Bedrock of Empire

by Thomas M D Brooke

  I didn’t know what to say. Should I deny Flavus’ identity, or come clean and try for some understanding? I sat down heavily on my seat, trying to think of a way to respond. When you’ve been caught in a lie, the mind often struggles to find a way out.

  Aulus came to my rescue. He secreted the wax tablet in a pocket and declared, ‘Governor Livianus, you have no right to hold that prisoner. He is under the protection of Quaestor Aprilis on the direct orders of Germanicus and Livia Caesar, grandson and consort to the great Augustus. By detaining him unlawfully, you are declaring yourself in open defiance of their wishes. I suggest you release him and his two guards at once.’

  I looked up at Aulus with a new-found respect. Moments ago he’d looked ready to faint, but here he was laying down the law. I stood up and followed his lead. ‘My brother-in-law is right. I am sorry you weren’t included in the imperial family’s plans, but it is critical that our prisoner reaches Rome safely and unharmed, for reasons of state.’

  For a moment, Livianus looked slightly uncertain, but then he recovered himself. ‘Oh, I think you overvalue the welfare of your prisoner.’ His voice then turned harder and colder. ‘Just as you overvalue your own self-importance. This is my province, and in my province, I say who lives and who dies. Nobody else.’

  Marcus couldn’t contain himself any longer; he burst out in anger. ‘Why are my two guards there?’

  Livianus sniffed. ‘They tried to prevent Marianus and his men from apprehending the traitor.’

  Marcus growled. ‘You really think you can get away with this? Augustus will have you removed and replaced by someone loyal.’

  Livianus gave Marcus a harsh look. ‘I doubt that very much, young man. You see, Augustus knows my worth, and it certainly weighs more heavily than a known traitor to Rome and a newly raised quaestor. Augustus doesn’t worry me.’

  I scoffed. ‘Many have said that in the past – they all lived to regret it.’

  Livianus looked down and rested his hand on his gut, and his voice changed from one of anger to one of sadness. ‘But that’s just it. The living may fear him, but not the dead.’ He looked up and his eyes met mine. ‘My physician tells me there is something growing in my belly. It is eating me away from the inside. I’ll not live to see another summer.’

  Abelia turned white, and we all looked at him in shock.

  It took me a while to process this new information. I had no sympathy for him, but he was right. There was no way I could threaten a man who already knew he was dying. I appealed to his reason instead and said slowly, ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Livianus. But you have nothing to gain by this act of cruelty either. The situation with Flavus is complicated. Let him and the others go.’

  He smiled. ‘No, Cassius. I already gave you one life today. You don’t get another.’ He clapped his hands, and the trumpets pealed again. ‘Look, observe.’

  The gates opened again, and six gladiators walked out, all armed to the teeth. Two of them were retiarii, with net and trident, and one was a hoplomachus, with shield, helmet, and a long spear. A fourth held a long curved blade, and a fifth a heavy manica arm guard and blade. Finally, I saw the lithe and agile Thracian that Abelia had so admired earlier, and my blood ran cold. I looked at them in horror. ‘You can’t be serious?’

  The governor told me in a low tone, ‘The prisoners are to be hunted by six of the finest gladiators in the land. This should be a fitting ending to my show. So much more entertaining than the monoceros I’d originally planned.’

  Aulus put his hands on his hips and shouted, ‘That’s outright murder.’

  Livianus shook his head. ‘Nonsense, they are all known criminals and condemned to death. I’m at least giving them the chance of life. If they can prevail in the combat, I have promised them their lives.’

  ‘Some chance of that against trained gladiators,’ I spat. I couldn’t help it. I stepped forward and reached out my hands to grab the governor. ‘You bastard!’

  Livianus didn’t look the slightest bit concerned. ‘Marcus Scaeva, if the quaestor makes one more step towards me, you are to strike him down.’

  That stopped me in my tracks, and Marcus turned to him. ‘What? You must be mad?’

  Livianus looked up at my friend. ‘You are the head of my guard this day.Did you forget that oath you swore to me? Or the oath you asked your men to swear in front of me this morning? Giving over your allegiance to me and promising to protect me from all foes.’

  Marcus blasted in anger, ‘But Cassius isn’t a foe!’

  Livianus shrugged. ‘He is to me, and that’s all that matters.’

  I looked at the panic on Marcus’ face and held up my hand. ‘Leave it, Marcus. He’s right, you swore an oath.’

  He looked at me in despair. ‘But Cassius …’

  I looked around at the other Praetorians stationed around the imperial box. They all held stricken faces, but their oaths held them. ‘If you, or any of the men, don’t do exactly what he says, you’ll all be condemned as traitors too.’

  Livianus agreed smugly. ‘Quite right. Loyalty to Rome is considered so important in the Praetorians.’

  I couldn’t ask any of them to defy the governor now; such an act would make them all enemies of Rome and mean their certain deaths. ‘I get the feeling that this was planned too?’

  Livianus nodded. ‘Right again, Quaestor. Now, shall we enjoy the show?’

  I looked down at the sands and saw the terrified prisoners there. The appearance of the gladiators had caused panic, but as yet they’d made no move to attack the condemned men. The crowd were beginning to stir, eager for blood and not understanding what the hold-up was. I felt sick to my stomach. ‘What do you want, Livianus? I told you, you can have the gold.’

  The governor growled angrily. ‘The gold no longer interests me. I’m told you can’t take it to the void, so what’s the point?’

  I looked down at Flavus, and I no longer saw the traitorous shade of his brother behind him. I saw the young boy I remembered from my past, the innocent child who I’d helped bring up and was as much a part of my family as he was of anyone’s. I turned back to the governor. ‘What then? I’ll do whatever you want of me. Just tell me what it is?’

  He looked at me harshly, eyes narrow, clutching his stomach as if it was beginning to pain him. ‘There is nothing I want from you. Now sit down and witness the consequences of trying to deceive me.’

  Abelia came to his side, helping him stand as his posture became more unsteady.

  I seethed with anger, and I told him, ‘This is a spiteful and cowardly act, Livianus. This won’t make your end any easier. As the cold presence of death looms closer, you’ll feel just as much fear as those poor men standing down there on the sand.’

  Abelia gasped in shock, and I saw the truth of it hit home on Livianus’ expression. He was terrified of his impending death. His face turned to a rictus of hate. ‘You think yourself brave? If you think the odds of my final show unbalanced, then go and even the odds. You are said to be a fine warrior yourself. Go see if you can make a difference, brave Cassius of house Aprilis.’

  I don’t think even the governor had expected it to go this far, but by the look of the hate on his face, I knew there was no going back now. I ground my teeth. ‘Very well.’

  He looked uncertain but nodded in agreement. He turned to his palace guardsman. ‘Take him and give him what he needs.’ He turned and raised his hands to the crowd, who cheered him and shouted out for the spectacle to get going.

  He pushed away the support of his young wife and walked towards the front of the balustrade, soaking up the applause of his people whilst still speaking to me. ‘I just want a good show, Cassius. Give me that and I’ll let your men go free. Marianus will show you the way. But be quick, you only have until the gladiators finish giving me their oaths.’

  I ran down to the entrance of the stadium, quickly followed by Marianus, who ordered his guards to let me pass. Marcus and Aulus hadn’t let me go easily, forcing me to
ask the Praetorians in the imperial box to restrain them until I returned. They’d done so, albeit reluctantly, and now I was in the room adjacent to the large wooden gates that led to the circus sands. Several gladiators, those from prior bouts, lay or sat here nursing their injuries or discussing their earlier encounters. There was an amazing lack of animosity amongst them, as genial as a group of workers sharing a drink after a hard day’s work.

  Marianus snapped an order at one of them. ‘You, give this man your weapon.’ He gave a coarse chuckle. ‘He intends to match blades with your fellows.’

  The man in question had a curved Thracian blade, not a weapon I favoured. ‘No, that won’t do. Marianus, give me your gladius instead.’

  Marianus looked at me, annoyed, and at first I thought he’d refuse, but then he gave me a cruel smile and shrugged. ‘I guess you’ll need all the help you can get.’

  He passed me the weapon and I examined it quickly. Typical army issue; not as fine as the blade of Varus, but more than serviceable. It’d do.

  A stocky man covered in bandages walked up to me. ‘If you’re going out there, you’ll need some armour. Take this.’

  He handed me a kilt made from thick leather strips. I thanked him and pulled off my toga, belting the kilt around me. He bent down and picked up a heavy arm guard made from several overlapping plates of metal. ‘You want the manica?’

  I shook my head. It would offer me plenty of protection but I’d find the weight unfamiliar. ‘Just a shield.’

  The water organ started playing and the long-faced Marianus grunted. ‘They’ve started. You’d better hurry if you want to find any of your friends alive.’

  I took a small square shield off the stocky gladiator, as another came over and gave me a helmet. ‘Always protect your head. They’ll target that otherwise.’

  I nodded and took it off him, rushing to the gates. ‘Let me through.’

  Marianus nodded, and the two burly men I’d seen on the sands earlier dragging bodies from the field lifted a heavy locking bar from the gates. I donned my helmet. I was relieved to find it lighter than some of the gladiatorial helmets I’d seen, and it gave a good field of vision – unlike the narrow eyeholes of the man killed by the retiarius earlier. It wasn’t, however, a piece of armour I’d ever expected to wear myself.

  ‘May the gods give you favour this day,’ said the stocky gladiator as the gates swung open. ‘Failing that, make sure you die well, Auctoratus.’

  He gave me the title of someone who volunteered to fight as a gladiator – they weren’t as uncommon as you’d have thought. Up until this day, I’d always thought them fools. I nodded to him, banged my gladius on my shield, and walked out into the bright sunshine of the circus.

  The crowd roared in excitement at seeing another gladiator joining the arena, and I felt my blood rush at the thrill of it. Gods! That was something I’d never felt before. Hearing over thirty thousand people scream as you enter a stadium was intoxicating, and I felt every hair on my body stand on end.

  But I needed to put that out of my mind. I’d emerged to a scene of chaos. At the far end, Flavus had tried to organise the condemned prisoners into a small shield wall. But whether it was the lack of military training or because the small caetra shield gave them little protection, most had instead separated and run from the gladiators. Flavus stood amongst the two Praetorians and one other, pinned to the far wall of the stadium by a retiarius who was closing in with his net and trident, as two other heavily armoured gladiators came in from the side. The gladiators were playing to the crowd, taunting the cornered men, knowing that they could take their time achieving their inevitable kill. My heart sunk; how could I have thought I could make a difference here? I watched two of the gladiators move in, one scoring a cut on a Praetorian shoulder, whilst the retiarius aimed his trident at the top of Flavus’ head. Flavus ducked swiftly under the blow, but with no helmet his head was vulnerable and the gladiator nicked him across his forehead. Flavus snapped his head back in pain and then went forward in a desperate attack, but the retiarius effortlessly moved out of his path, jabbing him again with his trident and swinging his net ready to trap him. Wisely, Flavus ducked back into formation with his comrades, the gladiator raising his arms high, mockingly, at this backward step as the crowd cheered in excitement. It was clear this couldn’t continue for long. Flavus’ and the Praetorians’ shields were too small to offer them protection, and what worked on the battlefield was harder to achieve on the arena sands. These gladiators were too quick, too agile, and without the protection of proper armour and large scutum shields, Flavus and the Praetorians were hopelessly exposed.

  The other condemned men ran around the stadium, trying to avoid the three remaining trained fighters. Two had already been caught. I saw the dark-skinned Thracian plunge his blade into the stomach of one poor individual, whilst closer by, another was wrestling with a prisoner, trying to pin him to the ground. I wanted to reach Flavus and the others as quickly as possible, but there was a lot of sand between me and them, and it was hard to ignore what was happening in front of my eyes.

  I burned with a hot rage, firstly that I had been manipulated by the governor so easily, and secondly because these gladiators were intent on killing my men. I needed to do something to stop them. I strode over to the nearest large gladiator, armoured in a manica and holding a gladius, who’d now managed to grapple his victim to the floor and held his blade across his throat.

  ‘Let that man go!’ I shouted through the grill in my helmet.

  He looked up and said, ‘Who are you? Go find your own prisoner, this one is mine.’

  He had clearly mistaken me for another of the governor’s killers. I looked on in horror as the gladiator ran his blade across the young man’s throat – it wasn’t one of my men, but still it shocked me. There was a gout of blood as the man slumped to the ground, his life pouring into the sand. The gladiator shrugged. ‘Sorry, I’ve been promised one hundred denarii for each kill.’

  ‘You’ll regret that,’ I told him in a fury, darting in to attack.

  The gladiator finally recognised that I wasn’t there to assist him and the others in their wholehearted slaughter. He raised the plated arm guard to ward off my attack and stepped backwards from the corpse of the prisoner. I had the advantage as I’d taken him by surprise, and I cut and thrust towards his unarmoured chest. He surprised me by letting me into his guard and then swinging the heavy manica when I took the bait. He hit me on the shoulder and I almost lost my grip on my blade as I was thrown sideways by the impact of the heavy blow.

  I raised my shield to deflect his follow-up attack with his gladius and danced backwards, parrying each of his blows. I needed to be careful. The fighting methods of these gladiators were different to what I was accustomed to.

  The gladiator grinned through his open-faced helmet. ‘I’m going to crush you.’

  I raised my shield, deflected his overhand blow, and cut in with my own blade. The gladiator was very adept at using the manica to deflect my thrusts, but now he needed to step backwards, surprised by my speed and agility. The crowd roared in excitement, something that thrummed through my blood, spurring me on. He tried the same tactic as before, letting me inside his guard so he could slam me with the heavy metal plates of his arm guard. This time I was ready for it, and I ducked underneath it before plunging my blade upwards through his groin, deep into his torso.

  The crowd roared again on seeing the killing thrust. I despised them for it, but I couldn’t help but be moved by the thrill it sent through me. I withdrew my blade and raised the gladius aloft as the gladiator fell forward onto the sand, his life blood pouring from him. I turned around to find the other gladiators. They’d all noticed me now; the crowd had told them that something was amiss.

  If this had been a normal battlefield, it would have been clear what they needed to do. I’d shown I was a threat to them so they should have all joined forces and despatched me together. However, this was no normal field of combat, an
d I wasn’t so naive in the ways of the arena not to realise how I could use this to my advantage. I pointed my blade at the dark-skinned Thracian and bellowed, ‘Will you stand and confront me?’

  The crowd roared in excitement. They’d seen this Thracian fight earlier and knew him to be of the highest skill. I guessed his ego wouldn’t allow him to turn down such a challenge in front of thousands of screaming patrons, and I was right. He raised his own curved weapon in the air and shouted back, ‘Yes, I’ll match your blade with mine! I hope you die well, stranger.’

  The two of us closed in on one another and then began circling each other. I saw his light footwork and agile body loosen before coming in for an attack. I knew him to be fast. I’d witnessed him earlier cut up a well-trained gladiator, so I prepared myself for a rapid onslaught. Even so, I was hard pushed to keep out the precision strikes and thrusts delivered by his balanced sword arm. Knowing how much Livianus had paid for these games, it was likely he would have been trained from a young age in one of the best gladiatorial schools, and to judge by his confidence, he wasn’t used to meeting his equal here or anywhere else in the Roman world. I was forced backwards, just keeping his probing weapon back from my unarmed chest, and once just deflecting a blow aimed at my throat with my shield that had slipped through my guard.

  He was good, really good, and he’d forced me onto the back foot by his blistering attack. But I was no novice either. Like him, I was trained from a young age. Not in a gladiatorial ludus, but in the school of Augustus, where young boys were given weapons training as a matter of course – Augustus knowing that the empire couldn’t be run by an elite only versed in Greek, philosophy and art. This education had been tempered in the legions of Syria before being broken at Western-Gate Pass. I’d been reforged in the Teutoburg, and now I was damned if I was going to die in an arena on the whim of a dying governor trying to justify his wretched life with this overblown vanity project.