Atakam, Hun in Roman Army

Atakam is recuperating from a battle wound when Gaius helps him out. They become friends, with Atakam accompanying Gaius on some sketchy outings, like sneaking Messalina into the Hippodrome. While he is curious about Gaius’ abilities as a street fighter, Atakam remains loyal to his army oath and cannot join Gaius in his fighting. A learned gentleman who despises the race fans who emulate Huns in the Hippodrome and streets to show their similar disdain for authority, Atakam tries to protect Gaius from bad decisions and even from himself. Here is an excerpt from Chapter 14, Theater Eruption …

 

In silence we followed them at a short distance, the pockets of commotion disappearing as we got further from the theater. Atakam was disturbed and with a violent shake of his head broke our silence.

 

“You see this?” he said to me in an angry, hushed tone, grabbing at the pin holding his cloak.

 

“You know what I had to do to earn this? This simple pin – different from the thousands of others like it for this tiny sliver of ruby here on the javelin’s tip – indicates assassin training and experience that enables me to kill you and any of your street kind in an instant. An interesting detail is that when I am angered, I don’t really care who I kill!”

 

He released his pin and continued walking. “I go into this den of simpletons to help you and I embarrass my commander and comrades by wearing this sacred pin. Same with the Hippodrome the other day,” he said with a hand flourish worthy of Kyros. “I wasn’t wearing any official markings that day, but do you think I am not an army officer when my uniform is off?”

 

 “I appreciate your help in both instances, Atakam.” I touched his shoulder, but he pulled away. “You are more friend than perhaps I deserve.”

 

“It’s not easy sometimes – and her comments certainly don’t help,” and with the dagger he still held, he pointed at her ahead of us.

 

“I know, I know. She’s also complicating my life – in good and bad ways.”

 

“Such are women.” He touched my shoulder in understanding.

 

After a minute of silent walking, I asked him, “What did you mean when you said that you don’t care who you kill?”

 

“Once before, in a run of deep despair and deeper drunkenness, I killed a good friend of mine.” He looked away down an alley as if he might see him.

 

“It was not really my fault, they all told me, for my friend had unwisely followed up a curse at me by drawing his sword. He was also very drunk.” The Hun looked at me squarely, unashamed of the tear on his left cheek. “It was the worst moment of my life, and near destroyed me for hating myself.”

 

“I too have come close to killing people I like – and still may yet,” I said.

 

“Yes, you are in a difficult position. But you know, you should beware of me. I might lose control again. You should beware of me, Gaius.” His eyes held a dull truthfulness.

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“Believe me, I will my friend. I will.”

 

“And I’ll beware of you, too,” he said. “You may get me in some real trouble, yet – and not these minor irritations I’m complaining about.”

 

“I probably will, if you stay around me long enough.”