thief slumped into him, unmoving, and the club dropped from his nerveless fingers, that Carbo realised that he was dead, or dying. Just what you deserve, you bastard. With a satisfied grunt, he heaved the thief to one side.
He crouched in the darkness, his knife ready, listening for anyone else.
The only sound was Navio’s laboured breathing.
Carbo dropped to his knees. ‘Navio! Can you hear me?’
There was no answer. How hard did the whoreson hit him? Carbo reached out, feeling Navio’s face and scalp for signs of damage. Finding a sticky mat of hair, he lifted his hand, peering at it in the dim twilight. The fluid on his fingers was dark. Blood. Carbo returned to the spot, pressing down gently as he’d seen the surgeon in the ludus doing.
‘Hades, that fucking hurts!’ Navio growled. ‘Are you trying to kill me?’
Carbo let out a long breath of relief. ‘Sorry.’
‘As if that sewer rat didn’t hit me hard enough,’ complained Navio.
‘Can you sit up?’
‘I think so. Help me.’
Carbo put a hand around Navio’s shoulders and lifted. ‘Why the hell didn’t you wait for me? I was only having a piss.’
‘I thought you were going to waste your money on that mule-faced whore.’
‘No, I wasn’t.’
‘I’ll know better next time.’ Navio locked eyes with him. ‘I owe you. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ replied Carbo, mollified.
‘Now, where’s the brothel? It can’t be far.’ Navio twisted his head to see, and then he groaned.
‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea,’ warned Carbo. ‘Can you even stand, never mind ask your prick to do so?’
Navio chuckled throatily. ‘Maybe you’re right.’
‘Let’s go back to the inn.’
‘My belt. Where is it?’
Carbo fumbled around until his fingers closed on the gilded metal and leather. ‘Here. I’ll carry it for you.’ With his help, Navio stood. He kicked feebly at the thief’s body. ‘You made short work of that scumbag. Have you been trained to use weapons?’
Carbo thought fast. ‘We had a slave, a Samnite who’d fought in the Social War. He taught me a lot.’
‘The Social War, eh?’ There was a bitter edge to Navio’s weak laugh.
‘What?’ Carbo moved forward, supporting Navio.
‘Nothing.’
Carbo didn’t push it. Instead, he supported Navio back to the inn. Few people paid them any heed as they re-entered, for which Carbo was grateful. Although no one would care that he’d killed a thief, he didn’t want to have to explain himself to the city watch. ‘Let’s get you to bed,’ he muttered to Navio. ‘You need to sleep your injury off.’
‘No damn way. I owe you a drink. It’s the least I can do.’
‘But the blood on your head-’
‘Fuck that. I’ve had far worse. I want wine. Lots of it, in fact.’
The determination in Navio’s voice was clear. ‘All right.’ Carbo guided them back to the table he’d sat at. They ordered another jug. When it arrived, Navio poured them both a cup with a shaking arm. ‘To friendship!’ he said, lifting his wine. Carbo echoed the toast with a grin, and they downed the first cup in one swallow. Navio did the honours again, spilling some on the tabletop. ‘That the whoreson who tried to rob me gets a warm welcome from Hades!’ Carbo nodded and threw back the second cup. It would settle his nerves. The thief would have killed me in the blink of an eye. He’s no damn loss.
Without hesitation, Navio filled their cups again. ‘To courage and loyalty!’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Carbo fervently.
‘I’d say you would,’ said Navio with a shrewd look. ‘You’re a good man.’
Feeling self-conscious, Carbo studied the tabletop.
‘Most men wouldn’t have risked their skins to save me as you just did.’
‘Maybe not.’ Carbo began to feel quite proud.
‘I can guarantee it.’ Navio leaned over the table, breathing wine fumes all over him. ‘I’d wager that you can keep a secret too.’
‘If I have to,’ replied Carbo cagily.
‘I’ve recently returned from Iberia.’
‘And…’ said Carbo, not understanding.
‘I was a soldier there.’
‘What, fighting against Sertorius and his men?’
‘Not exactly, no.’ Navio hesitated.
The wine was coursing through Carbo’s veins now, filling him with confidence. ‘Spit it out, man.’
Navio let out a great sigh. He glanced casually to either side, and dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘It was the opposite, really. I was one of Sertorius’ officers.’
Carbo hadn’t expected that. He nearly dropped his cup. ‘Eh?’
‘It’s not that surprising,’ said Navio defensively. ‘I’m from Neapolis, and it was natural for my father to support Marius against Sulla. After Marius’ death, Sertorius, his right-hand man, fled to Iberia. My father went too, taking our whole family. Mother died soon after our arrival, and I grew up in a world where everything was about fighting what Rome had become. All I knew was war.’ Navio hawked and spat. ‘We did well for a long time too.’
Like anyone, Carbo knew the broad strokes of what had happened in Iberia over the previous seven years. How Sertorius had won over many of the peninsula’s fierce tribes, and how he’d proved himself a master at guerrilla warfare, defeating all comers sent against him from Rome. He had had the temerity to make contact with another enemy of Rome, Mithridates of Pontus. In return for money and ships, Sertorius had sent military officers who would train Mithridates’ army. Yet things had gone awry eventually. In the previous year or so, Carbo knew that things had soured for Sertorius, as Pompey Magnus and his generals had finally turned the tide against him. ‘Has the situation got worse?’ he asked vaguely.
Navio frowned. ‘You haven’t heard?’
‘Our farm is out in the sticks,’ lied Carbo.
‘Yes, I’d forgotten. Well, Sertorius is dead.’
‘Slain in battle?’
‘I wish,’ replied Navio bitterly. ‘No, he was stabbed and killed by Perperna three months back. The traitorous fucking dog.’
‘Perperna?’
‘Do you remember Aemilius Lepidus’ failed rebellion four years ago?’
‘Yes. He tried to take Rome, but the proconsul Catulus defeated him at the Milvian Bridge. Fled to Sardinia, didn’t he?’
‘That’s right. When Lepidus died soon after, his principal followers — of whom Perperna was one — sailed to Iberia with the remnants of their army. Sertorius welcomed them with open arms. He even set up an opposition Senate with them.’
‘I remember my father wondering why the Senate in Rome didn’t offer Sertorius a pardon when Sulla died,’ said Carbo. ‘There was no real reason to continue the war in Iberia, and Sertorius was such a talented general. Why didn’t they welcome him back into the fold?’
‘It was nothing but their damn arrogance and pride,’ cried Navio. He winced in pain.
‘Take it easy.’
‘I can do that when I’m dead.’ Anger throbbed in Navio’s voice. ‘Sertorius was a better man than any of Marius’ followers. He always stood up to the extremists in the party, and he took no part in the massacres sanctioned by Marius. They should have given him a chance to return with his honour. Instead, he bled out his life at a banquet in some Iberian shithole.’
‘Did Perperna take command of Sertorius’ forces?’
