The music stopped and after a drum roll an official began to call out an announcement, but as Finn’s eyes sought the caller out they came to rest on something that brought the reality of his situation back into focus. Staring straight back at him from several rows down was the man he knew he would have to kill. Lucius held his gaze for a few moments, then turned and sat down. There had been something knowing in Lucius’ stare and Finn bit his lip anxiously. Lucius couldn’t know that Finn and Titus were planning to turn the tables on him, could he?
Suddenly Finn jumped as a loud bang was followed by the clattering of hooves, and two gladiators on horseback cantered into the arena. Both were armed with long spears and small shields, with swords in their belts.
“Our entertainment today begins with a duel between two equites and for your entertainment their owner Lucius has stated that they may fight to the death,” the caller announced to gasps from the crowd. “On the white horse, making his first appearance in the Flavian Amphitheatre, Achilles!” The crowd cheered and clapped as Achilles, dressed in a white tunic to match his white horse, cantered around the edge of the arena with his spear held aloft.
“And on the black horse, needing no introduction to the people of this city, victorious in every bout he has fought, famed across the empire and here today to fight gloriously once again for the citizens of Rome…” the caller drew breath and threw back his head, “Marcus!” The crowd screamed their approval as Finn got his first look at the man he was here to help, albeit behind a helmet. Marcus trotted slowly around the arena, his calm bearing as menacing as his black horse and tunic.
Finn had expected to find the games disturbing, but as the thousands of people in the amphitheatre rose to their feet and began chanting Marcus’ name Finn found himself on his feet as well, completely caught up with everyone else in anticipation of the fight to come. Arthur would love this, thought Finn, wondering what it must be like to have a stadium full of people chanting your name before you begin mortal combat with another warrior. If a gladiator was a champion like this Finn could see why he might not want to escape. Yet Marcus did not appear to revel in the attention. He seemed calm, still and centred, in stark contrast to Achilles who was twisting around in his saddle, tensing and re-tensing his muscles as if fighting something already.
“Gladiators, to the tunnels!” came the call. The two men rode off in opposite directions and disappeared out of the arena into two different tunnels, heavy doors closing behind them. A slow, heavy drumbeat began and the crowd fell quiet. The drums grew louder and louder, the sound booming fiercely around the arena until Finn could feel it pounding in his chest. His pulse quickened. The crowd stared down expectantly. The doors snapped open again, the crowd bellowed and the riders galloped out of the tunnels towards one another, covering the distance to the middle of the arena in a flash with arms bent and spears held at shoulder height. Both thrust forward as they came together and both parried with their shields, clattering off one another and slowing as they reached the opposite sides of the arena again. They circled clockwise and the noise from the crowd dipped a little, then rose again as Achilles made the first move and began his charge. Marcus responded immediately and again the riders tore across the arena to crash spears against shields and again neither rider fell.
Again and again they charged, each time to a roaring crescendo from the crowd until at last Marcus caught Achilles with a glancing blow to the shield arm, drawing blood from his opponent and frenzied shouts of encouragement from the crowd. Achilles was knocked back in his saddle but stayed on his horse and wheeled around immediately to face Marcus again.
This time Marcus charged and Achilles waited for him. Sensing a climax the crowd cheered Marcus forward, but Achilles had a surprise in store. When Marcus was still ten metres away Achilles threw his spear. The black horse reared up as the spear sailed past its nose. Twisting out of the spear’s path, Marcus fell heavily onto the sand of the arena. Achilles leapt off his horse as Marcus staggered to his feet, casting his spear to one side. Both men drew their swords and rushed to clash again, this time on foot.
The blades flashed in the fierce sunlight and as they met each blow rang out around the arena, drawing gasps and cheers and groans from the audience. Achilles, who was apparently unknown to the crowd, was swiftly earning their respect as he matched Marcus blow for blow. It was a frenzied duel, neither man giving or taking any chance to slow the tempo and Finn felt sure that it must end soon. It suddenly occurred to him that if Marcus were killed he and Arthur would have failed in their mission to help his ghost – something that had never happened before in all their adventures. What would happen then? Would they be stuck in Rome forever?
But he need not have worried. The wound in Achilles’ arm was beginning to take its toll on the gladiator and Marcus began to beat him back towards the edge of the arena. Moments later Achilles was down on one knee, fending off overhead blows until his sword was smashed from his grip by a particularly savage strike. He lifted one arm in the air with forefinger extended to signify his surrender and the crowd went wild.
It dawned on Finn that this would be a good moment to make his move, while the crowd were so pumped up. He scurried along the row of seats to his left in the direction that he knew Titus was sitting.
“The victory belongs to Marcus,” cried the announcer, as Finn caught sight of his conspirator.
“And what of Achilles?” the announcer went on. The crowd cheered and called Achilles’ name, clearly impressed by the strength he had shown.
“Will he live or will he die?” Down on the floor of the arena Finn saw Marcus standing over Achilles, sword still raised.
“Live! Live! Live!” chanted the crowd as Finn brushed past the last few people separating him from Titus.
“The people have spoken. Achilles lives! ” A great cheer went up and at that moment Finn bumped heavily into Titus and reached a hand out as if to steady himself, grabbing Titus’ wrist just above a cup that he was holding.
“Get away!” Titus shouted, pushing him roughly back in the direction he had come from. Finn did as he was told, retreating back towards his seat. He glanced down at Lucius and met his stare once more. Titus was shouting obscenities after him and, though he could not be sure, Finn thought he saw a smile flicker across Lucius’ face.
A DAY AT THE GAMES
Games at the arena were advertised on billboards around the city, and programmes were sold announcing the schedule for the day, which usually went something like this:
•Bestiari – gladiators vs wild animals
•Executions of criminals or duels between prisoners of war
•Bouts between gladiators
The games were a way for the wealthy and powerful to show their generosity towards the public and keep them on their side, so they were almost always free to attend. The day would often begin with some pantomime and music, and the crowd would often be given treats to eat.
THE BIG STAGE
The arenas were sandpits about the size of football pitches, surrounded by rising circular rows of seats, just like sports stadiums today. The most famous was the Flavian Amphitheatre, or Colosseum as we know it today. This huge building in the centre of Rome could hold over 50,000 people and was purpose built for gladiator games.
CHAPTER 7
The nervous excitement Finn felt at having pulled off the first part of the plan wore off the further he got from the amphitheatre, and as he approached Lucius’ villa, the question he had been avoiding rose again in his mind. Could he really poison someone? It was one thing defending yourself against an attacker in the heat of battle, but quite another to plan a cold-blooded, secretive assassination. That felt more like, well, murder.
On the other hand Lucius had more or less threatened to kill both him and Arthur, and it was hard to see Marcus suddenly deciding that he wanted to escape unless something dramatic happened. Also Finn was worried about Arthur. He knew that deep down his brother was loving pretending to be a gladiato
r, but the more time he spent in Gaius’ school, the more likely it was he would be seriously hurt, regardless of Lucius.
As Finn arrived at the villa he still did not know what he was going to do beyond telling Lucius that Titus was poisoned. He walked over to the small side door he and Gaius had used the previous evening and one of the guards accompanied him into the courtyard, calling out so that the silent slave appeared. The slave motioned for Finn to follow him into the house and then into the same room in which he had first met Lucius. Finn sat down on a bench and waited, staring with loathing at a bust of Lucius that decorated a small alcove.
It wasn’t long before another disturbing idea presented itself. If Lucius did believe that Titus was now poisoned then what use was Finn to him? In fact, wasn’t it in Lucius’ interests to get rid of Finn altogether – destroying the evidence? Just at that moment the door to the room swung open and Finn held his breath, before sighing with relief when Lucilla walked in.
“What happened?” She asked in barely more than a whisper as she made her way quickly over to where he was sitting.
Finn, grateful to have one person he could confide in, told her the whole story of his instructions to poison Titus and of the plot to fool Lucius into believing this had happened. The girl listened carefully, and when he had finished she thought for a while.
“So Titus was willing to help as long as you… dispose of Lucius quickly?”
“That’s how he put it, yes, but what am I going to do?” said Finn miserably. “The only plan that makes sense is to kill him and I don’t know if I can do it.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth Finn regretted them. How could he have been so stupid as to say that in this place, and to Lucilla?
“Give me the poison,” said Lucilla, her face drawn. “I will do it.” Finn couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I hate him and I want revenge,” she hissed. “And if he lives then I will have to stay here with him – from what you’ve told me I now know that the marriage to Titus was obviously never going to happen.”
“It’s too dangerous,” said Finn, his brow creased.
“Finn, you have played your part. Now give me the poison and get back to your brother. What do you think my uncle’s plans will be for you now that he thinks you’ve done his dirty work? He’s ruthless Finn, he kills anyone who is a threat…”
Finn knew she was right but it felt very strange as he pulled the bottle from around his neck and handed it over…
* * *
When Gaius brought Marcus back to the school at the end of the day Arthur was relieved to learn that the gladiator had won his bout. Arthur had been practising with his net and trident on and off for most of the day. He fervently hoped that somehow Lucius would change his mind about sending Arthur into the arena for the bout that Ajax had been scheduled to fight the following day at the games, but he had seen and heard enough of the cruel senator by then to know that this was unlikely. By his own reckoning there were only two ways he was going to escape fighting, and probably dying, in the arena. If Titus and Finn’s plot had worked then there was a slim chance that Lucius would be dead by now. Otherwise the only realistic chance he had was to appeal to Marcus’ sense of honour, and to his belief that it was unfair to make an untrained boy fight in the arena, and persuade him to escape Rome tonight.
All the trainees and gladiators in the school were summoned to the training arena to hear Gaius announce the day’s winners and losers. There were cheers for the victors but little emotion spared for those who had died. Arthur got the sense that nobody wanted to think about the reality of gladiators dying in the arena, even though it was something that must have haunted all of them constantly. After the formality of these announcements, the men were told to wash and prepare themselves for a feast that Lucius would be providing. Arthur dashed across to Marcus before he could disappear, thinking quickly.
“Congratulations!” he said. “You won!”
“I always do,” was the simple reply. “I thought of you today Arthur and there is something I want to show you. Go and wait in your cell and I will be there soon.”
Arthur fizzed with energy. This was his first real chance to talk with Marcus of escape. His excitement mounted still further when he found Finn back at the cell. In hoarse whispers they filled each other in on the day’s events. Arthur’s eyes widened at the news that Lucilla was planning to kill her uncle, and Finn’s jaw tightened when he heard that Lucius intended to make Arthur fight in the amphitheatre. Finn quickly agreed that they must somehow persuade Marcus to escape with them that night, and when the gladiator stooped to enter the cell they were primed and ready.
Arthur introduced his brother, and Finn explained that he had been in the amphitheatre and had seen Marcus fight.
“I heard that you two were brothers,” said Marcus. “But I thought it strange that we never saw you training. Why has Gaius brought you here if not to fight? They are usually happy enough to separate families.”
The brothers looked at one another nervously, not sure how much to divulge, until Finn shrugged.
“I have chosen to be honest with two people already and they have helped me,” he began, and keeping his voice low Finn told his story again. Marcus listened intently, his brow furrowing when Finn told him that Lucius had adopted Lucilla after murdering her parents, and further still at the news that Lucius wanted to use Finn as an assassin.
For a long time after Finn had finished Marcus said nothing, and the boys began to worry that they had misjudged the situation and made a mistake in being so open.
“Let us hope that the girl succeeds in ridding us of this sick animal,” said Marcus eventually. “The world will be a better place without him. What sort of man sends boys to kill his rivals? What sort of man kills a child’s parents and then tries to become their father? And what sort of man sends an untrained youth into the arena to fight with gladiators? He has no honour, and nor do thousands of others like him in Rome. My brother was right…” he paused and put a hand to his chest. Something hung there from a cord around his neck and he pulled it over his head. In his open palm the boys saw a tiny wooden carving of a warrior on horseback.
“I too had a brother once,” he went on slowly. “He was some years younger than me when we were sold into slavery. I was fully grown and a lanista spotted me and bought me to train as a gladiator. By luck I was able to persuade him that my brother was also destined to be a fighter and he took a chance and bought my brother too, although he was not much older than you Arthur. The first day that I fought in the arena my brother gave me this carving for luck, and I have never lost. There is something very special between brothers who really believe in each other.” He paused and looked up at the ceiling.
“I was always the better fighter, but he had the bigger heart. When news reached us of Spartacus my brother saw something that I did not. He saw a chance to live as a free man. But I saw only certain death. We argued and argued and eventually I made him swear that he would not join Spartacus. He swore, but I could see in his eyes that it went against everything in his spirit. I woke one morning to find him gone. Years later I learned that he had become one of Spartacus’ most trusted soldiers. I knew then that he must be dead and ever since that day I have cursed myself for not knowing him better. I should never have made him swear to stay. It should have been the other way around – I should have been encouraging him to reclaim his freedom. Perhaps I should have even gone with him… And now I learn that the man who claims to own me is even more of a monster than I thought.”
“Marcus,” said Finn gently. “Your life isn’t over you know. You can’t bring your brother back but you can stand up to Lucius. You can help us stop him. And you can follow your brother in spirit by escaping with us and living as a free man somewhere. We have to escape – Arthur is not ready to fight in the arena and I… I am as good as dead if Lucius lives.”
Marcus stared at Finn, his eyes burning.
“Come with us and honour your brother,” Finn went on.
“Come with us and help two brothers escape and survive together.”
There was fire in Marcus’ eyes as he opened his mouth to reply, but the words died on his lips as the door to the boys’ room opened and Gaius entered, followed by a thinly smiling Lucius and an ashen-faced Lucilla.
CHAPTER 8
Marcus and the boys jumped to their feet immediately.
“Excellent, excellent,” Lucius drawled. “I thought I should congratulate Marcus personally before the feast. I confess I am surprised to find you here Marcus. These boys are far beneath the standing of a champion like you, surely! But no matter,” he went on, clearly not expecting a reply. “I have something to discuss with the boys also.” His eyes narrowed as he said this, and Lucilla’s face behind him screamed a silent warning at Finn.
“Finn, you were there to witness Marcus win yet another bout in the arena. He was magnificent, was he not? Of course you will also have the pleasure of watching your brother in combat tomorrow before the citizens of Rome. Although one does not sense that his chances of victory are high.”
“But I did as you…“
“Silence!” Lucius hissed, and behind him Lucilla shook her head frantically. “Your brother has a debt to pay. He injured Ajax, one of my finest, and the young brute may never fight again for all we know. The boy has to pay.”
The Gladiator's Victory Page 4
