“Hard to hold a scutum when you can’t use your hand,” Lucius added.
The man laughed, then stood up. “Keep your eyes to yourself, Roman, if you want to keep those working.” Then, he turned and returned to his friends. A few moments later, they all looked at Lucius and laughed before picking up their conversation.
After that, they seemed entirely disinterested in Lucius. Forcing himself to appear relaxed, he focused on Ariazate and Tigran’s music, letting their melodies soothe his agitation. Earlier, they’d played more upbeat songs, as upbeat as a tsiranapogh could sound, but now, the sadness of the haunting instrument took center stage as they poured their hearts into their songs. Breathing deeply, he exhaled the tension he held in his shoulders and back and let the music take him.
When the brother and sister finished their last set, they joined Lucius at his table, taking their free drinks from the tavern keeper.
Ariazate leaned in close, brows furrowed in annoyance. “What were you doing antagonizing those Parthians?”
Lucius had guessed who they might be after their interaction, but it was good to have confirmation. “Sorry. I’m not exactly a spy.”
“Well, at least you defused it before blades were drawn.”
It amused Lucius how much annoyance she could infuse into her voice for one so young, though he kept it off his face, not wanting to offend his companion. “At least we confirmed there are Parthians in the area. Did you pick up anything from the crowd?”
“About the same as last night, until those four walked in. Then I got nothing.” She scowled.
Lucius raised an eyebrow. “That in itself is a lot of information.”
Tigran looked confused. Ariazate narrowed her eyes, puzzling over the idea.
“I see,” she said.
“What?” Tigran looked back and forth between them. “I don’t get it.”
“Everyone here recognized those men as Parthians as soon as they walked in, so they stopped talking about politics,” Ariazate explained.
Tigran nodded.
“Did you collect your pay? I think it’s time we make an exit,” Lucius said.
Ariazate nodded. Lucius stood up and pulled his cloak around himself, letting his lame left hand rest on the pommel of his gladius. Ushering his young companions out the door, he followed them into the darkness of Tigranocerta.
“Quick, through here,” Ariazate whispered after looking down the narrow alley.
Lucius took the lead, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Almost immediately after leaving the tavern, they encountered small groups of Parthians wandering around the city, though it felt far more like an active patrol sweeping Tigranocerta than random groups moving about. Any pretense of being civilians ended when they stopped several people, questioning them loudly. Ariazate, who knew some Parthian, was able to pick up a phrase or two. They were looking for Romans or anyone suspicious.
When the moon ducked out from behind a cloud, Selene’s light bathed Tigranocerta, setting the stone of the buildings aglow.
While they waited for another patrol to pass by, Lucius cast his gaze to the sky. “Please watch over us…”
Looking to Ariazate, he whispered, “Are we clear?”
She nodded and waved them forward. Opting for bold, they strode across the wider road into the shadows of another alley, then ducked into the darkness, the buildings blocking the light. Even though Tigranocerta wasn’t a large city, they couldn’t get close to their inn and its stables. The Parthians idly strolling around were too well armed and organized to be coincidental.
Lucius whipped around as someone shouted behind them. The men from the tavern pointed at them. Behind him, he heard stone against stone, but couldn’t turn to see what it was with four men pelting down the alley toward them. Lucius let his left hand settle onto the pommel of the sword strapped to his left hip, resuming the character he’d played earlier.
“What do you want?” Lucius called out, holding his right hand up so they could see nothing was in it. Ariazate and Tigran stepped behind him.
“Keep your hands where we can see them, Roman,” the man said as he slowed, stopping a few steps away from Lucius.
“The left isn’t going anywhere,” Lucius replied, keeping his right arm up. “Not with this injury. What do you want?”
“You’re going back to camp with us. Someone wants to have a chat with you.” The same man who’d accosted him at the table earlier took another step closer.
“I don’t know why. I don’t know anyone around here, and I’m a nobody. What would anyone want with a common soldier discharged with a wound? I’m just trying to sell these slaves and go home.” Lucius indicated Ariazate and Tigran.
“We’ll just let our boss sort you out.” The man stepped closer. “Get some rope so we can bind their hands.”
“Look. You’ve got the wrong people. I’m just passing through,” Lucius protested.
“Then you have nothing to worry about if you come with us. But if you don’t shut up and let us bind you, we’ll take you by force. Either way, you’re going with us.”
Lucius slumped, defeated. As the Parthian stepped closer, slowly raising his arm to take Lucius’s wrist, Lucius let his left hand slip off the pommel as he wrapped his fingers around the hilt in a reverse grip. Yanking the sword out of its scabbard, Lucius brought it up, slamming the end of the pommel up and into the Parthian’s chin, then dragged the edge of the blade along the Parthian’s neck, cutting his throat.
Lucius tried to turn the blade so the flat would catch most of the blood spray, but still felt the warm spatter of blood on his face. As the Parthian reached for his throat, he choked and gagged on his own blood, stumbling backwards into his companions. Flipping the sword into a standard grip, Lucius charged after him, shoving the wounded man to trip up the other three. The first was caught completely off-guard as Lucius plunged the gladius into his guts. Lucius twisted and yanked the blade free in time to block a hasty swing at his body. Though he wasn’t as good of a sword fighter with his left hand, he was more than capable of taking out these men who were probably more practiced with bow and lance.
With his sword out of position, Lucius lashed out and punched the next Parthian, shattering his nose. By the time he cleared his blade, the last of the quartet had turned and fled back down the alley and out onto the street. Lucius only caught a brief glimpse of his back as he turned right and disappeared. Before Lucius could catch his breath, Ariazate screamed behind him.
Spinning around, he saw the young boy and his sister trying to fight off a trio of Parthians. Lucius charged forward. Leaping between the two Armenian adolescents, he knocked over the closest Parthian, stomping down hard with his hobnailed caligae. A scream and the crack of bones brought a smile to his face as he raised his gladius to block a sword thrust at his head. Shoving the blade aside, he whipped a backhanded slash, catching the third Parthian in the face. As the second Parthian grabbed at him, he turned in time to see the Parthian drop his blade, his back arching.
He fell to the ground, a dagger in his back. Zati stood behind him, a horrified look on her face. Before he could scramble off, Lucius slashed the throat of the Parthian he’d stomped on earlier, then looked down both ends of the alley. It was clear. He grabbed the nearest Parthian and dragged him behind a pile of debris. By the time he was done, Tigran and Zati had moved deeper into the shadows where they couldn't see the bodies.
Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he grabbed the two Armenians and prepared to go. Again, the sound of stone on stone drew his attention. Without the distraction of the Parthians, he found the noise. A shiny bald head poked out of a secret stone door in the middle of the alley wall.
As Lucius raised his sword toward the new threat, the little man waved them closer. “Roman, I can hide you and your companions.”
