Alba nodded and walked back to the men. He pointed to three of them and turned back to Sergius. “Sir, with your permission, we will head away from the town first. It might put the guards on the walls off our scent a little.”
“As you wish, Alba. Do I need to tell you to be careful?” Sergus asked.
“With respect, sir. I’m not sure it would do much good if you did,” the legionary answered with a smile that made his face crooked. The four men turned and jogged away from the unit and were soon out of sight.
Sergius turned to the rest of the men. “Stay in sight but do not come any closer. If I fall to one of those bows, you have my permission to tear this place to the ground.” A few of the men nodded at this order, looking tense.
Sergius sheathed his gladius and slowly walked toward the barrier. He held his hands out from his sides, palms forward, so that the guards could see he was unarmed. Both stopped and drew their bows.
Stopping, Sergius shouted up to the two men, “I need to speak to whoever is in charge.”
“I don’t care what you need, no-one gets in,” one of the guards returned. He was a grey haired man of at least sixty. Even from this distance, Sergius could see his arms were lean and muscled.
“I’ve been sent by Emperor Titus and I won’t be turned away. Go fetch someone who can talk to me old man,” Sergius fired back and watched the grey haired man laugh at his words.
“The last I heard, Otho was the emperor. Is the civil war over so quickly?”
“The traitor is just keeping the seat warm for the true Emperor. I’ve had enough of talking to a guard, fetch me someone important before I lose patience. There are legions following behind us and this town could be nothing but dust by tomorrow if I don’t get to talk to someone with brains in the next two minutes."Sergius put his hands behind his back and did his best to look relaxed. Not an easy thing to do with two bows trained on him and a unit of men watching his every move behind him.
The grey haired man turned to his younger companion and the second man dropped down behind the barrier. Sergius waited patiently for what seemed like an age before the guard reappeared with a third, ancient looking man.
“What do you want, legionary?” the new arrival asked in a strong, high voice.
“We need to talk, I’m from the legions of Titus Caesar and have been sent to broker a deal for grain,” Sergius lied. If he were to ascertain the existence of large quantities of grain in the town, Titus would simply send men to take it.
“Our grain is not for sale. Go back to Titus and tell him we recognize no Emperor anymore. Since the undead came we have been left to fend for ourselves. No help came when we needed it, so we will look after our own now,” the old man said with the wave of a hand.
“How long is it since you left the legions old man?” Sergius asked in a flash of intuition.
The ancient turned back to Sergius and smiled. “Not so stupid as you look, are you? It was before you were born, youngster. I called Augustus Emperor.” He stood and looked defiant despite his bent back and drooping eyes.
“Then you know what will happen if you turn me away now. There will be more men here tomorrow and they will not ask for grain, they will burn this town to the ground and simply take what they want. Do you think you can stand against them?” Sergius asked. As he said this he saw Alba returning at a run. He turned to his legionary and saw the worried look on the man's face.
Alba stopped and leaned in breathlessly, speaking low so that the men on the walls could not hear. “Sir, there are about two hundred Risen approaching from the far side of the town. From what I can see the town is equally well defended on that side but these people will be hard pushed to defend against a force that size.”
The old man on the walls shouted down from the barrier, “What is your man saying to you?”
Sergius thought for a moment. If they retreated now they could leave the town to its fate. They could even return tomorrow to take the grain with little resistance, assuming the undead moved on in search of more food. He couldn’t do that, though. Titus wanted an empire to rule when the war with Otho was over and towns like this one would be the heart of that empire. The fight back against the Risen would be mounted by men like those standing on the barriers. He was bound to help this town if he could.
“You have a horde heading your way. The far side of the town is about to be attacked by at least two hundred undead,” he shouted up to the ancient man.
There was an urgent discussion on the barrier before the youngest of the three dropped out of sight once more.
“Let us in and we will help you defend your homes,” Sergius shouted up but the old man was facing away from the soldiers at his gates, in towards the center of the town. He must have seen something that convinced him of the truth Sergius spoke. He signaled down to unseen people on the ground and part of the barrier was pushed outwards to make a small opening in the barrier.
Without another word Sergius signaled for his men to enter the town. Alba was first to duck through the barrier and very soon every man had followed him.
Chapter Nine
Paulus answered the door after the third frantic knock. He was surprised to find the young grandson of the doctor who tended Regulus. He looked anxious and was accompanied by a middle aged woman and a child that she carried in her arms.
“Please, Paulus, may I speak to Praetor Domitius or Vitus please?” the young boy asked.
The young boy’s name came back to Paulus as he spoke, it was a gift he had developed over the years he had served as Domitius' man servant.
“I’m sorry young Lee. My master and Vitus are on their way to the games. I’m afraid the house is empty except for mistress Lucia and Regulus.” Paulus stepped back to allow the young boy access, friend as he was to the house after so many visits.
“Could I speak to them, please? It is a matter of importance involving Garic,” the boy asked as he entered the house. The woman entered behind him, looking sheepish.
Paulus left the three of them in the hallway while he went upstairs to find either of the other two occupants. It wasn’t long before he returned with Lucia, who looked flustered, as if she had been asleep moments before.
“Lee, what is the matter? Are you okay?” she asked, concerned.
“Lucia, this is Garic’s wife, Atia and his son. They need Praetor Domitius’ help. Garic is in trouble.
Lucia stepped forward and put her arm around the two new-comers. “Please come in. Tell me how we can help,” Lucia said kindly. She turned to Paulus, “Would you be so kind as to fetch refreshments for our guests?” she asked and the tall man nodded before turning away.
“Please,” she continued. “Tell me what has happened.”
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At first Vitus had tried to watch each group of people as they approached them. As the crowds got thicker, he realised that his eyes couldn’t cope with the sheer numbers. He allowed his mind to relax and let the movement of people wash over him, trusting that he would spot anything out of the ordinary as it happened. He had Tatius and Gallus walking in front of Domitius and Flavia, while he walked behind the Praetorian and his wife. He was aware that they must have been very obvious walking along in formation but the safety of Domitius was his first concern.
The crowd was in a buoyant mood as his small group moved through them. The opening day of games was always a happy affair. The chance of seeing some of the most famous gladiators in the empire was reason enough to celebrate. Today was also the opening day of the new Colosseum. The added expectation was feeding the crowd and excitement was building.
Food hawkers and stall holders selling mementos of the day, fought to be heard over the rising cacophony created by the gathering people. When they had first arrived in Rome a guide had told Vitus that the new arena held eighty thousand people, as they moved through streets he could believe the number had been too low.
Domitius did his best to appear rel
axed and informal as he walked toward the looming curved walls of the Colosseum. Vitus had done his best to ready the praetor for the journey to the games. Warning him about the dangers of the people packed together and advising him to relax and let his three guards act in his defence. It seemed the words had been unnecessary, as the couple moved through the crowd with ease. They followed in the footsteps of the two legionaries but may easily have been strolling in a local park.
As the senator's entrance to the arena approached, Vitus couldn’t help staring up at the walls that rose and seemed to lean out above them. A few wispy clouds moved across the sky, giving the Colosseum the appearance of moving toward him as he craned his neck to look up.
Two guards on the gate stepped in front of them as they reached the door.
“We need to see your tokens please, sir,” one of them said to Domitius. The praetor reached into the folds of his toga and produced two gold coloured discs that he handed to the guard.
“I will be bringing one bodyguard in with me,” Domitius said. The guard nodded.
“All body guards will be allowed to stand at the back of the senators' section, sir,” the guard informed him, sounding a little bored.
“Very well. Vitus, join us please.” He turned to the two legionaries and handed them a pair of wooden disks with markings burned into them. I acquired these for Regulus and Lucia but the young man tells me he is too ill to attend. I hope you can both make use of them. Be here when the last fight is over, please.” He dropped the two tokens into Gallus’ hand and the big legionary smiled like a child who has been given something sweet to eat.
“Yes, sir. Thank you very much, sir,” the big man said. He and Marcius disappeared off into the growing crowd to find the entrance to the arena marked on their tokens.
Once through the entrance, the noise of the crowd was dampened by the thick stone walls. More guards pointed Domitius up stone steps and he led Flavia by linking her arm in his. Vitus followed behind and the three of them made their way high into the stands. They reached the senators' section and stepped out to their first sight of the arena floor and the crowd that sat surrounding it.
It was the biggest single building any of them had ever seen. The noise of the crowd was huge, even half empty, with the people just talking to their neighbors. The arena floor was huge and round and the golden sand was raked flat.
Domitius greeted a number of senators, shaking hands with many and introducing Flavia where he could. She looked every inch the Praetor's wife. Her dress was simple but elegant, in cream with gold trim. Her hair had taken her three hours this morning or so Lucia had told Vitus in wonder.
The highest men in the city moved in front of Vitus like a swarm of bees. None of them seemed to be moving in any particular direction, rather floating around, apparently at random. The more you looked at them, though, the more they all seemed to have an agenda. Each man knew exactly who he should talk to next so as not to cause offence or ignore anyone important.
Vitus watched this dance for a few moments and then, with no preamble, horns sounded all around the arena. The crowd erupted in a cheer so loud it sent a chill down Vitus’ back. The senators made their way to their seats, leaving just the personal bodyguards standing at the back of the box.
On the arena floor, units of Praetorian guards marched onto the sand in pristine gleaming armour. They formed two lines that halted and turned to face each other. Out of the same door came a series of cages pushed by slaves. Each cage contained a wild beast each bigger than the last. A huge cat with a golden shaggy mane was followed by a grey skinned beast with two horns protruding out of its nose. Each horn looked big enough to skewer a man as easily as a gladius. Finally, came a massive cage containing an elephant, known from drawings to all boys, from the stories of Hannibal. It rolled onto the sand, pushed and pulled by dozens of slaves. As it reached the center of the arena it let out a trumpeting noise that silenced the crowd, as if on cue.
After the animals had been paraded, the gladiators appeared. The variety of skin colour on show was matched only by the different forms of armour. The men carried weapons so exotic that Vitus couldn’t even guess their country of origin. Curved blades, tridents and nets, clubs and hammers, the display was impressive. One huge man, wearing no armour but a grimacing metal mask, held two swords of different lengths in arms so big they were almost the size of Vitus’ waist.
The procession was completed when Otho appeared. He rode on a pure white chariot pulled very slowly by a white horse. The crowd found even more volume for the man who had saved them from the Risen. He held his hand up to the people and they loved him. This man who was allowing the empire to be destroyed, without lifting a finger. The man who was the reason they would soon be starving. His lust for power had laid waste to farms so that the walls of Rome would soon become the bars of a prison.
Otho paraded himself around the whole of the arena floor, taking his time and drinking in the adoration. He stopped for a second in front of the senators' section and the men stood to salute the emperor, Domitius included. The chariot continued around the circular floor and the senators returned to their seats, chatting to each other.
The occasion was nothing but spectacular and Vitus was impressed, despite his loathing for the man who paraded himself in front of the people as a hero. He was the master of manipulation.
Finally Otho maneuvered himself to the center of the floor and signaled to someone Vitus could not see. A rotund man in a toga waddled to the space in front of Otho. After bowing to the emperor the man turned to face the senators and the crowd around them. He took a few seconds to ready himself before he spoke. The crowd silenced itself and his voice carried like that of an optio on a battlefield.
“Senators, and people of Rome. Welcome to the inaugural games of the Colosseum.” The crowd erupted into a wall of noise that forced the speaker to wait until Otho raised a hand for silence.
“Your emperor, the hero of the siege of Rome, Otho Caesar is proud to present these games in honour of you, the people of Rome.” More noise forced the speaker to stop again.
“In the coming days you will see the finest gladiators the world has to offer. Champions from every nation in the empire,” he paused for effect, “and of course, our own champions from Rome.” His voice rose, inviting more cheering and Otho raised his hands to clap for the men behind him. The gladiators saluted the emperor in return.
“The emperor will present to you the most exotic animals in the world for your delight, the finest battles ever seen at the games and finally, the punishment of traitors to our great city.”
The final words produced a loud round of jeers and boos. The senators in the box began a round of indiscreet chatter and Vitus heard at least one voice say the name Fascallus.
The speaker finished his speech with the words, “Let the games begin!” and the parade slowly and with less pomp, moved toward the door through which it had entered, Otho was the first to leave.
Before long there was a small commotion at the front of the senators' box and Vitus ascertained that Otho had taken his place in his seat. His box was just in front and a little lower than the senators' so that the ranked politicians formed an honour guard. He stood and Vitus saw just his head and upraised arm as he saluted the crowd once more.
The first two gladiators stepped onto the sand to the adulation of the crowd. Both men were lean and muscled, they stretched as they walked across to stand in front of the Emperor's box. They both stood to say the famous oath, “We who are about to die, salute you.”
Otho held up his hand to accept the oath and the two men turned to face each other. The crowd was on its feet, ready for the first blood to be spilled on the floor of the Colosseum. The men circled slowly, both holding a small round shield in their left hand, one red and one blue. They both brandished a gladius in their right hand. Neither man wore armour of any kind, speed would win this fight.
The man holding the red shield moved in first. His over-head swing was mea
sured and after testing his opponent's speed, he stepped back out of range. Blue shield sidestepped the blow and backhanded and cross sliced across the midriff of an opponent that was no longer there.
A flurry of blows from red drove blue back, using first his shield and then his gladius, to block the heavy attacks. Red stepped forward with each successive swing and left himself open to a counterattack. Blue got his shield up in time to block a swing aimed at his face and raked his sword along the exposed thigh of his fellow combatant.
Blood spilled onto the virgin sand and the crowd bayed for more. Red staggered backward, favoring his wounded left leg. Blue took full advantage and stabbed his gladius in past the red shield. Red still had the presence of mind to side step and turn his defence into attack. As he twisted, the blade of his sword was facing away from his opponent so he battered at his exposed skull with the hilt.
Blue buckled to the sand with a crack so loud that Vitus heard it from his place in the stands. Red stepped back to give himself room to see the damage he had done but his opponent was on the sand, still, except for a fitful shaking.
The crowd was quiet for a moment as all eyes watched the jittering man on the ground. The victorious gladiator stepped over the dying man and looked up at Otho in the box. The emperor wasted no time with theatre, the man on the floor was too injured for there to be a question of pardon. He signaled death with his downturned thumb and the man on the floor was put out of his misery. A swift slice to the throat and his life’s blood began to soak into the white sand beneath him.
The victorious fighter walked toward the Emperor’s box and bowed in salute. The crowd was once more cheering for his victory and the blood they had seen spilled.
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