The Songs of Slaves: a Novel of the Fall of Rome by Gray Rodgers David

Author:Gray Rodgers, David [Gray Rodgers, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-01-06T00:00:00+00:00

XVI

At first view the villa appeared normal for an October Sunday afternoon. Connor strained his ears for the sound of the turmoil he expected to find within; but he heard no clash of iron or screams of panic. But as the column of horsemen approached the outer walls of Lucius Montevarius’s estate at a quick canter they saw that the gate lay open on broken hinges. Forgetting his play of innocence – as well as his caution – Connor spurred his horse and took the lead; entering once more the place that for so long had been both prison and home.

The shaded boulevard was deserted. There was no sound of work in the adjacent vineyards, no smoke easing from the chimneys of the workshops, nor were there the calls of children at play. It was as if everyone was simply gone.

But then, as Connor reached the top of the first rise, he spied a horse trudging, fully tacked but riderless, through the tall grass. The horse was not one of the Gothic mounts – the bridle was unadorned with lucky amulets, the saddle devoid of arrow quivers or saddlebags. Slowing his own mount, Conner rode over to the animal.

His horse almost stepped on the pale body of an eviscerated man lying in the grass. His dead eyes met Connor as the Hibernian reached him. Connor gasped and instinctively drew his sword. Sensing his fright, Connor’s horse reared on its hind legs. Connor struggled to control him. The dead man was one of Lucius Montevarius’s bucellarii . Connor had spent many a day under the man’s wary eyes. Now he was slain by Arastan’s brigands. The villa was under attack, and Montevarius and Lucia were in mortal danger.

Connor spurred his horse on towards the villa. Still silent, Valia and the other riders followed him. But unlike the Goths – ever vigilant and accustomed to the ways of war – Connor had abandoned stealth in exchange for expediency. He had only one thought – reach Lucia before Arastan. Heeding his urgency, his horse outpaced the others, kicking up the white gravel on the road as it climbed the central hill towards the villa. If Valia called to him to slow, Connor never heard him. Ahead were the doors of the arched entrance to the villa, and they too were swung wide open. He risked a glance to his left and to his right, using the vantage point of the elevated ground to see the rolling hills, vineyards, fields, arbors, and lodges of the estate. Still there was not the fire and clash of weapons he had expected to hear if he had been too late. Instead there was nothing but a desolate silence.

He pulled his horse to a halt at the open doors. He jumped out of the saddle and released the reins without a thought. Now he began to hear the commotion from within the walls, the clamor of harsh voices and the mewing pleas of victimization. It was a macabre music he had heard too many times before.

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