Read The Centurion's Empire for Free Online

distance there was a dull, irregular thumping. Small rocks pattered down around them.
    "Something on the way," said Vespus. "Something big. A god's footsteps."
    "It's just a noise," Lars snapped impatiently, annoyed at ' his companion's fright. "The footsteps of a real god would shake the very ground beneath us." He listened for a time. "Something is being lowered from above, and the wind is blowing it against the cliff, knocking loose the stones that are falling around us. It's probably a great basket to carry all these goods."
    "Soon it's us who will be thumpin' against the cliff," replied Vespus, still unhappy.
    "They'll have some arrangement to keep the goods safe, and if the goods are safe then so will we be. Think of yourself as a bundle of fine garments, Vespus. No harm will come to you."
    The thuds grew louder, but they were the hollow booms of a great drum rather than the footfall of gigantic feet. Suddenly it seemed to them that all was darker than before, then there was a soft thump nearby followed by footsteps crunching through the snow. Someone had ridden down on the crane's hook.
    "Lupus? Vulpus?" asked a voice with a curiously twisted Roman accent.
    Lars hesitated, but those were the codenames that they had been told to use. "Lacerna?" he called softly in turn.
    "Yes, yes, where—ah, this pile. Quickly now, out with you for a stretch and a piss. It'll be your last chance for hours."
    "But we'll be seen from above," said Lars.
    "Impossible," said the slave, laughing. "Take a look."
    Lars had the impression of a huge canopy resting on five thick legs. It straddled the altar. The slave was an indistinct shape doing something with ropes nearby.
    "The hand of the gods," said Vespus behind him.
    "That's it, the mighty wicker and cloth hand of the gods," Lacerna replied. "A hook beneath each finger, and above it all a crane driven by five horses at a windlass. It's made to boom like a huge drum when the wind bangs it against the cliff, and it sends the yokels screaming."
    Each of the piles of sacks had been placed on heavy net-
    ting, and the slave tied the corners of these to the hooks below each finger.
    "How long is the arm?" asked Vespus, looking up the black center.
    "When fully extended, about two hundred feet. At night, in the mist, it looks to be the arm of a mighty and gigantic god. When we wind it back up it reaches a spar near the top and is furled like a sail. Now, back in your sacks and lie still and quiet. I'm to whistle in the guards."
    "Guards?" exclaimed Vespus.
    "Aye, there's four guards been lying out of sight down here since before dawn. Sometimes we let curious muleteers see the arm of the gods to keep the. legend going, sometimes we make 'em disappear to show that the gods are dangerous." The slave blew a shrill, piercing blast on his whistle. Soon they could hear the tramp of feet in the snow.
    "Bad hunting tonight, sir?" called the slave.
    "Thirty came, thirty went," someone called. "What of the sacks?"
    "All in order, sir."
    'Then whistle us up. I'd kill for a warm fire and a pot of stew after a day down here." Lacerna blew another three quick blasts, and almost at once Lars and Vespus felt themselves crushed by the sacks around them as the net was winched up. The wicker hand began swinging as soon as they left the ground, and it hit against the cliff with deep, resonant booms.
    "When we get to the top the load will have to be carried into the storehouse in case more damn snow falls," shouted the guard's Temporian leader between booms.
    "What say I do the load for a day-ration of wine?" suggested the slave. "I'll not tell my master."
    "A day-ration, you say? Done.".
    "From each of you."
    Groans and jeers floated over from the other guards until another boom cut them short.
    "I thought your price was a trifle low," said the Temporian. "Well then, those who can't spare a day-ration can stay behind and do their share. Who's for it?"
    I nc \_ C IN I UMUIN O tl ir
    There were disgruntled curses,