Gladiator: Vengeance

by Simon Scarrow

  ‘I’ll need a leg-up. Both of you, make a step.’

  Marcus and Lupus intertwined their fingers and offered their hands up to Festus. He used Marcus first, trusting the tougher of the two to bear his weight most readily. Resting his hand on Marcus’s back, he pushed himself up and quickly found Lupus’s hand. Marcus grunted with the effort of bearing the man’s weight but held him up.

  ‘All right, lads,’ Festus whispered. ‘Lift me, nice and steady.’

  Straining his muscles, Marcus braced his back against the wall for support. Beside him he could hear Lupus groaning lightly with the effort. Festus was right about him, Marcus reflected briefly. Lupus needed toughening up.

  ‘I’m going to use your shoulders,’ said Festus. ‘Ready, Marcus?’

  ‘Ready.’

  He felt Festus’s foot lighten as the bodyguard drew himself up to the tiles on top of the wall. Festus scrabbled for Marcus’s shoulder and then thrust himself up. The sound of his heavy breathing and scuffling as he struggled astride the wall sounded deafening in the confined space of the alley and Marcus glanced anxiously in both directions, but there was no sign they had attracted any attention.

  ‘Your turn, Marcus.’

  He saw Festus reaching a hand down to him, and used Lupus to step up against the wall. His fingers groped in the air and then he felt the man’s powerful grip clamp round his wrist, and he clutched at Festus’s forearm as the latter drew him up the side of the wall on to the tiles running along the top. Marcus felt his heart pounding in his chest, partly from the effort but mostly from the anxious excitement of the moment. Looking down into the garden, he saw a long arrangement of paths, neat flower beds and ornately clipped shrubs. The sound of water tinkling in a fountain came from the far end, close to the slave quarters at the very rear of the property. The main house itself was dark and silent.

  ‘Come on,’ Festus hissed as he swung his legs down and lowered himself cautiously behind a large bush from which a sweet scent rose into the cool night air. Marcus followed suit and eased himself down before dropping the last few feet and landing softly on the soil. Both of them waited a moment before Festus emerged on to the path beside the flower bed. Fortunately, it was paved rather than gravelled and they made almost no sound as they followed it up to the rear of the main house. An outdoor dining area stood to one side, in the Roman style with long, low stone couches on which cushions could be spread for the comfort of guests. Next to the dining area was a portico with a corridor leading into the darkened interior of the house.

  ‘How are we going to see our way inside?’ Marcus asked as loudly as he dared.

  Festus pointed into the darkness. ‘By the front door. I’ll wager there’s a lamp burning beside the shrine to the household Gods. We’ll use that.’

  Marcus followed him into the dark corridor. They proceeded slowly, feeling their way cautiously along the wall. Some twenty feet further on, the corridor opened out into the atrium and a small amount of moonlight shone through the opening above the shallow pool that collected the rainwater. A staircase led up to the second level of the house where the bedrooms were arranged round a landing overlooking the pool. A faint sound of snoring came from above. On the far side was another short length of corridor, at the end of which a wan yellow glow came from a tiny flame.

  ‘I thought so,’ Festus muttered. ‘Wait here.’

  He padded round the edge of the pool and returned a moment later with a small oil lamp. The wavering flame gave just enough light for them to make their way back down the corridor in the direction of the garden. Festus stopped outside the first door and eased it open. He leaned in and raised the lamp high enough to see the interior, then backed out. ‘Just a storeroom.’

  The door on the next room let out a dull creak from the hinges as Festus opened it and both of them froze, straining their ears for a few heartbeats. But no one stirred and Festus resumed, easing the door open very slowly, while Marcus winced at each creak of the hinges. When there was enough space to squeeze through, Festus entered the room. Marcus followed and saw by the dim glow of the lamp a desk and a wall covered in sectioned shelves that were piled with scrolls and waxed tablets.

  ‘Looks promising,’ Festus whispered. ‘Let’s get started.’

  He set the lamp down on the desk and indicated the shelves. ‘You start at that end and I’ll begin with the other.’

  ‘What exactly are we looking for?’ Marcus asked.

  ‘Anything with a reference to Decimus, Thermon, or any estate in the Peloponnese. Your name, and your mother’s, of course.’

  Marcus nodded and padded to the end of the shelves, taking down a small pile of documents, then returning to the desk to look through them. There were bills of sale, inventories of each week’s auctions, a running record of expenses and commissions relating to each sale, and a daily log. Pindarus was clearly in the habit of recording his business affairs in detail and Marcus felt his spirits rise. Such a man would have made some reference to the events of two years ago. Marcus and Festus worked methodically and silently through the scrolls and slates, section by section, being careful to replace them as they had been found. It was a while before it dawned on Marcus that he had been reading through documents in date order. He paused and looked up at the shelves, counting back to where he had started.

  ‘Of course!’

  ‘Shhhh!’ Festus hissed.

  ‘Sorry.’ Marcus pointed to the shelves. ‘I’ve worked it out. Each shelf, starting from the top left, represents six months. Which means that the one we are looking for is …’ Marcus counted the shelves silently and then pointed. ‘It should be that one.’

  He crossed to it from the desk and bent down to retrieve the documents. Placing them in the light of the lamp’s flame he opened a scroll and pointed to the date. ‘There. It’s the same year, two months from the date we were kidnapped by Thermon’s men.’

  Festus replaced the documents he had been looking at and began to sift through those Marcus had brought to the table. They examined them eagerly and Marcus felt a rising sense of excitement as he wound his way through the scroll on which Pindarus had neatly completed his log at the end of each day. Then he stopped.

  ‘Here it is … Arrival of cart with six slaves; two Nubians (nameless), two boys from Lesbos (Archaelus and Demetrius), one woman (Livia), her son (Marcus). Placed in cell XIV for auction next day.’ Marcus looked up triumphantly.

  ‘Read on,’ Festus ordered. ‘Does it say anything about Decimus?’

  Marcus began to wind the scroll, then stopped and looked up quickly.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘I heard something. Outside in the corridor.’

  Festus turned towards the door as a shuffling noise came closer. Then the handle turned and the door swung inwards. Blocking the door frame was Pindarus, in a flimsy linen nightshirt, oil lamp in hand. His flabby jaw dropped in astonishment as he stared wide-eyed at the two figures poring over the documents on his desk.

  Festus reacted first, throwing down the waxed slate he was examining as he snatched out his dagger and raced towards the door.

  His movement broke the brief spell and Pindarus lurched backwards, screaming in a high-pitched voice. ‘Help! Thieves! Murder!’

  6

  ‘Quiet, you fool!’ Festus snapped as he chased after the auctioneer. Marcus dropped the scroll and raced after his friend. Outside in the corridor he saw Festus with the bulky outline of Pindarus a short distance in front as he rushed into the garden.

  ‘Help! Help!’

  Festus sprinted another few steps and launched himself at Pindarus. He landed on the man’s back, knocking him forward. The auctioneer let out a cry of terror as he fell face first against an urn. There was an explosive grunt before he lay still, with Festus sprawled on top of him. Marcus rushed over as Festus rolled to the side and came up in a crouch, dagger held out to one side, ready for action. But there was no response from Pindarus. No more cries of alarm, not even a sound of breat
hing.

  Marcus dropped down beside the auctioneer’s head and saw in the moonlight that it was twisted at an awkward angle where it butted up against the base of a heavy stone urn in which a small conifer had been planted.

  ‘Something’s wrong with him. Help me turn him over, Festus.’

  Between the two of them they managed to turn the fat man on to his back and his head lolled limply on the flagstones of the garden path. A small, dark dribble spilled out of one of his nostrils as he stared up at the moon. Marcus knelt down beside him and lowered his ear above the man’s lips, but there was nothing. No sound and not the slightest movement of air. He shuffled down and pressed his ear over the soft flesh of the auctioneer’s chest but could detect no heartbeat. Marcus looked up at Festus.

  ‘I think he’s dead.’

  ‘Impossible.’ Festus held up his dagger. There was only the dull metal gleam in the moonlight. No blood. ‘I didn’t touch him. I held the dagger out to the side.’

  ‘It wasn’t the blade.’ Marcus gestured towards the urn. ‘He hit his head on that.’

  ‘Damn. Stupid fool shouldn’t have run for it.’

  ‘Master! Master!’

  They both looked round towards the bottom of the garden. There was a figure moving there, then another, and behind them the glow as a third approached, a torch held aloft.

  ‘Master?’ The first figure hesitated as he caught sight of Marcus and Festus. ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘Quick!’ Festus hissed. ‘We have to get out of here.’

  They left the body and raced over to the flower bed where they had crossed the wall. Marcus threw his back against the wall and cupped his hands. Festus clambered up, roughly placing his hand on the crown of Marcus’s head to thrust himself up. His foot pressed heavily on Marcus’s shoulder as his fingers grappled for purchase on the top of the wall. At once he threw a leg over and lay along the wall, then reached down for Marcus.

  ‘Thieves!’ The voice from the bottom of the garden called out as he hurried forward, outlined by the glow of the torch of the man behind him. ‘Robbery! Raise the alarm!’

  ‘Come on, Marcus!’ Festus urged.

  ‘Wait!’ Marcus looked back at the house. ‘His record scroll … I must have it.’

  ‘No! There’s no time. Pindarus is dead. If you’re caught in here with the body they’ll charge you with murder. We must go. NOW!’

  He thrust out his hand and Marcus reluctantly grasped it to pull himself up on the wall, his toes scraping the plaster as he scrabbled for any grip that would help him over the top.

  ‘Don’t let them escape!’ a voice cried out. ‘They’re getting away!’

  Emboldened now, the men were rushing up the path and Marcus knew the body of their master would be discovered at any moment. Festus dropped down into the alley and Marcus quickly landed beside him.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Lupus asked anxiously.

  Festus shoved him towards the street. ‘Later! We have to run. Go!’

  They started up the alley, feet slapping on the stones. They had almost reached the street when a shrill cry cut through the peaceful night air. ‘Murder! MURDER!’

  They ran into the street as the glow of more torches loomed above the walls of the neighbouring houses. They had not gone more than a few paces when a door opened in the next house and a man stepped outside. He saw the three figures racing past.

  ‘Stop! Oi, you lot! Stop!’

  They ignored the command and ran on down the street towards the inn where they had rented a room.

  ‘Stop them!’ the man cried out as he gave chase. ‘Murderers! Stop ’em!’

  More people began to emerge and then fifty paces ahead Marcus saw a group of young men heading up the street, talking cheerfully. As the man behind called out again, they stopped and saw the three figures racing towards them.

  ‘This way!’ Festus pointed to an alley and dived into it. Marcus and Lupus followed as the party further down the street began to echo the cry of the man chasing them. The alley was narrow, barely more than a pace wide, and hardly any moonlight penetrated the darkness. Marcus prayed to the Gods that they did not stumble over anything and twist an ankle or tread on anything sharp. Festus turned left at the first junction and they ran on to the next, then took a right fork. Behind them they could clearly hear the pursuit being taken up by more of the townspeople.

  At the next corner they stopped, chests heaving as they gasped for air.

  ‘Which way … now?’ Lupus gulped.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Festus said. ‘I’ve lost my bearings on the inn. But we can’t stay here.’

  Marcus thought hard, taking account of the direction they had originally come from and the diversions that Festus had taken. He stepped towards the opening to another alley. ‘This way.’

  Festus hesitated. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Trust me and just follow!’

  Marcus plunged into the gloom and trotted down the alley. It was relatively straight and when they reached a small square with a well he continued across it and into the street on the far side. Behind them the sound of their pursuers was starting to grow more distant and Marcus heaved a sigh of relief. He slowed his pace for a little longer and then eased into a walk. A moment later they stepped out into a street that all of them recognized. The inn was in sight a short distance to the left. With his heart still beating fast, Marcus tried to affect a casual air as he led his comrades towards the opening into the yard. Then he heard the sound of voices and laughter and paused.

  ‘Keep going,’ Festus insisted. ‘We have to get off the street as soon as possible.’

  They walked into the yard and Marcus saw a handful of men sitting on the ground where the dice game had been taking place earlier. They were in their cups and called out a slurred greeting as the three figures passed by.

  ‘Come on, friendsh! Come ’n share a drink!’

  ‘No, thank you,’ Festus replied with forced levity. ‘Been a long day. The boys and I need some sleep.’

  ‘Shuit yerselves …’

  Marcus lifted the latch on the door to their room and hurried inside, closing the door behind them. Lupus collapsed on his bedroll and gasped as he caught his breath. Marcus slumped opposite while Festus went back to the door and opened it a crack to look outside. When he was satisfied they had escaped their pursuers and that no one had raised the alarm, he shut the door and sat heavily. A thin shaft of moonlight pierced the window and washed their faces with a pale blue tint. Marcus could see the fear etched into Lupus’s expression as his chest rose and fell. Festus puffed his cheeks and stared fixedly at the far wall.

  ‘Do you think … we’re safe?’ asked Marcus.

  Festus cracked his knuckles. ‘For now … But we were seen.’

  ‘It was dark. They couldn’t have seen clearly enough to identify us.’

  ‘But they did see a man and two boys. Pindarus is dead. They will be looking for the killers.’

  ‘But we didn’t kill him on purpose,’ Marcus protested. ‘It was an accident.’

  ‘Do you really think that will make any difference? You heard them. Murder, they said. They won’t be in any mood for an explanation. Besides, we were caught in his house. Where we had no good reason to be. They’ll say we were robbing his house and killed him when he came across us. And who can blame them …’

  Marcus was silent for a moment. ‘Then what should we do? Lie low for a few days, until the auction?’

  ‘No. It’s too dangerous. We have to get out of Stratos. As soon as possible.’

  Lupus gulped. ‘You mean now? Right away?’

  Festus shook his head. ‘Not while there are people out on the streets looking for us. Besides the town gates are closed for the night. The only way out is over the wall. If we were caught trying to escape that way they would instantly connect us to Pindarus’s death. We’ll have to wait until morning when the gates are open, and leave like any other travellers. I just hope they won’t be watching for us.’
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br />   ‘What will they do if they arrest us?’ asked Lupus.

  ‘What do you think they do to murderers?’ Festus responded curtly. ‘We’ll be put to death.’

  ‘Put to death …’ Lupus muttered. ‘Oh no … Oh no.’

  ‘Try and rest,’ said Festus. ‘We must rise early and leave the town, to put as much distance as we can between us and this place.’

  ‘But what about the auction?’ asked Marcus. ‘What about the man who’s coming from Decimus’s estate? If we miss him, then we’ll lose this chance to find my mother.’

  ‘I doubt there will be an auction. Not without an auctioneer. As for Decimus’s man, well, there’s not much we can do now. We’ll have to find another way to locate the estate. I’m sorry, Marcus, but we don’t have any choice. We can’t afford to stay here and wait.’

  ‘But where shall we go?’ asked Lupus.

  Festus considered their options briefly before he decided. ‘Athens. Decimus is sure to have a house there, along with everyone else who needs to show his face at the governor’s palace. Besides, it’s a large enough city that we won’t attract unwanted attention. I’m sure we can pick up Decimus’s trail there. And we’ll be far away from the hue and cry over the death of Pindarus.’

  Marcus shook his head in anger and frustration. This should never have happened, he told himself. All they were trying to do was find some information. They had never intended any harm to befall the auctioneer. It was a bitter irony that he had returned to Greece as a freed person, only to be hunted down again. If they became fugitives it would make his ambition to find his mother ten times harder. If they were caught, and blamed for the death of Pindarus, then they would die, and any hope that his mother would once again be free would die with them.