The Gladiator

Those that flinched or whimpered he struck again and again, until they collapsed on the ground, bloodied and broken. The next day he repeated the exercise, and the next, and by the end of the first ten days, they could all stand and take his blows without any expression crossing their faces.

So Ajax stood steady as a rock as the Parthian surgeon worked unhurriedly on his wound and he did not look down until at length he heard the Parthian ease himself back and stand, bloodied fingers holding the needle in one hand as he reached for a cloth from his bag with the other.

'There, it is done. I will check the wound again tonight. Try not to exert the leg too much today, or the stitches may tear.'

The gladiator offered one of his rare smiles. 'There is no need for exertion today, Kharim. The slaves have won their victory; now let us celebrate. Once we have tended to our wounded and buried our dead, we return to camp. We'll slaughter and roast a herd of goats, break open the wine and have a banquet worthy of the gods.'

'Which gods? Mine or yours?'

Ajax laughed and clapped his hand on the Parthian's shoulder.

'Neither, or both. What does it matter? As long as we are free men, who cares which gods we worship? Life is good, made sweeter still by the defeat of those bastard Romans.'

'Yes.' Kharim nodded as he wiped his hands clean on the rag and peered down at the bodies below. He was silent for a moment. 'It was a shame about the boy'

Ajax's smile faded as he recalled the youth who had led the Romans into the trap.' He knew what his fate would be. Pollio was as brave as they come.' Ajax slowly balled his hand into a fist.' He will not be forgotten. He bought us this victory with his life. I shall honour Pollio by killing more Romans.'

The Parthian glanced at him uneasily. 'Why do you hate the Romans so much?'

'Simple. They made a slave of me.'

'They are no worse than other slave owners. Yet you do not hate others as you hate Rome.'

'You are right.' Ajax smiled faintly. 'In truth, I have my own reasons for hating the empire, and a handful of Romans in particular.

But it does not matter. As long as my hatred feeds my desire for freedom, yours and that of all the slaves who follow me, then let me indulge it, eh?'

They shared a smile, and then Ajax frowned as he caught sight of a small party of escorted prisoners being led along the top of the cliff towards him. The leader of the escorts was a young man, tall and broad, and gri

tained a stern expression as he folded his arms and stood, stiff-backed, as the prisoners were brought to him.

'Chilo, what is this? I gave the order that there were to be no prisoners.'

Yes, Ajax, I know. But this one,' Chilo turned and grabbed one of his prisoners by the shoulder and roughly shoved him forward so that he stumbled and nearly lost his balance, 'is a centurion. I caught him, with these others, hiding beneath a wagon at the rear of their column. They didn't put up any fight, and threw down their swords.

And there was me thinking that centurions were supposed to die rather than surrender.'

Ajax stared at the Roman officer. 'Is this true?'

The centurion lowered his eyes and nodded.

'Why? Tell me why you dishonour yourself, and these men you lead.'

'Why?' The centurion looked up nervously. 'We were beaten.

There was no point in further resistance.'

'Coward!' Ajax shouted. 'Coward! There is always a point to resistance! Always. That is why I stand here as your victor. And you bow in defeat. You are humiliated, Roman, the more so because you chose shame rather than death. A slave lives a life of shame, of obeisance, always in fear. In this he has no choice, and death is merely a release from humiliation and pain. That is the lesson I learned when Rome made me a slave.' He paused and then sneered at the centurion. 'That is why these slaves beat you, Roman. They know that liberty is the only thing worth dying for. Yet you, and these other curs, you chose to surrender your liberty rather than die. And that is why we defeated you. That is why we will defeat every Roman soldier in Crete. Because our will is stronger than yours.'

The centurion stared back, terrified by the intensity of Ajax's glare. There was a tense pause before the gladiator took a deep breath and continued. 'What is your name, Centurion?'

'Centurion Micon, sir. Second squadron, Second Batavian Mounted Cohort.'

'Well, Centurion Micon, it appears that there is no Second Batavian Mounted Cohort any more. Therefore it has no need of a centurion.' Ajax swiftly pulled out a dagger and grabbed Micon by the harness that covered his chainmail vest, and which marked him out as an officer. Three medallions were attached to the harness: campaign awards. Ajax slipped the blade under the leather shoulder strap of the harness, smiling as the Roman flinched, and cut the strap with a quick jerk. He cut the other shoulder strap, and then the tie that bound the harness around the centurion's waist, and wrenched the harness and its medallions away from Micon. He held it up for his men to see and then contemptuously hurled it into the ravine.

There was a roar of approval from the slaves who had been watching the little drama.

'You are no longer a centurion,' Ajax sneered.' You are nothing more than the last scrap of your precious cohort.'

He turned to Chilo. 'Take your prisoners to the edge of the cliff and throw them off, one by one.'

Chilo gri

'No!' one of the Batavian auxiliaries shouted. You can't! We surrendered!'

'How foolish of you,' Ajax replied coldly. 'I wonder if you would have spared me had I begged for mercy on the sands of the arena.

Chilo, get on with it.'

Chilo and two of his men grabbed the nearest auxiliary and dragged him roughly towards the edge of the cliff that dropped into the ravine. The Roman shouted and screamed for mercy, writhing in their grasp. They struggled towards the edge, and stopped a safe distance back, before holding the captive's wrists firmly. Chilo stood behind him, then, bracing his boot in the small of the auxiliary's back, thrust him forwards as his men released their grip. With a terrified scream the Batavian lurched over the edge of the cliff, arms flailing. Then he was falling in a lazy tumble as he clawed at the air.

His screams were cut off a moment later as his head struck an outcrop of rock and exploded like a watermelon. His body bounced off the cliff and fell with a heavy crunch on to the boulders at its foot. One by one his comrades suffered the same fate, as the slaves cheered each man, and jeered those who struggled most as they were led to the edge.

At last only Micon remained. He had slumped to his knees and was trembling pitifully as his captors came for him. Chilo had him dragged towards the cliff, but just before they reached the edge Ajax called out:

'Stop!'

Chilo and his men turned towards their leader with questioning expressions.

'Not him.' Ajax waved them back from the edge. 'That one lives.

Bring him here.'

The shaking Roman was thrown to the ground before the gladiator and Ajax bit back on his disgust as he stared down at the man, pathetically mumbling his thanks.

'Silence, you dog!' He kicked the Roman. 'Hear me out. I want you to go back to Gortyna, and tell your superiors — tell everyone you meet — all that you have seen here. You tell them that the slaves will be free, and that we will destroy, with sword and fire, any who come between us and freedom... Now stand up, you cowardly vermin. On your feet! Before I change my mind.'

Micon scrambled up and stood trembling before Ajax.

'Do you understand what you have to do, Roman?'

'Y-yes.

Ajax turned to Chilo. 'Find him a horse, then escort him away from here, a safe distance so our people won't be tempted to chase him down and cut his throat. Then set him free. Is that understood?'