Ajax clasped Kharim’s shoulder. ‘I thank you for doing what you could for Chilo.’
‘You don’t have to thank me, General.’ Kharim smiled sadly. ‘Chilo is as a brother to me, as he is to you. His men love him. This has hit them hard. I wish I had the skills to save him.’
‘I thank you anyway.’ Ajax stared at his companion for a moment. ‘I need a new man to take over from Chilo.’
It was the first mention of such a thing, and Kharim realised that his leader now accepted that Chilo would not recover.
‘Who do you have in mind?’ Kharim asked. ‘I am not sure yet. My first thought was you.’ ‘Me?’ ‘Why not? You fight as well as you practise your healing skills. And you are loyal to me, are you not?’ ‘Do you have to ask?’ Kharim responded with a pained expression. ‘No. I am sorry, my friend. I did not mean to slight you. Sometimes I slip back into the blunt frame of mind of a common gladiator.’ ‘There is nothing common about you,’ Kharim replied, and gestured to the camp surrounding them. ‘Ask anyone. Do you know, I have even heard some ofthe women praying to you?As ifyou were some kind of a god, or a king.’ Ajax frowned. ‘That is foolishness. We are free now, we are not beholden to anyone but ourselves.’ Kharim looked at him. ‘You believe that, and that is why they love you and will follow where you will lead.’ T h e gladiator drew himself up and briefly surveyed the nearest cluster of tents and shelters where the former slaves sat at their ease. Some talked, some simply sat and looked at the world around them as if seeing it anew. A handful of children were playing around a cage to one side of the farmhouse, goading the prisoners with sticks. It was a peaceful scene of contentment, yet Ajax knew it could not last. He turned back to Kharim.
‘Pass the word. I want the leaders of all the war bands to meet in the garden at dusk. We must talk. There are choices that must be made. Commitments to be renewed. You understand?’
‘Yes, General. I will tell them.’
Kharim turned and strode away, towards the area of the camp where his war band had set up their shelters. Ajax watched him a moment and then turned to go back inside the farmhouse. He passed through the colonnaded hall with the shallow pond at its centre. Once that had been fed by rainwater from the roof, but the earthquake had left a large crack in the bottom, and now it was dry and filled with cracked plaster, dust and a handful of smashed tiles that had fallen in from the roof. He made his way towards the best bedroom in the house, where Chilo lay on a soft bedroll. Despite having the windows open on both sides of the room, the air was warm, and as Ajax approached, a sickening tang assaulted his nostrils. He hid his distaste as he knelt down beside Chilo.
Chilo’s skin was waxy and glistened with perspiration. He lay with a fine robe covering his body as far as his chest, hiding his wound. Sensing the gladiator’s presence, he opened his eyes, struggled to focus and forced a smile.
‘General, I wondered when you’d come to see me.’ He spoke softly, a slight rasp to his words.
‘I was here just a moment ago.’ ‘Were you?’ Chilo frowned. ‘I can’t remember.’ ‘It’s the poison in your blood,’ Ajax explained. ‘It’s playing tricks with your mind.’ ‘Ah.’ Chilo reached out his hand and took that of Ajax. His touch was hot and feverish, and Ajax forced himself not to recoil. Chilo smiled. ‘Well you are here now, at the end.’
‘Yes.’ ‘It’s been too short a time to have known you, my general.’ ‘And you, my friend.’ ‘Friend?’ Chilo smiled contentedly. ‘Thank you.’ His eyes moistened and he looked away. ‘There’s no shame in tears, Chilo.We have seen enough suffering in our time to justify a river of tears.’ Chilo nodded. ‘Suffering, and joy.’ Joy?’ ‘I found you, my general.You gave me freedom, and revenge.’ Ajax felt his throat constrict with a slight burning sensation. He swallowed before he could trust himself to speak. He leaned forward slightly and stroked the lank hair plastered to Chilo’s scalp.
Chilo suddenly clenched his eyes tightly shut and grimaced, and his body went rigid. His fingers clamped tightly round Ajax’s hand as he fought the wave of agony burning through his body. Slowly it passed and he went limp. The pulse in his neck throbbed as sweat trickled from his brow. At length his breathing became calm and his gaze flickered back to Ajax.
‘ I ‘ m sorry.’ ‘You have nothing to be sorry for.’ ‘I cannot fight at your side any more.’ ‘I know. I will not forget you.’ Ajax paused. ‘You saved my life.
Why?’ ‘Why?’ Chilo frowned. ‘Because you are as a brother to me.’ Ajax nodded slowly. ‘I must go now. I’ll come back later and we can talk again.’ ‘Thank you.’ Chilo glanced across the room to where his armour and weapons still lay against the wall. ‘Before you go, could you bring those over here, beside the bed.’
Ajax glanced at the weapons. ‘Why?’
‘My sword still has Roman blood on it. If I feel strong enough, I might want to clean the blade.’
Ajax stared at him a moment and then nodded slowly. ‘Very well.’
He collected the weapons, and Chilo’s mail vest, and laid them gently on the floor beside him. ‘There.’
‘Thank you,’ Chilo replied softly, as he stared fixedly at the ceiling.
With a heavy heart Ajax headed towards the door, pausing on the threshold. ‘I will see you again, my brother.’
‘Yes,’ Chilo replied, and then whispered. ‘In this life . . . or the next.’
Outside, Ajax stood still for a moment, wondering if he should go back to Chilo. It took all his strength of will to resist the notion. Chilo was in great pain and he was dying. If he chose to end his life then so it was. He was free to decide. That was what he had given his life for. Even so, there was a great heaviness in the gladiator’s heart, which soon turned to bitterness and hatred. He looked towards the cage, where the children had given up poking the prisoners with sticks and now squatted down at arm’s length to watch the Romans and laugh at their wretched condition.
‘Get away from there!’
He started towards them and the children hurriedly rose to their feet and scampered off into the camp. Ajax continued on towards the cage, an iron construction six feet long by four feet in height and depth. There was not much room for the occupants, and there was no shelter from the elements. At night they shivered in the cold air, and by day they were tormented by the sun. Their clothes had been taken from them so that they now sat in their own filth. Ajax had ordered that they not be harmed, and they were fed and watered just enough to keep them alive. His nose wrinkled at the stink of their shit and piss as he rested a hand on top of the cage and leaned towards it so that he could watch the two prisoners, a man and a woman, sitting on opposite sides.
‘How are my guests feeling today?’
The man looked up at him without replying and the woman drew up her knees as she stared fixedly at the ground. Ajax smiled at them.
‘Oh come now, surely the accommodation can’t be that bad?You know, when I was first sold into slavery I spent the first month of it in a cage smaller than this, with two other men. By now I think you can imagine what that must have been like. But imagining a thing is not the same as enduring it, as you are discovering.’
Neither of the prisoners stirred and Ajax stared at them for a moment, until the woman shuffled round and turned her back on him. Ajax laughed and then squatted down so he could stare across the cage into the man’s face. His hair was dark and matted with a crust of dried blood from the blow to the skull he had received at the time of his capture.
‘How is your head today, Centurion? Or should I call you prefect these days?’
Macro did not reply.
‘You’ve obviously done well since we first met. A centurion of marines you were then, and now look at you. The commander of the garrison of Gortyna. Of course, your rise through the ranks has been rather eclipsed by my own. From slave to general in a matter ofdays.’ ‘Some general.’ Macro spat on the ground beside him. ‘You’re nothing more than a brigand. And you call this rabble an ar
my?’ He nodded to the camp outside the cage. ‘Oh, we haven’t done so badly. It’s not as if you Romans have covered yourself in glory since the rebellion began. Wouldn’t you agree?’
Macro stared back at him. ‘You must know this can only end one way. An army will come to Crete and crush you and your followers. So far you have only faced men from the auxiliary cohorts, second- rate troops at that. You cannot hope to defeat the legions.’
‘We shall see,’ Ajax replied. ‘Meanwhile, I am the master of Crete. Or will be, once Gortyna is taken and the governor joins you in this cage.’
‘What do you intend to do with us?’ Macro asked quietly. ‘You must know that we are no use to you as hostages. Sempronius will not surrender if you promise to spare us.’
‘I know that. I made the offer yesterday and he turned me down.’ Ajax turned towards Julia. ‘Not straight away, you’ll be glad to hear. I could see him struggle over the decision. It’s not an easy thing to lose a daughter . . . or a father.’ He glanced back at the farmhouse. ‘Or a friend.’
Macro followed the direction of his gaze. ‘The man who saved your life. How is he?’
Ajax took a sharp breath and glared at Macro. ‘Dying, or dead. What does it matter to you?’
‘It’s not personal, who I kill on the battlefield,’ Macro explained. ‘But we are not on the battlefield any longer. It was a brave thing he did. Admirable. I would be sorry to hear that he had died.’
‘ O f course, the professional respect of one soldier for another. .But aren’t you forgetting something? My friend was a slave, not a soldier.’ ‘Slave or soldier, what does it matter?’ Macro responded wearily.
‘When a man picks up a weapon and faces you in a fair fight, what else matters? Surely you of all people must understand that, Gladiator.’
‘Don’t call me that!’ Ajax said fiercely. ‘I am no longer a gladiator, Roman. I fight for myselfand I fight for my people. I would rather die than fight to entertain the mob again.’
There was a brief silence as Ajax fought to control his rage. The temptation to smash open the lock to the cage and drag the Roman out of his filth and slaughter him tested him sorely. He clenched his fists and shut his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment until the rage had passed.Then he stood up and turned to walk away.
‘Wait!’ Macro called out. ‘Tell me, what are your plans for us? Me and the lady’
Ajax half turned and smiled coldly. ‘To let you suffer for as long as possible. When being confined in that cage has driven you half mad, then I will have you killed, Centurion. As slowly as I possibly can. I want you to die by inches, and I want you to feel the agony of every moment of that death. As for the woman, since she is of no use to me now that her father has abandoned her, she can suffer here with you, and then my men can have her. They have developed something of a taste for the flesh of well-bred Roman women.’ Ajax looked at her and smacked his lips. ‘Of course, if I am fortunate enough to capture Gortyna first, then I will make sure that your father, the good senator, is there to witness the shaming of his daughter.’
‘Bastard!’ Macro kicked out with his feet, crashing against the bars of the cage. ‘You fucking coward! I swear to all the gods that if you touch one hair of her head, then’
‘What? Then what?’ Ajax laughed. ‘You’ll come and haunt me? Perhaps I should make you watch as well, before I have you killed.’
Macro clenched his teeth and a low keening sounded in his throat. He grasped the bars of the cage and shook them with all his strength.
‘Macro!’ Julia suddenly snapped.’Macro! Look at me!’
Macro tore his gaze away from the gladiator and fixed his eyes on hers.
‘He’s baiting you, Macro. Don’t let him. Don’t give him the satisfaction.We must be better than him. Stronger.’
Ajax smiled. ‘You can play the brave aristocrat now, my fine lady, but we’ll see how long you last once my men get their hands on you. Now I must go. I’ve enjoyed our little chat. Really I have. I’m sure we will speak again soon.’
He waved at them in mock farewell, and walked off to find a horse and begin his daily inspection of the defences of Gortyna.
When he returned to the farmhouse in the middle ofthe afternoon, Kharim was waiting for him.
‘Chilo is dead,’ the Parthian reported plainly. Ajax lowered his head and nodded. ‘Did he die by his own hand?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘That is what he wanted.Where is he?’ ‘Inside. I have given orders for his body to be wrapped in linen for burial, but I thought you might want to see him first.’ Ajax was still for a moment and then shook his head. ‘He is dead, and I will remember him. That is enough. Give the orders for his burial. Find him a grave somewhere quiet, where his body won’t be discovered by the Romans.’ Kharim stared at him, delicate brows slightly raised in surprise.
‘You think they might beat us, then?’ ‘They might. Nothing in this life is certain, my friend. If the rebellion fails, I will not have his body treated as a trophy. Nor mine. Or yours.’
‘I understand.’
‘Good. Now, I need to eat. I’ll be in the garden if anyone needs me.’
Kharim bowed his head. ‘Yes, General.’
Ajax spent the rest of the afternoon there, sitting on a bench, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped and supporting his chin. He stared at a small shrine to a household god in the corner of the garden as he reflected on the progress of the rebellion. The idea of leading a rebellion had never occurred to him when he had taken the chance to regain his freedom after the governor’s palace had collapsed. In truth he could have escaped at any time since his arrival in Crete, but the prospect of being on the run for the rest of his life, and of a terrible punishment if he was caught, had dissuaded him from such a course of action. The earthquake had changed everything. At first he had thought it would be the perfect chance to disappear, to be thought lost amongst the ruins with so many others. He had planned to change his appearance, bide his time, and find a berth on a ship leaving the island. Instead he had stepped into the role as leader of a small band of runaway slaves and almost without any kind of plan had become the leader of an army of rebels. With this responsibility had come the opportunity to avenge himself on Rome, and Ajax now admitted he had been seduced by such a prospect. The question was, what could the rebellion realistically hope to achieve?
That arrogant aristocrat in Gortyna had refused to negotiate any agreement that resulted in the freedom of the rebels. If that could not be guaranteed, then what was the purpose of the rebellion? Centurion Macro was right. In time, Rome would send a powerful army to crush the slaves, and the consequent retribution would be terrible indeed. With a heavy heart Ajax realised that he must lay the matter before his closest followers. If the rebellion was to achieve anything, then he had to be certain that those who looked to him for leadership clearly understood and shared his aims.
When the commanders of the war bands arrived at the farmhouse, their mood was subdued. Word of Chilo’s death had swiftly gone round the rebel camps and many openly grieved for him. They filed into the garden and sat on the spare benches, or squatted on the ground in a loose semicircle in front of Ajax. Kharim and some others had brought a small brazier out from one of the farm’s store sheds and lit a fire in the middle of the garden. Ajax examined the faces of his closest men by the glow of the flames. They were all hard men, from widely differing backgrounds. Some were ex-gladiators, like him, while others had been gang leaders on estate farms or on the chain gangs that loaded ships, or had worked the quarries and mines of the island. One had been a stonemason, condemned to fashion the tombs of the wealthy while looking forward to the common grave ofa slave pit when his own time came. Another had been the strong man of an entertainment party, delighting wealthy Romans with displays of his strength, little knowing that he would one day crack the skulls oftheir compatriots as freely as he crushed walnuts in his bare hands.
Despite the variety of their former lives, they
were now united in a common cause, and all looked to Ajax to lead them to a better life. He cleared his throat as he rose to his feet and ran a hand through his curly black hair. ‘My friends, today we lost a man who was as a brother to us all. Forgive me, but my heart is heavy with grief, else I would welcome you here with wine and meat, and perhaps Chilo would have a song for us.’ He saw that some ofthe men smiled fondly at the memory. ‘But Chilo is gone and I am in no mood for pleasantries. My heart is made heavier still by the need to face up to certain truths. Truths that I must share with you this night.’
He paused briefly and sighed before he spoke again. ‘The Romans will never give us freedom. Nor will they ever leave us in peace.That is certain.’
‘Then we shall take our freedom,’ the stonemason, Fuscus, growled. ‘And if they object, why, then we shall just have to take their lives instead.’
There was a chorus of approval at these words and Ajax nodded. ‘A fine sentiment, and one that has served us well so far, Fuscus. But I fear that we have already achieved as much as we could hope to.We have defeated the Romansin battle, we have sacked one cities, and the remaining Romans are bottled up behind their fortifications. We are the masters of this island. For the present. N o w we must ask ourselves what is the true purpose of our rebellion.’
‘You sound like a philosopher,’ a voice called out, and some of the men chuckled.
Ajax forced a smile. ‘I am no philosopher. I would rather act than think.Yet now is the time when we must think.We cannot avoid it any longer.’
Some of them were wearing puzzled expressions as Ajax folded his arms across his chest and continued, ‘What do you want to achieve?’
There was a brief silence, then a voice called out. ‘Freedom, General. That is all we have ever wanted.’
Ajax nodded. ‘We have that, at the moment. But it will not last. The Romans will not rest until the rebellion is crushed, no-matter how many soldiers it takes, or how long it takes. They are relentless. That is their way. I had hoped that we might escape this island, by using hostages, but the governor will not surrender Gortyna. N o r will we find sufficient ships to transport our people to other shores. So we must find a solution here on Crete, and we must find it before of their the Romans send an army to decide the issue.We have a limited time in which to negotiate from strength. In that time we must make the Romans think we present the gravest danger to them. That is why we must take Gortyna as soon as we can.We need as many Roman hostages as possible to bargain with. My brothers, we must keep on the attack.’
The Gladiator Page 30
