Brothers in Blood Read Free Page A

showed Musa an iron bar. ‘If that don’t loosen yer tongue then it’s off with your cock and balls, my friend. Trust me, you’ll want to speak before I do that.’
    Musa forced himself to control his expression and stare back impassively. A bead of sweat broke free from his hairline and ran across his forehead. The interrogator reached a stubby finger out and delicately lifted the drop from Musa’s skin.
    ‘Not so brave as we make out, eh?’ He chuckled and licked the drop of sweat from his finger before he picked up the pincers and moved down towards Musa’s feet. Musa gritted his teeth and strained every muscle in his body as he fought to control his terror over what was to come. Then he felt a hand seize his foot and hold it tightly. Musa squirmed, twisting his foot as violently as he could one way, then the other, trying to loosen the grip.
    ‘Hey, Septimus, make yourself useful. Hold that still.’
    The man in the brown tunic stepped up and grasped Musa’s foot and wrestled it to stillness. Musa felt the metal close round his big toe, pressing on the flesh and bone. Ancus took a sharp intake of breath and pressed on the arms of the pincers. A loud cracking snap cut through the grunts of Septimus and Musa’s face twisted up into an expression of torment.
    ‘Let me know when he’s ready to talk,’ said the man in the shadows. ‘I’ll be upstairs.’
    He moved out of the alcove and Musa blinked away the tears in his eyes so that he might see the man better, and his heart sank as he caught sight of the thin, dark features of the imperial secretary of Emperor Claudius. Narcissus, so long the real power behind the throne, but now challenged by his rival, Pallas. The latter was Musa’s employer. He aimed to eliminate Narcissus the moment the Emperor died and power passed to his adopted son, Nero. Pallas had already wormed his way into the bed of Nero’s mother. It was only a matter of time before he controlled Agrippina as thoroughly as Narcissus had once controlled Claudius. The men were the most bitter of rivals, Musa knew, and that meant that he would be spared no agony until he told Narcissus what he wanted to hear. He felt the pincers shift to the next toe and saw Narcissus glance back with a look of disgust as he left the chamber, just as a second toe bone snapped between the iron jaws of Ancus’s pincers.
    The sun had set by the time Septimus climbed the steps to find his master. He was rubbing his hands clean on a strip of Musa’s tunic as he entered the small kitchen above the chamber. Narcissus was alone, sitting on a simple stool by a table, an empty platter and clay beaker beside him, bearing the remains of a meal he had bought from a nearby market when the screams from below had become too irritating.
    ‘He’s ready to talk.’
    ‘About time, nay? I was beginning to lose faith in Ancus.’
    ‘No call for that, Father. He was doing his best. The truth is Musa was a hard man to break.’
    Narcissus nodded. ‘That’s good. If we can turn him, then he might be a useful asset in time.’
    ‘If not?’
    ‘Then he’ll be another casualty of the conflict between myself and that bastard, Pallas. Let’s hope we can persuade Musa to pick the right side. Come on.’
    Narcissus led his son down into the system of cellars beneath the safe house and descended the steps into the chamber where Ancus was waiting with his victim. Narcissus averted his gaze from the bloodied ruin of Musa’s legs and snapped. ‘Cover that mess up!’
    Ancus pursed his lips but did as he was told and reached for the torn remains of Musa’s tunic and arranged it over the man’s legs as best he could. When he was done, Narcissus approached the table, trying not to notice the blood spattered across it and dripping on to the floor, nor the gobbets of flesh and strips of skin. Narcissus struggled to contain his frustration. Musa was in a pitiful state, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling as his body trembled. He was beyond