The Gladiator's Victory

by Benjamin Hulme-Cross

  “Sir, the people will not look favourably on an unfair match,” Gaius remarked.

  “The match will be fair enough,” Lucius replied, sneering at Finn. “What could be fairer than a fight between two brothers?”

  An eerie silence filled the cell as everyone stared at Lucius.

  “But I did what you told me to do!” Finn blurted out.

  “You did no such thing! ” Lucius screamed, lashing out and slapping Finn hard across the mouth. “Titus is no closer to death than he was yesterday, whatever your little ruse may have suggested. And do not try to deny it, I have sources close to Titus. Did you – a wretch we picked out of the gutter – did you really think that I would not find out? I have seen off more enemies, and lived through more attempts on my life than you can comprehend!

  “You did not poison Titus, he feigned his own death to deceive me which means that he is plotting something, and you are part of the plot no doubt. Well, we will see what to do with you if you survive in the arena tomorrow but it will be a fight to the death… I promise you that.” Lucius paused to appreciate the looks of horror on the boys’ faces.

  “Now,” he went on. “In case you have plans for that poison, where is the bottle?”

  “I don’t have it,” Finn replied with a shrug.

  “It was not used today so where is it?” Lucius roared, leaping forward and grabbing Finn by the throat. Marcus stepped towards them but was ordered back with a barked command from Gaius, who had drawn his sword. Finn shook his head as his ears started to ring.

  “Tell me or I will kill you now!”

  “Stop!” Lucilla cried. “Stop it. I have the poison and it was I who intended to use it to give you the death that you have given so many others. Only I would have had the courage to do it myself and not found someone else to do it for me like you have done countless times before!”

  Lucius dropped Finn like a stone and spun around, his face white with fury.

  “I should have killed you when I killed your parents,” he spat as his hand closed around the girl’s throat.

  “No matter,” Lucius snarled, his hand still wrapped around Lucilla’s throat. “There is still time for me to correct my mistake.”

  “Sir, not the girl…” began Gaius.

  “Hold your tongue, fool! It was you who brought the boy to me. For all I know you are part of the plot.” Lucilla gripped her uncle’s hand, a look of panic spreading across her face. Marcus could hold back no longer. He leapt at Gaius and with one vicious punch laid him out cold on the floor.

  “Let her go or you die Lucius,” he growled, picking up the lanista’s sword.

  “Kill me?” Lucius howled with laughter. “A gladiator and a slave would dare to kill a senator of Rome? This little scorpion planned to kill me, you heard – ”

  His words turned to a high-pitched groan as Marcus lunged and thrust forward savagely, burying his sword in Lucius’ back. The girl fell gasping to the floor while Marcus stood behind the senator and pushed him away, causing him to topple forward off the sword. He lay wheezing and whimpering, clutching at his wound for a moment until he became completely still. Lucilla hauled herself to her feet, looked down at him and spat before staggering backwards and falling against a wall.

  Lucilla and the boys were too stunned to speak, but Marcus acted instantly, instructing them to wait in the cell while he fetched what they would need, and striding away before they could argue. Arthur was the next to regain his composure, casting around for something to tie Gaius’ hands with.

  “We won’t have much chance if he wakes up while Marcus is away,” he explained, removing the lanista’s belt and binding it tightly around the big man’s wrists.

  “Wh… What…” Lucilla stammered, staring down at Lucius’ now motionless body. “He’s dead. What will we do?”

  “We run. We get out of Rome with Marcus before the body is discovered. Gaius heard everything and he was loyal to Lucius, although I don’t think he liked him much.”

  “Nobody liked him,” said Lucilla bitterly. “But if a senator is killed someone has to pay… How do we know Marcus has not already accused us?”

  But at that moment Marcus reappeared with a bundle of cloaks and swords. He stepped briskly into the cell.

  “Freedom, you say?”

  ORIGINS OF THE GLADIATORS

  SACRIFICE

  The idea of making two people fight to the death in front of a crowd wasn’t actually a Roman idea. The Greeks did it, and so did the Etruscans who lived near Rome in the early days. They used to get people fighting to the death as a sacrifice at a funeral, and the Romans picked up the idea and ran with it.

  FUNERALS

  It became fashionable for wealthy Roman families to organise these funeral duels, and soon people started getting carried away. The spectacle grew and grew until at the biggest funerals of very wealthy people you might get more than fifty duels.

  PUBLIC SPECTACLES

  These funeral games were usually played out in public places like fields and market squares where you might see a carnival today. As Roman people got a serious appetite for watching people kill each other they began to build huge stadiums, a lot like football stadiums today, so that thousands of people could watch the games.

  BLOODLUST

  Eventually it became such big business, and a good gladiator could make so much money for his owner, that they weren’t expected to kill each other anymore, just to fight really well. Of course people still wanted to see some blood, so the Romans would execute prisoners, or get prisoners of war to fight to the death before the proper Gladiator bouts began later in the day.

  CHAPTER 9

  As they stood at the gladiator school gates looking out into the fading evening light the group of four pulled their hoods up over their heads and checked that their swords were secure under their cloaks. Marcus had told some of the other gladiators that he and the boys had been instructed to take Lucilla back to her father’s villa, and that Gaius and Lucius had some business to discuss before the feast began.

  “We have little time,” Marcus muttered. “They will be after us soon enough and we must hurry. We will make for the Tiber and bribe a boatman to take us along the river out of the city overnight. With luck we will be out of Rome before the search is on.” But even as Marcus said this, a shout went up inside the school.

  “Follow me,” he barked. “Run!” They dashed after Marcus, heading towards the centre of the city.

  “They’re coming,” Finn cried hoarsely as Gaius and a small group of gladiators spilled out into the street behind them. The fugitives dodged past pedestrians and carts and sprinted onto a bigger road, drawing stares and curses from the people they passed so that the people ahead of them began to turn and stare also. Some way along the road, two mounted soldiers turned to see what the commotion was about.

  “Urban guards!” Lucilla gasped. “Marcus, I know somewhere we can hide.” Marcus nodded and the girl took the lead, darting off the main road and into one of the labyrinths of alleyways that had been the boys’ first experience of Rome. The group shoved past beggars and night-hawkers, twisting and turning through the stinking alleys until Finn and Arthur were completely lost and could only follow blindly, praying that Lucilla was right. She stopped outside a completely anonymous door and banged at it, leaning her head against the wood and gasping for air.

  “We don’t have long,” Marcus warned as the seconds ticked past. They could not hear any pursuers but their flight had hardly been inconspicuous.

  “I wondered when I’d next run into you boys,” somebody said from behind them in the dark alley, and Arthur’s shoulders sank.

  “Festus,” he replied wearily as he and the others turned around. “It had to be you…”

  “We’ve got a score to settle, boy!” said Festus, and the gang behind him muttered their approval.

  “Well you can settle it with me,” Marcus growled, barging to the front. The change in Festus’ expression was almost comical.
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br />   “You’re… You’re a gladiator aren’t you?” Festus couldn’t disguise the awe in his voice. “You’re Marcus the equite! I saw you in the arena today!”

  “Then you know better than to pick a fight with my friends.”

  “These are your friends?” Festus sounded confused and Marcus seized the initiative.

  “I have a proposition for you. How would you and your gang of kids here like to say one day that you helped a gladiator fight his way out of Rome?”

  * * *

  An hour had passed by the time they were ready. Festus, it came as no surprise, was a huge fan of all gladiators and had watched Marcus fighting in the arena on numerous occasions. Festus and the gang were all too happy to forego their grudge against Arthur if it meant they could help one of their heroes, and he had led the fugitives to a small, empty house where they had hidden in a dark room while he went to make the arrangements that would get them to a boat on the Tiber, taking with him a bag of coins that Marcus handed over.

  Finn had expressed serious doubts about trusting Festus, but Marcus and Lucilla agreed that there was no choice. The urban guards would be looking for them all over the city by now and unless they were to split up, which none of them wanted, they would need all the help they could find to get out of Rome alive.

  “Giving him money was a mistake,” said Finn.

  “I had to give him money to buy us a boatman willing to take the risk,” Marcus replied. “In any case, I’ve won enough bouts in the arena that I am not short of money. I can afford to lose some.”

  A grinding noise outside the house set everyone’s nerves on edge, but Arthur, peering through a crack in the door, soon reassured them that it was Festus, accompanied by one of his gang who was hauling a cart along the alley.

  “We have a plan that should work,” Festus announced proudly. “It’s dark now and there is a boat waiting for you. The guards are searching for four people but Marcus and the girl are the recognisable ones so they will need to be hidden. We will be using the cart to hide them, and the boys can pull it.”

  “The urban guards are not stupid,” Marcus retorted. “They will be searching anyone and everyone, and two boys pulling a vegetable cart will be enough to warrant a search.”

  “True,” said Festus with a grin. “But this is no vegetable cart.” He led them outside and lifted a large piece of sack cloth. Lucilla stifled a scream with her hand. Staring back at them from the cart were five dead bodies.

  “The best way for you to get out alive…” said Festus. “Pretend to be dead.”

  “I can’t… I can’t lie on them…” Lucilla whispered.

  “You won’t lie on them,” replied Festus with a wicked grin. “You’ll need to lie under them.”

  Despite Lucilla’s protestations Marcus and the boys knew that Festus was right. A cartload of dead bodies destined for a public grave was less likely to provoke unwelcome interest from the guards than anything else. They lifted the bodies aside to make space for Marcus and then cajoled Lucilla to lie next to him, her face buried in her hands, before placing a second layer of sacking on top of their friends, followed by the bodies.

  “One more thing,” said Festus. “My boys are positioned along the route to the river and as we pass them they will follow. When we get to the boat we’ll be there to distract any guards who might take an interest.”

  “You’ve done well boy,” came Marcus’ muffled voice. “I’m sure you kept some of the money I gave you for the boatman?”

  “Of course!” Festus grinned, and they heard Marcus chuckle.

  “Festus,” Arthur added. “Thanks. I thought you would turn us in.”

  “If it was just you I would have, but him?” Festus nodded at the cart and began to stroll away. “He was already a hero on these streets. Now he’s killed one of the most hated men in Rome and most people will thank him for it. Follow after me, but keep your distance so I can warn you of any trouble.”

  Arthur and Finn got into position at the front of the cart, lifted the yoke and began to pull. The cart was heavy and it took a big heave to get it going, but once the wheels were rolling the boys were able to keep pace with Festus easily enough. Festus kept to the alleys for as long as possible, but eventually he led them onto a larger and much busier road.

  “What do we say if we’re stopped?” said Arthur suddenly. “We don’t know where we’re supposed to be heading!”

  “Stop a moment!” someone hissed behind them and the boys froze, the cart knocking into them from behind. It was a few moments before Finn realised the voice had come from inside the cart.

  “Esquiline Hill. That’s where the mass funerals happen.” There was something very creepy about hearing those words come from a cartload of corpses, and Finn shivered, grateful all of a sudden that he was pulling the cart, and not in it. Looking back, Finn recognised some of Festus’ gang strolling along behind them. The boys resumed their progress with another heave, and soon noticed that they were heading slightly downhill. Ahead of Festus the boys could now see the black scar of the river for the first time, and the incline steepened. Suddenly they found that they needed to pull back on the yoke rather than push against it as gravity began to drag the cart downhill. Finn’s foot slipped in the mud and he stumbled backwards, throwing Arthur off balance in turn. The cart quickened and the boys scrambled back into position, knowing that if it ran away from them then Lucilla and Marcus would almost certainly be discovered. As they struggled to regain control, Arthur glanced ahead and swore.

  “Guards! Festus is talking to a bunch of guards. What’s he doing?”

  “Calm down,” his brother urged. “If he wanted to turn us in he would have done it already. He’s trying to distract them. Just keep walking past them.” As they drew nearer one of the guards turned and stared at them before breaking away from the others just as the cart drew level. Finn and Arthur stared intently at the road in front of them and carried on, until Finn could not help glancing round.

  The soldier was walking along beside the cart with one hand on the sack cloth. He lifted it up and Finn held his breath, waiting for the inevitable shout.

  But the soldier merely wrinkled his nose and dropped the cloth, turning back to the other guards. Moments later Festus reappeared in front and led them on, the boys glancing wide-eyed at one another, too tense to notice the stench of sewage that drifted towards them as they approached the river. Just as the road they were on was about to lead them onto a bridge, Festus turned and headed along a lane that followed the river bank and brought them to a flight of steps, at the bottom of which a small barge was moored.

  Finn and Arthur set the cart down, bursting with excitement now the promise of escape was so near while Festus, saying nothing, made his way to the back of the cart.

  “Oh no!” Finn breathed, the blood draining from his face. Turning off the main road and beginning to run towards them were two of the guards that Festus had been talking to.

  “You there!” One of them called. “Stay where you are!”

  CHAPTER 10

  Finn and Arthur froze as Festus put his fingers to his lips, whistled loudly, then turned and bolted along the riverside. The guards ran towards them, swords drawn and raised while down in the barge a black-cloaked boatman emerged and began untying his moorings frantically.

  “Marcus,” Arthur hissed. “Guards! Jump out on my call.”

  Up on the bridge a great commotion broke out and for a moment the boys thought that more people were coming for them. Then some of the wooden stalls on the bridge went up in flames and in the sudden light Festus’ gang could be seen dancing around, pushing and shoving everyone within reach.

  “He’s creating a decoy!” said Finn, breathlessly as the guards approached.

  “You boys,” one of them barked. “Take two steps away from the cart. Run and you will die.” They did as they were told and the guards rushed to the back of the cart and tore off the cover. In seconds they had dragged the five bodies onto the ground and
exposed the final covering.

  “Now!” yelled Arthur, pulling back his own cloak and reaching for the short sword that Marcus had given him earlier. Finn did the same just as Marcus leapt up to a crouch in the cart.

  “You are outnumbered,” Finn began, but Marcus was in no mood to negotiate. He leapt down with a cry, punching the hilt of the sword into one man and knocking him into the other so that both collapsed to the ground. Two quick thrusts followed, and moments later Marcus was dragging the bodies down the steps and flinging them in the river before the terrified stare of the boatman.

  “Time to earn your money, old man,” said Marcus and he beckoned the boys down. Finn helped Lucilla out of the cart and all four of them made their way down to the barge, running swiftly to the bow and lying down on their backs so that they could not be seen from land. The boatman said nothing, just pushed away from the bank with a long pole and steered them out towards the middle of the river where the current began to take them slowly away from the bridge.

  None of them could have said how long they lay like that, silently waiting for the call that would announce the boat was to be searched by more guards, but the sounds of the city gradually diminished until all they could hear was the blowing of the wind, the lapping of the water, and the steady wooden thud of the boatman’s pole against the side of the boat.

  The moon shone through wispy clouds, casting just enough faint light to illuminate Marcus’ face staring up at the sky. When Finn turned to look at the gladiator something burned in the man’s eyes.

  “You’re a free man,” said Finn.

  “Yes,” said Marcus, glancing over at Lucilla who had fallen into a fitful sleep. “And now at last I have something to protect again.”

  The moon disappeared again as the boat entered a thick river mist and they were plunged into total darkness. Finn reached out to hold Arthur’s arm as he felt the spinning sensation that heralded the end of another adventure, and then the shapes of furniture in the Professor’s study began to materialise out of the darkness…