Conquest and Glory Chapter XIII
Chapter Thirteen
Ready to fight to the death, Justinius skidded to a halt in shock, as did all present. A sword had suddenly appeared out of Julius’s chest. He fell forward, never to know that it was Brutus who had stabbed him from behind.
Justinius did not wait for an explanation. Regrouping his mice they charged the ra, and were able to get in the midst of them before the archers could recover from their surprise. Unable to loose arrows at Justinius and his band, they leapt down to join in the fighting. The clash was brutal, but swift, and Justinius was hard pressed to defend himself and Quintus who remained close by him swinging his sling at every rat hea that came too close. After the last rat fell, he inspected the first of the battlefields within Rome. It was first time in many a mouse’s lifetime that battle had come to Rome’s gates, let alone within them. They had fought Julius and the rats off successfully but at a cost. Brutus and two others lay among the dead.
“Onwards!” Justinius shouted, turning his back to the carnage. “This is our only chance! The rest will have to figure it out for themselves for we have not the time.” He began their mad dash through the streets that would end at the palace. He longed to stay and mourn their deaths and give them a proper burial, time was of the essence now and he was sure they would have bid them do the same if they could have exchanged words with the living.
They overtook the few rats that had managed to flee in a matter of minutes and fell upon them ruthlessly. Justinius was the first to leap in, and the first to receive an injury for his efforts. It was not long before the last rat had fought to the death. Two more mice had been slain during the skirmish. “Go now,” Justinius told them, inspecting the cut on his cheek with help of his reflection in one of the swords. “We can finish this, I know we can.”
Aquila inspected the view of the city and the lands beyond from the balcony of Marcus’s former room. It had been here that Justinius had been sent to the border. Curse him! He had gotten word of a commotion, but had no yet heard whether it had been successful or not. He should have had Justinius sent away farther. How did Cassius manage to find him?
“No matter,” he said to himself. Still no word. If things didn’t look
“What is that?” said the mouse who had informed him of Justinius’s return. “You needed something?”
“Nothing,” Aquila snapped. His cape rustled in the wind. He peered closely at the streets. He thought he saw something in the distance, but Rome was a large city with many buildings so anything he had seen was uncertain at best or a trick of the eye. He’d have Marcus brought up. If Justinius managed to evade death, which was possible—Justinius was a slippery one and had proved as such—then he could always threaten to kill Marcus.
“You!” he commanded to one of the mice he kept near to attend and protect him. “Go have Marcus brought here, and double our guard. Make sure plenty of rats are guarding the front entrance. That’s about the only thing they are good for. Anyway, they’ll be good enough to slow Justinius down and we wont have to lose more mice in the process. If they show up, they’ll be in no state to resist.”
“Yes sir,” the mouse said with a bow and scurried away to fulfill his orders.
Aquila turned back to the window, frowning. He should have had some word by now. Something was wrong. He muttered something under his breath. Then his day got worse.
“Sir!” the mouse said, running into the room, breathing hard.
“What is it, did you do as I said? Where is Marcus?” Aquila was close to clapping the fool in irons and throwing him in a cell or just relieving him of his head, that would be simpler.
“Marcus is gone! So are most of the prisoners!”
Aquila swore and turned to him. “What?”
“Someone broke them out!”
“Who?” Aquila demanded.
“I don’t know.” Aquila had to muster all his willpower not to run the idiot through right there.
“Did you send reinforcements to the front of the palace?”
“I haven’t yet. I needed to bring this to your attention.”
“Get out of my sight before I give you to the rats,” Aquila roared. The mouse shrank and ran out again. Aquila breathed deeply to calm himself which only irritated himself more. He addressed the rest “Go and see that the front gates are protected.”
He ground his teeth and threw a goblet after the last mouse . He hoped Justinius survived, actually. He wanted to gut him himself after all the trouble he had caused by coming back. Curse him!
Octavius peered out the doorway of the empty storage room hoping they hadn’t been seen or noticed. Breaking the prisoners out had gone without a hitch, and Marcus and those who had been imprisoned by Aquila were now free. Little blood had needed to be spilt in the process and none of them had sustained injuries. The alarm would soon be raised, he didn’t want to be in the vicinity, but it would help provide a distraction for Justinius.
“What do we do now?” Marcus asked.
Octavius looked about him, inside and outside the room. He had heard from a legionary passing outside that Justinius was going to be attacked. Octavius had remained hidden, despite wanting to throttle the mouse where he was.
“We make a move now,” Octavius replied. “If Justinius is all right, then we can draw more attention away from him!”
Everyone gathered with him nodded in agreement, and they all bared their weapon’s both traditional and makeshift. At a word from Octavius they flooded out of the storage room, ready to fight and if need be die for Marcus.
Justinius and those with him had almost made it to the palace. During their dash they could hear fighting from all around the city as the others made their entrances. There was more than he expected, Octavius must have made his move and he was sure Brutus’s compatriots had. Several citizens had also joined them in the mad dash, tired of being lorded over by Aquila. He stopped just short of the palace entrance. Many more rats than he had legionaries stood in front of the doors.
“This shall not stop us!” Justinius shouted as he once again began to run. He heard a yell to his right and saw twenty bloodied mice, roaring and running, slam into the rats. Not to be outdone by anyone, Justinius put on a burst of speed and joined the fray. Together, the two groups of mice overpowered the rats and swiftly slew them. During the course of the fighting seven mice had been cut down in the fighting, and more than a dozen more had sustained injuries. Quintus had lost half an ear, but he refused to stay behind, as did the rest of the injured.
“Where is Aquila?” one of the newcomers asked.
“He should be in the palace, unless these rats were to draw us in instead of keeping us out,” Justinius replied, breathing hard. “How did you fare?”
“We heard a racket in the barracks. Figuring that something must have gone wrong we decided to make a move,” the mouse explained. “Brutus made his move.”
“Brutus is dead,” Justinius said sorrowfully.
The legionary was shocked. “How?”
“He heard we were going to be ambushed and came to save us. He succeeded in killing Julius and saving our tails but died in the fighting that ensued,” Justinius said.
“He died well, then.”
“Aye, let us push on and make sure his sacrifice was not in vain.”
Entering the palace, Justinius saw few inside. Other than a rat who fled upon seeing the legionaries, they only came across a few servants and slaves who cowered until Justinius and his followers passed them by. The first floor was in need of a good scrubbing. He was sad to see the state of the place.
They soon came to Marcus’s throne room. In was impeccably clean, unlike the rest of the city. Aquila was there along with forty of his legionaries. “So you’ve made it here,” Aquila scoffed. “I had higher expectations from my underlings.”
Justinius ignore Aquila. A familiar mouse was sitting nearby, sipping wine. “Hippias!”
Hippias, for it was he, jumped up with a start, dropping his chalice on the ground and spilling the blood-red wine. He ran to the farthest point from Justinius, the window. “Justinius, you were supposed to be dead!”
“Not yet,” Justinius said, grabbing a spear from a rat and raised it to throw. “But I’ll kill you—you betrayed us!”
“I never was on your side to begin with,” Hippias sniffed. “So I don’t know you could say I betrayed you.”
Not wanting to hear another word Justinius threw the spear, hoping to silence Hippias, who squeaked in surprised. Jumping back, the former slave dodged it, but in doing so he tripped over the rail on the balcony and plummeted with a high-pitched squeal.
“Pity,” Justinius said, listening as Hippias fell to his death, “I should have liked to kill him myself. Now, Aquila, where is Marcus!”
“Dead,” Aquila spat, “just like you will be in a moment. Then all this will be behind me and Rome will be mine.”
“That will never happen,” Justinius said drawing his sword. “And unlike Hippias I shall have the pleasure of killing you myself and avenging Rome of the wrongs done against her by you and your rats.”
“Likewise,” Aquila leered. “I’m glad you lived. Now I can make sure you die and stay dead.” He charged Justinius and Justinius ran forward to meet him.
They clashed in sparks of steel. Aquila had not been promoted to Legate for nothing. He was a skilled swordsman, much more so than the rat chief Justinius had fought, but not nearly as strong. He was the superior swordsmouse of the two, and Justinius had little hope of besting him, but he vowed he would not give up nor be defeated.
For minutes on end they fought, going too fast for the watches to follow. Aquila scored the first blood, nicking Justinius right arm, but he soon drew blood of his own, dealing Aquila a more serious wound on her leg. All the while they fought, rats and mice of both sides trickled in. Some began to fight, but most stood in awe, watching as the two legates dueled to the death for the fate of Rome.
Aquila drew back after several minutes, he had just dealt Justinius another blow, this one to his shoulder, and sucked in air. “Where are the mice?” he shouted at one of the jaw-dropped onlookers. “Get them in here to back us up!”
“I’m sorry,” the centurion said nervously, “but most of the legion seems to have risen up against us and have joined with the citizens against those who have remained loyal. ”
“What?” Aquila would have slain the mouse on the spot had Justinius not leapt to try and deal Aquila a defeating blow. They began their mad duel once more. Justinius was slowly losing ground, and he had received more injuries while he had still only dealt Aquila one.
Several strikes and parries later, Octavius and Marcus tumbled through a doorway. Joining the onlookers, they watched in silence as the fate of Rome was settled. Knowing Marcus was safe and his death a lie gave him renewed confidence and energy. Justinius began his assault on Aquila with a renewed vigor and even drew blood again, a minor wound, but it was still not enough. Aquila still had Justinius overpowered and was about to deal a killing blow.
Justinius saw it coming, and felt he couldn’t do anything. He should have thought of his family, he knew it, in his final moments, but he only wished that his life could go on a little longer. It was then he thought he heard Titus’s voice calling his name and telling him to drop. Berating himself for giving up, Justinius dove and rolled behind Aquila. Aquila did not react, he just blinked in surprise, a mistake which cost him his life. Justinius stood up behind Aquila and plunged his blade through the traitor’s chest as he turned to face him.
Justinius breathed a sigh of relief as Aquila sank to the floor, muttering last words that no one heard, an angry expression frozen on his face. Justinius also sank down, thankful he was still alive and had managed to defeat Aquila.
“Gods be praised!” Marcus said, dashing to his side, “you did it.” Aquila was forgotten where he lay as he breathed his last. The rats and mice loyal to him threw down their weapons and either fled or fell to their knees, hoping for mercy.
“Yes,” Justinius replied. “But I think I’d like some rest now.” And without a further word, he passed into blissful oblivion and knew no more.
The End? God bless