his full height. One of his fellows spat on the floor by Cassius’s feet.
‘Now wait a moment,’ Cassius said. Before he could move, Estan swung a boot at the high stool. As it flew away, Cassius dropped like a stone, catching his head on the bar and landing heavily on the floor. Rubbing his head, he got to his feet and backed towards the other auxiliaries.
‘You men, I am an officer of the Roman Army. You must help me.’
One of the soldiers stood and saluted. ‘At once, sir!’
Cassius was all set to move behind him when the man sat down again and bellowed with laughter. The others joined in.
Cassius pointed to his tunic. ‘I am an officer. It is your duty to assist me.’
One of the men tilted his mug towards the Celts. ‘We know them. We don’t know you. We’re not Roman.’
‘I command you to help me.’
‘Somebody hear something?’ replied one of the men.
‘Not me,’ said another.
‘You haven’t heard the last of this,’ Cassius told them.
‘You won’t be in a state to tell anyone anything,’ said one of the Celts.
Telesinus moved in front of Cassius. Sabina was now crying. Her employer pushed her over to where the other girls stood.
‘That’s enough, Estan,’ he said. ‘You—’
Telesinus never finished the sentence.
Estan barged him aside, stomped forward and drove both hands into Cassius’s chest, propelling him across the room. Cassius’s legs buckled as he hit a table, flew over the top of it and landed in a heap next to the wall. Though his shoulder now blazed with pain, he forced himself up straight away. He had to stay on his feet; if they got him on the ground he was finished. He reached instinctively for his dagger, then remembered it wasn’t there.
Why had he said that stupid quip? Why?
He glanced across at the door.
‘No you don’t.’
One of the Celts blocked his way.
Cassius held up his hands. ‘I apologise unreservedly. It was a harmless joke.’
‘How you Romans love to mock us,’ said Estan. ‘We’re good enough to kill for you and die for you but not good enough to earn your respect.’
Telesinus intervened once more. ‘That’ll do, Estan. You’ve had your fun.’
‘Skinny here seems very interested in how strong we are. I think it’s time for a little demonstration.’
Cassius decided to make a dash for the door anyway. He had barely taken a step before Estan grabbed his left arm and swung him back against the wall. The Celt gave an order in his own language and two of the others darted forward and took hold of Cassius. With a sly smile, Estan bent down and picked up Cassius’s cape from where it had fallen to the floor. He stretched it out, doubled it over, then began twisting the ends. Cassius tried to shake himself free but now both his arms were pinned to the wall.
‘I have money,’ he said, nodding down at his belt.
‘So have I,’ said Estan. ‘I don’t want your money. What I want is for you to understand the consequences of insulting the men of Caledonia. When this is done, I think you will.’
Estan had finished twisting the cape and he now looped it over Cassius’s head, crossing the ends in front of his neck. The other men took an end each and kept one hand on Cassius’s shoulders.
Cassius knew he had to call for help while he still could.
‘Simo! Simo!’
Estan nodded. The men pulled tighter and the cotton cut into Cassius’s neck. He tried to draw breath but no air came. He reached for the cape but Estan sent a knuckled punch straight down on to his right wrist. Cassius would have cried out had he been able.
Estan spoke again. The pressure eased.
‘Now listen. There is something I want you to say: “My name is Skinny. I am a Roman and I am nothing.”’
Through the fear and pain, Cassius was surprised to hear his reaction.
‘By Mars you’ll pay for this. I am an officer of the Imperial Army and I am here to—’
With a nod from Estan the two men pulled again.
‘No, no, no,’ replied the Celt.
‘Now wait a moment,’ Cassius said. Before he could move, Estan swung a boot at the high stool. As it flew away, Cassius dropped like a stone, catching his head on the bar and landing heavily on the floor. Rubbing his head, he got to his feet and backed towards the other auxiliaries.
‘You men, I am an officer of the Roman Army. You must help me.’
One of the soldiers stood and saluted. ‘At once, sir!’
Cassius was all set to move behind him when the man sat down again and bellowed with laughter. The others joined in.
Cassius pointed to his tunic. ‘I am an officer. It is your duty to assist me.’
One of the men tilted his mug towards the Celts. ‘We know them. We don’t know you. We’re not Roman.’
‘I command you to help me.’
‘Somebody hear something?’ replied one of the men.
‘Not me,’ said another.
‘You haven’t heard the last of this,’ Cassius told them.
‘You won’t be in a state to tell anyone anything,’ said one of the Celts.
Telesinus moved in front of Cassius. Sabina was now crying. Her employer pushed her over to where the other girls stood.
‘That’s enough, Estan,’ he said. ‘You—’
Telesinus never finished the sentence.
Estan barged him aside, stomped forward and drove both hands into Cassius’s chest, propelling him across the room. Cassius’s legs buckled as he hit a table, flew over the top of it and landed in a heap next to the wall. Though his shoulder now blazed with pain, he forced himself up straight away. He had to stay on his feet; if they got him on the ground he was finished. He reached instinctively for his dagger, then remembered it wasn’t there.
Why had he said that stupid quip? Why?
He glanced across at the door.
‘No you don’t.’
One of the Celts blocked his way.
Cassius held up his hands. ‘I apologise unreservedly. It was a harmless joke.’
‘How you Romans love to mock us,’ said Estan. ‘We’re good enough to kill for you and die for you but not good enough to earn your respect.’
Telesinus intervened once more. ‘That’ll do, Estan. You’ve had your fun.’
‘Skinny here seems very interested in how strong we are. I think it’s time for a little demonstration.’
Cassius decided to make a dash for the door anyway. He had barely taken a step before Estan grabbed his left arm and swung him back against the wall. The Celt gave an order in his own language and two of the others darted forward and took hold of Cassius. With a sly smile, Estan bent down and picked up Cassius’s cape from where it had fallen to the floor. He stretched it out, doubled it over, then began twisting the ends. Cassius tried to shake himself free but now both his arms were pinned to the wall.
‘I have money,’ he said, nodding down at his belt.
‘So have I,’ said Estan. ‘I don’t want your money. What I want is for you to understand the consequences of insulting the men of Caledonia. When this is done, I think you will.’
Estan had finished twisting the cape and he now looped it over Cassius’s head, crossing the ends in front of his neck. The other men took an end each and kept one hand on Cassius’s shoulders.
Cassius knew he had to call for help while he still could.
‘Simo! Simo!’
Estan nodded. The men pulled tighter and the cotton cut into Cassius’s neck. He tried to draw breath but no air came. He reached for the cape but Estan sent a knuckled punch straight down on to his right wrist. Cassius would have cried out had he been able.
Estan spoke again. The pressure eased.
‘Now listen. There is something I want you to say: “My name is Skinny. I am a Roman and I am nothing.”’
Through the fear and pain, Cassius was surprised to hear his reaction.
‘By Mars you’ll pay for this. I am an officer of the Imperial Army and I am here to—’
With a nod from Estan the two men pulled again.
‘No, no, no,’ replied the Celt.
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