The Forgotten Legion

Romulus picked up the heavy load beside the door and paused. Taking a deep breath, he entered.

'Still soft, boy!'

'Too used to the good life!'

Romulus flushed. There was some truth to the jibes. Life in the ludus was much harsher than in Gemellus' service. He dropped the bedding back onto the rough slats of his cot.

'Wait till winter comes,' sneered Lentulus. 'Then you'll really know how miserable that corner is!'

Romulus disliked the stocky young Goth, who was always looking for ways to bait him. Angered by the constant comments, Romulus suddenly took a stand. 'I might take your bed instead.'

Gaius opened both eyes warily.

'How are you going to do that?' Lentulus laughed. 'Stick me with that excuse for a sword?'

The retiarius sniggered.

Lentulus lay back on his mattress, picking his rotten teeth with a splinter.

Romulus took hold of his dagger. 'I'll teach you a lesson,' he said slowly.

The Goth stiffened, hand reaching for something on the floor. Iron grated off the stone as he slid out a gladius that he had hidden under his bed.

A rush of adrenalin and fear hit Romulus. Better to pick a fight in the yard, not such a confined space. And when he had more than a knife or a wooden sword to fight with. His own real one was locked up with all the others in the armoury. Thirty paces and a lifetime away. Maybe it had been a mistake to answer back.

Lentulus began to sit up, pulling the gladius on to his lap.

'Peace, Lentulus,' said a familiar voice. 'We are all tired and hungry.'

Romulus looked gratefully at Sextus.

The little Spaniard was one of the ludus' most feared gladiators. Wielding his axe with ferocious skill, the scissores' speciality was picking off the weak and wounded men in the arena.

Not confident enough to antagonise Sextus, Lentulus fell silent. But it was only a matter of time before things with the malevolent Goth got physical.

And the scissores wouldn't always be around to defuse the situation.

Sooner or later he would have to fight Lentulus. The thought filled Romulus with a mixture of dread and excitement. As well as being five or six years younger, he was a lot shorter than the secutor, who had survived half a dozen single combats unscathed, a respectable record for any gladiator.

The di

Sextus smiled and got to his feet. 'Time to eat.'

Lentulus made a stabbing motion that was not lost on Romulus.

They glared at each other, both refusing to drop their gaze.

'Time for food,' repeated the scissores.

Romulus picked up his bowl and trooped out, keeping Sextus between him and Lentulus. Next time he would be more careful. Stomach growling, he put the matter from his mind.

'Keep rubbing!'

The unctor poured more drops of aromatic oil on to the Gaul's vast back, expertly kneading the muscles.

Bre

Memor took care of his top gladiators, allowing them favours others only dreamt of. After the unctor had finished, he was going to enjoy a long soak in the baths, followed by a meal prepared by Astoria, his woman.

'You killed the murmillo too quickly today. That damn contest took months to arrange.'

Bre

'They are fickle,' snapped the lanista. 'How many times must I tell you to make the fights last as long as possible?'

The Gaul's habit of dispatching men fast was something that had irritated Memor for years. But despite Bre

Bre

'Pay attention, damn you!'

The Gaul closed his eyes. 'I heard.'

Memor flushed at the disrespect. 'You are still my slave!' He prodded the brand on Bre

Bre

Nervous, the unctor paused.

'Did I say stop?'

Hastily he continued rubbing.

'Just make sure you do.' Memor wasn't going to punish his most skilled fighter severely. The Gaul was worth far too much money. But long years of managing gladiators had made the lanista sharp as a blade. 'And no harm will come to that whore of yours,' he added, almost as an afterthought.

The unctor gasped in dismay as Bre

Five years before there had been no chance to defend his wife. The same would not happen again.

The lanista took several urgent steps backwards.

'You piece of Roman shit!' Bre

Memor did not flinch. 'You and your friends can't watch Astoria all the time.' He shrugged apologetically. 'She might have a nasty accident. Terribly easy, you know. Wagon out of control on the street. Thief might slip a blade in her down an alleyway.'

Bre

Memor smiled. 'Where is the purse from Caesar?'

Bre

'Plenty left – for a slave.' Memor scattered the rest on the floor. He left, satisfied that the Gaul had been brought to heel.

Bre

Before falling in love with Astoria, life in the ludus had been simple. Other than threats of torture or death, there had been few forms of control over him. Bre

That left no reason to live.

Initially, Bre

But money and men's lives were not what Bre

At length a friendly murmillo had paid for Bre

Feeling bored, the Gaul had gone along with the charade. The augur had smiled initially as Bre