The Gladiator c-9

by Simon Scarrow

  'Some bastard stabbed me in the thigh, but I'll live.' Cato glanced past Macro to the wagons, and saw that some of the animals and men had been injured. 'I spotted the slaves as we rode up. Looks like they've been giving you some trouble.'

  'That's putting it mildly.' Macro grimaced.' They were throwing themselves at us. I'd never have believed slaves would fight so hard.

  Anyway, Gortyna's the other way. You came from the direction of Matala.'

  Cato nodded. 'I went there first. Centurion Portillus told me where you had gone. The senator and I passed here a few days ago and saw there was trouble. I thought it would be as well to make sure you were all right.'

  'Well, we are now.' Macro pointed towards the cavalry squadron on the other side of the barricade.' Who are that lot?'

  'Fourth Batavian, stationed outside Gortyna. They lost half their mounts in the earthquake, as well as over a hundred of their men.

  Given the dangers on the road, the senator decided on an escort.'

  'Dangers? I take it this isn't the only place the slaves are making trouble, then?'

  'No.' Cato lowered his voice. 'There are uprisings all along the southern side of the island. Mostly on the big estates, but many of the slaves have run away from the towns as well. It's only to be expected that they would take advantage of the situation. There have been several reports of them attacking farms and smaller settlements. They even attacked a small detachment Sempronius sent to an outpost to guard the estates along the road from Gortyna.' Cato gestured towards the column behind Macro. 'But this? You must have nearly a hundred men with you.' He glanced towards the trees, where the slaves had taken shelter. Already a handful had reappeared along the fringe and were watching the Romans warily. 'They're getting ambitious. We'd better get your column on the road to Matala as quick as possible.'

  While some of the Batavians formed a screen opposite the olive trees, the rest dismounted and helped Macro's men clear the barricade away from the road. A short time later the column was trundling along the road to Matala, the Batavians riding a short distance out on either flank to deter any further attacks. Cato had ordered one of his men to lead his horse as he marched alongside Macro.

  'How are things at Gortyna?' asked Macro.

  'Not good. The city wasn't as badly damaged as Matala, but just about every senior official and officer was killed or wounded when the governor's banquet hall collapsed.'

  'Is the governor still alive?'

  Cato shook his head.' He died a few hours after we arrived. Might have been better if he had been killed outright.'

  'How so?'

  'The poor bastard was in agony, but the real problem is that he had handed power over to one of his men, Glabius.'

  'Let me guess. Glabius is enjoying the opportunity, and isn't keen on having to move aside for Sempronius.'

  Cato smiled thinly. 'Exactly. And since he has surrounded himself with friends, and a small army of bodyguards, he's in a good position to dictate his terms. So the senator has had to compromise. He is sharing power with Glabius for now. Glabius has authority over Gortyna, while Sempronius has taken charge of the rest of the province.'

  'Great.' Macro frowned. 'Just what we need. A bloody turf war between two politicians while the world around them goes to the dogs.'

  'True, but it won't last,' Cato continued. 'Sempronius has sent messages to every cohort and garrison detachment on the island informing them of the situation in Gortyna, and that he has taken temporary command of all available military forces. Once they're on our side, I don't think Glabius is going to cause any trouble. Then we can deal with the slaves and restore order.'

  'That's easier said than done. If the rest of the slaves on this island are anything like that lot back there, then we've got a hard fight ahead of us, Cato. Believe me. If they get properly armed and organised then they're going to be a tough nut to crack.'

  'Sempronius doubts it,' Cato replied.' Hereckons they won't amount to much unless they acquire some kind of leader.'

  'But they have. I saw him.' Macro recalled an image of the man he had seen giving orders to the slaves.' He looked like a hard case. A gladiator possibly. There's something else.'

  'Oh?'

  'He seemed to know me.'

  'Really?' Cato raised his eyebrows.

  'Yes. He looked at me. As sure as day, he recognised me.'

  Cato was quiet for a moment.' Do you know him?'

  'I don't think so.' Macro frowned. 'I don't know. We may have met some time, but I can't place him. It certainly wasn't in the legions.

  He was young. No older than you, I'd say. From the scars on his face he's been in a fight or two.'

  'Then perhaps he is a professional fighter, possibly a gladiator.

  There won't be many of those on the island, so we should find out who he is quickly enough, once we get back to Gortyna and put the word about. Still, if he is a gladiator, and he is leading that band of slaves who attacked you, then you're right, we've got a problem.'

  'A problem?' Macro laughed drily. 'We're in a province devastated by an earthquake and the largest wave I have ever fucking seen. The governor and nearly all his lackeys are dead. The people are going to get very hungry unless some one sorts out a proper supply of food.

  There's only a handful of decent soldiers left alive on the island and now we've got a budding Spartacus on the loose… and you suggest we have a problem. Well, I'm simply delighted that the legions are still recruiting the brightest and the best. That's all I can say'

  Cato shrugged.' Could be worse.'

  'Could it? How exactly?'

  'We could be back in Britain.'

  Macro was silent for a moment before he pursed his lips and conceded, 'There is always that.'

  'The question is, what does our gladiator friend hope to achieve from his rebellion?' Cato mused. 'For the moment he's free, and so are those who follow him. The first impulse would have been to run to the hills to avoid recapture and punishment. They would know that it would only be a matter of time before a powerful force was sent to hunt them down. But the earthquake has changed everything.

  Now there's a lot more to play for.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'You said it yourself, Macro. We've only a handful of men to take them on. We have the remains of towns to protect, and our hands are full keeping order and trying to feed the survivors. We're in no shape to take on a slave rebellion, small as it is right now. If this gladiator can persuade more runaways to join him, not to mention all the other slaves who have stayed behind, then who is to say how ambitious the man might be come?'

  Macro digested the suggestion and puffed his cheeks out. 'Are you suggesting he might make a play for the whole island?'

  'Who knows? He might. But he might try and cut a deal with Sempronius for his freedom, and the freedom of his followers.'

  'He won't make that one fly!' Macro snorted. 'If Rome starts setting slave rebels free in Crete, then who knows where that might end? Sempronius would never agree to it.'

  'Quite. And when he doesn't, our gladiator is going to be faced with some difficult choices. If he surrenders, then the ringleaders will be crucified. That will be just the start of the reprisals. So he will have to find some way to escape from Crete, or take us on. That's the real danger. Unless we get reinforcements, then he will have the upper hand. If he wipes us out — '

  'Bollocks! That's not going to happen.' Macro laughed.' Once Rome hears what's happened here, they'll send out an army to crush the rebellion in double time.'

  'No doubt. But by then the damage will be done. Word will go right round the empire that the slaves of Crete rose up and seized it from the hands of their masters. Now that's an example that might just inspire other slaves in every province under Roman rule. There's the problem. Sempronius can't afford to let this get out of hand.

  Neither can we, for that matter. If things go pear-shaped, you can be sure that the emperor will be looking for people to hold responsible.

&nb
sp; Do you really think he would stop at the senior political figure in Crete? Sempronius would be the first for the chop and my guess is we wouldn't be far behind.'

  'Shit… you're right,' Macro muttered and glanced towards a distant hillock where a small band of slaves was still shadowing the column. 'Why is it always us that land in the shit? Always us.'

  Cato looked at his friend and smiled. 'I asked you that question once.'

  'Really? What did I say?'

  'You looked at me, in that barely tolerant way that you do, and said,' Cato cleared his throat and did a passable imitation of the tone of voice Macro adopted with the thickest of his recruits,' Why us?

  Because we're here, lad. That's why!

  Macro stared at Cato. 'I said that?'

  'You did. Quite a good aphorism I thought, at the time. Very stoic.'

  'Load of shite, more like. If I say anything like that again, then feel free to kick me up the arse.'

  'If you insist.'

  There were no more attacks on the column as it approached Matala. In the gathering dusk the slaves who had been watching them turned away and vanished into the shadows stretching across the landscape. There was one last precaution for Macro to take before they returned to the town. He ordered a brief halt as the chains were replaced on Atticus and he was secured to the driving bench. One of the auxiliaries took over the reins. Atticus glowered at Macro and raised his foot to shake the heavy iron links from side to side.

  'What is the reason for this, Centurion? I don't deserve this. Not after all I have done today'

  You have been useful,' Macro agreed. 'But you're a proven troublemaker, and right now I can't afford to let you stir the shit up amongst the people of Matala.'

  'I risked my life to obtain the food in these wagons.'

  'Sorry. You know how it is with leopards and spots. I don't think I can trust you. Not just yet.'

  'Then when?'

  'When I decide, and not before.'

  'I suppose you will say that my being held in chains is for the good of my people?'

  'Your people?' Macro chuckled.' When did they be come your people? You are your own mouthpiece, not theirs. Now then, do be a good prisoner, eh? I would hate to have to convince you to behave.'

  He held up a clenched fist. 'If I make my point clear.'

  'Your merest threat of violence is powerfully eloquent,' Atticus replied coolly. 'You have me for now, Macro, but when I am released I will pay you back, with interest.'

  'Of course. I'll look forward to it.' Macro slapped the rump of the nearest horse from the team drawing the first wagon and the animal jolted forward. The auxiliary cracked his whip and the rest of the team broke into a walk. As the wagon lurched forward, Atticus toppled backwards on to the sacks of grain piled behind the driver's bench, causing Macro to laugh.

  'Bit hard on him, don't you think?' asked Cato.

  'Perhaps.' Macro shrugged. 'But I'm not taking any risks, not until we have the situation in hand.'

  'Who knows how long that will be?'

  The column trundled round the last bend in the road, and there before them lay the ruins of Matala and the refugee camp. As the people caught sight of the loaded wagons with the wounded perched on top they began to call to their friends and family and hurried through the tents and shelters towards the road. As he watched the surge of humanity sweep across the slope, Cato glanced round at the thin screen of soldiers and cavalry.

  'Decurion!' he called out to the commander of the squadron.

  'Have your men close up round the wagons. Keep those people away'

  'Yes, sir!'The decurion saluted and turned to pass the orders on to his men. The riders nudged their mounts in towards the side of the road so that the wagons were protected from the approaching crowd.

  Cato glanced ahead. There was still half a mile to go before they reached the ramp leading up to the acropolis. The first people drew up across the road, fifty paces ahead of the front of the column.

  Macro hauled himself up beside the driver of the leading wagon and cupped a hand to his mouth.

  'Make way there!'

  After a moment's hesitation, the townspeople shuffled aside, and stood and stared at the laden wagons with hungry eyes. More and more people arrived to swell their ranks, and inevitably the pressure from behind forced those at the front back towards the road. The driver of the first wagon instinctively allowed his horses to slow down for fear of running into the nearest civilians.

  'Clear the way!' Macro shouted again.' Move back, damn you!'

  As those closest struggled to do as they had been ordered, there were angry shouts from the back from those who feared they would miss out on any food that might be distributed. Macro turned to the decurion.

  'Take eight of your men, and clear the road.'

  'Yes, sir! You men, follow me.' The decurion dug his heels in gently and walked his horse forward, followed by his men, fanning out either side of their leader. As they closed in, Cato could see the frightened expressions of the people in the crowd as they pressed back. The fear spread through the packed ranks like wildfire and they recoiled from the horses as the decurion led his men down the road.

  Macro turned to the driver and muttered, ' Keep up with them.'

  With a crack of the whip the wagon lurched forward again, rumbling over the worn paving stones leading up to where the town gate had once stood. Cato, the auxiliaries and volunteers increased their pace to keep up, and to his side he saw the hostile faces in the crowd as the column passed through.

  'Bloody Romans!' a man in a torn tunic shouted, and raised his fist. 'They're going to keep it all to themselves!'

  His anger was taken up by others and the air was filled with jeers and shouts. A mother raised her infant up for the passing horsemen to see and cried out in a shrill voice that her baby would soon die unless he was properly fed. Cato was tempted to offer some reassurance, and promise that they would receive a fair share of the rations, but realised it would be a pointless gesture. His voice would be drowned out by the din assaulting the column on all sides, and it would only make him look weak.

  Distracted by the baying of the crowd, he failed to notice Atticus edging his way along the grain sacks piled on the leading wagon.

  When he came to the end of his chain, Atticus stopped and continued on his stomach until he could reach the end of the wagon.

  Cato's gaze turned away from the crowd and he started as he saw Atticus lying full length.

  What's he doing?' asked one of the auxiliaries marching beside Cato.

  Bracing his feet, Atticus thrust his arms against the rearmost sacks of grain.

  'Stop him!' Cato shouted, springing towards the wagon. But it was too late. The first of the sacks on the top of the pile tipped over the end and toppled on to the road. It landed with a soft thud and split.

  Grain exploded across the road with a swift, soft hiss. A second sack was already falling as Cato caught up with the wagon and hauled himself up. He saw Atticus struggling to push yet more of the grain on to the road, and stamped down hard on his arm. Atticus cried out as the nailed studs bit into his flesh and snatched his other arm back to try to shift Cato's boot. Leaning down, Cato hauled the third sack back so that it was in no danger of falling. Before he could think to do anything else, there was an excited shout from the crowd and a man darted between the horses and went down on his knees to claw the grain into a fold in his tunic. At once others followed suit and the auxiliaries were shoved aside as people frantically pressed through to get at the spilled grain.

  Leaning down, Cato glared into Atticus's eyes and clamped a hand round the man's throat. 'Try anything else, and I swear I will cut your throat where you lie. Understand?'

  Atticus was gasping as he nodded. Cato clenched a little tighter for a moment to emphasise his threat before he released his grip and turned towards the chaotic scene behind the wagon. The vehicle was still moving forward, behind the gap cleared for it by the decurion and his men. But the desperate su
rge of the crowd towards the grain had split the column in two, forcing the following wagons and their escort to stop.

  Cato turned to Macro and called out, ' Keep going! I'll take charge of the rest.'

  As Macro nodded, Cato jumped down and drew his sword, bracing his feet to maintain his balance as he was jostled by the crowd. He forced his way through to the rear half of the column, standing stationary before the heaving mass of civilians scrabbling away at the grain.

  'Auxiliaries! On me! Form a wedge!'

  Cato took up position in the middle of the road, and the men of the Twelfth formed up at his back in a chevron. When he saw that the men were ready, Cato took a deep breath and called out, as loud as he could,'Shields front, present spears!'

  There was a clatter as the shafts of their spears rapped against the shield rims, and an arrowhead of sharp iron points faced the crowd.

  'Advance!' Cato bellowed and then called the time: ' One… two… one… two!'

  The wedge tramped steadily forward and faces in the crowd began to look up in the direction of the approaching formation. Some snatched a last handful of grain and then turned to push their way to safety.

  'They'll murder us!' a shrill voice cried out, and there were panicked shouts as the civilians scrambled out of the path of the oncoming soldiers. Cato called back over his shoulder,'Get the wagons moving! Don't stop for anything until we reach the acropolis.'

  As the wheels rumbled into life behind him, Cato continued the advance, the boots of the auxiliaries grinding over the scattered grain. Before them an old man had slipped to the ground and was struggling to rise to his feet. One of the soldiers thrust his shield out, knocking the man on to his side. He landed heavily on his knee and then rolled into a ball, hugging the joint as he groaned in agony. The auxiliary lowered his spear tip and Cato thrust his sword out towards the man.

  'No! Leave him be and step over him.'

  The old man was left on the ground as the formation passed over him, and then looked up in terror as the ground trembled under the weight of the heavy wheels of the wagons. The horses stepped nimbly over the prostrate form, but the wheels were insensitive to his plight, and Cato glanced back at the sound of the thin cry of dread to see the old man wriggle to one side at the last moment. Cato continued to advance along the road as the other civilians hurried to get out of the way of the lethal spear points.