by Ben Kane
'Stay there, you bastard,' growled Romulus before tearing off to help Petronius. As he ran, he could hear the angry shouts of the other guards and the shocked cries of the spectators. Arrows and spears would be loosed at him any instant, but he couldn't think about that. What was happening before his eyes was far worse than that. Romulus cursed himself that he had not run faster. The rhino had already struck Petronius a glancing blow. Although his friend was still running, he was listing to one side and clutching his ribs. His free hand clutched his only weapon, the useless arrow. The damn beast was right behind him too.
Romulus gauged the distance between them. Thirty paces at least.
If he threw the spear now, it had little chance of even hurting the rhino.
If he didn't, Petronius was a dead man.
Romulus slowed down, and closed his left eye. Taking aim at the armoured beast's shoulder, he hurled the spear forward in a powerful curving trajectory. As he did, his gaze locked with that of Petronius. The veteran gave him the tiniest of smiles. It spoke a thousand emotions. Pride that Romulus' attempt had been successful. Respect for his courage and ability. And the love that comrades bear each other.
The spear came down at speed, striking the rhino squarely between the shoulder blades. It glanced off its thick hide.
'No!' Romulus screamed.
The creature's front horn hit Petronius in the middle of his back, lifting him high in the air. Punching through his abdomen with ease, it emerged red-tipped from just under his sternum. A great cry of agony left Petronius' lips. Spitted like a wild boar on a spear, he struggled to free himself as the rhino shook him effortlessly from side to side.
Cheers of excitement rose from the crowd. Mingled with these were shouted commands.
Overcome by grief, Romulus paused. He was dimly aware that no one had shot him down yet, but he did not know why.
Blood dribbled from Petronius' lips as the rhino dropped its head and let him fall. It moved back a step, preparing to smash him into a pulp. Then it saw Romulus. Pawing the ground with a huge foot, it bellowed with anger. Here was another troublesome human to kill. Ignoring Petronius, it began to move towards Romulus.
That's it, he thought, looking at the spear, which was lying on the sand behind the rhino. My effort was wasted, and I'm a goner.
Somehow Petronius dragged himself partially upright. Along with the blood which was streaming from the gaping hole in his belly, there were loops of torn intestine and faeces visible. 'You ugly brute,' he shouted, ashen-faced. 'Come back.'
As Petronius had intended, the rhino's attention was drawn from Romulus. Grunting, it turned around.
Romulus came alive again. Even as he died, Petronius was trying to buy him time. He could not waste that. As the rhino smashed its head down on his friend's already broken body, he darted around the bloody sight to the spear. The long wooden shaft felt hot in his hand as he swept it up. It was a heavy hunting weapon with a leaf-shaped iron blade, suitable for killing boar or lion. Romulus had no idea whether it could do the same to the mighty creature which had killed Petronius. For that was surely what had happened. The rhino had now struck his comrade several times with immense force. He'd heard a muffled cry after the first impact, but nothing since.
Something made Romulus look up at the nearest spectators. Without realising, he had moved to stand just below the dignitaries' box. Not twenty steps away was Julius Caesar, his face alive with interest. Romulus glanced at the closest guards, who had their weapons raised and ready. Remarkably, they were not aiming at him. I am being allowed to fight on, he realised with a thrill. Turning his gaze back to the rhino, Romulus winced. It had finished with Petronius' corpse, which was now nothing more than a misshapen bundle of bloody rags. It hadn't seen him. Not moving a muscle, he waited to see what it would do.
Snorting through its broad nostrils, the beast walked away from Romulus.
Its eyesight really is poor, he thought with a flush of excitement. It gave him the tiniest window of hope. Now I might have a chance of striking a lucky blow. But where? Before he'd moved a step, Romulus despaired. The rhino's hide was thicker than the chain mail worn by legionaries. Stabbing it in the hind quarters or even its belly would not kill, or even wound it badly enough to stop it goring or trampling him. Its massive bony head was invulnerable, and the great muscles of its neck afforded no weakness either. Its heart, he thought. Somehow I have to reach that.
The rhino was now about twenty paces away, and impatient members of the crowd were throwing things at it to make it turn around. All this did was to anger the creature even more, and it trotted towards the far side of the enclosure.
Romulus took a step towards it, and another. Each one he took made it easier to continue, but then he had to pass by Petronius' mangled remains. Romulus couldn't help himself. He looked down, and revulsion filled him. His friend's features were barely recognisable amid the blood and broken bones of his skull. Fury bubbled up in Romulus that a trusted comrade had died like this. It was so unjust. The least he could do was to make a good attempt at killing the rhino. With renewed determination, he gripped the spear with both hands. Instead of advancing, he retreated towards the timber planking of the enclosure's edge. A truly desperate idea was germinating in his mind.
Catcalls and jeers erupted from the watching citizens.
They died away when Romulus shouted at the rhino. 'Come on,' he yelled. 'Here I am.'
Despite the clamour, the creature heard his cry. Spinning more gracefully than he could have imagined, it raised its head and bugled a challenge. Its front horn was red and sticky all the way down to its base. That's Petronius' blood, thought Romulus with a tremor of fear. Warm wood touched his back and he stopped. Mine will soon join it — but maybe not, if the gods are willing. Either way, this is the end of the line. He was glad that it would be over quickly. This level of dread was hard to live with. Planting his feet wide, Romulus watched as the rhino gave more indications that it was about to charge. Pawing the sand, it flattened its wide ears and snorted. Its head went up and down a few times, and then it came for him. Picking up pace, it quickly reached the speed of a galloping horse.
Shouts and cheers rose from the spectators, who were at last getting what they wanted. Their jaded palates had been tickled by the bizarre-looking rhino, but all the running about was boring. Soon this idiot would be crushed against the wall, and then the gladiator fights — the real entertainment — could begin.
Although it was utterly terrifying, Romulus stood his ground. Where could he run to anyway? At least now he was armed, and could give a good account of himself before he was sent to Elysium. His pulse was going like a trip hammer, and all he could think of was the people he had loved. His mother. Fabiola. Juba. Brennus. Tarquinius. And brave Petronius. His sister was the only one who was definitely alive, but he would still never see her again. Gods grant that Fabiola is well, and happy, thought Romulus. I will see her one day, in paradise. With that, he readied himself for the only move he could think of. He tossed the spear off to his right, making sure it landed straight, with its point towards him.
The audience responded with incredulous laughs. 'Too scared to use it now?' shouted one man.
The sand beneath Romulus' feet began to shake. The rhino loomed larger and larger in his vision. Every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to run, to hide, to jump out of the way. He thought his heart was going to leap out of his chest, but somehow Romulus managed to keep his feet right where they were. If he moved prematurely, the rhino would turn and catch him. If he left it a heartbeat too late, it would smash every bone in his body against the wall behind.
His entire world had shrunk to a tunnel directly in front of him.
It was filled with the angry rhino.
Romulus thought his muscles would remain frozen when the time came to move. Great Mithras, give me courage, he pleaded. An image of Brennus standing alone against the elephant flashed before his eyes. Then one of Petronius, buying him time. Romulus gri
maced. That was enough. There was time for a last deep breath before the armoured beast hit him and ended this charade for ever.
He took it.
With the rhino no more than three steps away, he hurled himself to one side.
There was an almighty crash as the creature collided with the heavy timber planks, breaking some and cracking others. Its momentum was such that its horns and the front half of its head drove through to the other side, trapping it. Flying splinters covered Romulus' back as he landed face first in the sand. Fortunately he'd closed his eyes, so the yellow grains only filled his mouth. Above and behind him, he heard the furious rhino thrashing to free itself from the wooden prison around its massive neck. Angry bellows echoed through the planking as it pushed and pulled. Ominous creaking sounds told Romulus that he didn't have long.
Desperate, he got to his knees and faced his foe. He was so close that he could have reached out and touched its armoured brown hide. A kicking hind leg nearly brained Romulus as his right hand reached out, searching in the sand for the spear. Where was the damn thing? He began to panic. The rhino's struggling was so dangerous that he couldn't afford to look down. When his fingers closed on the wooden shaft, he gasped out loud with relief. Lifting the spear, Romulus studied the great expanse of leathery skin before him. It was just possible to make out the ribs. From his hunting experiences, he knew the heart's position behind the left elbow. Yet the fore leg on this side was pawing about so much he couldn't get a clear thrust in.
A number of timbers broke at once and the rhino lurched backwards a step.
Romulus cursed. If he didn't act now, all his efforts would have been in vain. Trusting his skill, he shoved the spear into the rhino's side with all his might. He felt the blade grate off a rib, slow down momentarily and then slide deep inside the chest cavity. Romulus ran the shaft in to the length of his forearm and more, twisting it to make sure. The sharp blade had to do many things: slice apart lung tissue, cut large blood vessels and penetrate the heart. It had to do all of those to bring down this leviathan.
A deafening bellow left the rhino's throat, and it broke free of the planking. Staggering backwards, it coughed up a fist-sized ball of bloody froth. To Romulus' horror, its beady eyes fixed on him. They were still just a few paces apart. Good killing distance. I had my chance, thought Romulus, his hope turning to despair. I wasn't good enough.
The rhino took a step towards him, and then its front legs buckled and gave way. Its hindquarters followed suit, and it sank down with a groan. Torrents of pinkish fluid began to pour from its mouth, staining the sand. More was issuing from around the spear shaft, which was jutting from its chest. From the blood's bright red colour, Romulus knew that he'd hit a major artery. He didn't know how, but he'd delivered the rhino a mortal blow. Gratitude filled every pore of his being. Petronius had been honoured, and avenged. No doubt the archers would loose any moment, and end his life. But when he entered Elysium, Romulus knew that he could hold his head up high, even among heroes like Brennus and Petronius.
He came back to the present as the rhino kicked a few more times. A moment later, the great horned head slumped forward and lay still.
Silence covered the huge amphitheatre like a blanket.
Romulus glanced up at the stunned and shocked faces of the audience. No one could believe what he'd done. It was unthinkable that an unarmed man could survive a bout against a creature as fearsome as the rhinoceros.
A pair of hands began to clap. Slowly at first, but then the speed increased.
When the crowd saw who was applauding, they hastily joined in. Cheers and shouts of congratulation replaced the vitriol which had fallen on Romulus' ears only moments before. The hypocrisy of it was stupendous.
Romulus looked up, and saw that it was Julius Caesar himself who was leading the ovation. A great lump of pride filled his throat, and tears pricked his eyes. At least one person present could see his bravery. Somehow this recognition eased the pain of Petronius' death.
'Who is this man?' cried Caesar. 'Bring him to me at once!'
The master of ceremonies scurried over to a furious-looking Memor and whispered in his ear. The impotent rage twisting the lanista's face quickly disappeared and he set off down the nearest set of stairs. The thunderous applause continued, and Romulus took the opportunity to honour Petronius' body. He hadn't been afforded this luxury with Brennus, which made it all the more important. Turning his back on Caesar, Romulus crouched down and clasped the veteran's bloodied right hand in his. 'Thank you, comrade. I will ask that the proper rites are performed. That you have a decent grave,' he whispered. Unlike Brennus, whose body was probably picked over by birds of carrion. Tears ran down Romulus' cheeks as he gently closed Petronius' staring eyes. 'Go well.'
When he stood, there were four of Memor's men pointing spears at his chest. The lanista was just behind them. There was a grudging respect in all of their gazes, except for Memor, who looked like a snake deprived of its prey. Romulus didn't care. Greater people were now involved, and the lanista would no longer decide his fate. In a tight phalanx, the five forced him back under the seating, past the cages and outside again. They entered the spectators' part of the arena, a novel experience for Romulus. It was too much to take in. He was still reeling from the shock of Petronius' death and the enormity of what he'd done.
Emerging from the dark into bright sunlight again, Romulus squinted. He was now in the dignitaries' box, surrounded by legionaries, high-ranking officers and senators. In their eyes he saw a mixture of emotions: respect, amazement and fear; and, in a few, revulsion and jealousy. Awe filled his own heart as he was shoved forward to stand before Caesar. Although Romulus had seen the general numerous times when in the Twenty-Eighth, he'd never been this close. In late middle age, with thinning grey hair, prominent nose and high cheekbones, Caesar was nothing special to look at. Despite this, his self-confidence was obvious and there was a palpable aura of command about him. Instinctively Romulus bowed from the waist.
'Leave us,' Caesar ordered Memor's men. He jabbed a finger at the lanista's chest. 'You stay.'
Bowing and scraping, the guards vanished.
'I understand that this slave was to die as a noxius for illegally joining the legions?'
'Yes, sir.'
Caesar frowned. 'And the other?'
'His comrade, sir. Apparently the idiot tried to defend him when he was exposed.'
'Someone also tells me that you used to own this slave. Is that true?'
'Indeed, sir. I bought him as a boy. He was trained to be a secutor,' replied Memor in an unctuous tone. 'But he ran away more than eight years ago. Murdered a noble, you see.'
Caesar's gaze fell on Romulus. 'Two capital offences,' he said softly.
What have I to lose, thought Romulus. 'I didn't kill the nobleman, sir,' he protested.
'He would say that, sir,' Memor interjected.
'Keep quiet,' snapped Caesar, his dislike of the lanista obvious. 'If you didn't, who did?' he asked Romulus.
'My friend, sir.'
'Him down there?'
'No, sir. Another man — an Etruscan.'
'Where is he?'
'I don't know, sir,' Romulus answered truthfully. 'He disappeared in Alexandria after being wounded by an Egyptian sling stone.' Responding to Caesar's surprised look, he explained. 'We were both forced to join the Twenty-Eighth.'
Caesar seemed amused. 'You had no choice in the matter?'
'No, sir.'
'Innocent of all crimes, eh?' Caesar tapped a fingernail against his teeth. 'That's what everyone says.'
His legionaries tittered.
'I am guilty of one charge, sir,' Romulus butted in. He would pretend no longer.
'Which is?'
'When my friend and I ran from the ludus, we joined a mercenary cohort in Crassus' army. Told them we were Gaulish tribesmen.'
'This story gets taller and taller,' scoffed Caesar. He glanced at Memor and saw him trying to conceal his reaction. His expression
grew fierce. 'Speak!'
'I heard that rumour, sir,' the lanista admitted reluctantly. 'After the news of Carrhae, I never thought to see the whoreson again.'
'There are few whoresons who can kill a rhinoceros single-handed,' mused Caesar. 'So you and the other prisoners were taken to Margiana?'
'Yes, sir. Fifteen hundred miles from Seleucia, to the ends of the earth,' said Romulus, staring into the general's eyes. 'The Forgotten Legion, we called ourselves.'
There was a small smile of acknowledgement. 'Yet you escaped. That was well done. Did you have companions?'
'One, sir. The same man who killed the nobleman,' answered Romulus, starting to prune his story. There was no point stretching Caesar's tolerance too far. 'We reached Barbaricum and found passage to Egypt, but our ship was wrecked on the Ethiopian coast. Luckily we survived, and the gods continued to show us favour. A bestiarius took us on, and we travelled with him to Alexandria.'
'Where you joined the Twenty-Eighth.'
Romulus nodded.
'I've heard many tall stories, but this is the best yet,' Caesar cried.
More hoots of amusement rang out from his followers, and Romulus realised that his fate was still most uncertain. Caesar's next move was therefore most unexpected.
'Longinus!' the general called. 'Where are you?'
A grizzled officer in an ill-fitting toga stood up. 'Sir?'
'Ask this slave about Carrhae. Questions that no one else but a veteran of the battle could answer.'
Longinus glared, his whole stance showing that he didn't believe Romulus' story. 'How did Crassus' son die?' he demanded.
'Publius led a combined charge of cavalry and mercenaries against the Parthians, sir,' replied Romulus at once. 'The enemy pretended to flee, but then they swept around his forces and slaughtered nearly every man. Only twenty mercenaries were allowed to return. Then the bastards cut off his head, and paraded it in front of the whole army.'
