Furies Read Online Free Page B

nervous look about, as though he was aware he was being watched. Iovinus, who had been Corvinus’ and Aculeo’s negotiatore, working as the conduit between the investors and the moneylenders to arrange the loans for the fleets, including for the final cursed voyages. He’d even sailed aboard the flagship of the second fleet to complete the exchange of goods on the other side. So what in the name of the blessed fucking Apollo is he doing here instead of at the bottom of the Roman Sea where the fish could pick his bones clean?
    He watched Iovinus push his way through the cheering throngs towards the exit. Aculeo bolted towards the stairway – it was all he could do to keep from screaming. The horses thundered around the track below, clouds of red dust flying in the air beneath their hooves, their riders dressed in leather kilts switching them across their haunches, driving them on, the crowds roaring for their favourites.
    “Where are you going?” Varus cried. “The race isn’t done!”
    Aculeo raced down the steps, trying not to lose the man. Iovinus. Fucking Iovinus! How could that wretched, miserable bastard possibly still be alive while everything I had is gone? He reached the bottom level and elbowed through the spectators, including a pair of angry soldiers, drawing as close as he could as Iovinus neared the exit, almost close enough to grab the leather satchel slung about the man’s bony shoulder.
    Someone shoved into him hard, almost knocking him down. “Where do you think you’re going?” a man’s voice cried, trembling with rage. Aculeo spun around in surprise – Gellius.
    Iovinus had gained a few steps now and was almost through the exit. “Not now, Gellius,” Aculeo growled, trying to push past the man, but Gellius grabbed the hem of his tunic. Iovinus had almost reached the street. “Will you just …”
    “I don’t think so!”Aculeo glanced down and paused. Gellius was pointing a shard of broken roof tile at him in a shaky hand. “I want to talk to you.”
    The crowds roared again as Heracles’ Fury pulled a full length ahead of the rest, pounding along the track towards the finish. The impressive lead was quickly undone however when the horse stumbled a few lengths from the finish line and rolled into the dust. The crowd cried out in anguish as the horses that followed stumbled as well, tripped by the first horse’s upturned legs, all except the last, who managed to avoid the chaos and surge forward, her nose alone across the finish line.
    “Gellius, I’ve got to go!” Iovinus was on the street now, slipping into the crowd.
    “No!”
    Aculeo pulled out of the man’s grasp to head to the gates when a hot streak of pain sliced across his upper arm. “Fuck!” he cried and punched Gellius square in the face. Gellius’ eyes went wide with shock as he fell awkwardly to the ground, hand to his face, blood streaming through his fingers. He sat there blubbering like a child. Aculeo broke away, looking around desperately for Iovinus.
    The agonized whinnies of the fallen horses filled the Hippodrome, the poor beasts in obvious distress as they struggled to stand on their shattered legs, while slaves hurried out onto the track to dispatch them.
    And Iovinus was gone.

 

     
    Aculeo and Gellius threaded their way through the crowded laneways of the Agora. The market was alive with the raucous chaos of flute and drum from streetside musicians begging for spare coins, the bellowing cries of the merchants trying to entice any potential customers and the shrieks of street children playing tag amongst the stalls. A man took his life in his hands walking at mid-day down these narrow, twisting streets as pedestrians competed with chariots, mule carts, cattle and oxen. A pungent clash of smells hung in the air of rich spices from the Indes, fresh caught fish, roasted chickpeas, baking bread, barley beer and fresh garlic, mixed with the ripe, sweaty smell of the people themselves, gossiping, bartering,