Bedrock of Empire

by Thomas M D Brooke

  The Thracian gladiator was lightning quick, his curved blade a spinning blur, but I matched him, stepping backwards as I parried each of his blows. The crowd roared again, pleased to see that I could match the speed of this ferocious opponent. The blade work of this professional killer was excellent, it might even surpass my own, but now I was engaged with him, all fear left me. I let the energy of the crowd feed my sword arm as I slipped back into the natural fighting grace of pure instinct and fluid movement. Only once before in my life had I attained this level of mastery, when I had faced the Cherusci champion, but now it was back, and I needed every ounce of it to keep this brilliant swordsman at bay. We spun backwards and forwards, move and countermove, as our two blades clashed in a spinning torrent. The crowd screamed us on, dazzled by the level of swordcraft; I took a shallow cut on my chest but scored one on his shoulder. Neither blow slowed us down, the iron focus of our wills not allowing any distraction from the deadly steel in our hands. Both of us were sweating profusely under the hot sun, but neither of us appeared to tire, as our blades spun in attack followed by defence. I looked into his dark brown eyes, and for the first time I saw fear in them. Finally he’d met someone who could match him.

  Fear does strange things to people. For myself, I was lucky. I’d spent so much of my life afraid, I was accustomed to it, and now I could use it to spur me on to fight with more desperation. But some aren’t used to feeling the emotion at all, and when they finally do it can rob them of their wits altogether. This gladiator was such a man, and as soon as our eyes had locked, I’d known it. His defence became less assured, his attacks more ragged. For the first time in his life he’d met someone better than him, and it terrified him. He knew I was going to kill him.

  He stumbled backwards, his eyes now wild with panic. I followed up my advantage, deflecting his ripostes confidently and advancing in for the kill. I saw two other gladiators rushing in behind him, one with a long curved sword, the other with trident and net. They saw the way this duel was going and weren’t about to let me have time to recover. The Thracian made a last desperate attack, which I evaded, tripping him as he lunged past me. He stumbled to his knees and I struck him under the chin with the pommel of my blade, knocking him senseless. I could have followed that up with a killing thrust, but I didn’t see the point. Instead, I leapt past him to confront the other two gladiators.

  The retiarius was quickly taken out of the scene by the surviving condemned men. They’d seen the balance of power shift, and now, with only four gladiators remaining, they fancied their chances. Two attacked the net fighter, one becoming entangled in the net, whilst the other parried the gladiator’s trident with a blade and a small shield. Behind them I saw Flavus and his small knot of men renew their efforts against the two left opposing them. This left me the swordsman with the long curved blade, so I closed in on him quickly. He tried to keep me at bay with long sweeps of his weapon, so getting near wasn’t easy. I needed to time it right. I deflected one powerful blow off my small square shield, then danced inside. I thrust towards his groin, but instead I hit his thigh; he bellowed in pain but knocked me off my feet with his free arm. I spun backwards but managed to regain my feet before he was on me again, aiming a disembowelling sweep at my belly. I deflected it with my shield but was again knocked off my feet. I staggered up, only to find that my opponent had now fallen to his knees. The wound to his thigh had been more serious than I’d first thought, and now it was bleeding his life away.

  The crowd screamed for me to finish him, but I was no longer interested in him or the crowd. I looked around and found Flavus alongside the other prisoners. There were only four of them left and only one of the guards I’d left with him. But it looked as if, together, they’d managed to deal with the remaining three gladiators. I took a gulp of air to regain my breath. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’

  Flavus tilted his head. ‘Cassius, is that you?’

  I removed my helmet so he could see me. ‘Yes, we need to leave.’

  Flavus looked up at the imperial box. ‘Do you think they’ll let us go?’

  I wiped the sweat off my brow. ‘I have no idea. Let’s find out.’ I signalled Flavus and the last remaining Praetorian to pick up the body of our comrade. He’d been killed by a net fighter in the final throes of the conflict. A reminder of how unkind the gods could be. I turned and walked back to the stadium gates as the crowd erupted in cheers. It seemed I’d inadvertently become a crowd favourite. ‘Livianus told me we would be spared if we prevailed.’

  Flavus had a cut over one eye. He wiped away the blood from it. ‘You think him a man of his word?’

  The two surviving condemned criminals followed us out, looking confused and uncertain as we edged away from the centre of the stadium. I shook my head. ‘Definitely not, but he won’t want to lose face in the eyes of his people.’

  Flavus gave me a crooked grin. ‘Let’s hope so.’

  When we reached the gates I stopped and looked back at Livianus. Was he going to let us go free or send more men to kill us?

  The governor waited, giving no sign of what his intentions were. Eventually, he stood and raised his hands. The gates opened, and mercifully, no troops waited behind them. We filed out quickly, the sound of the crowd cheering ringing in my ears.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  We were to find out that getting out of the stadium wasn’t our only problem however. We emerged into the large anteroom that held the gladiators, still sitting around and talking, and the two large men used to open and close the stadium gates. I paid them no mind and rushed past them, being swiftly followed by the others. After reaching the back of the holding room, we found a barred gate, closed and locked. I rattled the bars in frustration and called for the governor’s guard. ‘Marianus, let us out of here!’ I shouted.

  The two other prisoners, the Spanish outlaws who’d shared our fate in the stadium, joined me. They shook the bars and started shouting out in their Celtic-Iberian dialect to be set free.

  I cursed, the temper from the combat still hot in me. I asked aloud, ‘Where can he be?’ as I gave the bars another shake.

  My question was answered by one of the two large men who worked in the stadium. ‘Lord Marianus left soon after you entered the circus arena. I very much doubt he’ll hear you now.’

  I spun round and asked him, ‘Didn’t he leave instructions for when I return?’

  The large man looked at me blankly. ‘Apologies, my lord, but none of us expected you to return.’

  A few of the gladiators sitting in the shadows of the anteroom chuckled at the remark. The gladiator who’d spoken to me earlier grinned. ‘You gave a good account of yourself, Auctoratus. I’d never have thought you’d be able to take down the Thracian.’

  I wasn’t interested in their praise. ‘We need to get out of here. We shouldn’t be here!’

  The large burly gateman sighed. ‘That’s what they all say, I’m afraid. I’m sorry, we need to retrieve the fallen from the sands now. If anyone wants to see you, I’m sure they’ll come and find you.’

  He signalled to his fellow gatemen and they started to slip out of the doors to the stadium. I shouted in frustration, ‘But who holds the key to this gate?’

  He shrugged before leaving. ‘That’ll be the lord Marianus, sir. I’m sorry.’

  I gave the gates another shake of frustration, but Flavus rested his hand on my shoulder. ‘Leave it, Gaius. Those bars are used to holding strong men.’

  I looked round at the other gladiators in the anteroom and gave a slow nod to concede his point. The large men sat around in groups, chatting and discussing their earlier bouts. None seemed particularly interested in us. I said softly, ‘In their eyes, we’re no different from them.’ I looked at Flavus. ‘Is this to be our fate?’

  Flavus didn’t answer. He just turned around and helped the surviving Praetorian lay to rest the corpse of our comrade. I watched as they lay his body alongside the others who’d been dragged from the sands earlier.
Each cadaver had been covered with a rough cloth. From the wiry, aged and suntanned arm poking out of one, I recognised the small shape of the charioteer Skorpa. I swallowed hard; he’d once been the most talked of man in Rome. Now he lay here, cold and forgotten in this cell.

  I realised the futility of our position and sat down alongside the others. I rested my legs along the cool stone floor and leant my head against the bars to our cage. I gave a deep sigh. There was nothing for us to do but wait and hope that the governor would decide to release us. No one came to visit us as the sound of the crowd gradually died away and the daylight turned to night. I lay in our cell, thoughts circling through my mind of what may become of us. Eventually, the exhaustion from the day’s events caught up with me and I slipped into a fitful slumber.

  The next morning, men came to retrieve the corpses and to bring in large bowls of food and drink for the gladiators. They were well guarded by men from Marianus’ cohort, who ignored all my questions about being released. If I thought I might find fellow conspirators amongst the other gladiators and a chance to overpower our guards and escape, I realised this unlikely when the food arrived. The gladiators were fed well, and now the games were over, they seemed content – almost happy to my eyes – to eat and drink with their comrades in a raucous atmosphere. They held the content air of men who’d faced death and survived. I wouldn’t find help from them breaking out of our hold anytime soon.

  The day dragged on, and Flavus, me, and the young Praetorian, a man named Publius, were left alone for the most part. The two Spanish outlaws who fought alongside us on the sands had slipped away from us the night before and found other men to converse with – those who could speak their own tongue. We let them go, finding it easier to sleep knowing convicted criminals weren’t sleeping alongside us. But wasn’t that what we were now?

  Publius asked for an uncounted time, ‘How long do you think they’ll hold us here?’

  Flavus frowned. ‘We can’t possibly know that, so stop asking.’

  The confines of our prison were large, with many corridors that led to other small cells around the central annex. All the gladiators from yesterday’s fights were still being held here. I watched the dark Thracian I matched blades with the day before fetch more water from a barrel in a corner. Publius asked me in a tight voice, ‘Has he being giving you dark looks, sir?’

  I shook my head. ‘No, I think he wants to avoid me. He hasn’t even met my eye.’

  They’d brought in my adversary shortly after the bout the day before, but he’d been unconscious at the time. By the morning he’d recovered enough to get up and join the others, but he’d made no move to approach me. Flavus remarked, ‘What a strange existence these men lead. Their closest companions are the ones they are most likely to face in the next bout.’

  We all looked at one another. No one said it, but we all thought it. Would they expect us to fight one another? The uncomfortable silence that followed was broken by someone coming down the steps from the other side of the barred gate. I told the other two to stay where they were whilst I slowly made my way to the edge of our cage. I reached the bars to the gate and peered through the gloom to see who was coming down the other side. A man in a light tunic came furtively down the steps; he turned his head back and forth, seemingly unsure of his surroundings or searching for something. My heart leapt as I recognised the tentative nature of his movements.

  ‘Aulus! Over here!’ I called out in a hoarse whisper.

  My brother-in-law’s head whipped around and was illuminated by the dim light coming from the stairwell, revealing his familiar bald pate. He came swiftly over to me. ‘Cassius, thank the gods.’

  I asked urgently, ‘Have you come to set us free?’

  He winced and shook his head. ‘No, and please be more quiet. No one knows I’m down here.’

  I felt my elation dwindle. ‘Then the governor didn’t give you permission to see me?’

  Aulus sighed in dejection. ‘I’m afraid not. Governor Livianus has not been well this last day and a half. He retired to his bed after the games and has not emerged since. I sent him a message asking for your release, but I’ve received no response yet.’

  I frowned, thinking this through. ‘So who’s running things now?’

  ‘It appears to be his wife, Abelia,’ Aulus told me, looking back over his shoulder nervously.

  ‘Abelia!’ I exclaimed, shocked.

  ‘Shush! Cassius, not so loud. I don’t want to alert anyone to my presence down here,’ he whispered to me.

  ‘Sorry,’ I replied, lowering my voice to match his. ‘But she’s just a young girl, with about as much sense as an infant being set free in a Forum on market day.’

  Aulus gave a deep frown. ‘Yes, I quite agree, and so do many of the household slaves and guards. But she claims to speak with the governor’s authority, and that is enough to scare most into line. They know how devoted Livianus is to his wife, and he may well take unkindly to those who worked against Abelia when he wakes up.’

  ‘Yes, that’s more than possible,’ I said with concern. I wasn’t sure about Livianus, but at least I could reason with him. Abelia was a complete unknown quantity. ‘How long do you think this will last?’

  Aulus shook his head. ‘I’m not sure. The mood in the palace is ugly. Abelia has been treating the slaves harshly, and she even ordered two of the guards whipped for not following her orders immediately. Marianus went along with it, but only reluctantly.’

  From the looks Marianus had always given me, he hated me almost as much as the governor’s wife, but I never thought of him as a man easily cowed. ‘Why didn’t he stand up to her?’

  Aulus’ frown deepened. ‘I think Marianus is prepared to do whatever she says, even going as far as whipping those two young men, because he agrees with Abelia about Marcus and the Praetorians.’

  I gripped the bars. ‘Marcus? Why, what has she said?’

  Aulus cleared his throat to explain. ‘She has ordered them out of the palace. Marcus is refusing to go without you, and they have barricaded themselves in their barracks. She has given them until sunset to comply. This was why I needed to speak to you. Marcus wants to try and break you out. But that seems foolhardy to me, given the size of the force under Marianus’ command.’

  I looked at the ground in despair. ‘It is more than foolhardy, it’s a suicide mission. Getting out of the cell is not the half of it. Marianus’ men are a hardened unit, and we couldn’t prevail against so many.’ I shook my head and looked up into Aulus’ eyes. ‘No, tell Marcus that I order him to leave the palace and await me in the town. Ask him to find somewhere in the docks to await us. Brawn cannot get us out of this. We will need to rely on reason alone.’

  Aulus gave me a strained look. ‘But Cassius, I have tried to argue your case to Abelia. She goes red with anger as soon as I mention your name. She seems to think you little better than a condemned criminal and your death a deserved penalty for the subterfuge you used on her husband. Use of Roman law, precedent, and the authority of your rank seem to mean little to her.’

  How had it come to this? Being held at the mercy of a young woman whose advances I had rejected earlier that summer. ‘What has she said of us?’

  ‘Abelia says you must stay incarcerated until her husband is well enough to make a decision on you himself.’

  I ground my teeth in frustration. ‘And how long is the governor likely to be confined to his bed?’

  Aulus looked into my eyes. ‘Impossible to say. We know how ill he is. He may not recover.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘Leaving us at her mercy.’

  Aulus put his hand through the bars in the gate and rested his hand on my shoulder. ‘I’m afraid so. I only managed to sneak down here because most of the guards have become distracted with events in the palace.’

  ‘You must go back. Tell Marcus he can’t prevail against the entire city guard. He must leave the palace at once.’

  Aulus looked at me intently. ‘He won’t like
it. Are you sure you don’t want him to try?’

  It was tempting. I was so eager to get out of this cell that I was inclined to risk everything in one wild throw of the dice, but then reality reasserted itself. ‘Marcus can’t do it. Even if he were to succeed, we’d be branded as traitors to Rome. No, tell Marcus to leave the palace and await us by the docks.’

  Aulus looked at me imploringly. ‘But how will I get you out?’

  ‘You’ll have to keep on trying with the governor. He appears to be our only hope, although it sickens me to say it. He did give me his word that he’d let us go if we prevailed in the games. Maybe he’ll surprise us by keeping to it when he wakes up.’

  Aulus gave a deep sigh. ‘I don’t know. You should have seen him in the box whilst you fought in the arena. I saw him urging on his gladiators to kill you. It was sickening to watch.’

  That didn’t surprise me one bit. ‘The governor is not the easiest of men, but he can be reasoned with.’

  Aulus looked at me. ‘I hope you’re right. But what of Flavus and the other Praetorian? They’ve already been condemned to death.’

  ‘You must ensure that any release includes those two as well. I’ll not leave them behind.’

  Aulus gave another great sigh. ‘You’re asking a lot. I think you overestimate my skills as a lawyer. Besides, what if the governor dies?’

  I took a long breath. ‘Then only the gods can help us.’

  We were left confined in our gaol for the next two days. Boredom interspersed with moments of anxiety over our fate dominated the slow days in the dark and foreboding quarters. Interaction with the other gladiators was limited, although I did question a few of them on what was likely to happen to us all next. Would we stay here or be moved on? None of them appeared to know. This was a new circus, so they were unsure whether they would be returned to their gladiator schools or left here for the next games. Either way, they told us that the training would need to start again soon. They were too expensive a commodity to be left languishing in a prison, inactive and immobile. Their sharply trained reflexes and strength conditioning needed constant attention. A prolonged break from training could cost them their lives in their next bouts. It was little wonder, therefore, that they were more concerned by this than our fate. The gladiators found the enforced confinement baffling, but my guess was that the incapacity of the governor had left all strata of Roman rule in the city in a similar state of inertia. Governor Livianus had kept the strings of power close to his chest – it was no wonder that nobody knew what to do now he was indisposed.