The Gladiator

'I'll be kind.' Ajax smiled coldly. 'I'll let you choose. On your back, or on all fours.'

She stared up at him with terrified eyes, her lips quivering. 'I beg you, spare me. Please.'

'No.'

'Then why did you save me? When the earthquake struck, you came for me in the garden. Why?'

'For this moment, my lady. Yes, in a way I saved you. I saved you so I could have my revenge for the indignity of being your toy. I saved you for these men.' Ajax indicated Chilo and his companions, who were gri

Ajax turned away and strode back towards his tent. Behind him the crowd looked on as Chilo had two of his men hold the Roman woman face down on the bare ground. A moment later the first of her shrill screams of terror and agony filled the night.

162

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Macro arrived at Sempronius's office carrying with him the faint odour of the work he had been supervising in the city's sewer.

He nodded a greeting to Cato and saluted the senator, before casting a curious eye over Centurion Micon.

'Now that we're all here, take a seat.' Sempronius folded his hands together.' Then Centurion Micon can make his report. I take it you know nothing of what has happened yet, Macro?'

Macro glanced at Cato and shook his head. 'I'm not aware of anything. Apart from some shouting from the forum as I headed up here.'

'Shouting?'

'Yes. Didn't sound like they were celebrating.'

'Our friend Centurion Micon was unwise enough to break his news in the forum before he came to find me. It'll be all over Gortyna before nightfall.'

'News?' Macro frowned. 'What in Hades is going on, sir?'

'There's been a defeat. Marcellus and his column have been wiped out by the rebel slaves. Centurion Micon managed to escape. But you'd better hear it from Micon.'

'I should think so.' Macro eyed Micon coldly.' The story of how a band of slaves carved up the best part of a thousand men has got to be worth hearing.'

Sempronius leaned forward. 'Just listen.'

Macro raised his hands and leaned back as he nodded at Micon.

'Please tell us.'

Centurion Micon was unsettled by the critical tone of his superior and took a brief moment to compose himself before he cleared his throat and began.

'It happened yesterday, at dusk, thirty miles to the east of Gortyna.

As you know from Prefect Marcellus's reports, we were tracking down bands of slaves and driving them before us. All the time they were pulling back, away from Gortyna and into the hills. We were sure we had them on the run. We'd cleared them out of the plain, and once they were forced up towards the mountains, the plan was to trap them and finish them off once and for all. Marcellus was confident that the campaign would be over in less than a month.

Then, three days ago, one of our patrols captured a slave. A young lad, no more than twelve or thirteen. He was brought in and questioned, and told us that the leader of the slaves was a great gladiator who had pledged to lead the slaves to freedom or die. Our men scoffed at this, but then the boy claimed to know the gladiator, said that he was one of the gladiator's servants. That was when he realised he'd said too much and clammed up. But it was too late. The decurion in command of the patrol took the boy to Marcellus. At first he refused to talk, then the prefect called in the interrogators.' Micon paused and looked round at the other officers. 'You know how good they are at loosening tongues. Well, it took them the best part of an hour before they broke the boy. They'd beaten him badly and used heated irons, then they brought out the gouges. First sight of those did the trick. Even so, never seen guts like that in a youngster,' Centurion Micon mused.' Or a slave.'

'Please continue,' Sempronius cut in.

'Yes, sir. Anyway, the lad told us that he knew where the rebels were camped, and he would take us there if Marcellus promised that he would be sent back to his master without any further harm.

Naturally, the prefect gave his word. Marcellus sent for his officers.

He gave us wine and said he'd lead us back in triumph, herding thousands of captive slaves, while their leader was dragged behind in chains.

'The next morning he gave orders for all patrols to be called in and the men prepared for an attack on the slave camp the following night. Centurion Albinus suggested that a report be sent back to Gortyna, advising them of the attack, but Marcellus said that it would be better if we simply returned with our captives once the attack was over. Nothing is as eloquent as success - those were his words. So we set off into the hills, guided by the boy, who was tethered to Marcellus's horse. At first the going was easy, along a broad path, and even as dusk settled and it be came dark there was enough moonlight to see our way as the track narrowed and be came steeper. Then, after perhaps two or three hours, we saw a faint glow above a hill a mile off. That was the camp, the boy assured us. We continued forward more carefully and Marcellus sent scouts on ahead. All was well for a while, until we were within half a mile of the camp. Then one of the scouts came back and reported that the track passed through a narrow ravine before rising steeply up towards the top of the hill.

Marcellus was suspicious and ordered the column to halt while he questioned the boy again. The lad was adamant that it was the only way up to the camp without taking a wide detour that would mean we wouldn't reach it before daybreak. Marcellus ordered us forward again.

'The ravine was barely twenty feet across, with steep sides, too steep to climb, and we did our best to advance quietly as the sounds echoed off the rock faces on either side. Just as the head of the column began to emerge into the open, there was a sudden flaring up of light along the crests on either side. They had faggots drenched in oil, which they lit up and threw down on to us.' Micon paused again as he recalled the horror of the previous night. 'There was fire everywhere, and the faggots exploded into blazing fragments all around us. The horses panicked and ran into each other and trampled the infantry. By the light of the flames the enemy - the slaves, I mean - started to roll boulders down on to us. Boulders, and also logs into which they had driven iron spikes and hooks. It was carnage, sir.

Marcellus was one of the first to be struck down, but not before he'd drawn his sword and cut the boy's throat. That was the really terrible thing. The lad just stood there and laughed as it happened. He spat into Marcellus's face before he died. An instant later, the prefect was crushed by one of the logs. Killed outright. There was no one in command, and some men charged forward to get out of the trap.

Others turned back, and some just huddled under whatever shelter they could find.'

'And what did you do?' asked Macro.

'I turned back,' Centurion Micon confessed. 'What else could I do? I called what was left of my men to me and we rode back through the column the way we had come. Only the slaves had closed that off, throwing abatis across the track. Some of our men tried to clear them away, but they had slingers on either flank and our men went down like flies. But they opened a gap, and I charged my men through it.' Micon glanced at the other officers furtively. 'We went after the slingers, to give the others a chance to clear the rest of the barricade away and make good their escape. But that's when the spearmen came up out of the ground. They'd been lying down behind the slingers, and as soon as we charged up, the slingers melted away and we rode straight on to their pikes. I turned away, after the last of my men was cut down, and rode back down the track towards the plain, breaking through a handful of slaves covering the track. I didn't stop until I had put the best part of a mile between us. Then when I did rein in, I looked back and saw the flames glowing in the ravine. I can still hear the cries and screams of our men echoing off the rocks. The slave spearmen formed up at the edge of the ravine, and slaughtered every one of our men caught in their trap.'