As they passed the Temple of Jupiter, Best and Greatest, Cato saw that it was the newest structure on the acropolis, and the least damaged. Through the columns that surrounded the building he could see sacks of grain and racks of amphorae piled high along the outer walls. The main doors were open, and more supplies were visible in the dim interior. Cato quickened his pace, caught the eye of Sempronius and nodded towards the temple.
‘Enough there to feed the people for a while yet, not to mention our men.’
‘I know,’ Sempronius replied coolly. ‘Damn Glabius.’
He led them towards the administration building, where another one of Glabius’s hired men stood on guard. Sempronius explained his business once again and the guard nodded and escorted them inside with a curt gesture. They passed through the main hall, which was filled with fine rugs, furniture, statuary and boxes of scrolls. T h e contents of Glabius’s house, Cato surmised, carried up to the acropolis for safe keeping until the crisis was over. On the far side, a door gave out on to a small colonnaded courtyard. A staircase on the far side climbed up to a second level of rooms, built directly on top of the wall. The guard led them up the stairs and along a narrow corridor until they reached a door at the end. He stopped and rapped on the frame.
‘Come!’ called a high-pitched voice from inside, and the guard lifted the latch and swung the door open before stepping aside to let Sempronius and his men pass. The room was long and narrow, with windows along one side giving fine views out over the city. Smaller windows, high up on the opposite wall, allowed the afternoon sunlight to fill the room with an amber hue. Glabius sat behind a desk beside one of the windows. A pile of waxed tablets lay before him, with one open on the desk. As they entered, he hurriedly made a final mark in the wax and closed the tablet.
As he strode across the room, Macro studied the man they had come to see. Marcus Glabius was short, a head shorter than even Macro, and heavily covered with fat and flesh that made his cheeks pendulous and quivery. Although his wrinkled face indicated advanced years, Macro was surprised to see that Glabius had fine curly black hair, and then realised that the tax collector was wearing a wig. He wore a silk tunic and soft doeskin boots that laced up to just below his knees. He struggled to his feet and bowed towards his guests.
‘Welcome, Senator.’ He glanced shrewdly at Macro. Cato had manoeuvred himself to stand behind Sempronius’s shoulder. ‘I had not expected you to bring company. Witnesses to our discussion, perhaps?’
‘These men are my secretaries, not witnesses,’ Sempronius replied coldly. ‘They are here to take notes.’
‘Both of them? Surely one would suffice?’
‘For a lesser official, perhaps,’ Sempronius countered. ‘But as a senator, and as acting governor of the province, it is for me to choose how many men I need.’
‘Acting governor?’ Glabius smiled. ‘You have no right to that title, alas. My poor friend Hirtius made that quite clear in his last hours.’
‘Nevertheless, I have assumed the governorship, and have written to Rome to seek confirmation.’
A quick frown flitted across Glabius’s features, before he smiled again. ‘How strange. I have written to my good friend the imperial secretary, Narcissus, to ask for confirmation of my own claim to the post. Ah well, we shall soon see who Romeacknowledges. Anyway, I believe you are here to request rations for your men.’
Macro knelt down and opened his bag.With one hand he began to rummage through the contents, while the other stole slowly round, behind his back. The senator cleared his throat and answered the tax collector clearly.
‘No.’ Sempronius shook his head. ‘Not this time. I have finished with requests, Glabius. Nor will I condone any more payments, at your profiteering rates, for the rancid stocks that you supply to my men. I have come here to demand that you surrender control of the supplies gathered here. Furthermore, I want you, your friends and your hired thugs to quit the acropolis immediately.’
For an instant, Glabius’s eyes widened with a stab of anxiety. ‘Sadly, I am unable to comply with your wishes.’ He stepped out from behind his desk so that he had a clear line to the door at the end of the room. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I think I might need a few, er, witnesses of my own in here.’
He opened his mouth to draw a deep breath and call for his guards as Sempronius turned to Macro and nodded. ‘Now’
Macro surged to his feet, dagger in hand, and hurled himself at Glabius, knocking him back against the wall and driving the breath out of him in an explosive gasp of pain. Before the tax collector could react, Macro spun him round, grabbed him under the jaw with his left hand and thrust the edge of the dagger against his throat.
‘Don’t move a muscle,’ he hissed in Glabius’s ear. ‘The blade’s sharp, and will cut through your throat at the slightest pressure.’
Glabius attempted to wriggle, and Macro clamped his left hand tightly about the man’s windpipe. ‘I said, don’t move. And if you make a sound without my say-so, it’ll be the last thing you do. Understand?’
Glabius made to nod, but wisely changed his mind and whimpered, ‘Yes.’
Cato leaned across the table and turned the tablet that Glabius had been working on round to face him. He flipped it open and ran his eyes over the columns of figures under some clearly marked headings. He let out a low whistle. ‘Looks like you’re making a small fortune on the commissions on the grain purchases. What am I saying? It’s a bloody huge fortune. I think I’ll hang on to this.’ He turned to Sempronius for permission. ‘Sir?’
‘Take it. Put it in your bag. I’m sure Narcissus will be delighted to find out how well his friend is doing out of the provincial treasury.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good.’ Sempronius smiled as he stood in front of Glabius and crossed his arms. ‘Now that I have your attention, and your co- operation, I want you to listen carefully.You will do exactly as I say. Ifyou manage that, then you will live. Ifyou mess up, or try to make a run for it, or shout a warning, then Centurion Macro will kill you on the spot. So listen. This is what you’re going to do . . .’
A short time after Sempronius and the others had entered Glabius’s office, they re-emerged. This time the tax collector accompanied them, following the senator, while Macro and Cato walked behind Glabius. Macro held the dagger in his right hand, concealed in the shoulder bag, which had a small slit to the front through which the point of the blade projected, just enough for him to keep the tip in Glabius’s side as they walked steadily along the corridor and down the steps into the courtyard. The guard who had shown the visitors up to the office was waiting in the shade of the colonnade and hurriedly rose to his feet at their approach. Glabius slowed to a stop and beckoned to the man.
‘Over here!’
The guard drew up in front of the small party and eyed them curiously, until Glabius started to give his orders. ‘I want the men summoned to the side of the Temple of Jupiter, at once.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Macro gave Glabius just the lightest of prods, as a little reminder. ‘Oh yes,’ Glabius added hurriedly. ‘Make sure they are all there including the men at the gate and on the walls.’ ‘All of them?’ The guard could not conceal his surprise at the order. Yes, all of them!’ Glabius replied harshly. ‘D’you hear me? All of them.’ ‘But sir, the gate? W h o will guard it?’ ‘That’s not important now. I want everyone by the temple, for a…a…’ Glabius bit his lip, and then started as Macro applied some pressure to his back. ‘A reward! Yes, I want to reward you men. For your loyal service. For all the hard work you have done to help the people of Gortyna come through the dark time that has afflicted us!’
Macro leaned a little closer and whispered under his breath, ‘Easy does it. Let’s not go overboard, eh?’
Glabius nodded ever so faintly as he cleared his throat. ‘Just summon the men. Tell them I want to address them, them and all my family and friends in the acropolis. Send word to them as well, at once. Go!’
The guard bowed his head and turned to stride away.
‘Don’t walk, run!’ Glabius called after him, after another prod from Macro.With a last glance back, the guard stumbled into a trot as he hurried away to carry out his orders. As the clatter of footsteps faded, Glabius swallowed nervously and glanced at Sempronius. ‘Do you think he believed me?’
You’d better pray he did.’
Glabius stared intently at the senator. ‘I don’t know what exactly you think you are doing, but you won’t get away with it.’
‘We shall see. You just play your part and we’ll take care of things.’ ‘What are you up to?’ ‘You’ll see. Now then, let’s get moving again. As far as the entrance. And then we wait there while your men assemble.’ With Macro keeping a close eye on Glabius, they slowly made their way back through the hall and halted just inside the building. Keeping to the shadows, they watched as the bodyguards and hired thugs began to drift across the acropolis and assemble to the side of the colonnade of the Temple of Jupiter. Sempronius had noted the area on a previous visit, and saw how the bulk of the temple concealed the line of sight to the main gate. They waited and watched as a small crowd of the tax collector’s guests ambled around the corner, carrying the wine amphora with them and chatting cheerily as they found a shaded corner to sit down in and wait for their host. All the while Macro kept the point of his blade lightly pressed into the small of Glabius’s back. Once, when he swayed forward a fraction, Macro grabbed the back of his tunic and gave him a harsh tug.
‘You even think about trying to run for it, and I’ll have you.’ ‘I wasn’t thinking about it! I swear. I’m just . . .just scared.’ Macro winked at Cato as he replied in a growl, ‘Good. Being scared might just keep you alive.’ Glabius swallowed and nodded. They waited until the last of Glabius’s followers appeared to have answered the summons, and then Sempronius turned to him. ‘Are you clear on what you have to do?’
Yes. Absolutely’
‘Then let’s do it.’ Sempronius took a deep breath and placed his hand on Glabius’s shoulder as they walked slowly out of the entrance and started to cross the paved area towards the temple. As they walked, Sempronius muttered to Cato, ‘Carry on, Centurion.’
Yes, sir.’ Cato saluted and turned to stride towards the main gate, a waxed tablet clutched under one arm to reinforce the impression that he was a menial clerk going about his business.
Glabius glanced round. ‘Where’s he off to?’
‘Never you mind,’ Macro said from behind. ‘Just concentrate on what you have to do.’
They continued forward towards the small crowd beside the temple. At their approach the men stopped milling about and turned to Glabius and the others expectantly.
‘This will do,’ said Sempronius, drawing up. ‘Right then, it’s your show.’
With Macro standing behind and just to one side of him, and Sempronius on the other flank, Glabius took a deep, nervous breath and raised an arm.
‘My friends! Faithful retainers! I am delighted to announce that Senator Sempronius and I have reached an agreement about the governance of the province. I have decided to’
‘Not so fast,’ Sempronius said under his breath. ‘Spin it out, like I told you.’
As Glabius continued, the senator glanced to his side and saw that Cato was halfway to the gate. Glabius had to keep his men occupied for a little while yet.
‘I have decided to, ah, firstly thank you for your friendship and your service.You have been a great source ofsupport in the troubled days since the gods brought down their wrath on our fine city of Gortyna . . .’
Cato looked back and was relieved to see that Glabius had the attention of his followers. No one seemed to be taking any interest in the clerk Senator Sempronius had sent on some errand. He continued striding away from the temple, trusting that everyone had answered the summons. Ahead of him was the gate, abandoned by the sentries. The locking bar was securely in place, a heavy wooden beam capped with bronze at each end. As he reached the gate, Cato paused to look round, but there was still no sign of life at this end of the acropolis. He dropped the waxed slate in his shoulder bag and slipped the strap over his head before lowering the bag to the ground. Then he hurried to the locking bar and grasped the handle, heaving it to one side. The beam shifted a tiny distance and he relaxed his grip for a moment so that he could adjust his footing and brace his shoulder against the handle.Taking a deep breath, he gritted his teeth and threw his weight behind the handle, grunting as he strained his muscles to shift the beam. It slid a little further, this time accompanied by a dull grating as it began to move.
Cato rested briefly and continued, and the beam slowly eased towards the iron hoops through which it passed on either door. At last it came free of the left-hand door and slid into the receiver channel. He eased it a little further, past the fine shaft of daylight that separated the doors, and then let go of the beam, which settled back into its brackets.
Grabbing the empty hoop, Cato leaned back, boots seeking purchase on the worn paving stones. With a squeaky groan that sounded deafening to his ears, the door began to swing inwards. It had opened about a pace when a leather curtain that formed the door in a nearby latrine shed was flung to one side and a man emerged, pulling down his tunic. A scabbard was tucked under one arm, the belt straps dangling down to his sandals. He glanced towards the gate and froze when he saw Cato.
‘What in Hades . . . ?’ Cato threw his weight back with renewed effort. ‘Stop! Stop that!’ the man yelled, releasing the hem of his tunic and drawing his sword and discarding his scabbard in one fluid motion. ‘Get away from the fucking door, you!’
Cato ducked through the gap and cupped a hand to his mouth as he bellowed down the road leading into the city. ‘Tenth Macedonian! On me!’
There was a scraping sound, and he turned to see that the man was heaving against the edge of the door.
‘No you don’t!’ Cato snarled, fumbling through the slit in his tunic and ripping out the dagger that was tied there. He clenched his fist round the handle and threw his weight against the door, stopping it dead. The impact drove the man back a step, and Cato seized the advantage to thrust again at the door, pressing it open another couple of feet before he sprang through the gap. The guard backed off a short distance, crouched low and readied his sword. He glanced at Cato’s dagger and sneered.
‘Run, boy! While you still have a chance.’
Cato felt a wave of rage flush through his body. Then he heard a shout from down the slope as Centurion Plotius ordered his men forward. Unless Cato stood his ground, the door would be closed before they reached the gate. He swallowed nervously and shook his head.
‘No,’ Cato replied. ‘You run.’
‘What?’ The guard looked surprised for a moment, then his teeth clenched as he stepped forward to attack. As soon as he was in range he lunged straight at Cato’s stomach. Cato leaped nimbly to the side, hissing a curse at the pain in his leg as the blade cut through the air close by. As the guard snatched back his sword, Cato slashed at his arm. It was a desperate attack, and the dagger struck the sword blade with a sharp scraping ring. At once the guard drew his weapon back and now slashed at Cato in a swinging arc. Cato had no choice but to go down on one knee and duck as the glittering edge swished overhead. T h e guard had put his full strength into the blow, and the momentum of the blade carried his arm round and momentarily unbalanced him. Cato threw himself forward, striking at the man’s booted foot, and felt the dagger pierce the leather straps, then flesh and bone. There was a shriek of agony as he yanked the handle free and rolled to one side, and over again before scrambling back on to his feet.
Blood was gushing from the guard’s foot as he rolled his eyes and roared with rage and pain. Then his eyes flickered back towards Cato, wide and terrifying. With another meaningless shout he staggered forward, swinging his sword wildly. Cato knew that any blow that connected would cripple him if it did not kill him outright. He held
the dagger out in front of him, ready to attempt to parry the sword. The first blow missed its target, but the second, a vicious backhanded slash, connected with the dagger with such force that it was wrenched from Cato’s hand and flew through the air, spinning end over end, until it clattered across the flagstones some distance away.
‘Right, you skinny bastard,’ the man growled, backing Cato against the closed door. ‘Time to die.’
There was a series of shouts from the direction of the gate, and several of Glabius’s men turned their heads at the sounds. After a moment Glabius paused and looked to his left. Until Macro prodded him in the buttock.
‘Keep talking.’
Glabius let out a small yelp and lurched halfa pace forward before he recovered his wits.
‘Better keep their attention,’ Sempronius urged quietly. ‘Get on with it.’
Glabius nodded, drew another breath and did his best to ignore another shout from the gate as he continued. ‘My friends, let me just say that, having conferred with the senator, I have agreed to relinquish the post of governor, for the sake of unity and the safety of our people. So, I salute Senator Gaius Sempronius, acting governor of the province of Crete!’ He thrust his fist into the air. There was no response, just shocked expressions from his friends and followers, some ofwhom were edging forward so as to see what was causing a disturbance at the main gate. The silence was broken when one of the bodyguards took a step forwards and stabbed his finger at Glabius.
‘Who’s going to pay us then, eh?’ ‘He’s right!’ cried another. ‘We’ll be out of a bloody job.’ There was a chorus of angry shouts before a voice piped up. We don’t need that fat bastard! Let’s choose ourselves another governor, boys! Time for a bit of democracy, like.’
The Gladiator Page 15