Lathyrus smiled. He realised this was why he had not been permitted to stay in Utica. Cassian had wanted both him and his vessel as far away as possible from the port. For a net had been thrown over the majority of the pirate vessels of the region. The Roman Navy would soon close that net and Lathyrus doubted many would escape to plunder the trade lanes again.
‘Why, we go to the cove. I need wine!’ Lathyrus boomed with laughter. The thought of operating in these waters with no competitors excited him, he could almost see the coin in front of him. He then offered a silent prayer to the Gods. He hoped that Cassian had made a big enough splash, that all eyes had turned inwards and not out to sea. For otherwise, if seen by the wrong pair of eyes, news would reach Dido and he would surely work out the betrayal. Cassian's fate would then be sealed.
Chapter 18
Dido sat in his lavish quarters, everything about the man shouted arrogance. Slaves pampered and pandered to his every whim. Before him there were a selection of oiled, beautiful people selected by his own hand. All were naked, totally exposed to the lecherous tendencies of the man. He stroked the face of a nearby slave, in this a case a young man who had quickly learned to hide his revulsion at his master.
A fat, bloated man entered the room, his discomfort at the heat outside evident. Sweat poured from him, like water from a leaking aqueduct. He was flustered and could not understand the relaxed state of Dido.
‘What troubles you, Yaroah?’ Dido asked. He loathed the man but he had proved useful despite the foul stench of sweat which seemed to accompany him, no matter the heat of the day.
‘What are we to do? I don't understand why we just don't arrange for this Cassian to meet with an untimely end,’ he said, almost pleading with Dido to give the order.
‘You are unduly concerned. The chances of this man being victorious are virtually none.’ Dido spoke with not a trace of concern, confident the young Roman would never survive the arena.
‘But that's what I mean – virtually none, so there is a chance!’ It was not a question but a statement from Yaroah.
‘You never understand the game do you?’ Dido said and then continued, ‘I cannot have him killed, that is why he made such a public show. On the contrary I must look after the man and those who serve him all the time they are not in the arena.’
‘But why?’ Yaroah questioned, completely lost in Dido's reasoning.
‘The reason we have all become rich beyond our dreams is because of how the populace out there perceive the games. Gladiators from all over the world take part, men of somewhat questionable backgrounds are safe here. For here there is no law but the law of the games,’ Dido paused.
‘But…’
‘Though we profit from those laws because of the usual mayhem which takes place, when such violent men are within close proximity we, like everyone else, must adhere to those laws. This man Cassian made the entire city aware that everything rides on that single bet. If he was to die outside the arena then the games, the life we have carved out in Utica would come to an end most abruptly.’ Dido emphasized the final word to give impact to Yaroah.
He watched the man and sighed at the man's failure to grasp even the most basic fundamentals of the game. To Dido that was the point of everything, how to play the game and how to win. But, unusually, he took pity on the man and explained further.
‘The tournament leaves few men standing. At the end of such a terrible fight the last team will face our champions, tell me how many times have they lost?’
‘Never,’ Yaroah answered.
‘Precisely. If this Cassian does reach our champions what state will his men be in and how long will they last in the arena with our champions who have destroyed all who have faced them?’ A smile finally appeared on the face of Yoroah and understanding the enormity of Cassian's task seemed to settle his nerves. ‘Now be a good fellow and run along and ensure the teams are comfortable, especially our young Roman friend.’ The words were spoken in a quiet tone but there was no mistaking that Yaroah was dismissed. He scurried from the room like a startled rabbit, he knew better than to over stay his welcome.
Every team of gladiators were allotted a certain area where they could sleep, train and eat. The area granted to Cassian's team was surprisingly spacious and it was well away from the inquisitive crowd. Cassian's men settled down. They tinkered with weapons and armour, anything to keep busy, the days ahead playing heavily on their minds. Spartacus watched the other teams as best he could, for most were under specially built enclosures. He was amazed by the fact many were from far and wide. In his time at Capua he had seen many types of armour and weapons. They were all on show here, but many were also new to him. Weapons of infinite varieties carried by men, the likes of which he had never seen before. The armour glittered in the sun. Much was clearly a show of wealth by the owners, determined to improve their own standing in this community. Spartacus considered it most likely these were men who worked in the darkness, feeding on the corruption of societies across the known world. He spat on the ground trying to cleanse himself of the distaste he felt for these men, but the realisation struck him that he worked for such a man, and indeed Cassian was a master at the art.
He saw the young Roman picking his way through the men and wondered if Cassian had finally misjudged the situation or was he a master with a sword as well? He doubted Cassian considered training with a sword high on his list of priorities. Spartacus waited until Cassian was close.
‘Have you ever been in battle or even fought a duel?’ Spartacus asked the young man, hoping to be surprised by a positive answer.
‘Hmm… no, not that I can recall,’ Cassian answered candidly.
‘Then what a fucking stupid idea to accept Dido's terms.’ Spartacus had not meant to be so forthright but he could not believe Cassian's stupidity.
‘He would not have accepted the challenge if I had not agreed to his terms,’ Cassian replied, surprised by the emotion Spartacus was showing.
‘I cannot train you to face the arena in half a bloody day,’ Spartacus blurted out. ‘It's suicide.’
‘No need. We have more pressing matters, we need to pick the six men for the arena and enter their names.’ Cassian dismissed the thought of training, an attitude which shocked Spartacus to the core.
‘Fine! Get your bloody head chopped off.’ Spartacus knew the conversation was over, he stormed away from Cassian although he knew he must return. He had a sneaky feeling this was all about how Cassian felt such shame over the death of the slave girl. He wondered if that shame was so deep the young Roman would sign up to a suicide mission to try and wash away the hatred he felt for himself.
Spartacus’ anger soon abated. Now was not the time to be apart from the men. He returned to them, attempting to judge their mood. A strong tap came at his shoulder, he turned to see who wanted his attention. He looked into a chest, the size of which belonged to myths and not to a real man.
‘Spartacus, I am glad that you have awoken from our last meeting.’ The huge man boomed out the words and, as he did so, Cassian joined Spartacus fearing trouble might erupt.
‘Ah Colossus, nice to see you again. Is that what you still call yourself?’ Spartacus smiled the smile that all opponents offered one another. It meant at another time blood will be spilt.
‘I go by the name my victories earned me Spartacus. You should know as you were one of them.’ Colossus sneered at Spartacus who suddenly looked weak and feeble next to the mountainous Colossus.
‘Things that don't kill us, only serve to teach us valuable lessons. I thought you won your freedom?’ Spartacus asked.
‘I found the easy kills in the arena for good pay too good to refuse. Mind, some kills I would gladly do for nothing.’ He leaned in close to Spartacus as he spoke. Spartacus, with no trace of fear in his voice replied.
‘Then I will be glad to test your skills and your boasts when we meet in the arena. I always enjoy a workout before the proper fighting starts.’ The insult landed as it was i
ntended to do but before the beast of a man could react a voice sounded from behind.
‘Opposition fighters are not allowed in each other's enclosures! Please remove yourself immediately or lose your place in the games.’ Yaroah spoke with all the authority of an administrator, but it did the trick. Colossus, with one last icy stare at Spartacus, turned and trudged away. Yaroah then turned his attention to Cassian, barely concealing his loathing. ‘Here are the rules of the game. Any rule breaking and your team will forfeit its place at the games and any monies given. Is that clear?’ He spat the words out.
‘It is,’ replied Cassian, not really bothering with the little man.
‘You must deliver a list of your named fighters before your first bout. You will be instructed when that bout will take place.’ With those words he turned and left not waiting for a reply.
Plinius called to Spartacus.
‘This man Colossus, he defeated you in the arena?’ He asked, almost scared to hear the answer. Spartacus laughed.
‘Knocked me out cold. I missed the sun rising five times.’
‘But what if you meet him again?’ This time it was Cassian asking the questions, obviously concerned Spartacus may not be the best man for the job.
‘Who knows? All I can say is I was younger than Plinius here when I fought him last and had only a handful of victories to my name, but since then I have learned a great deal. I suppose he may have as well.’ Spartacus was calm and calculating. He believed the men needed the myth of Spartacus to strengthen their resolve but he could not lie to them, Colossus was a very dangerous opponent with both strength and skill.
The men watched Cassian and Spartacus talking, each wondering who would be chosen. As daunting as the arena was, each feared they would not be allowed to fight. They had come too far to simply fetch and carry. The meeting seemed to go on for an age, much nodding and shaking of heads were observed by the men. A couple of times the talking stopped and the men braced themselves for the decision but then the talking would commence again. Eventually though the talking did stop and Cassian and Spartacus rose and gathered the men about them. It was Cassian who spoke first.
‘Before I read out the names, I wish to say that all of you have performed heroics to get us here. Each one of you has earned the right to the monies you have been promised. If any of us survive this place I would be honoured to call each and every one of you brother and friend.’ He paused letting his words sink in. ‘Firstly, I will say to those who are not to take part in the arena, we still have need of you. Your share of the winnings, should we of course win, will in no part be diminished. We will need you, men will no doubt suffer injuries. I know it would be a comfort to me knowing a friend tends to me rather than a stranger.’ Cassian finished and nodded to Spartacus.
‘The six that will fight in the arena are as follows : myself and Cassian, Aegis, Bull, Thulius and …Plinius.’ The last name stuck in Spartacus’ throat. He had wanted to spare Plinius the arena but, the fact of the matter was, he had developed into a fine warrior and to refuse him entry when he was clearly one of the better fighters would have destroyed the young warrior. He had fought so long to prove he was a man. Spartacus would not take that from him and besides in the arena you needed your best men.
Cassian then went over the rules.
‘There have been changes this year to the rules. All six men will enter the arena together. They will be joined by three other teams, apparently more teams are taking part hence the reason for the bigger bouts. If we get through the first few rounds then only two teams will enter the arena to do battle. Within the arena, as each bout takes place, there will be two areas marked off. If a man enters these areas then he is disqualified from the tournament and likewise you cannot strike a man who has entered within those areas. So if you are injured and unable to fight, use them. I have no wish that we spill more blood than necessary.’ He paused. ‘Many of the teams are forged in blackness they will not give quarter, so put your opponent down and make sure he stays down.’ Cassian finished and glanced to Spartacus.
"The arena is a truly terrifying place. It closes in on you. Work together, pick your targets and do not get separated. You don't want to find yourself against multiple enemies, no matter how good you are.’ His eyes came to rest on Plinius as he finished speaking, the concern he felt for the boy hard to disguise.
The night moved along slowly. The men were anxious at what the future held. Most had gone to rest by themselves. Aegis took a stroll, the young Plinius at his side but this time he held his tongue and just walked. Bull carved on a piece of wood and Cassian and Spartacus drank wine while staring into the flames. Cassian glanced about at the men.
‘I hope they will come through this,’ he said. Spartacus was there but the words were not directed to anyone, his lips simply agreed with his deepest feeling.
‘If the Gods are on our side then some will, but some will die – it is the way of things,’ Spartacus spoke his eyes never leaving the dancing flames.
Cassian watched him for a while and wondered where in his mind Spartacus escaped to. Did he think of his family or of a home he once knew, or even the son taken from this world? As the thought came to Cassian guilt grabbed at him and the sadness that came from it made him think of his own family and the doubts he held that he would ever hold them close again. He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, he so needed to sleep. As his eyelids came down a young, pale female with pleading, wide blue eyes danced into view he spoke so quietly that the words were just for the figure.
‘Forgive me.’
On the sands of the cove, Lathyrus sat and drank. He had given up counting the Roman sails for there were far too many. He worried himself over the fate of Cassian. He had grown to like the young aristocrat over time and would be saddened by the loss of him. If the port had become aware of those sails then Cassian was probably already dead. He shook his head and gulped down more wine.
He remembered back to the first time he met Cassian. The aristocrat was at his father's shoulder just a snotty nosed whelp of a boy. However, even then, he had a lightening intelligence and an eye for an opportunity. Well he hoped that the boy had not finally made an ill judgement for it would clearly be the death of him. Dido was not the sort to forgive.
He was roused from his thoughts by movement. One of his men had left the rest and headed to the darkness of the rocks. Lathyrus had given instruction that all the men were to remain on the beach and he disliked being ignored. He rose quietly and moved away from the light of the fire. He moved to the outskirts of the camp trying observe the man better. The sailor had found a dirt track in the rocks and, with a suspicious glance over his shoulder, had proceeded to climb it. Lathyrus followed him using the shadows as cover. He trailed him up and over the summit.
Lathyrus stood and watched the man's progress. He was gathering wood for a fire. Lathyrus grew angry inside, this man planned to signal Utica. At this height the fire would easily be seen by those in the port. He remembered the man now, he had joined the crew in Utica saying Dido had taken his wealth and he needed to earn coin. It was a common story and, besides, Lathyrus had run into a storm a few days before and lost some good men. So the man joined the crew. He had been no trouble, got on with his duties when asked and only drank when told he could.
Lathryus growled and stepped into view.
‘So you would betray me. I have always said that any man that takes coin over his vessel will die at my hands.’ The sailor retreated a little.
‘Dido will pay so much coin, if we warn him.’
‘And what of our friends down there?’ Lathyrus nodded towards Utica as he spoke.
‘They are no friends of mine, and with that type of wealth who needs friends?’ The man spoke with confidence now, believing greed would get the better of Lathyrus.
‘So all you have to do is light the fire, oh and kill me,’ Lathyrus braced himself for the attack that would surely follow.
‘You're a fool to let an opportunity like
this go by, and a fool not to bring a weapon.’ As he spoke, the man drew a wickedly curved dagger from his waistband.
A splash in the water made the men on the beach sit up but their attention was quickly taken by the figure approaching the camp fire.
‘Where have you been Lathyrus?’ A sailor asked, for it was unusual for their leader to wander off without wine.
‘By the Gods, can a man not go for a crap in peace?’ As he spoke he threw a bloodied dagger to the floor.
‘Bloody hell, take some getting out did it?’ the sailor smiled.
‘That it did.’ Lathyrus grasped the wine and began to drink.
Chapter 19
The morning arrived all too quickly. The men busied themselves, rarely looking up from the tasks they had chosen. Only the arrival of Yaroah broke their intent on letting the world pass them by. The man did not stop for conversation, his day too busy for such luxuries, he merely passed the instructions to Cassian as to when they should present themselves at the arena.
Cassian supplied the men with a fine breakfast and tried to encourage them as best he could. After a while though he stopped, realising they just wanted to prepare in their own way.
‘Is it always like this?’ He asked of Spartacus.
‘Pretty much. Some men reflect on their lives, some dream of the glory they will receive and others burst out laughing for no reason. Don't try to understand it Cassian.’ He placed a gentle hand on Cassian's shoulders.
‘And you, what do you feel?’ Cassian said, obviously seeking assurances.
‘Mostly scared shitless. Always have, probably always will,’ Spartacus said with a rueful look on his face. Cassian smiled.
‘Good, at least I'm not alone.’
‘Oh no, most are scared to the point of panic. Those who aren't are either insane or too dumb to realise what shit they're in,’ Spartacus smiled.
‘And are there many insane?’ Cassian pushed for an answer.
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