Domitia crouched in a corner. At first she seemed to be frozen in place, then he noticed that her head was rocking from side to side, the movement so slight that it was barely noticeable. He could see her face clearly, but Domitia’s wide eyes were fixed on something in front of her hidden by the bulk of the couch. He edged his way carefully to the right, towards Corbulo’s work desk. Still he could see nothing. He dropped lightly to the floor so he could look between the legs of the couch. At first whatever was there was lost in the gloom, but slowly a heap of sinuous, dark coils came into focus and his blood turned to ice.
He must have made a sound, because Domitia seemed to see him for the first time and her mouth opened. He raised a hand for her to be still, but too late, because from behind the couch came a sibilant, drawn-out hiss and Domitia drew her head back so it was touching the wall. Her body started to shake and he willed her to stop, because he knew that any sharp movement would provoke whatever kind of snake had her trapped. He looked again at the coils beneath the couch and a memory came to him of Africa. A hooded, swaying column of pure copper- scaled spite. Cobra!
Think!
She had backed into a recess beside a statue of the Emperor and she had no way of getting out without passing the snake, which must be close enough to strike. He had to draw it away from her. Draw it away and kill it. But with what?
The only furniture in the room was the general’s desk and chair, a pair of couches for his guests and the cabinet on which the gaming tower sat, all of them too cumbersome to use as a weapon. The statue of Nero was one of a number in the room, including a painted bust of Corbulo himself. They might be used as missiles, but they were heavy and unwieldy and the chances of hitting such a difficult target slim. All he would do was provoke the snake into attack, which might be only seconds away in any case.
Domitia gave a convulsive sob and he knew time was running out. She was as courageous as any woman he had ever met, but courage had its limits and she was close to that limit now. He had to do something, quickly. Could he face it unarmed? The idea filled him with panic. But he must not panic. Find it. Find the calm that allowed him to win the memory game. With that thought his mind cleared and everything in the room came to him. The wax tablet and stylus. The rolled-up scrolls in their leather pouches. The ceremonial swords on the wall. Without taking his eyes from Domitia he reached behind him and groped across the painted plaster until his hand closed on a jewelled grip. Some decorative swords were just that, an empty scabbard with a decorative pommel. But this one wasn’t empty and he breathed a silent prayer of thanks. The blade drew easily from the elaborate sheath with only the barest imitation of the snake’s hiss. The gem-studded hilt made it a little awkward in his hand, but the weight and balance were perfect. The sword was a locally made replica of a cavalry spatha, forged from the blue-sheened iron that made for the strongest blades. It was longer and heavier than the gladius Valerius normally carried, but he was as proficient with the one as the other.
With three strides he crossed the room and pushed the couch aside. The sight of the huge snake almost paralysed him with fear. It was so big that its flared head, with its glinting bronzed scales and pale throat, was on a level with his chest. The raised body pulsed with energy and was the width of his arm at its thickest point. It turned to face him in a single smooth movement and its fanged head drew back ready to strike, the unblinking eyes like obsidian beads as they fixed him in their deadly glare.
Domitia made an involuntary movement and the monster’s awful gaze was drawn back to the crouching figure. Valerius raised his right hand to still her. Instantly, the black beads fixed on him. He feinted with the sword, staying just out of range, and the giant head threatened once more. He found that each move he made was replicated by the flared hood, so it became almost a dance as the snake followed his sword hand. There was his solution. To save Domitia he must become the snake’s only target. But how to do it without sacrificing himself and leaving her to its mercy? He could see the wicked hooked fangs in the creamy white mouth and he imagined the glistening drop of poison in each tip. One scratch from those needle points and the venom would condemn him to a terrible, agonizing death. The snake let out a long hiss and he sensed that its patience was at an end. As he edged closer it became visibly more agitated. He held the sword high and ready to swing. He must draw the strike and draw it so that in the same instant the blue blade swept down to bite into that scaled body.
He stepped towards the snake, reaching out with his right hand, and immediately the great serpent’s head whipped forward with an astonishing speed and power. Valerius flailed with the sword, but the cobra was already inside his swing and he felt a shocking blow that numbed his right arm and made him cry out in horror. From somewhere close he heard a scream that echoed his own fear. He had gambled that the snake would be drawn to the walnut fist, but the gamble had failed. The whiplash strike had taken the flared head beyond the wooden lure to the thick muscled part of Valerius’s forearm. Yet even in the instant his mind told him he was dead, he realized that Fortuna had favoured him. Instead of plunging into unguarded flesh the terrible fangs were hooked into the thick leather stock that held the walnut hand in place, jets of pale venom already darkening the tanned cowhide. Panicking, he swung the sword again, but the cobra’s writhing coils made an almost impossible target as they whipped forward against his legs, horrible, clinging and sinuous. He only managed to inflict a cut which enraged the beast further. He felt the moment when it tried to withdraw and come erect for a second, lethal strike, the wide head shaking his arm with incredible force as it tried to free itself. But the fangs were sunk deep in the tough leather like a pair of barbed hooks. Valerius knew he had only moments. With a last convulsive heave the snake broke clear, but even as its head swayed back and the power flowed into its neck the young Roman’s brain had calculated speed and distance and angle and the long blue sword flashed out to meet the snake’s strike and this time the edge cut deep into the body just below the flared hood. The cobra thrashed back and forth in its agony and the fanged head whipped by a hair’s breadth from his face. It was dying, but not dead, and Valerius placed himself for another cut as it fell back to writhe on the marble floor. The long sword rose and fell, the bright iron cleaving the sinuous body in two and clanging against the stone.
Breathing hard, Valerius took a step back and stood head bowed over the still twitching body of the giant serpent.
He heard a slight noise behind him and turned with the blade raised to strike.
‘That is no way to treat a fine sword, tribune. See, the marble has nicked the edge.’ Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo’s voice was controlled, but his face had the sheen of polished ivory and his hand shook as he held it out to take the ceremonial spatha, which he wiped and replaced in its scabbard. He raised Domitia to her feet on trembling legs. ‘Come my dear, you are safe now. You were not touched? Nevertheless, you should see my physician.’
Before they reached the door she dropped her father’s hand and walked slowly back to where Valerius still stood, half-paralysed and as spent as he had ever been after a battle. He saw the dark eyes flinch as they looked again on the cobra, lying in two pieces, its blood staining the white marble. For a moment it was as if they were the only two people in the world and he wanted more than anything to take her into his arms and comfort her. He knew that a single movement from him would make it happen. But he also understood that to make the movement would bring disaster. He could feel Corbulo’s stare and hear his hoarse breathing. Domitia saw it and took strength from the decision he made for them both. She drew herself up to her full height.
‘It seems that once again I must thank you for saving me, tribune. You should know that I came to my father’s quarters to continue the game of Caesar we had begun. I had pondered a move that would confound him and thought to astonish him with it on his return. It was only when the snake killed my kitten that I became aware of its presence. You must have heard my cry.’
There had been no cry, but it was a convenient explanation and avoided further questions. It wasn’t only in politics that innocence was sometimes no defence.
Valerius bowed his head. ‘It was fortunate that I came to deliver my report at just the right moment. I am only glad I was able to help.’ He turned to her father. ‘What I don’t understand is how such a large snake should be able to make its way so far into the palace unseen.’
Corbulo’s eyes went cold. ‘Stranger still that it is a species I have never heard of being found so close to the coast. This was no accident, tribune. You have many duties, but I must ask you to carry out an investigation. Question my guards. Find out who was in a position to deliver the snake and find out who gave the order. We have an assassin among us.’
XXV
