The Gladiator

Sempronius smiled briefly. 'With all due respect to his abilities as a politician, Macro's talents are best utilised in defence of Gortyna.

The man I need in Alexandria has to be a powerful advocate for our request for reinforcements. I think you are that man.'

'Yes,' Macro added with a smirk. 'I know you, lad. You could argue the hind leg off a donkey, and then debate the moral justification for doing it. The senator's right, it has to be you.'

Cato felt the situation slipping out of his control and made one last attempt to protest. 'Sir, please reconsider. I'm one of the most junior centurions in the army. Even if Petronius accepts my arguments, he's hardly going to entrust me with a force large enough to crush the slaves.'

'Then I will just have to promote you,' Sempronius decided.

'Temporarily, of course. For the duration of the emergency'

'Promote me?' Cato was stu

Besides, the Legate of Egypt would still have seniority.'

'Who said anything about being a prefect? I'm sending you to Egypt with the civil rank of tribune.'

'Tribune?' Now Cato was truly shocked. The tribunate was largely an honorific title in Rome, but was still occasionally conferred upon officials sent out to the provinces to act with the authority of the emperor and his senate. Cato gently chewed his lip.' Can you do that?'

'I am the acting governor of this province, having assumed authority in the emperor's name. It's worked so far. And, as you said, what have I got to lose? I'll draw up the document, and seal it with the governor's ring. In fact, you'd better take my family ring with you to prove that I sent you. That, and your quick wits, will carry the argument.'

'They'll have to,' Macro added. 'Otherwise we're all in the shit.'

'Quite,' said Sempronius. 'If we win the day, then I'll just have to hope the emperor overlooks the fact that I've overstepped the mark in conferring the rank on you.'

Cato smiled bitterly. 'And if he doesn't, then I'll be had up for acting without proper authority. Men have been condemned for treason for doing such things. I think I'd rather stay here and face the slaves.'

'Then you're dead either way' Sempronius shrugged. 'What have you got to lose?'

Cato's shoulders drooped in resignation. 'All right, then. I'll go.'

'Good man!' Macro slapped him on the back. 'Get to Alexandria, and find us those men. And don't go and fuck it up.'

'Thanks for the encouragement.'

'You're welcome.' Macro gri

'Sir?'

'This gladiator. Did that boy you captured mention his name?'

Yes, yes, he did, sir.' Micon nodded.' He said he was a Thracian, called Ajax.'

'Ajax?' Macro scratched his chin, and then his fingers froze as his eyes suddenly widened. 'Ajax!' He turned to Cato. 'What do you think? Is it possible?'

'Do es the name mean something to you?' asked the senator.

'It does. At least I think it does. The man I saw recognised me, I'm certain of it. But there's only one Ajax I can recall meeting, and it's hard to believe it can be the same man.'

Cato took a deep breath. 'If it is, and he knows that we're on the island, then we're in even more danger than I thought. Ajax won't rest until he's had his full measure of revenge.'

'Revenge?' Sempronius hissed with frustration. 'Would you mind telling me what's going on? Who is this Ajax, and what has he got against you?'

'It's a long story,' said Macro. 'But he has his reasons for hating us.

His father used to commanda pirate fleet operating out of the coast of Illyria. Until Cato and I put paid to his activities. We captured Ajax, his father and most of the pirates. We had orders to make an example of them.' He shrugged. 'Cato and I were the ones who crucified his father and had Ajax sold into slavery.'

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Two days after the news of the defeat reached Gortyna, Cato arrived at the small fishing village of Ciprana on the south coast.

The port had been recommended to him as being virtually cut off from the rest of the island by the sheer mountains that surrounded it.

Only a little-used track linked Ciprana to the plain, picking its way along steep slopes and ravines. It was unlikely that the slaves had even heard of the place, let alone knew how to find the port. There should be some craft there capable of carrying Cato across the sea to Alexandria.

He travelled on horseback with an escort of four picked men, all wearing scarlet tunics and cloaks that marked them out as Roman soldiers. Cato had been provided with an expensively embroidered tunic from what was left of the wardrobe of Governor Hirtius. He also wore the man's fine calfskin boots, which were a little on the large side, but comfortable enough after years of wearing the heavy nailed boots of the legions. In a sealed leather tube that hung from a thong around Cato's neck were two documents and the senator's family ring. The first letter appointed him to the temporary rank of tribune, signed and sealed by Senator Sempronius in the name of the Emperor Claudius. Both Cato and the senator hoped that the document would impress the legate in Egypt enough to persuade him to send aid. The second was a detailed report of the situation in Crete, which clearly outlined the dangers facing the province.

Sempronius concluded with a request that Legate Petronius send a squadron of warships and a military force powerful enough to put down the slave revolt.

It was an ambitious demand, Cato reflected. There was every chance that Petronius might refuse, or delay sending the reinforcements while he sent a message to Rome asking for Sempronius's instructions to be approved. Such a delay would prove fatal to all concerned, and the senator had impressed upon Cato the need to use all his persuasive skills to ensure that Petronius complied. He would be armed with bluff and argument, Cato mused. Hardly an inspiring thought.

As Cato and his escort followed the shepherd who had been sent along to guide them to the port, his mind was fixed on the peril that Julia and Macro faced at Gortyna. The people had been terrified by the news of the ambush, and some had chosen to pack what belongings they could and flee to the north, over the high mountains that formed the spine of the island. With neither food nor protection, they would be at the mercy of the weather and the bands of brigands that preyed on travellers from their strong-holds. There had been no reasoning with those who had chosen this course rather than face the prospect of being massacred by the rebel slaves.

Macro had been unmoved as he watched them trickle out of the city. 'Less mouths for us to feed, at any rate.'

'That's true.' Cato watched the refugees a moment longer before turning to his friend.' Do you really think you can hold Gortyna if the slaves attack?'

Work had commenced on repairing the walls and gates of the city as soon as the remaining inhabitants could be organised into labour gangs. Gaps were filled with rubble and topped with crude breast-works. It would not keep the enemy out for long, Macro had informed the senator, but Sempronius had quietly pointed out that it would be best to keep the people occupied and offer them some hope, rather than sitting and waiting in fear.