‘What about our weapons?’ Amadocus asked.
‘You won’t have any,’ Nerva replied flatly.
‘Against a bear?’ Amadocus spluttered, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets. ‘Is this some kind of fucking joke?’
The official shot a severe look at him. ‘Do I look like I’m joking?’
‘On whose orders?’ Pavo asked, shaking his groggy head clear.
‘The sponsor, of course.’ Nerva puffed out his cheeks and made a mark on his tablet with his stylus. ‘Can’t say I blame him. We’re running behind schedule as it is. You were both supposed to die in your last fight.’ He shrugged. ‘First time for everything, I suppose. Now hurry up! I’ve got a tight schedule to keep to and the crowd is getting restless.’
Without further delay, Nerva led the small party of guards and beast fighters out of the holding pen and back down the passageway towards the gate. Ahead of them Atellus, the animal hunter, exited the arena and handed his sword to a nearby attendant. He noticed Pavo passing by and his jaw dropped in astonishment.
‘By the gods, Pavo!’ he announced gleefully. ‘It’s you!’
Pavo stopped in his tracks. He forced a smile at the landowner’s son. ‘Atellus. What a pleasant surprise. You’re competing in the games, I see.’
Atellus glanced down at his blood-splattered tunic and smiled. ‘I’ve always wanted to fight in the arena. Thankfully my father is a favourite of the imperial court. He twisted a few arms and managed to get me added to the schedule. It’s rather exciting, isn’t it? The noise of the crowd, the feel of the sword in your grip. Nothing else like it …’ He shook his head in amusement. ‘I must say, you’ve started quite the fashion here in Rome. Thanks to you, the wealthy young men of Rome are in thrall to the games.’
His words sent a cold shiver through Pavo. ‘You’re participating of your own free will?’
‘Of course. I was just taking part for a bit of fun. I wouldn’t stoop to being a real gladiator.’
‘You will never be that. Not while you shame yourself by massacring defenceless animals.’
Atellus laughed him off. ‘Say what you like, but I can’t wait to see the faces of my dinner companions tonight. They’ll be green with envy!’ His expression shifted and he cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, I must go. Best of luck to you.’
Pavo watched his childhood friend saunter down the passageway, a leaden despair weighing heavily in his chest. He was struck by a sharp memory of his former life, the exotic food and heated political debates over a jug of good Falernian wine. The tragic injustice of it all struck him.
A clammy hand clasped his arm and one of the guards jerked him towards the open gate.
‘Move it, scum!’ the guard rasped.
Facing forward, Pavo took a deep breath and stepped out into the arena with Amadocus.
Jeers cascaded down on the two men from the now sparse crowd. There were several large gaps in the galleries, Pavo noted. Many of the spectators had grown bored of the morning programme of beast fights, in which dozens of men, some hunting in packs, others fighting individually, had been pitched against a bewildering variety of creatures, including giraffes, hippopotamuses and panthers. By now the novelty of the exotic beasts had clearly worn off and clutches of spectators were temporarily abandoning their seats, ducking out of the exits to refresh their wine cups at the merchant stalls lining the streets outside, ahead of the midday crucifixions. Pavo couldn’t help noticing that several members of the remaining audience were stifling yawns as he took to the sand. The bitter realisation struck him that he would not even be granted the dignity of dying in front of a decent crowd.
With the arena almost a third empty, he could clearly hear the excitable mob in the upper terraces as they shouted abuse about him and his family in delirious voices. Several of the spectators made offensive hand gestures in his direction, their voices hoarse from hours of drunken singing.
The Atlas bear growled behind the opposite gate. A rank breeze fluttered across the arena as the gate creaked open, and a moment later the bear trudged out of the portal on all fours, followed by a small party of handlers. Some of the spectators seated at the lower galleries leant forward in their seats, commanding the beast to attack the fighters. As the bear neared, Pavo saw that a leash was fastened around its neck, with an animal handler standing to one side of it and pulling tight on the leash to the point of almost choking it. Behind the bear stood a pair of attendants, prodding it forward with wooden sticks. Four members of the Praetorian Guard kept watch at the gate, gripping the pommels of their swords in the event of trouble.
‘How do we defeat this monster, then?’ Amadocus asked.
‘We don’t,’ Pavo replied coldly.
The Thracian rounded on him angrily. ‘There must be something we can do,’ he spluttered. ‘You were full of bright ideas against that fucking lion! You’re the expert here, do something!’
Pavo shook his head ruefully. ‘I’m afraid without any weapons to defend ourselves with, we don’t stand a chance. That bear is going to kill us.’
Amadocus was about to reply when he was interrupted by a guttural cry from across the arena. The bear had abruptly stopped in its tracks and was refusing to budge.
‘What’s going on?’ Amadocus asked.
‘I’m not sure,’ Pavo replied. ‘But it looks as if the bear’s panicking.’
The handlers yanked on the chain and poked at the beast with their wooden sticks. The bear stubbornly refused to move and let out a deep wail. Infuriated by the animal’s show of dissent, the handler tugged harder on the leash in an attempt to force it to continue towards Pavo and Amadocus. He only succeeded in enraging the creature. The bear thrashed violently at the leash, the chain tensing under the immense strain. Sensing the situation getting out of control, the handler shouted to the attendants for help. His companions bludgeoned the bear with their sticks. The beast brushed them away with a dismissive snort. As they retreated to a safe distance, the bear moaned and slumped to the ground.
Heated mutters broke out in the galleries. The handler turned to the imperial box in confusion. Pavo looked up to see Pallas glaring at Murena, and the aide to the imperial secretary shot up and gestured furiously to the Praetorian Guards keeping watch by the gate, urging them to assist the handler. Stirring into action, two of the guards hurried across the sand. One of them was brandishing a legionary sword. He stabbed the tip in the bear then jumped back. The crowd cheered. The bear howled. Droplets of blood glistened through its fur. In a blur of motion, the animal rounded on the handler and pawed at its leash.
Just then a spectator from one of the lower galleries threw his clay cup at the bear. The audience shouted its approval as the cup shattered against the side of the beast’s head. The bear growled and spun around to face the direction of the spectator who’d thrown the cup. All eyes turned to the man. Pavo followed their gaze and saw an obese patrician seated in the gallery nearest to the arena floor, a perfectly round paunch visible under his toga. The handler pulled hard on the leash, snapping the bear away from the spectator. Spinning round, the bear lashed out at the handler, slashing at his guts with its long claws. The handler gasped. His bowels slopped out of the gash, emptying on to the sand, and as he collapsed, the leash fell from his slack grip.
Having broken free from its tight leash, the bear swung round to the arena wall and launched itself at the patrician with a lightning-fast combination of power and speed. The colour immediately drained from the man’s face as the bear pushed up on its hind legs and stood upright. Stretched to its full height, it was taller than the short drop between the gallery and the arena floor. It thrust out a paw and tore into the dumbstruck patrician with its claws. The patrician screamed as the claws grazed his chest. He turned, trying to scramble to safety, but the bear, still standing upright, immediately clamped its jaws around his arm and ripped him from his seat. The patrician shrieked as the bear wrenched its head to the side, pulling him away from the gallery, the slack leash
dangling uselessly from its neck. Then it relaxed its jaws and sent the patrician tumbling to the sand below. It spun back around and dropped to all fours as the patrician stumbled to his feet. He turned to flee, but he was too slow. The beast slashed at him, raking its claws violently across his face and chest. The man’s screams were abruptly cut off as the bear ripped his head off the plump folds of his neck.
The exits were heaving with spectators desperate to escape the wrath of the beast. At the imperial box on the other side of the arena the Emperor looked dumbfounded. The German bodyguards forced Claudius to his feet and escorted him towards the private exit. Murena, clearly rattled, shouted an order at the guards manning the gates. They frantically disappeared down the passageway as the creature clawed the patrician’s bloodied body.
‘We have to do something,’ Pavo urged. ‘The bear isn’t going to stop until it’s killed everyone in sight.’
‘No need, Roman,’ Amadocus replied. ‘Look.’
He pointed to the Praetorians emerging from the gate and cautiously approaching the bear. Each man brandished a hunting spear seized from the arena armoury. The guards closed round the bear in a rough circle, stabbing at it with their spears, confounding the creature. One of the guards plunged his spear deep into its side. Blood flowed out of the wound and gushed over the sand. The bear howled horribly as the other Praetorians encircled it, thrusting at the beast repeatedly. At last the bear let out a faint whimper and dropped to the sand.
Nerva rushed out of the passageway, spitting with fury.
‘The beast fights are off!’ the official barked at Pavo and Amadocus.
‘We’re not going to fight?’ the young gladiator asked.
‘Are you mad?’ Nerva gestured towards the patrician’s mangled body. ‘After that? Can’t have fine upstanding Roman citizens getting mauled to death in the arena. Bad for business. If the spectators aren’t safe during the fights, then the mob will stay away.’ As if suddenly remembering something, he turned back to the passageway and snapped his fingers at a gathering of acrobats. ‘You lot, get out here and for gods’ sakes do something to distract the crowd!’
Pavo and Amadocus looked at the official.
‘Does this mean our part in the games is over?’ the Thracian asked hopefully.
Nerva laughed bitterly. ‘No such luck. You’re to be returned to your cells in the imperial ludus, along with the other fighters.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s going to be a busy afternoon tomorrow, I tell you. There are sixty men listed to appear then.’
‘Listed to appear in what?’ Pavo asked nervously.
‘The group fight,’ replied the official.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
‘Pssst! Wake up!’
Pavo stirred drowsily in his cell. He’d fallen asleep on the thin bedroll as soon as the guards had slammed the door shut, drained from the stress of the day’s combat. Every bone in his body ached dully as he sat upright. He squinted at the gloom and saw a figure crouched outside the door, his piercing eyes reflecting the moonlight filtering in through a slit in the cell wall. The broad stripes of his tunic were faintly visible under his cloak. Pavo recognised the face as the elderly senator he’d seen arriving late to his seat in the galleries. The senator stared back at him, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
‘Thank the gods. I thought you might be dead.’
‘Who are you?’ Pavo asked wearily.
The senator ignored the question as he ran his eyes over the gladiator and sounded a note of approval. ‘You’ve shaped up nicely, I see. Titus always did say that the mark of a good Roman was one who understood the value of physical exercise. Not like those slobs you get these days, stuffing their bellies in the taverns. Here.’
The senator slipped a bundle through the bars, anxiously peering down the dimly lit corridor to make sure he wasn’t being watched.
‘Some food. To help you regain your strength.’
Pavo eagerly took the parcel. It was still warm. His belly rumbled noisily as he unwrapped the cloth and several chunks of stale bread and cooked meat tumbled into his lap. He hesitated to tuck into the food. He looked back at the senator, quickly sizing him up.
‘I saw you fight this morning,’ the senator continued. ‘I must say, that was an impressive display. And I’m speaking as someone who was never very fond of gladiatorial sport.’
‘That makes two of us.’
‘You’re probably wondering why I’ve taken the considerable trouble to pay you, the son of a disgraced legate, a visit. My name is Numerius Porcius Lanatus,’ the senator declared in a stately voice. He had that annoying habit, Pavo noted, of answering a question other than the one being asked, a trait characteristic of all senators.
‘Good for you, Porcius Lanatus,’ Pavo responded.
‘My name means nothing to you?’ Lanatus asked. Seeing the blank look on the face of the young gladiator, he clasped his hands beneath his chin and considered Pavo at length. ‘I was a friend of your late father, in the days when Titus was a mere military tribune and I was a provincial governor. Things were different then, but Titus and I were quite close. Perhaps he spoke of me.’
‘Not that I can remember.’
Lanatus smiled softly. ‘By the time you were born, I had already returned to Rome. I must admit, I was disappointed when your father decided to pursue a career in the military rather than join me in the Senate. Titus would have made an effective politician. But then he always did prefer swords to styluses. Much like his son, it seems.’
‘The choice isn’t exactly mine. Claudius sentenced me to die as a gladiator after they killed my father. Now they’ve condemned me to the group fight tomorrow. All I can do is make my peace with the gods and pray for a quick death.’
‘Yes,’ Lanatus said slowly. ‘I’ve heard about the Emperor’s plans for you. It seems terribly unfair, but then Claudius can’t be trusted to keep his word. He’ll do whatever it takes to secure the fawning adulation of the mob. Just like Caligula and Tiberius did before him. He’s also beholden to those grubby Greek freedmen he insists on surrounding himself with. At any rate, I gather the mob is itching to see you fight.’
Pavo craned his neck to stare past the senator down the corridor. ‘How did you manage to sneak past the guards? Only the imperial lanista and his staff are permitted to enter the ludus.’
‘The duty guard is a fellow sympathiser.’
Pavo looked at the senator carefully. ‘I’m not sure I follow.’
‘He shares a certain attachment to republican values, as should all good, principled men. Especially fellows like you who have suffered greatly from the tyranny of the emperors.’
Pavo was silent for a moment. ‘Some might call that treason.’
‘True.’ The senator nodded. ‘Others might call it patriotism. That is, those of us who refer to ourselves as the Liberators.’
Pavo felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Placing the food to one side, he looked at the senator, his expression suddenly severe. ‘Liberators, you say? Snakes would be a more apt description. You people are the reason my father is dead and I’m imprisoned in this cell waiting to be killed by a gang of barbarians. Get out of my sight.’
The senator shook his head sadly. ‘That’s no way to talk to a dear friend of your father’s. Aren’t you at least interested in what I have to say? After all, Titus shared our dream of returning Rome to the glorious days of the Republic.’
‘What my father wanted was an end to the corruption.’ Pavo was curt. ‘He despised the regime for building lavish palaces while the soldiers under his command went without pay. He was concerned for the welfare of his men, not back-stabbing politics.’
‘And we supported him fully in his endeavours,’ Lanatus insisted.
Pavo snorted disdainfully. ‘Where were you and the rest of the so-called Liberators when my father rose up against the Emperor?’
Lanatus’s face darkened. ‘We couldn’t take the risk of publicly declaring our support for Titus. What d
o you think would have happened if we’d all come out of the woodwork and rallied around him? The Emperor would have executed us all.’
Pavo glowered at Lanatus. ‘My father would still be here if it wasn’t for you.’
‘Titus sacrificed his life for Rome. I know his death pains you, but the Liberators are committed to realising his dream of a restored republic. That should be your dream too, if you truly honour him.’
‘I’ve heard enough!’ Pavo looked away, tasting a bitter tang in the back of his mouth. As someone who’d been born into great wealth, who’d lost everything and lived and fought among men regarded as the lowest form of human life, he felt he had a unique perspective on Rome and its political feuding. His sharp mind discerned how statesmen furthered their own ambitions by making hollow promises that the mob quickly forgot when a new gladiator spectacle was announced. In his mind, Lanatus and Murena were two sides of the same coin. Both were talented liars, destined to rise in Rome – as he himself never would now.
‘I didn’t come here to discuss politics with you,’ Lanatus scolded. ‘Actually, I came to make you an offer.’
‘Then you’re wasting your time. Whatever it is, I’m not interested.’
Lanatus stared back at Pavo. ‘Rash as well as tetchy, aren’t you? That’ll be the Valerius blood in you. But I would caution against dismissing my offer out of hand. You’ll want to hear what I have to say, trust me.’
‘Trust you!’ Pavo laughed. ‘The man who hid behind his papyrus scroll while my father was thrown to his death in the arena?’ He folded his arms and looked away. ‘I’m done listening to you.’
‘You underestimate me, young man.’
Pavo turned slowly back to face Lanatus. The senator looked at him with narrowed eyes as his lips flickered into a quick smile.
‘I have something that will make you listen …’
He reached under his tunic and thrust his hand at Pavo, unclenching his fist to reveal a golden locket with a neck strap. There was an intricately detailed image of Icarus engraved on the front.
Arena Page 29
