Sal lowered herself down through the hole in the floor. ‘I can’t feel the bottom. I think it’s a drop.’
Maddy peered through a gap to the side of her, until she caught the flicker of reflected candlelight. ‘I don’t think it’s far.’
‘Here goes, then.’ Sal lowered herself down until her arms were fully extended then let go. Maddy heard the echo of a viscous, muddy splut.
‘It’s OK, not far.’ Her voice reverberated as if it was at the far end of an underpass. ‘Ughh! But it’s total chuddah!’
Maddy grabbed Rashim’s hand. ‘You next.’
Another deafening boom and more fragments of splintered wood clattered to the floor. Thick shafts of light speared into the darkness, and she could see the glint of helmets through the fractured doors.
Liam pulled himself painfully up to a seated position.
‘Liam? You OK to…?’
‘I’m fine, Mads… I’m OK. I can get myself down.’
‘Your friend… then you, Maddy and your Stone Man,’ said Cato. ‘But hurry!’
‘What about you?’
Cato glanced at Macro. Macro returned a subtle nod. An unspoken understanding between the pair of them. ‘We need to cover over the sewage trap. And perhaps we can buy you some time.’
She looked from one to the other. ‘They’ll kill you!’
‘Of course they will,’ Cato smiled. ‘But then, as you said, you can make it so this never happened? Am I correct?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, but…’
‘Then you should go. Now. Give us both a better end than this one.’
Rashim was down. Liam eased himself into the hole, groaning with pain as his arms worked and his torso flexed.
Boom. The cavernous room echoed with Bob’s deep, angry roar as he thrust his sword through the jagged hole in the left-hand door and there was a yelp of agony from outside.
They heard the echo of a muddy splat and Liam’s voice groaning at the impact.
‘Bob!’ cried Maddy. ‘We’re leaving! Get here now!’
‘I must remain by these doors!’
Cato stood up and approached the Stone Men. ‘Will you two take my orders?’
‘Affirmative,’ they both replied. ‘You are to be protected.’
‘Then kill anyone who comes through.’
Both clones drew swords from their sheaths and crossed the floor to stand in front of the shuddering, flexing oak doors.
Bob nodded at them as he passed by. ‘Good luck,’ he offered. They paused to look at each other briefly, both clones bemused by such an oddly human gesture of compassion from another support unit. Then they took up their positions before the fragmenting remains of the oak doors, legs apart, a two-handed grip on their swords, braced to kill.
‘Go!’ said Maddy, slapping Bob on the shoulder as he squatted down beside her.
‘You first, Madelaine. I will guard the rear.’
Cato seemed to understand Bob’s intent. ‘He is right. Let him be the rearguard.’
She was about to drop down through the hole, but hesitated. She leaned over and kissed Cato on the cheek. ‘I’ll make things right… I promise you that!’ Then she grasped Macro’s forearm. ‘I’ll make it right.’
‘Go!’ said Macro. He grinned. ‘Go on… don’t worry, we’ve been in tighter spots than this.’
She lowered herself down into the sewer and landed with a splat. Bob quickly followed her down, squeezing, barely, through the hole in the floor.
Both Cato and Macro reached for the iron grating and eased it back into place as a final crash against the doors sent them juddering open. The clones stepped forward together into the light of flickering torches and braziers and engaged the Praetorians stepping across the splinters of wood and twisted iron bracing.
Cato picked up his sword as Macro pulled the rotting and dusty artefacts across to cover the manhole.
‘Is that the truth, Cato? They can change this?’
He bent down and picked up a shield from the floor. ‘Perhaps.’
Macro pursed his lips as he gave that a moment’s consideration and finally nodded. ‘Good enough for me.’
‘That’s what I’ve always liked about you, Macro.’
‘What’s that?’
‘You never overthink things.’
Macro laughed. The two clones were doing a lethal job so far, holding the doorway and filling it with a growing pile of squirming bodies.
‘I hope our other fate sees us both as old men,’ Cato grinned. ‘Old and rich. How does that sound?’
Macro flexed his arms, sword in one, shield in the other. ‘I always figured we’d go out like this, you and me.’
Cato smiled at his old friend. ‘Ever the optimist. Shall we?’
He shrugged. ‘No point standing here gossiping like a pair of old fishwives.’
CHAPTER 76
AD 54, outside Rome
They emerged into the night. No shining light at the end of the tunnel, just the darkness of full night, the stars and moon lost behind clouds and a pall of smoke from the many fires across the city.
They took several steps down a delta of silt and sewage into the cool water of the River Tiber to wash the muck off. Rashim shuffled over, savoured the cool tickle of water on his skin, cupped it in his hands and drank and drank.
‘Eww… I wouldn’t drink from here,’ whispered Maddy, watching him.
‘Liam? You OK?’ asked Sal.
He was holding his side, wincing with pain. ‘I’ll hold together… I think.’
Maddy washed her hands clean and waded over to him. She pulled her glasses out from beneath her tunic. The arms were bent. She fiddled with them for a moment then put them on crookedly. ‘Let’s take a look.’
‘You won’t be able to see a thing in this light,’ replied Liam.
She reached out to his side. ‘Is it bleeding?’
‘It’s OK, I think.’ He touched the tight binding Macro had fastened round him. ‘It’s dry.’ It burned painfully — literally burned — but it seemed his exertions hadn’t opened the wound.
‘Macro did a good job,’ said Liam. He looked up at her, an expression on his face that told her what she already knew. He’d grown rather fond of the ex-soldier.
Maddy nodded. Me too. Between gasps back in the tunnel she’d explained that the pair of them had decided to stay behind and cover their escape.
‘We owe them,’ she said sombrely. She looked around at the city, dotted with the flickering light of fires. ‘We’ll fix this for them. I promised them that.’
‘Aye. Then we’ll make sure we do it.’
‘No time for this!’ said Rashim. ‘No time! We must leave Rome now! Aye, skippa! Yes, indeed!’
Sal nodded. ‘I’d really like to leave now.’
Maddy looked up and down the river. To their right a bridge running across stone arched supports. To their left, further along, a rickety-looking bridge made from wood.
‘Which bridge?’
‘Neither,’ said Rashim. ‘We follow… see?’ He pointed along the bank of silt to their left. ‘Takes us round the bottom of the city, then we go…’ He frowned as he thought, tapped his temple with his knuckles as if to shake loose a memory.
