Casca 7: The Damned Read Free Page A

a Latin to know any speech but his own.
    "You speak our tongue well, Roman. Have you spent time beyond the Rhine or Danube?"
    Casca nodded. "A long time."
    "As a slave?"
    "No, my furry faced friend, as a warrior."
    The German whistled between his teeth, the front two of which were missing. He took a closer look at the object of his attention, the scarred face, thick wrist cords, and muscled neck. "Then you must be a good fighter, for the northlands have no love for the sons of Caesar."
    Casca grunted. "You'll find out tomorrow, so why talk about it? There is little likelihood that any of us will ever be set free since they forbid the wooden sword. What difference would it make if you won or lost?"
    The German hesitated a moment. Then, making up his mind, he said, "Listen to me. There may yet be a chance for us to make our way out of here. It has been said that the Emperor often takes men from the arena into his personal guard if they fight well enough. He has many enemies in Rome and doesn't trust anyone. He feels safer with men who owe their lives to him. Tomorrow we might have a chance if we can attract his attention."
    Casca perked up. "What's your plan?"
    "We become swordmates against all comers. Let the weaklings finish each other off. We lay back until only the best are left; then we make our move and challenge the lot of them. There won't be more than four or five of them. We will have little trouble between us. I think we will have a good chance of winning. Like most cowards, Honorius is impressed with bravery; he thinks he can buy it. Let's give him, a show! What say you, Roman?"
    Casca thought it over a moment. Hell, he hadn't had any better offers lately. "Agreed. But only if you swear by all the gods of the Aesir and on your father's name that you'll be true until this thing is done."
    The German smiled. "You have spent much time in the black forests. Be it so sworn, on my father's name and the gods of the Aesir, that I will hold my faith with you. This I swear, as my name is Vergix of the Suevii, a councilor and war chieftain of the tribes. But you, Roman, what do you swear by?"
    Casca laughed bitterly. "I swear by one eyed Odin All Father, by Loki, Jupiter, Zeus, Ahura Mazda, and a dozen others you have never heard of. I swear by them all."
    Vergix frowned. "It is not good to take the will of the gods lightly, Roman, but I accept your word. From this time, we are swordmates against all comers, even those of our own tribes." The two shook hands in the Roman manner to settle their agreement, wrist to wrist, and each lay back to get what sleep he could.
    Casca slept as usual, his rest troubled by dreams. Rarely could he sleep a night through without the ghosts of his past coming to disturb his rest. He awoke before the first light, eyes sticky and sore. Rolling over on his straw covering he looked straight at Vergix. "What time's chow?"
    Vergix indicated with his head and Casca saw that several slaves were entering the confines of the holding pens carrying steaming pots. One of the slaves passed out wooden bowls as those behind ladled out their only meal. A thick mixture of boiled barley and pig slopped into Casca's bowl. It was not appetizing, but it would fill the gut and they knew they would need the strength later in the day. As Casca shoveled the food into his mouth with his fingers, he heard a distant rumbling. For a moment, he thought it was Vergix's stomach growling; then it came again, louder, a deep throated coughing that could only come from the lungs of a lion. Vergix noticed his attention. "There will be beasts in the arena today. How many or what kind, I don't know."
    Casca called over one of the serving slaves. "What time do the games start?"
    The slave, a Dalmatian, shook his head. "Don't be in a rush. You and the others won't go on until after the heat of day settles. You should be pleased; you are going to be the main attraction!"
    Casca threw his bowl at the slave. "Smart ass goat herder! I hope