Cloacal Adventures

For a while, we lived quietly after our first journey into the tunnels of the ancients. Our money has been hard-earned, and I spent mine upon a new set of clothes and some better equipment - a kettle-hat and a steel buckler along with a few other bits and pieces. All too soon, my pouch was empty once more, with only a few soldi rattling around at the bottom. So we toiled through the summer heat doing little tasks for Cola to keep some food on our little table.

One day, Rocco came back with a real find. While boating in what little remains of the Tiber this August he had chanced upon something. Hidden amongst some bushes, below the normal river level was a rectangular opening to what seemed a tunnel leading deep within the earth - possibly a lost entrance to the tunnels of the ancients, far below the streets of the Eternal City.

Friar Giovanni had taken himself off on a beggar's pilgrimage to some shrine or other, so it was just Rocco, myself, Astore and Father Arturo who signed the contract Cola had drawn up for an exploration. He provided a sturdy boat, two boatmen, and some extra equipment for a sixth part in any treasure recovered, and ownership of inscriptions recovered. I say a sixth part, as he added one more to our company - Signore Bartolo Gaddi , who was a slim young man with delicate hands marked by ink and pigment. Apparently he was skilled at drawing and would record any inscriptions we found for Cola. So we had in all two soldiers, a sailor, a priest and an artist to explore the darkness and dangers of the underworld.

We set off just after dawn, in the coolest part of the day, and soon came to Rocco's secret tunnel. The boatmen proved to be two brothers who argued without much pause the whole way, and in the way that only brothers could without coming to blows. We left them to their bickering as we lit our lanterns and passed into the tunnel. Apart from a few pebbles the tunnel was clean and fresh; for a sewer you might say it was spotless. Soon we would find out what was keeping it so....

Astore led the way with Rocco close by, followed by Father Arturo and Bartolo and myself as rear-guard. Astore heard a faint sucking sound, like a thick stew boiling slowly over the fire, and out of the gloom came a great quivering blob which filled the passage. It had no arms or head, or even legs to carry it, but still the great transluscent bulk oozed forward slowly, remorselessly. Rocco lit a torch, but although it recoiled from the flame, it sought ever to get past it, and would not be halted. It was clear from the first that swords were of no use here. Father Arturo prayed hard for the Saints to aid us, but even he could only make it pause for a moment, before it continued onwards. We retreated back to the light of day, which it could not bear, confirming its nature as some form of Cloacal Demon. Then it retraced its course and vanished into the darkness. We followed it past two side passages and several small openings in the tunnel roof; as we pondered further exploration we saw it return, and so we retreated once more to the light at the end of the tunnel. Soon it became clear that this demon had been set here ages ago to clean the sewers, and still clung to its mission of endlessly sweeping back and forth cleaning, scouring and...absorbing. Its steady and regular pace allowed bold men time to explore the side passages before its return...so we gathered our courage and did so.

Astore and Rocco climbed the steep slope of the first side-passage, and I followed quickly after. Within was a horrible sight - an ancient corpse chained to the wall which strove to catch and claw the living. We struck it hard with cold steel - both with blades and my heavy axe - but still it slashed and thrashed at the end of its chain. Father Arturo prayed with all his might, and called for the unquiet spirit to be brought to eternal rest. It seemed to me that he might have prayed rather too much, for the thing crumbled into a little pile of ashes and dust right enough, but he was so exhausted by his exhortation to Heaven that he could do little but carry a lantern thereafter.

We passed on, through several more chambers and a rockfall, until we came to a door in a passage guarded by two ancient skeletons bearing shields and spears, and wearing fragments of armour. By now we had learned that Bartolo could do more than just draw, but was also a man of some learning and arcane knowledge. By his arts he could tell there was some magic keeping these ancient guards in necromantic bondage, ever faithful, even beyond death. Undaunted Astore, Rocco and I set our steel against theirs but we found these guards to be skilled and immune to pain, for they had no longer flesh to cut or blood to bleed. After Rocco and Astore had taken several hard knocks, we decided that discretion was the finer part of valour and I held off the spear-points with my buckler while the others squeezed past the rockfall back to safety of the chamber beyond. Never has a florin been better spent, for without my buckler I would surely have been sorely wounded before we all escaped. So still they guard the door, in that eternal darkness, endlessly on duty.

We shall need some future stratagem to overcome them, as the soldiers of the ancients know their business in arms. We pondered several schemes while we caught our breath again back in the first chamber above the main passage, but having no Pavise, or War-Wagon in a kit of parts, we decided to press on and explore the second side-passage as we had come to a dead end in this part of the underground.

Now the second side-chamber was much further down the main tunnel and we found that the great jelly would return after only a few minutes once it oozed onwards into the darkness beyond. Once more Astore and Rocco led the way, but the slope of this chamber ended in a very tight squeeze and by the time they had passed within the Cloacal demon oozed forth again, and the rest of us were forced to retreat before it all the way back to the light of day.

By the time we returned to this spot, many minutes had passed and we feared for our companions. I followed them upwards and after much exertion squeezed through a gap in the stonework to join them, followed by Father Arturo and shouts of alarm from below. Arturo had made it by the skin of his...backside, as the thing had oozed after him as he struggled to pass through. Bartolo had been forced to retreat alone in the dark, and it was just as well he could conjure his own light.

In the meantime we found that we had climbed through some place of easement, carved of stone and surrounded by wondrous frescos on the walls. Everything was as fresh as if painted yesterday, and Astore swore that a spirit had offered him a cup of wine before vanishing through the wall. It seemed hard to believe, but those who tried the wine from the silver flagon said it was the finest they had ever tasted. I declined to try it, having heard too many children's stories. It seems I missed a chance, as no harm came to my companions.

After a while Bartolo rejoined us, complaining in no uncertain terms that Father Arturo had not been a model of Christian virtue when the ooze had menaced them both in the tunnel. The good father forbore to argue with him, which tells its own story. Seeing so many wonderful frescos Bartolo readily forgot his complaint, but instead marvelled at them. And there was much more to marvel at, for beyond the place of easement were other chambers - a bedroom and a library, all filled with wonderful things from the ancient world, still fresh and clean as though set out yesterday.

By now we had lost all track of time, so we waited for the great ooze to pass once more before retreating to the outside world again. We took with us two scrolls, lettered in ancient Greek signs, and a pair of silk slippers sewn with many tiny pearls. We found our two boatmen snoozing in the heat of the day, awaiting our return before the last hour of daylight. While taking a short break to eat and drink, we found the weight of time had fallen swiftly upon our booty for the slippers were crumbling rags and the scrolls now fragile and faded.

So we passed swiftly back to those chambers where some glamour of the ancients held back the decay of time, so they might be copied before they became dust and lost forever. While Bartolo took on the task of translation, Father Arturo struggled with some Latin scroll, while the rest of us searched everywhere for a hidden door to these chambers. None could be found. We decided not to use my pry-bar or despoil the chambers lest the glamour be destroyed and the great library of scrolls pass beyond mortal ken.

That took great determination, for there were many things of value there and we remain poor men. But we passed the test, and returned outside before darkness fell to be conveyed back to Cola the way we had come. He was amazed to hear that such ancient things might persist undamaged and delighted by what we had found, but stuck firmly to the letter of the contract we had all signed. So much for our day of hard work - we had seen many wonderful things, but were no richer for it.

But mayhap, if the river is low enough, we may return to glean the knowledge and treasure which remains there....