“I am Gaius, and I’m a soldier of Rome,” he answered, his voice low and calm as he moved over towards the frightened woman, whose spirit seemed to lift when he revealed himself to her.
“Who are you?” he asked as he took her hand and helped her off of the ground, before moving her aside so he could look down at the man who lay on the ground, covered by a bear’s pelt.
“I am Claudia. I’m the property of Consul Lucius Aemilius Paullus,” she answered as Gaius examined the man who lay beneath the blankets. His face was swollen and bruised. He had several gashes on his cheeks and forehead as well, and as Gaius lifted the blanket. He saw that the man had been cut up pretty bad. He clearly had a temperature as buckets of sweat beaded down from his deformed brow. He doubted that he would live more than a few days, if that. If he didn’t get Paullus back to Rome, and soon, the state would be without one of its most important leaders for the foreseeable future.
“This is Consul Paullus?” Gaius asked just to make sure.
“Yes. He was injured during the battle. His men escaped with his body. We were attempting to get to Rome, but these…” She seemed lost for words as the woman knelt back down to her knees and started crying.
Gaius turned and tried to comfort her, and to keep her quiet. He couldn’t afford to draw any unwanted attention, not until it was time to move.
Then Gaius heard Paullus utter something as Claudia’s sobbing brought him around.
“Sir, be still. I’m here to take you back to Rome,” Gaius said as he stood over Paullus.
With his one good eye, he leered up at Gaius as if he was trying to place his face, as it was covered with flakes of mud and grit, as well as beaded drops of blood and wine. And then Paullus’ eye widened ever so slightly as he seemed to recognize him.
“Gaius?” Paullus muttered in a low, barely audible voice.
He tried to raise his hand up and touch Gaius’ face as if the physical contact would convince him what his eyes were seeing was real.
Gaius took the consul’s hand and held it.
“Yes sir, it is me, and the whole Sixth Legion is with me as well. They’ll be along shortly, and then we can get you out of here and back to Rome. The city will need you, so you have to stay strong and hold on as long as you can.”
Paullus closed his eye as a single tear ran out of it.
“No…Rome…” His words were spoken with considerable effort, but Paullus’ forced them out. “…needs you. Julia needs you, Gaius…you must…you must protect…” And then he was gone, slipped back into unconsciousness.
Gaius took a moment to compose himself as he looked down at the most powerful man in Rome. He felt helpless.
Carefully putting Paullus’ limp hand under the covers of the warm blanket, he turned back towards Claudia and spoke.
“Here,” Gaius reached behind his back and removed his dagger, which was sticky with blood, and handed it over to her. “Take this, and if anyone other than me or a Roman comes into this tent, kill them. Do you understand?”
“I am just a slave?” Claudia commented as she reluctantly took the dagger.
“Not tonight you are.”
Claudia nodded as she held the dagger; its weight feeling strange in her hands.
“Thank you,” Claudia said before he left.
“Don’t thank me right now. We aren’t out of this yet,” he answered truthfully before leaving her and the consul alone once more.
“Was it, him?” Maurus asked as he stood to the right.
“It is. Be ready. If what our man said was true, when Valerius attacks, they will come and kill Paullus the first chance they get.”
“Just the three of us, against all of them?” Cato asked, the veteran sounded nervous.
“Is that a hint of fear I hear in your voice, my friend?” Maurus asked with a chuckle.
“Up yours, brat! I will kill more than you this night, which I promise you.”
“We’ll see about that, old man,” Maurus sneered as he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Gaius knew that the time was fast approaching. If everything went according to plan, which he assumed it had, since life in the camp handed changed with a sudden alarm, all the sentries must have been terminated, most of the Romans freed, and any second now Valerius and hundreds of men would come storming through the camp. And afterwards, the true slaughter could begin.
The only problem was Valerius was late.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“The old man gave us one hour, right?” Maurus asked as he started to fidget some as he noticed that a few of the gladiators had glanced over at them, staring longer than he was comfortable with.
“I know he isn’t as quick as he used to be, but he is coming, right?” Maurus nervously asked again.
“Just shut up and do your fucking job,” Cato bellowed as he stared-down any man who glanced over at him.
Gaius, on the other hand, remained silent. His eyes were fixed on one gladiator who walked with a group of four other men. He then realized this man was the same that had exited the tent, before he had killed the two guards who had originally been posted here.
“Oh no,” Maurus muttered as he watched the man stop in his tracks, and turn towards the three Romans.
“Be calm. I will deal with this,” Gaius uttered under his breath.
“Where are Dougal and Torin? I told them not to leave their posts,” the man called with a rough Greek accent.
The gladiator was very tall, muscular, badly scared and twice Gaius’ age. More imposing was the fact that this man was built like a bear. There didn’t seem to be an ounce of fat on his body, which had been hardened by decades of battles won in the arena. And for a moment as the man and his escorts neared, Gaius thought that he recognized him as well.
His eyes flashed red when he saw the medallion, knowing what it meant: this man had killed Antony and took the bond that represented a brotherhood of two boyhood friends.
“I said…” the gladiator tried to say, but Gaius roared as he drew his sword and rushed the tall man, whose eyes opened wide with surprise.
Gaius heard between his blood rage the name Calfax as it was yelled by one of his escorts as Gaius spilt first blood.
Calfax just barely heeded his man’s warning as he stepped back, but not far enough as Gaius’ sword ran across his stomach.
The blade went deep, but not deep enough to cause any serious harm to him. He had worse injuries and in time, it would just be another scar to add to the many hundreds more that crisscrossed his body.
“Bloody hell!” Maurus cried out as he and Cato each drew their swords and rushed forward, joining Gaius as they attacked the four other gladiators who tried to protect Calfax.
As Calfax withdrew from Gaius’ first assault, the nearest gladiator who had accompanied him stepped up. He swung wildly, which forced Gaius to cancel his attack on Calfax.
The second strike came quickly but Gaius easily deflected the gladiator’s horizontal strike that, when his sword, a weaker Greek weapon was pushed aside. Gaius spun in the opposite direction and struck low as the tip of his blade sliced cleanly through the back knee of the first gladiator.
The man screamed as all two hundred and fifteen pounds of him dropped to the ground like a rock. Gaius then easily drove his sword down into the man’s shoulder, angling the blade so it tore through his vital.
The flesh was soft and the iron of his blade easily pierced through the man’s dark skin and as Gaius withdrew his blade, blood gushed out, squirting all over his face, chest and arms. He then turned towards Calfax, who had drawn his own sword, two of them, in fact. He didn’t care that Maurus and Cato had engaged the remaining three gladiators, or that their fight had gotten the attention of dozens of other men, who at first was a little confused to who was attacking their leader.
“You killed him!” Gaius accused as he moved towards Calfax, who now grinned at the younger Roman.
“I’ve killed many Romans, boy, and I don’t bother ask
ing any of them for their names,” Calfax stated.
“His name was Antony, and he was my friend!” Gaius attacked, but his violent blows were blocked easily by the senior fighter.
Calfax didn’t counterattack. He was enjoying the Roman’s rage, seemly feeding on it as Gaius’ abandoned years of training, discipline and careful practiced form. He just wanted blood.
“I will take back what is his!” Gaius bellowed again as he rushed in, swinging his sword in a series of deadly arcs that failed to get through Calfax’s decades of practice, and hundreds of won battles.
“Oh,” Calfax started to laugh uncontrollably as it dawned on him what Gaius was blabbering about. “It is this you are talking about?” He indicated to the medallion that had fancied his eyes at Cannae, the very one he had taken off from Antony’s still warm corpse.
“He was a weak one. Young and suckle. He should have been sucking on his mother’s tits than pretending to be a soldier,” Calfax mocked, which infuriated Gaius even more as he rushed forward, trying to bring the bigger man down with brute force, but Calfax struck, his blade ripping through Gaius’ right upper arm, forcing him to rear back. Stubbornly, Gaius attacked again, and once more Calfax cut him, this time across his back.
The cuts weren’t deep enough to keep him down, but it was enough to further break Gaius’ concentration, weakening what advantages he might have had to stand equal.
A large crowd gathered. They knew that their leader, the best among them would want to deal with the young and arrogant Roman himself, so instead, most turned towards Maurus and Cato, who desperately tried to hold their own against an increasing number of opponents. If the gladiators had rushed they could have killed the two Romans easily, but they thought that the three were only escaped prisoners, so to them this was just another game to play. They would break them down like a pack of wild dog's hunting, waiting for Cato and Maurus to grow tired; their reaction times slower, and then advance for the kill.
Gaius fucked up. He knew it now, and two of his best men were going to pay for his mistake — for his blind rage and momentary madness.
“Your man, he shit and pissed himself as I ran my sword across his throat. I’ve faced better Romans before, but what I’ve seen during recent years, shames me as to how far your kind has fallen,” Calfax taunted as he circled.
“He was no coward, nor were any of my people you slaughtered, slave! They were too young to wear the armor of the legion — they were just boys — boys who childhoods you and your kindred stole when you forced this damn war upon my people.” Gaius’ strength seemed to be failing him, but he found enough to stay on his feet and stand against Calfax.
“Brave words, boy, but Rome is not innocent, nor are its people. Your damn Republic has stolen everything from me and many more like me; our lives, our loves, our honor and dignity!” Calfax’s words grew angrier as he started hacking away at Gaius’ defenses. Each savage blow felt like hammer strikes against Gaius’ weakening arms.
“I will slaughter your men, your women and your children for as long as the gods allow me, until I no longer draw any breath. I will see every Roman dead; your wretched Republic destroyed and every last stone in your filthy city torn down. I will make you all pay for everything you and yours have done for generations, starting with you!”
Gaius’ wrist shattered under the onslaught as he screamed in agony, not so much out of pain, but in knowing he was done — defeated by a man more powerful and skilled than he could ever hope to be.
His sword lied by his side as Gaius dropped down to his knees, cradled his aching wrist. He glanced around him for a moment as all sound seemed to be muffled. He saw the growing crowd of gladiators as they cheered for Calfax, and roared as new opponents stepped up and challenged the two other Romans.
Gaius watched, unable to do anything as one gladiator snuck up behind Cato and thrust his sword through his lower back. His screams were silent even though Gaius could see that his mouth was wide open, but he heard nothing.
Another man attacked Cato from the front, pushing his spear into the Roman’s chest, and then withdrew it only to thrust in once more.
Cato was still alive as he dropped to the ground, his bloodied face staring up at Gaius, seemly calling out to him.
Gaius turned his eyes towards Maurus, his oldest friend within the Sixth Legion. He fought one man, sword to sword, but failed to see the second man in time as he cut into Maurus’ lower back, which sent a stream of blood squirting out from the wound as Maurus turned and jammed his sword into the man’s face.
A second strike came from behind once again, this time piercing into his upper left shoulder. His sword fell from his grip the moment the enemy weapon was withdrawn from his flesh.
Another man rushed forward and kicked Maurus across his face. He fell down to the ground as a group of four men started beating him violently with their feet, roaring with cheers and laughter as they did so. Neither Cato nor Maurus would be allowed to die quickly. Their torment was going to go on as long as the gladiators saw fit.
Gaius then turned back and looked up at Calfax, who was walking over to him as he was rested down on both of his knees. And for a moment as he stared at the old gladiator, he felt as he had when he was a kid, after watching this same man slaughter five other opponents with hardly any efforts on his part. Calfax was born for killing. It was his art, and he was a world-class master.
“You were not the best I’ve fought, Roman, nor were you the worst. I hope that may give you some comfort before the end, my young friend,” Calfax said as he readied to run his sword across Gaius’ neck.
As the end was about to come, Gaius could feel the air changed from the murderous joy of the gladiators, to one of panic. Something was happening, not near enough for him to see, but everyone knew something was wrong as men started yelling, subsequently screaming, and after that, dying in droves as the ground rumbled as five hundred Roman horsemen came charging through the camp.
The gladiators tried to react but most turned and ran the second they saw the first horsemen tear through their ranks, tents and any other object that was set before them. And then, large groups of Romans, the freed prisoners clutching whatever they could find, roaring with rage as, they dog-piled anyone who was unfortunate enough to be in their way.
Calfax was distracted long enough that Gaius acted quickly, and despite the pain, he was in, he leapt to his feet and charged headlong.
Calfax didn’t have time to react as his swords were knocked free as Gaius collided into him, carrying him several feet before the two men slammed against the side of a nearby tent. The supports weren’t strong enough to stand against the two men combined weight and momentum. It collapsed around them, but it was Gaius who was able to get out first.
He quickly staggered back to his feet as the fabric enveloped Calfax, who struggled to free himself.
Gaius frantically looked for a sword, but settled for a spear that was lying nearby. When he grabbed it, his intention was to turn back and run it through Calfax’s body, but he couldn’t as another gladiator ran towards him in a drunken charge — yelling at the top of his lungs.
Gaius impaled the man easily, but under his weight, the spear broke as he dropped to the ground.
Another gladiator was about to attack Gaius, who was now defenseless, but before this man could, he was struck dead-center by a javelin. The force alone threw the man off of his feet as the long iron shaft stuck out of his chest.
Gaius turned as he heard his named called by the Roman, who had just saved his life. The rider tossed him a sword as he snatched it out of the air. By now, however, as he turned back to where he left Calfax, the man was gone. For a moment, Gaius thought about racing after him, but his thoughts quickly returned to the mission at hand.
He ran over to where both Cato and Maurus lay. Maurus was already on his feet, standing over Cato, who was screaming in agony.
As Gaius looked down at his officer, he didn’t know if the man could survive the next
hour. So, there was no time to waste as he signaled for a group of riders to come over to him.
Seven in all arrived and quickly dismounted and awaited orders.
“The consul, he and his slave are in this tent. Get both out of here at once. And take both Cato and Maurus with you,” Gaius yelled, relaying his orders over the chaos that had erupted from all around them.
“I am fine. I can stay and fight!” Maurus pleaded, even though he had his hand held over the gash across his stomach, which was still oozing blood.
“No, you are not! And you are not staying here either in this condition. You have your orders. Get the consul out of here — Now!”
Maurus didn’t argue as he was helped onto the back of one horse, while Cato’s body was dropped over the rear of another. A moment later the slave Claudia exited the tent escorted by a Roman, while two other carried Paullus’ body between them.
“Go! And do not stop for anyone until you have made it to our column!” Gaius yelled as the riders reared their horses and galloped back towards where the battle had started from.
Gaius waited, making sure that the riders had gotten out of the camp, or at least as long as he could see them before they were enveloped by hundreds more horsemen and infantry on the ground. Then, he turned towards a group of two dozen men, some freed soldiers, others belonging to his legion and rallied them as he and they ran off, their destination, the cages that held the rest of the captured men.
The battle had been sudden and many gladiators were already dead, but it was far from over.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Valerius stood under the shadow of one of the rolling hills that surrounded the gladiator camp. The full moon was hung behind the encampment. He strained his eyes trying to fix on any one target, but even with the light of the moon and the surrounding torches, it was difficult this late to identify any particular individual. This concerned him. He wondered if it wasn’t just his age catching up to him. He recalled in his youth that he had eyes like a hawk. However, none of his nearby men who also kept an ever watchful eye on the camp could see anything that might indicate that his plan was exposed. The screams of his countrymen could easily be heard. This was the only real indication that his plan had not been foiled.
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