by Ben Kane
'Politics. If the people love the games, they support their sponsors. That gives him power.'
'We are fighting for a damn politician?' Romulus had not thought to question the reason behind fights. The citizens of Rome adored bloodshed, but it was not they who actually held the contests. It was those in power who were responsible — the senators and equestrians. The gladiators were just puppets on strings.
Used to it all, Brennus nodded.
Romulus was outraged. 'Lots of us are about to die. Why?'
'We are slaves, Romulus,' he said simply.
An image of Crassus' doorman came to him. 'Says who?' Romulus countered. 'That prick?' He pointed at the nobles' box.
'Shut up!' Brennus looked over both shoulders. 'Memor would execute you on the spot if he heard that.'
'It's been done before,' argued Romulus passionately. 'Imagine what fifty of us could do to the bastards up there.'
'Rebellion?' The Gaul whispered the word.
'Claiming freedom, more like.'
'Pompey Magnus!' cried the master of ceremonies again.
'Time to fight.' Brennus winked. 'We 'll talk later.'
The crowd cheered dutifully while Pompey acknowledged their adulation with a languid wave. A middle-aged man with white hair, prominent eyes and a bulbous nose, he surveyed the fighters keenly.
'Salute Pompey Magnus!'
'We who are about to die, salute you!' The gladiator's vow roared from a hundred throats.
Pompey nodded with more respect than he had given the audience.
'At least he is a warrior,' said Brennus. 'Not like that dog Crassus, who never stops telling everyone what a great general he is.'
'Pompey is paying for us to die,' hissed Romulus. 'Fuck him!'
The Gaul seemed startled, but a light Romulus had not seen before stirred in his eyes.
'Die like men!' Pompey addressed the combatants. 'Show courage. Those who survive unhurt will be well rewarded. Begin!'
There was silence for a few moments as the fighters watched each other, bodies stiff with tension.
Romulus was filled with excitement at the Gaul's response to his comment. But everything would have to wait until the combat was over. If they survived. He turned round. Figulus and Gallus were some distance away, pretending not to look in their direction.
'Stay close. Watch your backs!' Brennus shouted, gripping his sword in a huge fist. 'Move it! Don't let them come to us!' he yelled at the retiarii.
The fishermen shuffled forwards, holding their weighted nets low, ready to throw. Dacicus fighters fanned out in response, beginning to advance. Romulus stood three steps to Brennus' right, shield high, dagger in hand. The standoff with the guards had given him an idea.
'Once the retiarii are occupied, I want a charge through the centre.' Brennus spoke in a low voice so that only those nearby could hear. 'Ignore normal combat rules. Kill quickly and move on.'
'We 're with you, Brennus,' said a Thracian.
The others muttered agreement. Brennus looked at each of them, nodding grimly.
Moments later, the fight began as Magnus retiarii reached the first Dacicus gladiators. Nets twirled and spun through the air, men dodged and cursed, skidding on the hot sand. Romulus saw a trident piercing an enemy's throat, tearing flesh apart in a crimson spray of blood. Fighters circled each other, weaving and thrusting in lethal, mesmerising dances.
The main body of the enemy had been unprepared for the sudden attack. Apparently leaderless, the intimidated Dacicus gladiators were at a loss how to respond.
The moment was ripe.
'On me!' Brennus roared, lifting his longsword and loping through the individual combats in front.
Thirty men followed, weapons at the ready.
Romulus kept pace with the Gaul, eyes peeled. As he passed a fight between a Magnus fisherman and a Samnite, he took a chance. The heavily armed warrior had lowered his oblong shield for a moment, watching the retiarius balance the net to throw. Romulus leaned forward on one foot, cocking his right arm back. Taking aim, he swung forward, releasing the knife. It flew straight and true, cutting deep into the unsuspecting Samnite 's throat, below the visored helmet. The man made a choking noise and dropped both sword and scutum. Blood poured around his clutching fingers as he slumped to the sand.
The retiarius turned to see who had felled his opponent.
With surprise, Romulus recognised Gallus.
'Bastard!' The retiarius' face twisted with anger. 'You're dead meat.'
Gallus' violent reaction shocked him and proved that the threat from the disgruntled fighters was very real. But his enemy had no time to react as a heavily built secutor lunged in for the kill.
'Got one already!' Romulus pulled his sword free as he raced to catch the Gaul.
'How?'
'With my dagger!'
'Good work! Pick up another if possible. Never know when you might need it!' Brennus smiled and increased his speed, outstripping the others.
Brennus' charge was awe-inspiring. With a roar that simply froze the first Dacicus fighter on the spot, the Gaul smashed down on to his bronze helmet with the longsword, crushing the skull.
The Thracian crashed to the ground.
Brennus stepped over the body, swept the next gladiator's shield out of the way with his own and stabbed him in the chest from close range. He roared a deafening battle-cry that echoed round the enclosure.
A few moments passed. Unsure what to do, the Dacicus fighters stood transfixed by the fearsome apparition.
The Gaul dispatched a secutor with ease. 'Come on!' Romulus shouted as he ran forward, pressing home the advantage. 'Ludus Magnus!' An inarticulate bellow of pent-up rage and fear answered. With a crash of swords on shields, the Magnus gladiators ran at their bewildered enemies.
Romulus found himself facing a murmillo only slightly larger than he. His opponent swung a heavy overhand blow, trying to hammer through with sheer force. Romulus parried with relative ease, keeping the shield high. He drove forward under the other's gladius, staring at his enemy from a few inches away. The gladiator's mouth opened, knowing what was about to happen.
Romulus plunged his sword into the man's exposed midriff.
The murmillo screamed and folded over in agony. Swiftly Romulus withdrew the blade, letting him fall to the sand. A huge blow downwards with the shield's sharp edge sliced open his neck. Sure the fighter was critically injured, Romulus stepped away.
Cotta had taught him the old-fashioned methods of gladiator combat. In this way, formal fights could last for hours, impressing the crowd with the skill and swordsmanship of the participants. But in the situation Romulus was in right now, there was no point in showing off. Although more brutal, it was better to follow Brennus' method by incapacitating or killing as fast as possible.
Brennus was ten steps away to the left, hacking a Thracian to pieces while fending off a second with side-sweeps of his longsword. On the right, Magnus men were head to head with enemy murmillones and dimachaeri. One figure with two swords was particularly skilled. Romulus watched in amazement as he spun like a dancer, maiming and killing at leisure. The end came when a Magnus retiarius smothered him from behind in his net. As the dimachaerus tried to struggle free, several gladiators swarmed in, spitting him like a wild boar.
Already a dozen enemy were prone on the sand. More were injured and no longer fighting. Helped largely by Brennus, the combat was going the way of the Ludus Magnus. The Gaul's value to his side was incalculable. Everyone he faced was quaking with fear before a blow had even landed.
Quite suddenly Romulus came under attack from a laquearius and a Thracian. He dodged one throw of the lasso with ease, but barely managed to ward off the lightning quick thrust from the man's partner that followed. Romulus spun away, almost putting his foot into the loop of rope that the wily laquearius had placed on the ground. Heart pounding, he cut and slashed back at the Thracian, desperately keeping his eyes on the other.
He could not win this figh
t alone.
Between sword thrusts, he tried to see who was near enough to help.
Brennus was now busy with two murmillones and a secutor. There was no sign of Sextus. Romulus swore bitterly, chopping at the rope that came hissing through the air. He nearly lost the gladius as the lasso whipped backwards just a moment too soon. If he did not kill one in a matter of moments, his life would be over.
Romulus took a deep breath, kicking a shower of sand at the laquearius' face. He turned and shoulder-charged the Thracian, muttering a prayer to Jupiter and expecting to feel the noose land round his neck with every step.
To Romulus' relief, the laquearius uttered a strangled cry as his eyes filled with burning grit. He reached the armoured fighter with ease, driving him back several steps.
Romulus used the momentum he had gained to stab at the Thracian's face. His enemy lifted a large shield in response. Instantly, Romulus swung his own down on to the man's right knee. Slicing deep into muscle, it severed the attachment to the kneecap. The Thracian's leg buckled, unable to take the weight.
Roaring with pain, the Dacicus fighter fell. Blood spurted from the wound as Romulus risked a glance behind for the laquearius. He was falling in slow motion, face contorted in agony, Sextus' axe planted deep in his spine.
'You looked hard pressed.'
'Thanks!' Remembering Lentulus' last act, Romulus spun round, thrusting his sword through the Thracian's throat. The man choked on blood and toppled to one side, eyes wide with shock. Quickly Romulus grabbed a bone-handled dagger from the dead gladiator's belt. Two weapons were always better than one.
When he looked back, Sextus was gone.
'Well fought!' Brennus walked over, breathing heavily. He was covered from head to foot in blood.
Romulus glanced round for enemy fighters. Seeing none nearby, he relaxed slightly. 'The fight's nearly over,' he said with satisfaction. 'Thanks to you.'
Brennus nodded in acknowledgement. 'Kill or be killed,' he muttered to himself.
Romulus did a quick head count: fewer than twenty Dacicus gladiators were still standing. 'It won't take long now.'
'Let's hope the fools surrender soon,' sighed the Gaul. 'They have no chance of winning.'
Quite suddenly a net came flying through the air and landed over Brennus' head, weighted folds falling to the sand. The big man struggled to free himself, but his sword tip was caught in the heavy mesh. A vicious trident thrust followed and Brennus barely managed to avoid being gutted.
Instinctively Romulus slashed down with his gladius, severing the attacker's arm at the elbow. Shocked to recognise one of the Magnus retiarii, he did not pause. A swift kick to the groin knocked the maimed gladiator to the sand.
'Look out!' Brennus dropped his longsword and grabbed at strands of the net to lift it off.
Romulus saw movement from the corner of his eye. Alarmed, he turned to face Gallus, who was flanked by Figulus and two other grim-faced fighters, a Thracian and a Samnite. Bloody weapons were in their hands.
'On your own now, scum!' The retiarius lunged with his trident.
'I should have knifed you instead of the Dacicus gladiator,' replied Romulus, dodging to one side.
'Missed your chance,' sneered Gallus.
Keeping himself between Brennus and the attackers, Romulus shuffled backwards. The retiarius laughed, thinking Romulus was trying to get away.
Without thinking, Romulus stabbed his sword into the sand, drew the new knife and flung it.
The gladiators paused, surprised.
Gallus stopped abruptly, making a strange gurgling sound. A bone handle protruded from his throat. With a faintly startled expression, the stocky fighter dropped to the ground, killed the same way as his first opponent.
Freeing himself, Brennus moved to stand alongside Romulus. 'Three against two. Good enough odds, I reckon!'
'Vulcan's prick! You said Gallus would net the big bastard!' The Samnite on Figulus' left shuffled his feet nervously in the sand.
'Why didn't you gut him when he was down, idiot?' The Thracian licked dry lips, but did not back away. 'Let's end this!'
'Finished squabbling?' Brennus smiled grimly and charged.
Romulus was only a step behind.
The Samnite took one look and turned to run. As he did, Sextus appeared as if from nowhere. With a huge swing of his axe, he cut the man's head clean off. A fountain of blood sprayed into the air from the headless torso, which fell twitching on to Gallus' body.
The sand all around was stained crimson with the blood of countless Dacicus gladiators. And now those who were supposed to be on his side. Gallus. The Samnite. Men are dying in droves. For what? thought Romulus.
Figulus threw his shield at Brennus and sprinted to safety, leaving the last of his cronies alone. The man paled as the three friends advanced.
'I surrender!' Dropping his weapon, the murmillo fell to his knees.
'Try to kill one of your own, eh?' Brennus raised the longsword high and brought it down on the man's left shoulder, breaking the clavicle.
The murmillo let out a high-pitched scream, the sound echoing loudly. Romulus realised the arena had gone quiet. All the fighting was over. The entire audience was now watching them.
'Let him live, Brennus.' Sextus had noticed too. 'It's over. He has asked for mercy.' The scissores stood back, planting his bloody axe on the sand. 'Memor will be observing.'
'This piece of shit is a traitor to our familia!' spat the Gaul. 'Loyalty is everything. Without it we are nothing.'
'It's not worth it,' Romulus said tiredly. He was revolted by the number of bodies, scattered like discarded puppets. 'Enough men have died.'
There was a long pause. Brennus was trembling with rage.
'Brennus!'
At last the Gaul seemed to hear and the fire in his blue eyes subsided.
The murmillo quickly raised a forefinger, but the crowd jeered at the appeal for mercy. This was not what they had come to see.
Romulus was disgusted. No one cared that the injured fighter was actually one of their own men. The mob wanted blood and it did not matter whose it was.
This is no way to live my life.
Brennus had also had enough. He lowered his longsword and stepped back, ignoring the shouts.
Across the arena, all surviving Dacicus fighters had thrown down their weapons, pleading for mercy. Fewer than fifteen remained living.
Twenty-four Magnus gladiators were uninjured; another half-dozen were lying screaming in pain, but would live to fight another day.
Trumpets rang out, silencing the clamour. The portly master of ceremonies stepped forward again.
'Victory goes to the Lu-dus Mag-nus!' he announced.
Brennus, Romulus and the others raised bloody swords in acknowledgement. The responding roars completely drowned out the cries of the wounded and dying. Rome cared not for the victims.
'What a slaughter.' Disgusted, Romulus looked at the open red mouths in the baying crowd. 'Nearly sixty men have died for this?'
Brennus was fully in control of himself now, the battle frenzy replaced by his customary poise. He stared at his right arm, bloody to the elbow. 'Pompey deserves it more than this poor bastard, I suppose,' he said heavily, nudging the headless Samnite with one foot.
'Yes. He does!' hissed Romulus.
The announcer held up both podgy arms for quiet. 'I give you — the illustrious general Pompey Magnus!'
There was dutiful cheering as Pompey rose to speak again. The middleaged consul stood in silence for a moment, enjoying the applause. He acknowledged it with regal waves, and the people responded with a more fervent display of gratitude to Pompey. The brutal mass combat had satisfied their bloodlust.
'Knows how to work the crowd as well as Caesar,' said Brennus.
Romulus clenched his fists. 'They are all bastards!' he replied. His exhaustion had been replaced by a desperate desire to show Pompey how it felt to be butchered. But images of the venator's death were too vivid. He would end
up the same way. A plan was needed.
'People of Rome!' Pompey raised his arms. Enthusiastic screams greeted him. 'What a spectacle we have seen here today! All for you. Citizens of the Republic!' Deafening applause followed.
Pompey smiled, clicking two fingers together. Slaves bearing a bronze tray laden with money bags materialised at his side.
'Let those from the winning side come forward!' The announcer sounded disdainful. 'Only those with no wounds may approach!'
The able-bodied fighters grouped together, heads held high. They walked to stand in front of the box, saluting Pompey with clenched fists. Even Romulus felt a brief surge of pride at having survived the slaughter. It was hard not to.
'You have fought bravely,' Pompey said approvingly. 'Those who show such courage deserve suitable reward.' He picked up a leather bag and tossed it into the air.
Sextus grabbed the first, stepping back with a broad grin. Purses landed until every man had received one. Rapturous cheering continued long after Pompey had finished throwing. People had enjoyed the extravagant contest more than usual. The fighters waved swords, smiled and laughed, unused to such adulation.
It did not last.
With an impatient gesture, the master of ceremonies motioned for them to leave the arena. Their moment of glory was over; the gladiators were mere slaves again.
'It's heavy.' Romulus hefted his prize with both hands. 'How much is in it?'
Brennus shrugged. 'Couple of thousand sestertii maybe.'
'A bargain,' Romulus said, full of fury once more. 'We are better than this.' He shook the bag. It made a jingling sound. The price of men's lives.
Brennus shot him a glance. 'Too many ears around still,' he muttered.
Romulus fell silent. There was no point being reckless.
'Enough to buy wine and whores for the next few months!' Sextus was grinning from ear to ear.
'Thanks for getting Romulus out of that tight spot.'
'You saved my hide last year, remember?'
Brennus shrugged. 'Anyone would have done the same.'
'Except they wouldn't,' replied the scissores swiftly. 'It's a shame Figulus survived, though. A poisonous snake, that one.'
