Gladiator: Vengeance

by Simon Scarrow

  Marcus bowed his head for a moment. He had made a mistake in coming to the governor’s palace. He had let his impatience and frustration get the better of him and now all three of them had paid the price for his folly. Marcus cleared his throat and spoke quietly. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have been more cautious. It’s my fault.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Festus responded coldly. ‘But it doesn’t change anything. We’re in here and we need to get out. The question is, how? Escape is out of the question. The door’s solid and we have no friends in Athens to help spring us from this cell. We’re stuck. The only chance we have is to try and talk our way out of it when the governor hears our case.’

  ‘How can you be sure he will?’

  ‘Because I’m a Roman citizen, and you have Caesar’s letter of introduction. All three of us are connected to Caesar. Only the governor of a province can sentence a Roman citizen for a crime.’

  ‘What about me?’ asked Lupus. ‘I’m only a freedman. Not a citizen.’

  ‘You’re with Marcus and me. That should cover you. Besides, that’s not the point. We only have to be put in front of the governor. Then we can explain ourselves and hopefully get out of this mess.’

  Marcus nodded. ‘And get our hands on Decimus.’

  The bodyguard clicked his tongue. ‘That’s not going to be so easy. He knows we’re after him now. Even if we get off the murder charge he’ll be sure to surround himself with men to protect him. More likely he’ll leave Athens and run for cover.’

  Marcus considered this briefly. ‘His estate.’

  ‘That’s my guess. And we won’t have the element of surprise any more. It’s going to be tough.’

  There was a brief silence before Lupus spoke. ‘Aren’t we getting a bit ahead of ourselves?’ He slapped his hand against the cold stone wall. ‘We have to get out of here first.’

  Festus pursed his lips. ‘You’re right. No point in looking too far ahead. We’ll have to bide our time until the governor hears our case.’

  ‘How long will that take?’ asked Marcus.

  ‘Hard to say. This spectacle he’s throwing for the local people will occupy most of his time until it’s over. We might have to wait here until then, and then a bit longer as he catches up with the backlog. On the other hand, if Servillus is an efficient man, he might want to get it out of the way before the spectacle begins.’

  Lupus stared round the grim cell with a look of horror. ‘You mean we might be in here for several days?’

  ‘It’s likely. Better make yourself comfortable.’

  Lupus pulled his knees up under his chin and stared in misery at the opposite wall. Marcus was still feeling guilty about having put his own needs above the safety of his comrades. Even though Festus had a fatalistic attitude to their plight, Marcus could not let himself shake off the blame so easily and sat brooding. The hours passed and the shaft of light that came through the slit slowly traced its way along the wall until the sun dipped behind the palace, leaving them in gloomy shadows.

  It was two hours after sunset, as near as Marcus could estimate, that they heard footsteps in the passage outside as several men approached the cell. The flicker of light from a torch lit up the bars of the grille. An iron bolt on the outside grated back and the hinges groaned as the jailer thrust the door open.

  ‘On yer feet, you lot! They’ve come fer you.’

  He stepped aside as an optio ducked his head into the cell, torch in hand, and his nose wrinkling at the stench before he gestured to the prisoners.

  ‘Outside.’

  Marcus and the others exchanged anxious glances as they rose quickly and followed the optio into the passage. A section of soldiers lined one side and four turned to lead the way while the other four followed the optio and the prisoners, escorting them towards the steps at the other end of the passage.

  ‘Shall I keep the cell fer ’em then?’ the jailer called out.

  The optio glanced back and replied sourly, ‘You’ll be told in good time. Meanwhile get the straw changed and slop it out.’

  ‘What? There’ll be an extra charge fer that! I ain’t runnin’ a bloody charity house here, yer know!’

  The optio ignored his rant and the party climbed the stairs to emerge in the moonlit yard behind the palace.

  ‘Where are you taking us?’ asked Marcus.

  ‘Shut your mouth,’ the optio snapped. ‘You’ll speak when spoken to and not before. Clear? That goes for all of you.’

  They proceeded in silence across the yard and through a small door at the rear of the palace. After following a corridor lit by oil lamps, they climbed a flight of stairs into a wider thoroughfare where a few clerks and palace slaves bustled to and fro. At the end of that corridor was an impressive doorway guarded by two more soldiers. As they approached, the optio nodded his head and the guards grasped the handles to swing the doors open. Marcus glanced through the gap between the soldiers striding ahead and saw a large chamber beyond, lit by candles set at intervals along the wall. At the far end was a dais with a large desk on it. To one side a clerk was setting out his writing materials, while a slave placed a glass jar of wine and a silver cup on the desk.

  The optio marched his party across the hall, their boots echoing off the high walls, and halted in front of the dais. He waved Marcus and the others forward.

  ‘Stand there. In line, facing the dais.’

  They did as they were told and the soldiers formed up behind them. Then there was quiet, except for the clerk busily rubbing down a wax slate in readiness for the notes he would be taking shortly. The slave who had brought the wine and cup left the chamber, disappearing through a small door at the side. Once the clerk had finished his preparations all was still and silent. Marcus stood and waited, wondering what they were doing in the chamber. He risked a glance at Festus and cocked an eyebrow, but Festus simply shrugged.

  ‘Eyes front, you!’ the optio barked and Marcus quickly did as he was told.

  They were not kept waiting long. Footsteps approached down the corridor behind them, then entered the chamber. A large man in an elaborately embroidered tunic climbed the steps on to the dais and moved round to take the chair behind the desk. Behind him came Euraeus, clutching a scroll and a few waxed tablets under his arm. Once he was settled the fat man cleared his throat and addressed the small gathering.

  ‘I am Governor Servillus, present to hear the case of those accused of the murder of Pindarus of Stratos.’

  So, Festus was right, Marcus admitted to himself as the clerk scratched down the opening remarks.

  The governor gestured towards Euraeus. ‘The particulars of the case, if you please.’

  ‘Yes, your excellency.’ Euraeus bowed his head, then opened one of the waxed tablets as he consulted his notes. ‘Two days ago a report reached the palace of the murder of a slave auctioneer in Stratos some days earlier. He was found dead in his garden and had been struck on the head. His servants reported that they had disturbed robbers who had broken into the house of Pindarus. The magistrates of the city described the suspects as being a man and two youths, strangers to the town. They disappeared after the killing had taken place. A few days after that there was another incident reported relating to an event at Leuctra where a man and two boys were involved in a fight in the town market. And then yesterday these three individuals turned up in Athens. They entered the palace and requested an audience with your excellency. I explained that you were busy with your duties and they would have to wait until later. It was then that I recalled the news from Stratos and decided to offer them accommodation in the guest quarters where an eye could be kept on them while I investigated the matter further. After I heard of the event in Leuctra I gave the order for their arrest and for them to be charged with the murder of Pindarus.’

  Euraeus concluded his overview and looked up from his notes. The governor stared at Marcus and the others as he considered the information and then he wagged a fleshy finger at his official.

  ‘You have done
well, Euraeus. Quick thinking.’

  ‘Thank you, your excellency. But I was only doing my humble duty.’

  ‘Of course you were. You’re a damned conscientious fellow. Wish there were more like you on my staff.’

  ‘Your excellency is too kind.’

  The governor turned his attention back to the accused. ‘Well? What have you to say for yourselves, eh? Speak up!’

  Festus took a deep breath. ‘We are innocent, sir. We did not murder Pindarus.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Servillus said. ‘But that’s what all murderers say.’

  ‘Sir, if we had murdered the man, and were on the run, then what good reason could we have for turning up on your doorstep and asking to see you?’

  The governor sniffed. ‘Why don’t you tell me?’

  ‘Very well. As we informed your official over there, we have come to Greece in search of a woman, the wife of a retired legionary officer, who had been kidnapped and is believed to be on the estate of a tax collector and moneylender by the name of Decimus.’

  ‘Decimus?’ The governor’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘My good friend, Decimus? How can that be? The man is an honest chap. Pillar of the community and all that. Why, he was only here earlier today to make a most generous contribution towards the costs of the spectacle I am providing for the people of this city. You dare to accuse him of kidnapping?’

  Festus continued in a calm tone. ‘If the woman concerned is indeed held among the other slaves owned by Decimus, then he is committing a serious crime, sir. That is why Caesar, my master, sent us here to search for her and see to it that she is set free, and that those responsible for her kidnapping are brought to account.’

  ‘Caesar sent you?’ Servillus laughed mockingly. ‘Look at you. You appear and stink like common vagrants.’

  ‘That is because we have been held in one of your cells for much of the day, sir.’

  The governor ignored the comment as he leaned forward and pointed at Festus. ‘You are a liar. The very idea that you represent Julius Caesar is laughable.’

  ‘But we can prove it!’ Marcus blurted out. ‘I have a document signed by Caesar. A letter of introduction.’

  ‘What’s this?’ Servillus demanded. ‘Damned impudence!’

  ‘Sir,’ Euraeus intervened. ‘This matter is easily resolved. If the boy claims to have such a letter, then let him produce it.’

  ‘Indeed! So, boy, where is this document of yours, eh? Show it to me.’

  ‘I can’t, sir,’ Marcus conceded. ‘It’s in a leather case in my pack, back in the guest room. If you let me fetch it this can all be settled and you’ll see that we are telling the truth.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing,’ the governor snapped. ‘Optio, you go. Search these scoundrels’ baggage for this document and if you find it, bring it back here at once.’

  ‘Yes, sir!’ The optio saluted and strode out of the chamber, back down the corridor. The governor turned his attention to Marcus and the others. ‘We’ll know the truth soon enough. I warn you, if you are lying to me it will go ill with you.’

  ‘I’m telling the truth,’ Marcus said firmly. ‘As you shall see.’

  The governor poured himself a cup of wine and eased himself back in his chair, sipping occasionally, as they waited for the optio to return. Euraeus stood to one side with the faintest of smiles on his lips. Looking at him, Marcus had a vague sense of foreboding, but it instantly faded as he heard footsteps in the corridor. When the optio entered the chamber he strode across the tiled floor to the dais, halting in front of the desk to salute.

  The governor lowered his cup and leaned forward. ‘Well?’

  ‘No sign of any letter, sir. Nor a leather case.’

  Marcus felt his hopes sink like a stone. ‘It was there. You must have found it!’

  The optio glanced over his shoulder and scowled. ‘There was nothing there. You lied.’

  Marcus’s jaw sagged and he turned to Festus. ‘It was there. I know it. Tell him.’

  Festus shook his head. ‘It’s too late, Marcus. We’ve been trapped. All very neat. I imagine this is all your doing, Euraeus.’

  The Greek feigned surprise and touched a hand to his chest. ‘Me? You accuse me?’

  ‘How much did Decimus reward you for your services, I wonder?’

  Servillus slapped his hand down on the table. ‘Enough of your nonsense! This little drama of yours is over. There is no letter. You are not here on Caesar’s business and you clearly think me a fool who can be sold such a pack of lies. Well, I tell you, I am no fool and I can see the truth clearly enough. The three of you are the men who robbed Pindarus, and killed him when he caught you in the act. You fled Stratos and came here thinking to trick me into providing you with food and a roof over your heads while you hid from justice. Now justice has found you out, and you will pay the price for your crimes.’ He paused and looked at each of them in turn before he smiled cruelly.

  Marcus could not help trembling as he awaited his fate.

  ‘There is only one fit punishment for your crimes. That, three days from now, on the second day of the spectacle you three shall be taken from your cell to the arena and there tied to stakes before wild animals are released to tear you apart, for the sake of justice, and the pleasure of the mob.’

  16

  ‘Condemned to the beasts …’ Lupus moaned quietly to himself as he sat squeezed into the corner of the cell. ‘Sweet Gods, spare us … Spare us.’

  The sun had risen shortly before and a thin shaft of light had penetrated the gloom, illuminating the grim scene once again for those in the cold, stinking confines of the small space. It had been a miserable night for the three prisoners once they had been roughly shoved back through the narrow entrance and the door to the cell thudded behind them. The iron bolt had rasped home and the footsteps of the soldiers and the jailer had receded, then there was a brief silence before Festus slumped on to the straw with a dry rustle. Marcus stood by the door for a moment in the darkness, scarcely able to believe the fate that lay in store for them. He heard Lupus trying to stifle his sobs in the far corner and felt some pity for his friend.

  Marcus had already faced death in the arena. He had also learned that it did no good to allow himself to be paralysed by fear. Fear changed nothing. All a person could do was choose whether to surrender to that fear, or deal with it and continue the struggle. That was fine as far as it was possible to fight, Marcus reminded himself, but they would be tied to stakes while being torn apart by wild animals. They would be quite helpless and could only pray that it was all over quickly.

  He turned away from the door and felt his way along the wall to the pile of straw at the rear of the cell, trying not to imagine the slavering jaws of the beasts as they tore into his flesh. As he felt the straw give under his feet Marcus lowered himself into it and curled into a ball to try and sleep. There was no sound apart from the easy breathing of Festus and the faint choked gasps of Lupus. No one felt like speaking, each in his own private world of despair. For Marcus, whose failure would also condemn his mother to the hell of permanent slavery, the sense of guilt was almost as hard to bear as his fear of the horrific death awaiting him.

  By the morning, some of the fear and misery had faded from his mind and he looked up as a wooden tray scraped through the gap at the bottom of the door.

  ‘Here’s your rations,’ the jailer growled from outside. ‘Eat ’em up. Don’t want to disappoint the beasts with some half-starved streaks of nothing!’

  He laughed harshly to himself as he shuffled away along the passage.

  Festus crossed the room to pick up the tray and bring it back to the two boys sitting on the straw. There was a loaf of dried bread, some hard cheese and a cooked bone with some meat still attached to it, besides a jug of water. He broke the bread and cheese into roughly equal portions and pressed them into the hands of the boys. Marcus took his readily and made himself chew on the crust of his bread. Lupus simply stared down at the food in his lap u
ntil Festus leaned over and put his hand on the youth’s shoulder.

  ‘You have to eat.’

  ‘Why? What’s the point?’

  ‘You have to keep your strength up. We might find a way out of this.’

  Lupus laughed nervously. ‘How? How can we get out? We’re finished, Festus. It’s over. We’re going to die.’

  Festus clenched his fingers into the boy’s shoulders and gritted his teeth as he spoke with cold determination. ‘We ain’t dead until we’re dead. Anything can happen between now and the day they plan to take us into the arena. If anything does happen then you need to be in a fit state to respond to events. Understand? Now eat your food.’

  Lupus pursed his lips, then reluctantly tore a corner from his portion of bread and began to chew.

  ‘That’s better.’ Festus nodded. ‘Don’t give up hope.’

  They ate in silence and since neither of the boys was keen on the bone Festus shrugged and took it for himself, working his teeth hard to tear off what meat there was on the joint. Afterwards he made Lupus and Marcus get up and carry out a set of exercises, pushing the scribe hard in order to keep his mind occupied and tire his body out. As the sun reached its zenith Festus ended the session and the boys, sweating and breathing hard, collapsed on to the straw. Lupus had not slept the previous night and now, finally, exhaustion took hold of him and he was soon fast asleep.

  ‘He’s not coping with this,’ Festus said quietly.

  Marcus stretched his shoulders. ‘Are you surprised? You think I’m coping?’

  Festus turned to look at him searchingly. ‘You’re doing well enough, Marcus. You seem calm, under the circumstances.’

  ‘You think?’ Marcus lowered his head into his hands and his voice caught as he spoke in a low tone. ‘I’ve failed. My mother will spend the rest of her days suffering. Starved, beaten and never knowing what happened to me.’ He swallowed hard, feeling the urge to surrender to his grief, to slip back into his childhood and be looked after. He craved a return to that life. But it was gone. Even if, by some miracle, he escaped from the death sentence, his experiences had changed him. Marcus had discovered too much about the darkness of this world to ever be free of that knowledge. It was as if a part of him had already died and he grieved for that small boy he had once been. ‘I’ve failed …’