The Gladiator

by Simon Scarrow

‘Auxiliaries! On me! Form a wedge!’

  Cato took up position in the middle of the road, and the men of the Twelfth formed up at his back in a chevron. When he saw that the men were ready, Cato took a deep breath and called out, as loud as he could,’Shields front, present spears!’

  There was a clatter as the shafts of their spears rapped against the shield rims, and an arrowhead of sharp iron points faced the crowd. ‘Advance!’ Cato bellowed and then called the time: ‘One . . . two . . . one . . . two!’ The wedge tramped steadily forward and faces in the crowd began to look up in the direction of the approaching formation. Some snatched a last handful of grain and then turned to push their way to safety.

  ‘They’ll murder us!’ a shrill voice cried out, and there were panicked shouts as the civilians scrambled out of the path of the on- coming soldiers. Cato called back over his shoulder,’Get the wagons moving! Don’t stop for anything until we reach the acropolis.’

  As the wheels rumbled into life behind him, Cato continued the advance, the boots of the auxiliaries grinding over the scattered grain. Before them an old man had slipped to the ground and was struggling to rise to his feet. One ofthe soldiers thrust his shield out, knocking the man on to his side. He landed heavily on his knee and then rolled into a ball, hugging the joint as he groaned in agony. The auxiliary lowered his spear tip and Cato thrust his sword out towards the man.

  ‘ N o ! Leave him be and step over him.’ The old man was left on the ground as the formation passed over him, and then looked up in terror as the ground trembled under the weight of the heavy wheels of the wagons. The horses stepped nimbly over the prostrate form, but the wheels were insensitive to his plight, and Cato glanced back at the sound of the thin cry of dread to see the old man wriggle to one side at the last moment. Cato continued to advance along the road as the other civilians hurried to get out of the way of the lethal spear points.

  Just before the column reached the remains of the gate, a stone flew out of the crowd and clattered off the side of a cavalryman’s shield. Moments later more followed, mixed with mud and turds, spattering the men around the wagons.

  ‘Ignore them!’ Cato shouted. ‘Keep moving!’

  The rear ofthe column entered the town and continued along the main route, now cleared of rubble by the work gangs Macro had organised. Some members of the crowd followed them a short distance, still throwing missiles, before they gave up and backed off, shouting final insults before returning to their shelters. Macro was waiting for them on the ramp leading up to the acropolis. As Cato approached, brushing filth from his shoulder, Macro smiled ruefully.

  ‘Like I said, we’re always in the shit.’

  ‘It wasn’t pretty, but at least we got the wagons through,’ said Cato. ‘There’s enough supplies for a few more days.’

  ‘And then we have to go out and repeat the whole thing all over again.’ Macro turned towards the first wagon and stabbed his finger at Atticus. ‘Nice work, mate. You almost got some of your people killed. Happy now?’

  Atticus shook his head. ‘Not my fault.’

  ‘Oh, but it was. If you hadn’t played your fancy trick back there, there wouldn’t have been any trouble.’ Macro gestured to two of his men. ‘Take him back to the prison. No rations for him for the next two days.’

  ‘What?’ ‘The price you pay for the grain that you caused to be wasted.’ As Atticus was unchained from the wagon and led away, Cato surveyed the refugee camp and shook his head wearily. ‘It’s bad enough having to deal with the rebels, without making enemies of the civilians.’

  ‘We’re in a thankless job here, Cato old son,’ Macro agreed, and waved the rest ofthe column forward up the slope to the gates ofthe acropolis. ‘Even so, we have to do what we can to save these people.’

  ‘Yes,’ Cato replied, and was silent for a moment before he continued quietly, ‘I hate to say it, but unless we get some help from outside, and get it soon, the province is going to collapse into complete chaos. It’ll be a bloodbath and there’s precious little we can do to prevent it.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Do you think Portillus is up to the job?’ asked Cato as they rode out of Matala the following morning. Behind the two centurions followed the cavalry escort. Julia sat alongside the driver on a small cart halfway along the column ofmounted men. ‘He knows what he has to do,’ Macro replied. ‘I gave him his orders last night. Keep the people fed. Keep the rebel slaves at bay. Simple enough. Even Portillus can handle that. Anything else comes up, then he sends a message to Gortyna and asks for instructions. And at least he won’t have to contend with Atticus.’ Macro nodded to the rear of the column, where the Greek troublemaker was riding between two burly men.

  ‘What do you intend to do with him?’

  ‘He’s tough and has courage, and provided he keeps his mouth shut I reckon we can put him on the strength of one of the cohorts at Gortyna.’

  ‘What if he disagrees?’

  ‘In that case, I’ll offer him a choice.Atticus can wear the uniform, or he can wear chains.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Cato nodded, then his thoughts returned to Matala. The situation in the town was sound enough. Even though there was no question of defending the refugee camp, Portillus had sufficient men under arms to defend the acropolis, and there was room enough for the townspeople to take shelter from any danger. Cato frowned at himself for admitting the possibility that the rebel slaves might consider an attack on the town. Yet every eventuality had to be anticipated. Even that. ‘I’m sure he will manage.’

  As the column made its way warily along the road to Gortyna, the sun climbed into a clear blue sky. Once in a while, the riders glimpsed movement in the distance and saw ragged figures watching them pass by. There was no sign of any bands of rebels, and once Cato was confident that there was no immediate danger, he reined in and waited for Julia’s cart to catch up before walking his horse alongside.

  ‘I wondered when you would honour me with your presence.’ Julia smiled. She lowered her voice, but continued in the same light- hearted tone. ‘Given the, ah, encounter last night, I feared you might have turned out to be the love-them-and-leave-them type. Like your friend Macro.’ Cato turned to meet her sultry gaze and could not help smiling at the thought of the previous evening. They had sat in a small neglected terrace garden that must have been the pride andjoy of one of the previous commanders of the garrison, homesick for his villa back in Spain. Below them the ruins of the town were dark and shapeless where once they would have been illuminated by torches and the wan twinkle of lamps, accompanied by the sounds of revellers in the inns of the streets around the forum. N o w there was silence, and even the refugee camp was quiet and still, until a small cluster of figures surrounding one of the camp fires slowly broke into a song, whose cheery melody drifted faintly across the ruins. Julia had leaned into his shoulder as Cato wrapped his cloak around them both.

  ‘It’s strange to hear them singing.’ She spoke softly. ‘After all that they have lost.’

  ‘I suppose so, but perhaps song is one of the few things the wave and the earthquake couldn’t take from them.’ Cato turned his head and kissed her brow gently, shutting his eyes as he slowly breathed in the scent of her hair. He felt her tremble. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Nothing? I know you better than that.’ Julia shifted round and stared up at his face, dimly lit by the stars.

  She cupped his cheek in her hand. ‘Cato, my love, I nearly lost you the night ofthe wave. I thought we were all finished when the water closed over us. In the cold darkness of the sea I gave in to terror. In the last moments I drew some comfort that at least we would be together in whatever afterlife there is.’ She swallowed and continued. ‘Then, when the ship rose back out of the sea, I saw that you were gone. I still lived, but you had been taken from me.’ She glanced away, quickly wiping her eye. ‘At that moment I felt like my heart had been ripped from my body. I remember thinking that I
wanted to die. To throw myself into the ocean so I could be with you. For a moment, that was all I wanted to do.’

  ‘Then I’m glad you didn’t.’

  ‘Cato, that’s not funny. I mean it. I had no idea how much you meant to me until that moment when I thought you were dead.’

  ‘But I didn’t die,’ he kissed the palm of her hand,’thank the gods. We’re still very much alive, my love, and we have everything to live for.’

  ‘I know.’ Julia nodded. ‘Perhaps knowing that means some good has come out of all this.’

  They looked across to the refugee camp on the side of the hill opposite the acropolis. Some more people had gathered round the fire where the singing had begun and added their voices. The tune was clearer now, and Cato and Julia listened to it for a while. He could not help feeling moved by the juxtaposition of the burden of so much tragedy and the cheerful lightness of the song that pierced the shadows of the night lying heavily upon the hilly landscape. He held Julia close to him and spoke softly in her ear.

  ‘I want to make love.’ ‘Now?’ she whispered. ‘Here?’ ‘Yes.’ She looked at him for a moment before kissing him on the lips slipping her hand gently behind his head and drawing him towards her as she eased herself back on to the cool grass of the terrace garden. Cato felt a warm rush to his loins as he began to harden. They kissed a while longer, revelling in the touch, the scent and the warmth of each other. Then Julia opened her legs either side of him and said, ‘Now, my Cato. Now. I want you inside me. But watch that leg ofyours . . .’

  Cato felt a fresh tingle ofardour as he recalled it all again. He smiled at Julia trundling alongside him in the cart.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she laughed. ‘Is it so obvious?’

  ‘Trust me. You’re a man. Of course it’s obvious.’

  They both laughed. The nearest troopers of the mounted escort turned to look at them with curious expressions, before turning their attention back to the surrounding landscape, watching for signs of danger.

  They approached Gortyna at dusk, without incident, and caught sight of the city as the road rounded the curve of a hill. After his experience of Matala, Macro was surprised to see that the province’s capital appeared to have suffered far less damage than the port. To the side of the road leading to the main gate was a marching camp. A section of auxiliary troops guarded the entrance. Macro pointed to them.

  ‘Who are they?’

  Cato reined in as he drew alongside. ‘Detachments from the Fifth Gallic and Tenth Macedonian, from the garrisons of Cnossos and Axos.The reports from the north ofthe island said that there had not been nearly as much damage there, so Sempronius sent orders for reinforcements to be marched to Gortyna. There should be more men coming from the other cities over the next few days.’

  Well that’s something.’ Macro nodded. ‘As long as they aren’t as out of condition as the boys of the Twelfth Hispania. We’re going to need some good men to sort things out. What I’d give for a few cohorts from the Second Legion right now.’

  ‘Not every auxiliary unit is like the Twelfth,’ Cato countered. ‘Those men we commanded at Bushir and Palmyra were fine soldiers. You said so yourself. As good as legionaries.’

  ‘True enough,’ Macro conceded. ‘But that was only because we worked them hard, Cato. Drilled ‘em hard and drilled ‘em regularly. We made them ready for war. Trouble with garrison units is that most of their officers let them go soft. In time they’re little better than the layabouts of the town watch. I’d lay good money that most of the auxiliary cohorts on Crete are cut from the same cloth.’

  ‘Perhaps. But we can’t know for sure.’

  Macro looked at him. ‘Really? Care to make a bet that there’s not one man amongst that lot fit to take his place in the Second Legion?’

  Cato considered the wager for a moment and shook his head. ‘I can think of better ways to waste my money’

  They left their escort at the city gates, and the decurion, with orders to induct Atticus into one of the infantry cohorts, marched his men away towards their camp on the far side of Gortyna. Macro and Cato dismounted and led their horses along the main street as Julia’s cart followed behind. Inside the walls, makeshift tents and crude shelters filled the ruined quarters of the city. They passed several gangs of slaves at work clearing rubble and making repairs to temples and business premises. Cato noticed that the slaves were securely chained to each other and were closely watched by overseers armed with heavy clubs. The poorest dwellings of Gortyna had been left to their owners, who picked over them, still gleaning for valuables and whatever food remained that had not gone off in the hot days following the earthquake. Armed men stood outside the larger houses and storerooms surrounding the city’s forum.

  ‘Seems that Glabius is looking after his own,’ Macro commented quietly.

  ‘For now,’ Cato replied. ‘But I don’t imagine Sempronius will put up with this for long.’

  ‘Why not? The rich have always been good at looking after each other.’

  ‘Why not?’ Julia interrupted. ‘Because my father is no fool, Centurion Macro. He knows that if a wedge is driven between the local people, then it can only harm efforts to rebuild the province, and help the cause of the rebel slaves. That’s why not.’

  Macro scratched the stubble on his chin. ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Trust me,’ she continued. ‘He will do the right thing. He always has.’

  Cato could believe it.The senator had a strong moral streak and a sense of duty to Rome that overrode any self-interest. Which was why he had never been granted any rank higher than quaestor. If he had been prepared to make and take bribes, then he would have been appointed a provincial governor years before.

  They continued through the forum, where a handful of stalls had been set up by traders desperate to earn hard currency to buy food for their families. Even though it was late in the day, long past the usual time they closed up for the night, the traders were still waiting patiently for custom, though the area was almost deserted. A short distance from the forum stood the entrance to the governor’s palace. The two Roman officers and the cart were waved through, and as they entered the courtyard Cato noted that the palace was guarded by auxiliaries. There was no sign of the town guards and the private bodyguards, who had remained loyal to Glabius.

  Macro called over one of the governor’s household slaves. ‘You, where’s Senator Sempronius?”

  ‘Over there, master.’ The slave bowed his head as he pointed towards the stable courtyard.

  ‘Take the horses,’ Macro ordered, handing the reins to the slave. Cato helped Julia down from the cart and the three of them made their way across to the entrance ofthe stables.There was no longer a restless crowd demanding treatment, and a calm sense of order prevailed in the buildings and store sheds on each side of the court- yard.The rooms to the right were still serving as a makeshift hospital, and Sempronius had commandeered those to the left for his head- quarters. As Macro, Cato and Julia were shown into a tack room, the senator glanced up from the desk that had been set up by the far wall. A pile of reports on waxed slates lay before him and he lowered the brass stylus in his hand as a broad smile creased his weary features. Releasing her hold on Cato’s hand, Julia ran across the room and embraced her father.

  ‘Easy, my dear!’ he chuckled, kissing her tenderly on the cheek. Macro and Cato stood by the door in an awkward silence until Sempronius beckoned to them to approach.Julia straightened up and went to sit on the clerks’ bench to one side of the desk.

  ‘Good to see you again, gentlemen,’ said Sempronius. ‘Have a seat. H o w are things at Matala, Macro?’

  ‘Not too bad, sir. The food is being rationed and there are supplies for some days yet. The people aren’t happy, but we’re keeping them in line, for now’ He glanced briefly at Cato. ‘The chief difficulty is the slave rebellion.’

  ‘Rebellion?’ Sempronius frowned. ‘I doubt a few minor skirmishes amount t
o a rebellion.’

  ‘It’s gone beyond a few skirmishes, sir.’ Macro briefly recounted the attack on his column and the fact that the slaves were being led by the man in the leather skullcap.

  ‘A gladiator, you say?’ Sempronius mused, once Macro had finished his report.

  ‘That’s my guess, sir. If I’m right then he should be easy to identify. I’ll give your clerks the details that I can recall of the man, and we’ll see if anyone recognises him from the description.’

  ‘Someone might, but what good will that do us?’

  Macro was surprised. ‘Well, sir, knowing your enemy is always something of a help.’

  ‘But you said he seemed to know you already’

  ‘That’s how it looked to me. Can’t say I recalled him, though. Not yet. If I can learn something about him, then perhaps I can place this man and have some idea of how much of a threat he poses.’

  Sempronius considered this briefly and then nodded. ‘All right. I’ll make sure his description is circulated.Though I don’t see how one gladiator is going to upset my plans to restore order to Crete. He’s no more ofa threat than any other slave amongst that rabble skulking in the hills.’

  Julia leaned forward. ‘Father, this wouldn’t be the first time that Rome underestimated the danger posed by an escaped gladiator. Centurion Macro is right to be concerned.’

  Sempronius frowned, and then shook his head with a small laugh as he understood her point. ‘This is Crete, my dear, not Campania. Gladiator schools are somewhat thinner on the ground here than they are around Capua. There is no danger of another Spartacus. Besides, I doubt that any slave in the empire can be unaware of the dreadful fate that befell those who followed Spartacus. They might run and hide, but any runaway slaves will be too terrified of being involved in a general uprising. They’d sooner be captured, returned to their masters and punished.’

  Macro sucked in a breath as he recalled the fanaticism with which the slaves had attacked his column. ‘Truly, sir, I hope you’re right.’