Gladiator: Vengeance

by Simon Scarrow

  ‘Your decision?’ Festus cocked an eyebrow. ‘We’re all in this together, Marcus.’

  Marcus turned to face him as he replied firmly, ‘Caesar sent you to help me. Both of you. So we’ll stick with my plan.’

  Festus and Lupus looked at him for a moment before Festus raised a hand and ran his fingers through his cropped hair.

  ‘As you wish, Marcus. But I can’t help feeling that this is all as much about finding Decimus as it is about finding your mother.’

  ‘We need to find him first in order to find her, like I said.’

  ‘Perhaps. But if I were you, Marcus, I’d search my heart and ask myself a question. Which is more important – revenge, or rescue?’

  Festus did not wait for a response but stood up and stretched, then grimaced and gently rubbed his ribs where Andreas had struck him with the staff. ‘We need to find a place for the night. Then get a good meal, a decent sleep and be up and on the road to Stratos at first light. We’ll get some miles under our belts before it’s too hot. Then rest until the afternoon before we continue. Come on, let’s move.’

  Lupus stood first, and then Marcus, after a brief hesitation. They picked up their packs and headed back down the hill into the town. Festus led the way, then Lupus, while Marcus brought up the rear. None of them talked and that suited Marcus. He was thinking about what Festus had said. Was he driven more by the desire for revenge on Decimus, than by the desire to save his mother?

  No! he thought instinctively … But then, the more he considered it, the more the burden of all the suffering that he had endured came trickling into his mind. The loss of his home. His dog, Cerberus, who had died defending him. Titus, who had raised and loved him as his own son. Then there had been the pain and hardship of the gladiator school where he had been branded on the chest with the mark of its owner. He raised his spare hand to touch his tunic above the scar, recalling the sickening agony of the heated iron pressed into his flesh. After that had been the terror of the fight in the arena of the school against two wolves. And later the fight to the death with the Celtic boy-gladiator Ferax in the Forum in Rome. All of which had scarred Marcus’s young mind. And all because of Decimus.

  Getting revenge on Decimus was the only way he could see to remove the burden of all he had suffered. Another boy might have been driven mad by what had happened, Marcus reflected. The only thing that kept him sane was the thought of saving his mother. But he could not do one thing without the other. Revenge and rescue. The bitter truth was that he needed them both.

  4

  ‘Is that him?’

  Lupus raised his hand and pointed across the street as a figure emerged from the gate. Through the opening Marcus could just make out the large yard beyond and the bars of some of the holding cells, before the guard closed the gate and slid the bolt across. Marcus switched his gaze to the fat man who had come out of the small prison where the slaves were held before auctions. His mind went back to the time when he had been in a cart that had passed through those same gates. He and his mother had been huddled in the bottom of a cage, sitting on soiled straw. The auctioneer had come out to inspect them. He was the kind of man that made an impression for all the wrong reasons. Overweight, sweaty and cruel.

  ‘Yes, that’s him all right.’

  Festus nodded. ‘Then we need to prepare. Lupus, you follow him and find out where he lives. Then come and find us back at the inn. Understand?’

  Lupus frowned. ‘I’m not an idiot.’

  ‘I know that. But you don’t have anything to prove to me. I don’t want any heroics.’ He tapped the boy on the chest. ‘Just play safe.’

  ‘I know what I have to do.’

  ‘Good.’ Festus glanced up and saw that the auctioneer had turned the corner and was struggling to get round a woman carrying two large baskets from a yoke across her shoulders. ‘Then get after him, before you lose sight of the man.’

  Lupus dashed across the street, dodging a pile of donkey manure that had fallen from the back of a cart, and closed in on his quarry. Marcus watched him with a slight shake of the head.

  ‘He’s not used to this kind of work. I hope he doesn’t give himself away. You should have let me do it.’

  ‘Too much of a risk,’ Festus replied. ‘You recognized him quickly enough. Who is to say he couldn’t do the same?’

  ‘But there are slaves passing through his cells all the time. Hundreds, thousands maybe. I’m sure he wouldn’t remember me.’

  Festus pursed his lips. ‘Maybe, but why take the risk? Lupus will do all right. He’s smart, even if he’s not much use in a fight. And that we need to remedy as soon as possible.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s time we taught our young friend that the sword is mightier than the pen.’ Festus smiled. ‘While we’re tracking down your mother, and Decimus, we’ll teach Lupus how to use a few weapons, and try to get him in shape. I’ve a feeling we’ll need all the muscle we can get before this is over.’

  Marcus raised his hands in despair. ‘But … Lupus? Are you serious? Put a blade in his hands and he’s likely to be more of a danger to us than anyone else.’

  Festus turned to face him, hands on hips. ‘You think Lupus was any less promising than you were before you started training at the gladiator school?’

  Marcus thought for a moment and nodded. ‘As a matter of fact, I do. I was raised on a farm and I worked it alongside Titus and the few slaves we had. Lupus has always been a scribe. I doubt he would have survived what I had to go through even before I reached the school.’

  Festus sucked his cheek and nodded. ‘Fair point. Still, we’ll make the best of him that we can in the time. Better to have someone who knows how to use a sword at our side rather than not. I’m sure he can pick the basics up.’

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ Marcus replied doubtfully.

  ‘Let’s pray we don’t get ourselves into a situation where Lupus needs to draw a blade.’

  ‘How likely is that?’

  Festus stared at him a moment, then gestured for Marcus to follow as he turned and headed back down the street in the direction of the inn where they had taken a room.

  The hours passed but there was no sign of Lupus. Marcus had been fretting as the afternoon had drawn on. He sat on the worn bedroll with his back to the cracked plaster of the wall and rested his chin on his knees as he tried not to fear what might have become of his friend. Opposite him Festus lay asleep, snoring gently. Marcus wondered how he could rest so easily. In the end he could bear it no longer and, rising quietly, left the small room. He closed the latch behind him and stepped into the small courtyard behind the inn. In the past the rooms the landlord rented out must have been used for stores, or even animal pens, Marcus thought. He could still detect the residual acrid smell of goats. The doors to some of the other rooms were open to allow what breeze there was to pass through from the opening high on the wall inside. The only other occupants of the courtyard were six men sitting in a shaded corner playing dice as they shared a large jar of wine.

  Marcus wandered out of the courtyard into the street and looked both ways for any sign of Lupus, but there was little movement. It was a quiet neighbourhood on the fringe of Stratos, which was why Festus had picked it so they could avoid drawing attention to themselves. Most of the customers at the inn were passing through Stratos, heading north or south along the road that passed through the town. The kind of people among whom three travellers would be easily lost. He settled against the wall and waited for his friend to return. More hours passed and the shadows lengthened across the street. The men playing dice eventually finished the game and headed into the inn for supper, and Marcus was left with the distant sounds of urban life: the occasional cry of an infant, a snatch of conversation and the braying of a donkey.

  At length, his anxiety got the better of him and he decided to wake Festus and tell him they should go and look for Lupus. As he slipped the latch and entered the room Marcus saw that his companion was al
ready awake, sitting on his bedroll as he worked a sharpening stone up and down the edge of his sword. He paused and looked up at Marcus.

  ‘He’s not come back,’ said Marcus. ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘Do? Nothing.’

  Marcus raised his eyebrows. ‘Nothing? What if something has happened to him?’

  ‘If that’s the case, then what could we do about it?’

  ‘Go and look for Lupus. What else?’

  ‘I see, we go and look for him in the dark, in the streets of a town we don’t know.’ Festus continued sharpening his sword as he tutted. ‘What good will that do? Be patient, Marcus. We just have to wait for him to return. Sit down and rest.’

  Despite his concerns Marcus knew Festus was right. He forced himself to return to his bedroll and lie down. But he could not sleep. Instead he lay with his eyes open, staring at the rafters of the room. Every so often there was a soft scuttling noise as a rat scurried across one of the beams, the only sound to interrupt the rhythmic scrape of the stone grating along the edge of Festus’s sword. Outside dusk closed in around Stratos and then night fell over the town. Unable to see his blade, Festus finally set it aside and there was silence for a moment before he spoke.

  ‘Marcus.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘If we find Decimus, what are your plans?’

  Marcus took a deep breath. ‘I will kill him.’

  ‘What if he has Thermon with him? And others? He is sure to be guarded.’

  Marcus remembered the cold-blooded killer that Decimus used for his most dangerous tasks. It was Thermon and his men who had killed Titus and kidnapped Marcus and his mother.

  ‘Makes no difference,’ Marcus responded. ‘One way or another, I’ll find a way to get close enough to stick a blade in Decimus’s heart. He’ll see me and know that I have had my revenge.’

  ‘And then what?’ asked Festus. ‘His guards will cut you down. You’ll be killed.’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘No? Maybe not. But your mother will. She’ll be left alone in the world. Grieving for you, and your father.’

  She had been grieving for Marcus’s real father for many years already, Marcus reflected. She had never forgotten Spartacus, and once Marcus had discovered the truth about his past, those moments in his childhood when he had seen her look at him and quietly weep suddenly made sense. With a stab of guilt he realized that if he acted as recklessly as he wanted, then he would only add to her misery. Marcus sighed in frustration.

  ‘Listen to me, Marcus.’ Festus spoke softly in the darkness. Only his outline was dimly visible against the drab gloom of the plastered wall. ‘Sometimes in this life, we must be prepared to take only those opportunities that are genuinely offered to us. We have to deny ourselves the goals we desire, however strong the urge. I should have tried to teach you that when I was training you for Caesar. But he only wanted you to be good with weapons.’

  ‘It’s not surprising. That’s all I was to Caesar, a weapon. Little more than a tool for him to use.’

  ‘That’s true, I suppose,’ Festus conceded. ‘But he did admire you. There was something he saw in you that set you apart from others. That’s what he told me. Something special …’

  Not for the first time Marcus felt a tingle of icy fear trace its way down his spine. Nothing escaped the attention of his former master. Although he might not know the truth about his real father, Caesar had his suspicions that there was more to his past than Marcus had revealed to him.

  ‘You are free now, Marcus,’ Festus continued. ‘Free to choose what you will do with your life. You do not have to be a slave to the desire for revenge. There is only death awaiting you if you choose to pursue Decimus. That would be a waste. Worse, a tragedy. I urge you to think again. Whatever Decimus has done to you and your family, your first duty is to rescue your mother. Then, if you still wish to hunt him down, I give you my word that I will do all in my power to help you.’

  Marcus propped himself up on his elbow and stared at the outline of the man opposite him. ‘You would do that for me? Why?’

  There was a brief silence before Festus replied. ‘We are comrades in arms. Caesar ordered me to help you. My mission will only be complete when you are satisfied it is all over. Only then. I will stand by you, Marcus. Come what may. To the very end.’

  Before Marcus could try to respond, he heard the sound of footsteps running across the courtyard. A moment later the door opened and Lupus stood outlined in the door frame.

  ‘I’ve found the auctioneer’s home!’

  5

  Lupus’s eyes were gleaming with excitement in the dim glow of the oil lamp that Festus lit on his return.

  ‘I’m sorry it took so long, but Pindarus spent most of the afternoon at the bathhouse.’

  ‘Pindarus?’ Marcus interrupted.

  ‘That’s his name. I overheard one of his friends call him that. After he left the slave pens he went to the baths. I followed him inside. He met with some men and they talked business most of the time. I was close enough to overhear.’

  ‘He didn’t seem suspicious?’

  ‘No, Marcus. I’m sure of it. He was too busy talking to notice me. I just kept to myself and looked down at the floor.’

  ‘It was an unnecessary risk,’ said Festus. ‘I told you to follow him. That’s all.’

  ‘And that’s what I did. But when he went into the bathhouse I was afraid I might lose track of him. I thought it would be best to keep close enough to see him. That’s how I was able to overhear what he and his friends were talking about.’ Lupus leaned towards Festus. ‘I heard him mention Decimus’s name!’

  ‘What?’ Festus started. ‘Are you certain?’

  Lupus nodded. ‘As far as I could make out it seems that Decimus is sending a man to the auction in three days’ time to buy some slaves for his estate.’

  Marcus and Festus exchanged a look of surprise before Marcus beamed with delight. ‘The Gods favour us! Finally. We just have to wait for the man and then follow him when he leaves Stratos with the slaves that he’s bought. He’ll lead us straight to the place where my mother is being held.’

  Festus thought a moment and frowned. ‘It sounds too good to be true. But perhaps you’re right. This is the work of providence. Or it seems like it. But what if there’s more than one estate? Decimus is a rich man. He’s made a fortune since he went into business with Crassus. A man like Decimus may have more than one such property. We have to be certain we find the right one before we go charging in.’

  Marcus felt his surge of hope begin to subside.

  ‘What if we follow Decimus’s man, then ambush him and force him to tell us if he knows where Marcus’s mother is?’ Lupus suggested.

  ‘He won’t be alone,’ Festus mused. ‘Decimus’s agent is bound to have some men with him to guard the slaves he buys. It’s too dangerous to take them on. It would be safer if we followed him back to the Peloponnese. Then we can spy on the estate and make enquiries among the local people to see if they know anything about your mother.’

  ‘What if we don’t find anything?’

  ‘Then we find out if Decimus owns any other properties and scout those out as well.’

  ‘It could take some time,’ said Lupus.

  There was a brief silence before Marcus spoke again. ‘There’s something else to consider. If Pindarus is a good businessman, then he should keep detailed records of every sale that goes through his auction house. While my mother and I were never officially sold, there might be some record of our being there, and where we were being sent on to before I escaped. What do you think, Festus?’

  The bodyguard thought for a moment. ‘It’s risky, but worth a try. The question is, where would he keep such records? It’s most likely he keeps everything at his business, in an office. That’s where we should look first. The trouble is the place is locked and kept under guard.’

  ‘What if he keeps them in his home?’ asked Marcus. ‘If the slave pens are kept under
guard then it might be better to search his house first.’

  Festus considered the idea and nodded. ‘Assuming we can get inside.’ He turned to Lupus. ‘What is his house like? How many doors off the streets are there?’

  ‘Three,’ Lupus answered. ‘I checked. One at the front and a smaller one down a side alley, and then there’s a yard at the back, where the slaves can come and go.’

  ‘How many slaves did you count?’

  Lupus thought a moment. ‘Three in the yard.’

  Festus stroked his jaw. ‘It’s likely that’s where they will sleep. Pindarus and his family will be in the main house. If we wait until the middle of the night we might get over the wall and find his study, then see if any records are kept there. You and I will do the job, Marcus. Lupus will stay outside in the street to keep watch.’

  ‘What for?’ Lupus demanded. ‘Why can’t I come with you?’

  ‘Because two will make less noise than three,’ Festus said firmly. ‘No arguments. Now I suggest we all get some rest. We’ll need our wits about us later on.’

  A waxing moon hung in a clear, starlit sky and cast a pale light over the slumbering town of Stratos. Three barefoot figures hugged the shadow of a wall as they crept along the street towards the house of Pindarus. Lupus was leading the way and he paused to point across the road at an imposing door set in a high wall. On either side were the locked shutters of shops rented out by the auctioneer.

  ‘That’s the one,’ Lupus whispered. ‘The house has two alleys running down each side.’

  Marcus looked at the other houses and noted that the area was similar to the wealthier neighbourhoods of Rome where narrow passages divided many of the larger houses from each other. These would provide good cover for the three of them as they went about their mission.

  Festus looked each way along the street but nothing moved, except for the dark shape of a cat boldly making its way down the middle of the road as if it owned the town. He gestured for the two boys to follow and they padded across the street, then ducked into the alley at the side of the house of Pindarus. The walls rose up one on each flank, two storeys high, but ahead Marcus could see they dropped down where the garden began. Festus stopped when he came to the lowest point in the wall and turned to the boys.