“Why?” Finn asked.
Lucilla’s face darkened further. “I just have to. I hate him. If I could kill him without getting caught I would but he is very, very careful. He kills anyone who gets in his way yet no-one can kill him. He poisons people – did you know that? He poisoned my parents…”
She was interrupted by the sound of footsteps and jumped up quickly from the bench.
“Goodbye for now Finn,” Lucilla whispered, and slipped away just before Gaius and the slave emerged from the house.
* * *
An hour later Finn was standing face to face with Titus, a knot of fear in his stomach. Lucius’ instructions could not have been clearer or more sinister: Kill Titus and Arthur lives. Gaius had met Finn in the garden after Lucilla had disappeared and delivered the instruction in a strained voice. He clearly was not happy about something – whether it was the plan to assassinate Titus or the fact that Lucius was using a boy to do the work, Finn could not tell. Gaius had placed a cord with a small bottle hanging from it around Finn’s neck. Poison was Lucius’ weapon of choice, just as Lucilla had said.
As Finn followed Gaius’ directions to Titus’ villa, he had become more and more certain that the fix for everyone’s problems was for Lucius to be killed. Finn didn’t like the idea of doing this himself, but he wasn’t sure he had much choice.
Lucilla would be free of the terrible uncle who had murdered her parents. Arthur and Finn would be free of the man who was effectively holding them hostage. And Marcus might well be prompted to fight for his freedom too. It was a risky strategy, but it was also the only one that seemed to lead in the right direction. Following this logic, Finn had decided that the only thing he could do was approach Titus with complete honesty, and when he arrived at the villa he had announced that he was there to warn Titus about an attempt on his life. He had been escorted under guard to a room not unlike the one in which he had met Lucius.
However the man who stared back at him could not have been more different to Lucius. Tall, strong and with something noble in his demeanour, Titus displayed none of Lucius’ reptilian menace. He listened to Finn’s explanation of events without interruption, and he continued staring at Finn long after the boy had finished speaking.
“Show me the poison,” he said at length. Swallowing nervously, Finn removed the bottle from around his neck and handed it over. Titus removed the stopper and waved the liquid under his nose, nodding slowly before closing the bottle and placing it on a table. “Let me be sure that I fully understand the facts,” he went on. “Your brother is in training to be a gladiator. You were recruited to poison me and were told that your brother would pay dearly if you failed. And Lucilla wants to escape Lucius because she knows that he killed her parents.”
Finn nodded, praying that he had not misjudged the situation.
“And you are telling me this because you hope that in return for your honesty I may help you.”
Finn nodded again.
“Then you are either very brave, or very stupid, or both,” said Titus quietly and paused. Finn’s heart pounded. Titus studied Finn carefully and continued, “I can see no reason for you to invent any of this, so this is what we will do…”
CHAPTER 5
“Arthur,” Gaius called, “It’s time.”
Stomach lurching, Arthur followed Gaius across the sand to the middle of the training arena. Arthur’s fighting skills were impressive. He had fought with Vikings, Samurai, knights and many more, learning from each of them. But despite training with Gaius, Arthur still did not feel ready to fight a properly trained gladiator – even if they were just supposed to be sparring. He wondered how Finn was faring. His brother had told him all about the meeting with Lucius and the assassination plot, and had set off earlier that morning.
“Remember,” Gaius cut in gruffly, interrupting Arthur’s worries. “Ajax is a secutor. His weapons and armour are stronger than yours but they are also heavier. If you show the same speed that you used against Festus the other day then you can give Ajax a good run. Now, let’s check your gear.” Gaius ran his hands over Arthur’s light defences – a shoulder guard, a leg guard and an arm guard, nodding as he did so.
“One more thing Arthur. Ajax is a good fighter but he has a nasty temper. Just remember this is a sparring bout and don’t end up starting a war. Ajax is fighting for real in the arena tomorrow for the first time. He needs practice today but I don’t want him getting injured, do you understand?”
Arthur nodded, curling his fingers more tightly around his net and trident. As a retiarius these were his only weapons save for the dagger in his belt and as the lanista led him out into the arena he couldn’t help feeling that he was the only one who was going to come out of this bout injured. If what Gaius had implied about Ajax’s last sparring partner was correct then he’d be lucky to get out alive, let alone unscathed.
“Wait here,” said Gaius. Arthur looked around the now very familiar training arena. Three of the four sides of the compound were lined with long rows of cells so that the arena was the first thing every gladiator saw when he woke up in the morning. The smooth, dusty compound walls were about twice the height of a man – high enough that you couldn’t climb over them in any case. Several older gladiators stood watching in the early morning sun. One of them nodded at Arthur and smiled. Marcus! Arthur realised with a start. Maybe this was his chance to make contact. The thought had gone before he even registered it. Across the compound a door opened, and through it Arthur caught sight of the gladiator he was about to fight.
He gulped. If Ajax was fifteen then he was a monster. He was massive, even next to the huge, curved, rectangular shield he carried. A smooth bronze helmet covered his whole head and face, the gleaming metal broken by two small eye-holes through which Arthur could see only darkness staring back at him. He looked like some sort of demonic warrior from a nightmare and Arthur shuddered, suddenly very aware of the air on his unprotected face as Ajax swung his heavy sword through the air again and again in huge circles.
“Now boys,” Gaius instructed. “You’re only sparring but I want a proper fight all the same. Until I say stop you keep fighting and you fight to win. The instant I say stop you stop. Any repeat of last time Ajax and I’ll have you whipped. Do I make myself clear? Now…” the lanista broke off and turned as he heard footfalls behind him. “Lucius sir. This is an unexpected honour.”
Arthur tried hard not to stare at the man Finn had spoken of with so much loathing the previous night.
“Carry on!” said Lucius as he flicked his hands at the boys. “Final preparations for the bouts taking place today and tomorrow eh Gaius? I thought I would come and inspect my gladiators before our moment of glory arrives. I see Marcus is looking well. Come here man.”
Marcus walked obediently forward and Lucius placed a hand on the gladiator’s arm. Arthur got the impression that Marcus was gritting his teeth.
“You will do me proud this afternoon eh Marcus? A fine specimen like you – it is on days such as these that a gladiator repays his master in glory.” Lucius said with a simpering smile on his face.
“I am here to serve, master,” Marcus replied stiffly, staring straight ahead.
“Quite so,” said Lucius. “You are all here to serve me, and the citizens of Rome. And where is our latest recruit Gaius? The boy?” Arthur groaned inside as Gaius guided Lucius in his direction.
“My dear Gaius,” Lucius snorted, squeezing Arthur’s arm. “He really is just a boy isn’t he?”
“He can fight, sir.”
“Well,” said Lucius, looking long and hard at Arthur. “I’ll have to take your word. Let us hope that no significant harm befalls him eh? I see that Ajax is looking primed and ready as ever. What a find he was. Mark my words Gaius, Ajax has a glorious future ahead of him and it begins in the arena tomorrow. He will become one of the greats, I am sure of it. Well let us see the action then – on with the fight!” Lucius clapped his hands together and with a whirl of his toga positioned
himself a safe distance away from the boys.
“Very well sir. Ajax, Arthur, the fight begins and ends at my command. Is that understood?” Arthur nodded. Ajax, still staring at Arthur through his helmet, crouched slightly and raised his sword arm, ready to strike.
Arthur tested the weight of the net in his hand. He had spent hours with Gaius learning how to cast the net at an opponent to ensnare them, but now that he faced a fully armed gladiator for the first time it felt like a feeble weapon. The trident in his other hand was more reassuring, its length meaning that he should be able to keep Ajax at a safe distance.
Slowly, Ajax began to advance and Arthur felt the familiar rush of blood and adrenalin that always came over him when he was fighting – which was far too often these days. His opponent was far better protected than he was thanks to the shield and helmet, but they looked heavy. Arthur, could move about freely and lightly. In a proper bout, Gaius had said, a retiarius might try to win by making the secutor chase after him for a long time, draining the heavily laden secutor’s energy. But the training arena was not big enough for that.
Ajax was a couple of metres away now, just out of reach of Arthur’s trident. Arthur sprang into action, taking a step forward and jabbing with the trident, which clattered into Ajax’s shield and glanced off. Arthur’s momentum took him a step closer and he had to twist awkwardly away as Ajax thrust at him with his sword.
Heart pounding, Arthur retreated a few steps and once more Ajax began to advance. Arthur threw the net at Ajax’s head, then watched in horror as it slid off the smooth helmet and landed on the ground behind his enemy. One weapon lost, Arthur switched the trident to his right hand just as Ajax lunged forwards, holding his shield out before him like a battering ram and crashing into Arthur, who fell heavily to the floor, trapping the trident beneath his own weight.
Ajax towered over him, shield discarded and sword raised in a two handed grip ready to plunge it down. Arthur snatched at his one remaining weapon – the dagger in his belt.
“Enough!” Gaius called, but Ajax paid no heed.
He’s going to do it! thought Arthur, panic coursing through his body, and sure enough the sword began to fall. Arthur slashed out with the dagger in the direction of Ajax’s feet and felt the blade jar against something hard as his opponent howled in pain, dropping his sword and falling to the floor.
“I said enough!” Gaius roared.
Arthur sprang to his feet and retreated away from Ajax as the lanista rushed over to inspect the fallen gladiator.
“Is he injured?” Lucius whined. “Can he still fight tomorrow?”
“I fear not, sir.” Gaius shook his head grimly as Ajax writhed around on the floor.
“But we have promised a fight between two young gladiators!” Lucius shouted, his temper flaring. “Am I to look a fool before all of Rome? You boy!” he spat, turning to Arthur. “You are responsible for this outrage so you will fight in his place.”
“He is not ready sir,” Gaius cautioned.
“Do not question me Gaius! I have made my decision. The boy stabs my finest young gladiator in the foot. He thinks he can fight so tomorrow he fights before all of Rome. The idiot has cost me dearly and he must clear the debt with a great fight tomorrow or else pay the debt with his life.”
Arthur felt the blood draining from his head as the words sunk in and the adrenalin dispersed. This was getting wildly out of control. The training arena had been terrifying enough, but fighting at the centre of the amphitheatre in the real arena – and in front of the Roman public? Arthur shivered.
“Steady, boy.” Marcus had strolled over to stand beside Arthur and now he called over to Gaius. “Shall I take the boy away while you tend to Ajax, master?” Gaius grunted his assent as a furious Lucius turned and swept across the arena towards the main gates.
“Come with me,” said Marcus quietly, and he steered Arthur away from his injured foe and back to his cell.
“You’re a smart fighter,” said Marcus as Arthur collapsed, shaking, onto his mattress. “For a boy, that is. But they are not right to put you into the arena. You were right to strike at Ajax’s feet – he would have killed you – anyone could see that. Lucius is a viper. He has no sense of honour.”
“I know how to fight,” said Arthur, looking up from his bed and trying to pull himself together enough to seize this opportunity with Marcus. “Not just fighting for sport like this either. Fighting for something real. Fighting for freedom.”
“Careful, boy. You can say that to me but if anyone else hears it you could pay with your life. Ever since Spartacus those in charge have been very nervous about gladiators and the idea of freedom.”
Arthur knew this might be his only opportunity and carried on, “I’ve met a lot of warriors you know. That’s how I know how to fight. But the best I ever met was a man who fought alongside Spartacus. He died in the end, but what a hero. What a way to die. Fighting to be free instead of doing your master’s bidding like a dog. Haven’t you ever wanted to do that?”
Marcus gave Arthur a long stare, and nodded. “You remind me of my brother,” he said sadly. “There is truth in what you say, but for now you have something else to worry about – surviving in the arena…”
GLADIATOR TYPES
To make the fights more interesting gladiators were trained up to be a certain type of fighter who would wear specific types of armour and use specific weapons. This meant that the organisers could pair types of gladiator together knowing that they were evenly matched. There were loads of gladiator types, but here are three different types:
EQUITE
An equite was a gladiator who rode a horse in the arena, based on a mounted Roman cavalryman. He wore a round helmet with a metal grill across his face, a spear that could be used as a lance or to throw, a short sword and a small round shield. Equites only ever fought other equites in the arena.
RETIARIUS
The easiest gladiator to recognise, the retiarius wore very little armour and no helmet or shield. On the plus side this meant he could run faster. He carried a long trident in one hand and a net in the other, with a dagger in his belt. The trident was used for jabbing, and occasionally throwing, while the net was used either to tangle his opponent or snatch his weapon away.
SECUTOR
A secutor only ever fought in the arena with a retiarius. He had a smooth helmet with two eye-holes that was unlikely to get snagged in a net but which restricted his view terribly. Otherwise he carried a large, curved shield and a sword.
CHAPTER 6
Finn stopped, mouth open in awe as a noisy crowd pushed past him in the hot afternoon sun. The vast amphitheatre towered above him, a huge monument to Rome’s power, and to fighting. The Professor had told Finn that the Flavian Amphitheatre, or Colosseum, was built for gladiatorial combat but standing before it now Finn could hardly believe his eyes – it looked more like a huge, round palace than a building dedicated to sport. The idea that this vast, beautiful building at the centre of the city was purpose-built for the citizens of Rome to watch people kill one another was both sickening and strangely exciting.
Wresting his eyes down to street level again, Finn could see Titus and his associates making their way through one of the entrances. Quickly Finn darted after them. They had agreed that he would enter the amphitheatre alone so that as few people as possible saw them together. He dashed over to the entrance, waving the ticket that Titus had given him at a harassed looking attendant, then jostled through a narrow passage, hopping up and down to keep Titus in view over the heads of the crowd in front of him.
Remembering Titus’ directions, he climbed the steps of the amphitheatre to the third tier. Titus had no gladiators fighting in the games that day and so would be allocated seats high up, further away from the action than Lucius. He climbed the steps until he found the row that his ticket indicated and then walked along it, eyes down, hood up, until he reached his numbered seat. He resolved not to look at Titus, nor look for Lucius, nor even look a
t the people sitting either side of him for the first few minutes, hoping that any curiosity people felt would disappear as soon as the spectacle began.
Finn had been expecting a bloodthirsty atmosphere but everything seemed very cheerful. Musicians at the edge of the arena were playing a catchy, up-beat tune that carried loudly around the amphitheatre and the whole mood was festive. People around Finn chatted and joked, sharing out snacks and talking about the executions they had witnessed earlier as well as the scheduled fights for that afternoon. He heard Marcus mentioned more than once, though still had no idea when he would be fighting.
As he waited, Finn went over the plan that he and Titus had agreed the previous night. Finn had to find a way of appearing to pour the poison into something Titus would then consume. Titus would then give Finn five minutes to exit the amphitheatre before collapsing and being carried off by his companions, shouting that he had been poisoned. Finn would head back to Lucius’ villa and wait for him there to make sure that the show had been noticed.
Dangerous though the scheme was, Finn was reasonably confident that this part of it would go smoothly. It was the next phase that really worried him. The poison Lucius had provided was supposed to kill very quickly and Titus would need to appear dead by the time he got home. But Titus was not willing to continue the pretence for long and had told Finn that he had twenty-four hours to dispose of Lucius one way or another. It was at this point in the plan that Finn’s nerves hit a wall. Was he really willing to kill Lucius? Could he poison someone, even a man who deserved it? As he had done many times since the plan had been hatched, Finn turned away from the problem. He would just have to see what opportunities arose once he was back at Lucius’ villa.
A roar from the crowd interrupted his anxious thoughts and he looked down at the arena to see the last thing he had expected. A man dressed in a chicken costume was parading around the arena, waving at the crowd! Wrapped up in an assassination plot at the centre of ancient Rome, waiting for the gladiator games to begin, Finn was caught completely off guard by this oddly familiar sight. I could be at a football match, he thought to himself, chuckling as someone in a wolf costume bounded into the arena and started chasing the chicken, accompanied by music and roars of laughter from the crowd. The pantomime continued for a few minutes before the wolf caught the chicken and dragged it back down one of the tunnels that led away from the arena.
The Gladiator's Victory Page 3
