‘No!’ Marcus snapped at him. ‘That won’t do. This isn’t a bloody game, Lupus. You’re learning how to fight for your life. A sword is not a toy. You can’t break it. You must treat it like an extension of your arm. When you strike, you are the one making the blow and you’ll throw all your weight behind it. If not, then you’ll barely scratch your opponent. And he will kill you. Put down the sword.’
Lupus did as he was told and Marcus stood directly in front of him, in a crouch. He raised his right hand and placed his palm on Lupus’s chest. ‘This is what you are doing at the moment.’
He gave a firm shove and Lupus lurched back slightly and recovered.
‘And this is what you need to do.’ Marcus braced himself and punched his hand out, twisting slightly as he threw all his weight behind the blow. Lupus went flying back and thudded to the ground. He lay there a moment, gasping, and then struggled up on to his elbow and stared at Marcus with a hurt expression.
‘What did you do that for?’
‘To teach you a lesson,’ Marcus replied sternly. ‘If you don’t strike properly in a fight then you will lose. You will die. Better to learn that here and now. Get up and have another go. This time strike the target like you mean it. That trunk is Decimus. Him or any other person that has ever given you cause to hate them. Hit it hard, with your whole body thrusting through the sword. Pick it up and get to work.’
Lupus rose to his feet and looked at Marcus with a flash of hurt pride and anger in his eyes. He reached down for the wooden sword and resumed his place in front of the tree.
‘Begin!’ Marcus ordered.
‘Hah!’ Lupus grunted as he stabbed forward and the point struck the tree loudly. He drew the blade back and hacked at the side with a sharp thwack. Then the other side, then another thrust, grunting each time with the effort.
‘That’s it.’ Marcus nodded. ‘Keep doing it just like that until I say stop.’
He watched a moment longer and then moved off to stand beside Festus who had been looking on.
‘What do you think?’ he asked quietly.
Festus was silent a moment before he replied. ‘I think you would have made a formidable gladiator instructor, young Marcus. You might want to think about that when this is all over.’
Marcus shot him a surprised look. ‘No. I’ll never train a person to fight another to the death just to entertain a crowd. I swear it by all that’s sacred.’
The earnestness with which he spoke seemed to amuse Festus and he chuckled and shook his head. ‘A pity.’
Marcus did not think so. Inside his stomach churned as he recalled the terror that had gripped him each time he’d been called upon to fight for his life. No one should have to endure that just to amuse other people. No one. He felt disappointed in Festus for even suggesting that he might want to be a part of the dark world of the professional gladiators. And a slight doubt crept into his regard for the man. Over the last few months he had come to assume that Festus believed in the same things as he did. He reminded himself that Festus had been Caesar’s man long before Marcus knew him, so his first loyalty would always be to the Roman aristocrat. There was a fundamental difference in outlook between Festus and himself. One that could prove very dangerous if ever Festus discovered that Marcus was the son of Spartacus.
He drew a deep breath and forced himself to turn his thoughts to more immediate matters. ‘I meant, what do you think of Lupus? Has he got the right stuff?’
Festus regarded the other boy as he ferociously attacked the tree trunk. ‘It’s too early to say. Keep him at it, and he might make himself useful one day. Work him hard until dusk, and then we can all rest, ready for the road tomorrow.’
He turned and began to stride off.
‘Where are you going?’ Marcus called.
‘I’ve something of an appetite for those hares. I’m getting some more. Make sure you keep the fire going.’
Marcus watched him disappear into the trees and returned his attention to Lupus whose blows had begun to slacken.
‘Keep at it! Use all your strength. You can rest when I tell you, and not before!’
Lupus tossed the slender bones of the hare aside and used the hem of his tunic to dab the grease from his mouth.
‘That was delicious.’ He smiled contentedly. ‘Best thing I’ve eaten in months.’
He lay back on the ground and stared at the night sky, a pool of stars fringed by the trees surrounding the clearing. Every so often a brilliant red spark swirled up to join the cold, steady pinpricks of the stars before swiftly fading out. Around them the forest was pitch-black, but the occasional light crack of a snapping twig, or rustle of undergrowth, revealed the animals who were abroad under cover of darkness. At first Lupus had been nervous, thinking the noises to be the sounds of men stalking them. Born and raised in Rome, he had little experience of the natural world. But he was growing used to it, and starting to enjoy the experience. Even the shrilling of the cicadas no longer bothered him.
‘I could learn to live like this,’ he muttered happily.
Festus grunted, chewing slowly on a morsel of meat. When he swallowed he wagged a finger at the scribe. ‘It makes a nice change right enough. But that’s because summer is coming. You wouldn’t want to be out here in the winter. Believe me.’
Marcus had already finished his meal and sat staring into the flames. He nodded as he recalled the winter that had just passed, and the cold of the Apennine mountains that had seeped into his bones. He shivered at the memory. But he could understand Lupus’s feeling. Sleeping under the stars on a warm night filled his soul with a tranquillity he had rarely known since being torn from his previous life.
‘Anyway,’ Festus continued, ‘we can’t stay here. Too close to Stratos. Word of Pindarus’s death and the hunt for his killers will spread out. We have to stay ahead of that and then find a way of disappearing from view. We should be able to manage that in a city the size of Athens.’
‘But we didn’t kill him on purpose,’ Lupus protested. ‘We’re not murderers.’
‘That’s not how it looks,’ Marcus interrupted. ‘It’s hardly as if we were invited into his house. No one will believe it was an accident. The only thing we can do is make sure we are not caught.’
‘He’s right.’ Festus nodded. ‘We’ll have to travel as far from Stratos as we can tomorrow. Better if we get some sleep. We’ll need all our strength for the road.’
Lupus smiled. ‘Sleep. Just what I want. Can’t tell you how exhausted I am.’
He reached for his cloak and pulled it over his body, then curled up with his back to the fire. His breathing soon became deep and even. Marcus and Festus sat in silence for a while as the fire began to die down and cast a wavering glow across the trees round the clearing. At length Marcus sighed, then spoke quietly.
‘I wonder how Caesar’s campaign is going?’
Festus shrugged. ‘It’s early days. Last I heard he was dealing with some tribes from Helvetia who wanted to settle in Gaul. You can be sure he’ll make short work of them.’
There was a certain bitterness to his tone that caught Marcus’s ear. He thought quickly, and wondered if Festus resented being ordered to help him. Marcus cleared his throat. ‘Do you wish he’d taken you with him?’
Festus took a deep breath. ‘I suppose I do. Having served him loyally for so many years I thought I would always be at his side.’
‘Do you mind being told to help me?’
The man looked sharply at Marcus. ‘No. Not now. At first, perhaps. It may sound strange but I find this situation more … comfortable. Being with Caesar is like walking a narrow mountain path. The view may be impressive, but you miss your step and you will fall. Do you understand?’
Marcus considered these comments then nodded. ‘Even though I came to admire him, there was something about him that always scared me. I never thought he saw me as a person. More of a useful tool.’
‘Exactly. That’s how it seems to me, now I am no longer with him
and can see things more clearly. That said, if he had decided to take me with him I would have gone willingly.’
Marcus shuffled a little closer to the dying fire before he continued. ‘How long have you been in his service?’
‘Twenty years. I was fifteen when he bought me from a gladiator school. Caesar was a lot younger. Just starting out in politics. It was a dangerous time; he had powerful enemies even then.’ Festus smiled thinly at Marcus. ‘I was like you. He saw me fight in the arena and decided I had potential. I was taken to Rome to be trained as a bodyguard by my predecessor. A big Celt who was as swift and deadly as a cat despite his size.’
‘Oh?’ Marcus could not recall any mention of the man before and dared to probe a little further. ‘What happened to him?’
‘He went the same way that many do in our profession. He was killed in a street fight. That was when I was twenty. Caesar appointed me to replace him as head of his personal bodyguard. In time, I dare say you would have taken over from me.’
Marcus raised his eyebrows. He’d had no idea that was the fate intended for him. He had always seen his relationship with Caesar as something temporary – a stepping stone on his journey to save his mother.
‘You still may replace me, once this is all over and we return to Rome,’ Festus continued.
‘I’m not going back to Rome,’ Marcus replied quietly.
‘No?’ Now it was Festus’s turn to look surprised. ‘Why not?’
‘It was always my plan to return home after I rescued my mother.’
‘Home? That farm on Leucas you told me about?’
Marcus nodded.
Festus sighed. ‘You’d best forget that, Marcus. You told me your father got into debt trying to make the farm pay its way, right? So the chances are it has been sold on. It’s almost certain someone else owns the farm now. You can’t go back there.’
‘But it belongs to us,’ Marcus protested angrily. ‘It’s our farm.’
‘It was. It isn’t now. That is the way of things.’ Festus tried to sound gentle. ‘You cannot return to the past, lad. The Gods have decided on a different destiny.’
‘No. I will return to my home. With my mother. I will find a way. I swear it.’
Festus smiled sadly. ‘Very well then, Marcus. But one step at a time. First we must reach Athens and discover where Decimus is, and the estate where your mother is held. I had hoped we could find him without using official channels. There’s a risk someone might warn him of our presence if we do that. But it can’t be helped now. Get some sleep. There’s a long road ahead of us.’
Festus settled back, arms folded behind his head, and closed his eyes. Marcus sat up a while longer, staring into the red glow of the embers, his heart filled with longing for home. The word conjured up so many feelings in his heart, with memories of all he valued most in the world. All the things that had been taken from him. The very thought of home had been a lifeline to him amid the raging storm of his life these last two years. The idea that there was no longer a home to return to filled him with anger and despair.
It was a long time before the seething emotions began to subside. The fire had died out long before Marcus finally lay down, huddled beneath his cloak, to fall into a troubled sleep.
9
They left the forest before first light and took the road south, leading away from Stratos. They walked fast, keeping a watch on the way ahead and leaving the road every time they saw other travellers. They bypassed every village they encountered so there would be no chance of anyone recalling that a man and two boys had passed through. The news of Pindarus’s death and the reward for those held responsible for his murder would follow hot on the heels of Marcus and his companions, so it was essential to remain one step ahead of their pursuers until they reached the comparative safety of Athens, over two hundred miles away.
Once they had crossed the Achelos river Festus led them into the mountains of Aetolia, a largely uninhabited region where lonely shepherds tended the flocks of goats and sheep grazing on the slopes. There were very few villages, usually no more than a loose collection of stone huts, and they were forced to live off the land. Fortunately there were plenty of streams, gushing down rocky channels, and hares to hunt, as well as larger game. On the third day after fleeing Stratos, Marcus managed to bring down a small deer with his slingshot, the heavy missile knocking the animal cold before it even knew a human was nearby. They ate heartily that night and there was enough meat for two haunches to be put aside for the following days, with the burden shared between them.
They stuck to the mountains, passing Mount Parnassos where the snow still capping its lofty peak gleamed in the sunlight. That evening Festus decided they were sufficiently far from Stratos to risk stopping in the town of Delphi. Formerly one of the most important places in Greece, thanks to the Oracle in the temple of Apollo, Delphi had been visited by kings, generals and statesmen who sought to know their futures from the Oracle. The decline in the power of Greece and the rise of Rome had not treated the town kindly and Marcus noted the rundown nature of the streets after they entered the gate to find cheap accommodation for the night.
They took a dingy, airless room at the back of a small inn and wearily set down their packs as they surveyed their surroundings. The walls were cracked and stained and the large wooden frame of the only bed was covered with a torn mattress, from which grey, dusty straw poked out. Festus indicated the bed.
‘You two share that. I’ll sleep on the floor.’
Lupus made a face. ‘I would have been more comfortable sleeping in the open.’
‘Can’t be helped,’ Festus responded. ‘There are too many farms surrounding Delphi. If we were caught sleeping on their land someone might ask difficult questions. This is safer. Now rest for a bit, then we’ll go out to find something to eat when it’s dark.’
‘After that I want to look over the Temple of Apollo,’ Lupus announced, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
Festus shook his head. ‘Not a good idea. Let’s just eat and turn in. We still have three more days on the road, at least, before we reach Athens. Besides, we shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves.’
‘But we’re far away from Stratos,’ Lupus replied. ‘We’re safe here. Surely? And plenty of people will be visiting the temple. We won’t attract any attention. Come on, Marcus, what do you say?’
Marcus thought about it. He understood why Festus was concerned. But perhaps the bodyguard was being overcautious. In any case, he had heard about the famous Oracle when living on Leucas and was curious to see the temple for himself. He turned to Festus.
‘I don’t see that there’s much risk in having a look.’
Festus sighed with frustration. ‘All right then. But stay close-lipped, and if I say we head back here, then there’ll be no arguments. Is that understood?’
The boys nodded and Festus shook his head. He sat down, propping his head against his pack and closing his eyes as he muttered, ‘I pray to the Gods that nothing bad will come of this.’
The meal, a stew of goat and herbs, was nowhere near as satisfying as the meals they had cooked for themselves in the mountains, but it was filling. They paid the bill and left the inn, one of many small establishments lining the square opposite the entrance to the temple precinct. With Lupus leading, the three of them passed between the columns and tall studded gates to make their way inside the wall that separated the sacred ground from the outside world. A paved courtyard stretched round the temple, illuminated by several large braziers fed with bundles of wood by junior officials of the temple in plain white tunics.
The three visitors looked up in awe as they slowly approached the steps leading to the door. Above them, the pediment carried a painted relief of the God Apollo driving a gilded chariot that shone fiery red in the glow of the braziers. On closer inspection Marcus decided that the whole precinct had a rundown appearance. Much of the faded ochre paint on the columns was peeling. The gold that had once flowed into the hands of those run
ning the temple had all but dried up.
‘Magnificent, isn’t it?’ Lupus commented.
Festus shrugged. ‘Big. Yes. Seen better back in Rome. At least our temples and shrines are looked after properly.’
‘But they are only copies of the Greek originals,’ Lupus replied with a touch of irritation. ‘So much of what we have was inspired by the Greeks. An amazing civilization.’
‘If they were so amazing, I wonder how they became part of our empire and not the other way round,’ Festus answered drily.
Lupus ignored him as he craned his neck to inspect the relief of Apollo. Marcus followed his example briefly, then lowered his gaze to look around the precinct. A handful of other people stood admiring the temple, while a wizened priest sat on the steps behind a small altar. He looked bored, but soon stood when he saw Marcus and his companions draw closer to the temple.
‘Good evening, sirs. Care to make a donation to the upkeep of the temple?’ He rattled a small wooden box. His voice dropped and his eyes narrowed beneath their bushy brows as he stared at them. ‘Or, for a more generous payment, you could be given a glimpse of your future …’
Festus shook his head and laughed. ‘Away with you! We’ll not be taken in by your racket.’
‘Racket?’ The priest frowned, then drew himself up to his full height, some inches shorter than Festus, and touched his spare hand to his breast. ‘Sir, do you dare to scorn the Oracle, here on the very ground that was sanctified by the God Apollo?’
Lupus nudged Festus in the ribs. ‘Thought we weren’t trying to draw any attention to ourselves …?’
Festus muttered a curse, then bowed his head in apology. ‘I am sorry. I am a weary traveller. I spoke without thought.’
‘Then you are forgiven, my boy.’ The priest made a gesture with his hand, then held out the box again. ‘And I’m sure a little something extra would go some way to appeasing Apollo.’
Gladiator: Vengeance Page 6