilst I go and take a look at the front. I’ll come back and tell you once it’s clear.’
Taking his four lads and the Armenians with the second cart, he made his way to the end of the street and cautiously peered around the corner. The Vigiles were still there with the doormen but their attention was on the orange glow in the sky to the west.
Magnus waited for what seemed an age, praying that what he had counted upon would come to pass. After many a muttered entreaty to the whole pantheon of gods, a Vigiles optio eventually came pounding up the Via Patricius.
‘You men! Follow me at the double,’ he shouted to his subordinates.
‘But we’re meant to stay here for the night, optio,’ one of the Vigiles protested.
‘Fuck the whore-boys, that’s the Cohort’s depot on fire. The Urban Prefect will have our guts out if he hasn’t got anything to dress his toy-soldiers up in tomorrow. Macro’s ordered every available man down there.’
With a shrug the four Vigiles jogged off towards the conflagration leaving the two doormen alone.
Magnus ran back to the alley. ‘Now Servius,’ he hissed.
Instantly five men scaled the ladders, then crouched and leant back down to help their comrades. Once all fifteen were on the roof, the ladders were pulled up after them and they split into three groups.
As they disappeared from his vision Magnus went back to join his party. ‘Tigran and Vahram, get our guest ready.’
The Armenian cousins pulled back the leather sheet and, with a degree of difficulty, hefted Blandinus out of the cart and supported him between them, an arm around each shoulder.
Faint shouts and screams suddenly emanated from within the Albanians’ establishment. ‘Right, they’re in,’ Magnus whispered looking at the two Armenians. ‘When I give you the signal you run around the corner hollering in Albanian for all you’re worth that the place is under attack and you’ve brought a wounded man from round the back. We’ll be twenty paces behind you so you won’t have long to hold the door once you’ve killed the doormen. Don’t worry if you drop matey-boy here, he won’t feel a thing and we’ll pick him up.’
Tigran and Vahram grinned and nodded.
Good boys, Magnus thought as he peered around the corner, could be useful in the future. The doormen had now heard the fighting and were knocking violently on the door. Magnus heard the bolt slam back. ‘Now!’
The Armenians leapt around the corner, dragging Blandinus between them, shouting in an incomprehensible language. The two doormen glanced up at them in alarm and then at each other. They pulled the cudgels from their belts and one stepped through the now open door whilst the other held his position, with a puzzled look on his face, keeping the door clear for his comrades approaching from the shadows shouting for help in his own language. By the time they were close enough for him to make out their features, it was too late. He died looking into a stranger’s eyes with an unforeseen blade in his heart.
Magnus hurtled around the corner with his brothers in his wake as the doorman slumped to the ground. Within moments he made the door. Tigran held it open, the second doorman and the doorkeeper lay dead in a pool of blood at Vahram’s feet. Just inside the vestibule, Blandinus lay cast to the ground.
Lucio and Cassandros dragged the dead doorman in from outside and Marius shut and bolted the door.
Magnus looked through the curtains into the dimly lit atrium. Kurush and four or five of his men were struggling to hold back the Crossroads Brothers as they tried to force their way through from the courtyard garden. A gaggle of three frightened boys huddled in one corner. To his left the stairs leading up to the first floor were deserted. ‘Right Sextus, you stay here guarding the door and keep an eye out for anyone coming down them stairs. Kill anyone who isn’t wearing a Cohort tunic.’
‘Kill anyone not dressed like me,’ Sextus said, thoughtfully digesting his orders. ‘And look after Blandinus. If he starts to come round knock him on the head, but gentle like.’
‘Knock him on the head gently, right you are Magnus.’
‘Marius get those boys, one unconscious but alive. Alright lads, let’s do this.’
Magnus sprang through the curtain with a savage roar and his sword held steady at his side. Marius, Lucio, Cassandros and the Armenians followed, each yelling at the tops of their voices.
The sudden distraction from behind caused the Albanians to falter for an instant. Two went down immediately to the swords of their attackers in front whilst the rest gave ground.
Magnus leapt over a couple of the sumptuously upholstered divans that littered the room and pounced on Kurush, locking his forearm around the whore-boy master’s throat. ‘I don’t take kindly to greasy foreigners fucking with my clients,’ he growled in his ear.
‘Magnus!’ Kurush managed to gurgle through his constricted windpipe, ‘I thought we were square.’
‘Now we’re square.’ With a brutal thrust he forced the finely honed blade of his sword into Kurush’s side, up under the ribcage, slicing through his liver and into a lung. Blood spurted from the Albanian’s mouth onto Magnus’ forearm as Kurush went rigid with pain. Around him his brothers despatched the remaining defenders in a welter of dismemberment and savagery. With a final upwards thrust that lifted Kurush off his feet, Magnus felt the man go limp. He let him fall to the floor with the sword still embedded, his eyes open in sightless shock and his beard redder than it had ever been in life.
Magnus looked around breathing heavily, wiping the blood from his forearm on the side of his tunic. The only men left standing were his brethren and the Armenians, all also trying to catch their breath as they looked down at the Albanians sprawled at their feet. Magnus looked closely at the dead. None of them was the young rapist.
Servius came in from the garden flanked by four brothers. ‘It’s all clear back in the rooms. As you predicted there were no customers at this time of night so no tricky questions will be asked. We’ve suffered two flesh wounds and Festus got a nasty gut wound. I’ve had him sent back with a couple of lads already.’
‘Good. Where’s the rapist?’ Magnus asked.
‘Not back there brother.’
Magnus looked around the atrium. Marius stood over the bodies of two of the boys, a third lay unbloodied to one side. ‘He must be upstairs.’ He turned to walk back to the staircase but stopped in his tracks.
Sextus was standing over the body of a young man looking pleased with himself. ‘One tried to sneak out Magnus,’ he said wiping his sword on the dead man’s trousers.
Magnus closed his eyes and bit back his anger. Sextus had only done as he had been told and killed a man not in Cohort uniform. ‘Shit!’
‘What is it brother?’ Servius asked.
‘How can we get the rapist to fuck Blandinus if he’s dead?’
‘Ah yes, I see. We’ll have to improvise. Cassandros, this is your area of expertise I believe?’
Cassandros pursed the thumb and fingers of his right hand together and grinned. ‘I just need a bit of oil.’
Magnus raised his eyebrows. ‘Unbelievable. Well, if that’s our only option we better get to it, it’ll be dawn soon. Have some lads search upstairs to make sure it’s clear and get the rest of them looking for cash and jewellery. Sextus, bring the dead Albanian. Lucio and Marius, you get Blandinus. Cassandros get the oil.’
As Magnus led his brothers carrying the dead rapist down a corridor overlooking the garden, very similar in set-up to Terentius’ place, he stepped over the occasional body of a whore-boy or one of their masters.
‘In here lads,’ he said pushing the door to the last room open. It caught on the dead weight behind it but with a little additional effort he managed to slide it back far enough to slip inside. He pulled the body of its former occupant, lying face down on the floor in a bloody tunic, out of the way. ‘Strip Blandinus and put him kneeling on the bed, then get the Albanian behind him and this dead boy in front of him.’
As Marius and Lucio removed Blandinus’ tunic and loincloth Cassandros came in with a small jug.
Before long all the three bodies were lined up on the bed with the boy placed with his back to the wall. Blandinus knelt before him, a trail of saliva trickled from his mouth and he breathed shallowly.
‘Alright Cassandros,’ Magnus said pointing to the Albanian lying behind the tribune, ‘get it over with. Lucio, Sextus, hold Blandinus firm.’
Cassandros smiled and, evidently relishing the prospect, began pouring the oil.
Magnus turned his attention to other matters. ‘Marius run and tell Servius to get everyone out of here with whatever they’ve got and make sure that boy is still unconscious; give him a wound to the shoulder so it don’t look like he was left on purpose.’
Marius nodded and left as Blandinus groaned and abruptly tensed, his eyes flicked open as his arms twitched but remained useless. He turned his head groggily to stare unfocused at Magnus.
‘Sorry Tribune.’ Magnus crashed his right fist into Blandinus’ face.
He went limp and a few moments later Cassandros grunted deeply in satisfaction.