A Veteran Returns Home: Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Three
The world rocked and shook. Rising and falling with force and sudden drops. Chains screeched against each other and the ground creaked on each wave. The pungent odour of unwashed bodies stung his nostrils. A bar of heat singed his forehead.
Nemo’s eye flickered open and he pulled away from the bar. His skin raw underneath. He lifted his hands to feel for any injury. His hands stopped by a great weight of steel. He pulled higher and jerked forward as his hands jolted to a halt by his chest.
Others laughed. A gritty, phlegm ridden, laugh.
‘First time in a cage cart?’ A woman croaked.
Nemo dropped his arms to rest against his leg and hung his head. His head itched with heat. He leaned forward, away from the rods of the cage, to avoid being burned by the metal in the midday sun. His bare feet reddening and blistering against the hot floor of the cart.
He wore only a shirt and trousers, both poor quality and neither his own. His belongings either being given to the military supplies or somewhere on the cart to be used as evidence. He didn’t know. Nor care. It was over. He would never see his family again. In a few days he would be executed and the whole sordid affair would be replaced with the succour of the afterlife. How did a journey home lead to this? He asked himself running through the events of Ramascus, Forgiskill, Tanussi, and Beargarth. He hoped Pasinah had reached the coast to bury Isvat. That Tura had led Forgiskill to a normal life again. He wished Vispa would recover and set off for somewhere far from the Free Cities or the Republic and start anew.
For his son and daughter, as he remembered them, he wished for them the things he had wished for them before the war. Bountiful harvests, love, and smiling children. Not war or slavery. Mani he hoped would find her way back home. To pick up a needle and finish the tapestry for above the stove. To learn to hunt boar and deer. The things she wished she would do but rarely found the time for.
He prayed the gods would forgive him for his transgressions. His sins. His desire with no end or limit. At what point did love of family run out and evil begin? I shouldn’t have taken that damned letter. Said farewell to the coin and left Ramascus empty handed and alone. All he had left were what ifs and waiting for the next meal. Not that he had many remaining.
The cart rumbled onwards. The other seven prisoners silent. Prisoners or future slaves? Depends on the crime I guess. Do they offer atonement for assassins to join some secret group doing the Senate’s whims? I’d probably flee east at the first chance. Find Zhuzi and ask him for safe passage to Dohanlu. He laughed at his own crazed idea. He gazed out the back of the cart. The open road stretched behind him sullied only by two lancers riding at the rear of the train.
The cart connected to two horses, the driver sitting high and out of the reach of those inside. Ahead were a second pair of lancers, another cage cart filled with prisoners, and ahead of those two more lancers leading the train.
The road turned gently to the left. The stone edging charting its course to the city of Tanussi. A place Nemo never wanted to see again. The wall rose up in the distance. A two hour ride on horse. Far longer by cart.
The city that once offered respite and success now rotten to its core. A place of misery and disaster. Failure and loss. At the very least his body would remain near the place of his birth. Connected with the land and its people forever. Not rotting on some far off plain, as a meal for carrion. Small solaces.
An itch burrowed under the scabs of his lost eye. Twisting and gnawing at the new skin. He leaned forward towards his hands and stretched out with one finger. A single reprieve would be enough. His breathing stopped. His throat strained against an iron grip and the rattle of a chain held him back. His finger blurred and brushed the tip of his nose. Muscles strained and veins tightened. He bounded back drinking air. Respite of a kind. Yet still the worm itched beneath the skin of his missing eye.
A lancer rode up to the gate of the cage. Without either stopping he unlatched the gate and threw in a bag. Prisoners kicked and scraped for the bag. Straining against iron collars. Eyes bulging. Hands reaching without success. The lancer closed the cage cart and mumbled under his breath in disgust.
Nemo kicked for the bag. A chunk of bread rolled out. Not the flatbread he knew but the risen kind. His foot a sickle, the bread a bushel of millet. The bread rolled towards him. He stamped on an intruding foot. All that mattered was the bread. Feet swarmed over the bag thrusting and kicking. More food rolled out or crumbs burst from the sack.
He guarded his piece with his feet under the bench. The woman opposite drooling and staring at the bread under Nemo. Nemo locked eyes. The woman kicked. Nemo blocked with his shin and kicked back. His heel digging into the top of her foot. She shrieked, withdrew, and plotted for another’s bread.
Still he waited. The frenzy dying out as people guarded their hard won food. Others remained wanting with nothing but crumbs to satiate them. Fighting over crusts until one crushed it to dust and both failed. The eight parted. Returning to their own worlds with new trials.
Nemo balanced the bread between the soles of his feet and lifted it up. Reaching down with his hands and leaning as far forward as the iron collar would allow. He pinched the crust between his fore and middle finger and half threw, half dropped, it into his lap. Impossible to reach for the others.
The bread was hard and pale. A speck of blood soaked through the soft interior. Ankles bled from cutting against their bonds. Nemo bit into the crust. It tasted of ash. Even small victories counted for nothing. Less than nothing. He finished the bread, blood and all, for no other reason than blind instinct.
The gate of Tanussi stood open. The gate Nemo tried to leave by but was turned away. The tunnel he left secreted away further along the city walls where they twist inward to avoid a crag in the land. He could see the crag, the tunnel out of sight. How hopeful I was that day. A day that felt a lifetime ago.
The shadow of the gate loomed over Nemo saving him from the onslaught of the midday sun. He gasped a lukewarm breath and savoured the coolness in his lungs. Swallowing cooler air as the menacing line of shadow and light edged closer with each pondering step of the workhorses.
The guards of the city waved the prison carts through. The lancers lead the carts into the city amongst a throng of onlookers. Travellers looking to be on their way now the governor’s spectacle was completed. Pleading with the guards for right of way. Travellers and more would be disappointed. Nemo wondered if the news of Stipi’s death had spread.
Nemo watched through iron bars as groups were turned away with donkeys and horses packed with goods, belongings, and children. No one would be leaving today. Others used the outer roads as a quick path round the city. Merchants pushing handcarts swore and cursed as the lancers used military privilege to clear the way. The minutes lost would be a loss of income. A loss of space in market squares around the city, loss of a sale to an inn because another merchant was faster.
Nemo’s eye swam over the thin crowd of people gathered around the north east gate of Tanussi. None appeared to care outside of morbid curiosity. Men, women, children, merchants and guards, bakers and money-lenders, all watched impassively at the new round up of criminals and soon to be slaves. Do they know slavery has returned to the Free Cities? Do they care? Nemo saw a woman in loose fitting men’s clothing. A knife on her waist and hair tied back with rope. A similar age to Vispa and his own daughter. Will those young ones with a fire in their belly fight back or will they welcome new masters with honeyed words of peace and prosperity?
Those few that didn’t care and scurried passed lancer and cart were the runner boys and girls. All younger than ten summers carrying messages and coin and linking the city as fast they could move. No lancer would catch one let alone try to. The wrong runner boy stopped or the wrong runner girl tripped could spell disaster if the message was from or to the right, or wrong, recipient. Weaving like rats around the horses, under the horses, and leaping passed grasping hands from the cage cart. All without a care. The little runner boys and girls scurried around the city as fast as pickpockets and diligent as a well payed bodyguard. The loyalty of children is cheap. A hot meal and a safe, warm, bed all it takes.
The carts pulled in along side the towering wall. The lancers dismounting and handing the reins of their horses to waiting stablehands. A guardhouse door opened and the captain on duty exited. Straightening his helm and adjusting his belt he approached the lead lancer. Orders were exchanged and the prisoners transferred to the city. Nemo watched the two exchange little more than three or four words and two rolls of parchment. No pomp. No ceremony. Simple procedures and Nemo’s fate was sealed.
The captain returned to the guardhouse and roused his unit to action. Twelve men marched out of the doors and began clearing a path through the burgeoning crowds. The people parted like a river rushing around a stone and a guard waved for the cage carts to come through. The drivers, neither military or city guard, whipped their horses to action from atop their perches.
The carts rumbled along the road for a short stint before turning into a walled off square. Two guards stood at the entrance archway. Stables lined the city wall. The guard house opened up on the inside of the walled square with a short bar and a cook serving up food for those on break. Straw dummies lined the opposing wall to the guardhouse. Archers took aim and loosed arrows. Some more successful than others.
The rich smell of stew wafted over the square. Must be nearing afternoon, he thought as his stomach rumbled and mouth watered. The carts rolled in and turned sharply towards the wall behind. Pulling up beside one another to the right of the archway entrance the horses ate their fill of hay and the drivers climbed down from their perches. Nemo strained to see over the woman opposite him. A glimpse of the city. He saw freedom. And the taste of ash returned as her gnarled face blocked his view.
The prisoners sat, waiting in the baking heat of the day, without food or water. The smell of lamb carried on a warm breeze. Was that on purpose? Stop the carts downwind of the kitchen. Such cruel torture, Nemo strained to scratch his cheek. His nail caught his nose and that was all. He leant against the searing iron bars of the cage and rubbed his face against it. Once. Twice. He sucked his teeth and pulled away from the burning metal. The woman opposite laughed and showed off her missing teeth. Where did they find her? He wondered.
Her dress patched and torn. Hair matted and lying limp over one shoulder and holding itself in the air behind. One eye bloodshot, the other pale as milk. Dirt crusted round the moons of her nails, chipped and cracked from hard labour or poor health. Probably both, Nemo tore his eye away with a snarl and stared out into the empty square.
Few went out at midday. Runner boys and girls hopped from slim shadow to long shadow. Thieves dwelled in the alleyways waiting for new targets foolish enough to wander alone in the boiling heat of day. Merchants retreated to taverns and water bars fitted with mosaicked pools of cool water. Guards, those unlucky enough to draw the short straw, remained at their posts and on patrols. Whether atop the walls, by the gates, or around the markets. The rest ate and slept readying for the hubbub of late afternoon and the cool evening.
No such leisure existed for prisoners. The harsh heat of the day bearing down was for one purpose and one purpose only. Weaken the spirit, and the flesh, for questioning. For information regarding crimes and connections. Especially those linked to the ever hunted Resistance. Nemo knew his would be all this to the extreme. The guards may have been Tanussian but plenty of higher ups and new recruits were from the Republic. Mixing loyalties and commanders. Harsh punishment for dissidents and promise of the vote, if they all knew what that meant, created public order faster than an iron grip ever could. Tried and tested mathematics of conquering, invented by everyone, perfected by the Republic of Thesus.
The sun spun around the world, its rule too glorious to watch and destined to end. Nemo hung his head and felt the back of his neck warm, boil, and finally crack. Unsure if he was awake or dreaming. He awoke to a small metallic clang. The woman opposite slept, a crisp red patch of skin showing on her cheek were she leant against the iron bars of the cage. Others slept too. Most hung their heads and waited. One prayed. Nemo marvelled at his strength to do so. When all was lost that man, that prisoner, was not.
The knocking repeated. More a clinking. Nemo turned to see behind him as much as the iron collar would allow. In the corner of his left eye he caught sight of dark hair, tied up. He nodded to his left. The hair moved and was attached to a girl in men’s clothing.
Vispa.
Nemo said nothing and knew he was still dreaming. He turned away. A firm prod dug into his shoulder. He turned around frowning.
Vispa held a set of lock picks in one hand and a small, silver, key in the other. She tapped her neck with the key. Nemo felt the collar around him.
‘Hey. Get us out of here. Quick like,’ one of the prisoners whispered through the bars. He pressed his face up to the iron, twisting in a way that looked painful to do so.
‘Shut up and let her do what ever it is she is going to do,’ Nemo snapped under his breath. Aware the slightest noise would alert the guards. One or two of which were standing less than twenty paces away. How did she get in here?
Vispa pointed to her neck again. Nemo shook his and pointed to the gate of the cage cart. She rolled her eyes and crouched near the steps at the back of the cart. Reaching up to the lock hanging from the iron gate. The lock picks slotted inside with a thin click and began to rattle the lock as she manoeuvred the pins inside.
Nemo noticed her shoulder was still bandaged. She moved it without wincing and colour had returned to her cheeks. Good, she rested, Nemo smiled to himself.
‘Hurry up love. I need a piss,’ the woman said.
‘What was that?’ A guard called from the guard house. The thud of his boots echoed from inside.
Vispa pulled the picks out in a flash and darted around the side of the cart. She crouched lower than Nemo could see.
The guard stepped out of the guard house, ‘What did you say?’ He called.
‘I need a piss,’ the woman repeated.
‘You’re sitting down aren’t you?’ He said, strolling closer. His thumbs wedged under the leather of his belt.
‘Won’t you let us out for just a piss?’
‘Orders,’ he walked up to the cart.
‘Always orders. Never kindness.’
‘It’s just a piss. I’m sure the others won’t mind the smell,’ he wiped his already sodden brow. He began to walk around the cart.
Nemo felt a tug on his neck and was pulled back against the bench. He coughed.
‘You alright,’ the guard stopped and asked with a raised eyebrow.
‘Yeah. Thirsty,’ he said.
‘Well if she has good aim, doubtful, you could have a drink,’ the guard laughed.
‘Oi, that’s a bit rude,’ the woman cursed.
‘Says the criminal,’ the guard retorted beginning a slow wander back to the guard house.
The woman grumbled but held her tongue as the guard disappeared from view.
A gentle thud sounded beneath the cart followed by a stifled cough. Vispa’s head popped up behind Nemo and she stealthy returned to work on the lock.
Nemo glanced around the cart. All eyes were focussed on Vispa and the lock. No one spoke. No one dared.
Clicking and scratching bubbled from the lock and then, with a grimace from Vispa, it clunked. The lock popped open and Vispa secreted away the picks in her shirt. The gate to the cart opened and Vispa hopped behind Nemo.
‘Keep the gate closed for a moment,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘And lean back.’
He leant back so the iron collar was touching the bars of the cage. He looked from door to the woman opposite and pointed with his eyebrows. She leant and managed to pull the cart gate closed.
Nemo felt the collar loosen and he held it in place with his chin. His wrists still bound and a few guards remained out in the square. But even a roving eye could spot an unchained prisoner.
Vispa scurried from prisoner to prisoner in the eight person cart. The others stretched and grunting at the weight taken off their necks, risking alerting the soldiers nearby. She scurried to the gate making a passing look around the Guard Square. Still clear.
She pulled open the gate and unlocked Nemo’s cuffs. He caught them and lowered them to the bed of the cart without a sound. The collar on his neck fell open and into his lap with a clink.
Nemo and Vispa shared a look containing more than words could. And more questions than Nemo could hold in his mind.
‘Come on,’ Vispa said.
Nemo hopped out of the cart. His legs stiff and unresponsive. The sand hot against the soles fo his feet. He knelt at the side of the cart. ‘What’s the plan?’
‘Run.’
‘Run. Is that it.’
‘Yeah. It’ll work. Those lot will be more concerned with the seven others and the other cart.’
Nemo watched as the heads of the prisoners still trapped tussled with each other.
‘Give it here. Have you never worked a lock before,’ one called.’
‘We need to go,’ Nemo said eyeing a lockbox at the front of the cart. Nestled under the drivers perch. He moved towards it.
‘I thought you said we need to go,’ Vispa said.
‘Wait. I need something,’ he looked into the darkened storage area. Swords, knives, clothing, a child’s toy, all that was in his saddlebags. They found Atars. He picked up Asha, Delara’s doll, and a pair of boots. Not his but any boots were better than none. His scimitar lay under a blanket as he rummaged. He strapped the sword belt to his waist and squeezed his feet into the boots. His toe rubbing up against the front.
‘Ready now? Got your lucky doll?’ Vispa said.
‘Sure. Let’s go,’ Nemo said.
‘Oi, help us out,’ a prisoner called from the other cart.
The first bounded out after Nemo, the other six soon to follow.
Nemo and Vispa ducked as a horn was blown from somewhere. The sound all encompassing of the square. It blared three short sharp blasts.
Vispa ran to the archway out. Nemo dashed after her. The two guards on duty ran inside the square, halberds down and forward. Vispa, tight to the wall, ducked behind one.
‘Stop!’ The guard shouted.
Nemo shoulder barged him as he turned. The guard fell to the ground his halberd slipping from his grasp.
The prisoners clubbed him with fists. One took the halberd and probed at the other guard. Another unbelted the guards sword and made a dash through the archway after Nemo and Vispa.
They never looked back. Running into the thin waves of people of the main roads and disappearing into side alleys and backroads.
Nemo’s lungs burned. He ran and ran taking corners and slipping down alleyways like some deranged cat. No reason or sense guiding him but simple fear.
‘Stop,’ Vispa panted. ‘We don’t need to go any further. No one followed us,’ she leant on her knees and drank in air. Sweat beaded on her ears and dripped from her nose.
Nemo halted and leant back. Muscles burned and his ribs were too tight around his lungs. ‘You’re right. We have a moment to rest,’ he put a hand against a nearby wall and slid down into the ground.
Both panted and heaved. Lacking water and food with only the warm, dry, air for comfort.
Nemo pinched the bridge of his nose and flicked off the sweat that gathered on his thumb and finger. What now? His mind interrupted.
‘What now?’ He echoed himself.
‘I don’t know. The last time I saw you you left me in an abandoned village,’ Vispa let herself fall to the sand of the alleyway.
‘In my home. To heal. And I didn’t abandoned, I was captured,’ Nemo corrected.
‘Oh,’ Vispa said.
‘That all you got?’
‘I’m sorry. I just broke you out of gaol. I’m a bit distracted.’
‘How did you know I was here?’
‘When you didn’t return I figured something was wrong. It had been a few days and the fever had passed so I left for Tanussi thinking maybe you had gone back there to help the Resistance. On the ride I saw the train of prisoners you must have been in. They were going too slow for me so I darted passed, off the road.’
‘I don’t remember that.’
‘You wouldn’t. It was in the early morning. Most of you looked to be sleeping. I thought I saw you inside but I wasn’t sure so I waited at the north east gate for the cage carts to arrive and low and behold who should stare at me. But you.’
‘I thought you just looked like you. Not that you were you.’
‘That made no sense. But anyway, now we are here. What’s the plan? How did you get captured?’
Nemo recounted his ordeal with the camp of General Arridaios. His family. The enslavement orders. That his children were listed but not his wife.
‘So they are in the city?’
‘I don’t know. I saw Avaya in the city when I escaped from Stipi’s dungeons. And the guard who tied me up. Glean. Golen. Geleon. That was it. He said there were still slaves here in Tanussi which those cage carts are transporting back to the camp.’
‘Right. So where do they keep slaves in the city?’
‘I have no idea. I couldn’t read the orders save for a few names.’
‘I bet the Resistance know,’ Vispa said.
‘The Resistance,’ Nemo said under his breath, ‘It would have to be.’ A realisation dawned on Nemo. He sat up straight. ‘Hold on. No we don’t need them. The slaves are in the palace complex. Stipi told me,’ he said.
‘Stipi just told you that?’ Vispa said with a pout.
‘Yeah. He didn’t believe I would kill him and soldiers where running up the stairs. The slaves are in the palace and I know how to get in,’ Nemo jumped to his feet.
Nemo and Vispa kept to the side roads and back alleys. Careful to avoid anywhere guards might be. Markets, inns, gambling halls, brothels, anywhere there was money there was a guard waiting to break up a fight. Most were peaceful. But the wrong word here and the wrong ear there and a brawl would erupt.
Between the north east gate and the palace where dozens of these areas. All, in Nemo’s mind, swarming with soldiers armed with his likeness. Which he knew would be plastered to the wall of every guard room and barracks in the city. With talk of a prison break extra vigilance would be taken.
The low roofed houses appeared abrupt in the city. An entire section of the city barred from building any higher than the palace complex wall. All so the majesty of the horizon lay unobstructed for the monarch of the once free Tanussi. As Nemo could attest, it was truly a beautiful view.
‘Here we are,’ Nemo said as he approached the wall of the palace complex.
‘Where are we?’ Vispa asked.
‘On the other side of this wall is the palace grounds. This is the wall I got out over and will serve as our entrance,’ Nemo ran his hand along the wall. Feeling the sand coloured plaster dotted under his finger tips.
‘It’s at least twenty foot high,’ Vispa gawked up to the top.
‘That’s easy to fix. Climb onto a building and jump,’ Nemo pointed to a building whose cap tiles stood a few feet below the tip of the wall.
‘That’s not…,’ Vispa hesitated. ‘That’s not an easy jump.’
‘No, but doable,’ Nemo said looking from roof to wall over his head.
‘I’m not so sure,’ Vispa said.
Nemo ignored her cynicism. Preferring to judge the distance above his head. He stepped from the wall of the palace grounds to the wall of the house. He covered the distance in three strides. Long strides but only three.
‘Well, only one way to find out,’ he said.