The Gladiator

'You're soft, Tribune,' the other man sniffed. 'Just like all you aristocratic mother's boys. Playing at soldiers. I'm going to enjoy this.'

He stepped forward, feinting again and again, laughing as Cato frantically tried to block each thrust as he gave ground. Then, with a cry, Cato stumbled and fell back. At once the other man sprang forward, crouching as he came on, knife poised to strike into Cato's chest. Cato spun to one side and lashed out with his boot, catching the other man hard, behind the knee. His momentum and the loss of weight-bearing on the leg Cato had struck, caused the man to lose his balance, and he crashed heavily to the ground, face first. Cato jumped on to his back, snatching a clump of hair in one hand, while he pressed the tip of his knife into his opponent's throat so that it just cut the flesh. Leaning forward, he hissed into the man's ear:

'You're right. Amateurs should never, ever try and fuck with professionals.' He eased himself up. 'Give in, or I'll cut your throat where you lie.'

'Bastard

Cato pulled on the man's hair. 'Last chance. Submit or die.'

'All right, you win,' grunted the man.

'Louder. So everyone can hear it.'

'I give in! I give in. The Roman wins!'

'That's better.' Cato released his grip and let the man's head slump into the dirt. Rising up warily, he backed away and sheathed his dagger. His defeated opponent rolled over and sat up, rubbing the small cut in his neck. He stared at Cato with a puzzled frown.

'You're not like any tribune I ever met. Where were you raised, in the slums of the Subura?'

Cato shook his head.' No, in the imperial palace, as it happens.'

'What?'

'It doesn't matter. I need that boat now ' He paused and thrust his finger at the man. 'And I want you to sail it.'

'Me?'

'You were a soldier once. You're a bit rusty now, but useful in a fight.You'll do. What is your name, soldier?'

'Ya

'Fair enough.' Cato held out his hand, and after a brief hesitation the fisherman allowed him to help him back to his feet.

'If you're the head man here, your people will need a replacement. You'd better appoint one. If taking the boat means they may go hungry, then their best chance is to make for Gortyna. They should tell the men on the city gate that Tribune Cato sent them there.

Whatever happens, your people need to stay clear of any bands of slaves they see.'

Ya

He turned away to talk to his followers, while Cato watched him closely for any sign of treachery. A short time later Ya

'Have you no wife or woman here?' asked Cato as he caught up.

'What's it to you?' asked Ya

'I'm sorry. So many people have suffered such a loss. That's why I must reach Alexandria. To get more men to help restore order.'

'To help defeat the slaves, you mean.'

'It comes to the same thing.'

The fishing boat was perhaps twenty-five feet long, with a mast stepped slightly forward of the centre of the craft. A steering paddle was attached to the side and a pair of oars lay in the bottom. It stank of fish.

'Will that get us to Egypt?' one of Cato's escort asked doubtfully.

'As well as any vessel,' Ya

'Get in.'

The Romans clambered aboard and quickly sat down as Ya

'One man on each of those; place them in between those pegs there. That's it.'

With the oars in place, the soldiers clumsily propelled the craft out towards the entrance to the bay, while Ya

Ya

Cato forced himself to let go of the side and sat staring out beyond the bows as his men stroked the fishing boat clear of the bay.

As soon as they reached open water, the small craft bobbed up and down on the swell and Cato swallowed nervously as he tried to maintain an untroubled expression. When they were well clear of the land, Ya

'How long will it take to reach Alexandria?' asked Cato.

Ya

'Six days,' Cato mused unhappily. Six days crammed into this small boat with just two feet of freeboard. The constant motion of the water around him was frightening. He had thought that the short-lived voyage on the Horus was u

He continued to gaze back at the land for some time, won de ring if he would ever see his friends again.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

In the days that followed Cato's departure, Macro kept the people hard at work repairing the city's defences. In addition to filling the breaches in the walls, one of the gatehouses had collapsed in the earthquake and Gortyna's surviving stonemasons ca

Given the difficulty of the ground, there was no question of excavating a ditch the entire circumference of the city. So Macro turned to other methods of slowing down any enemy attack.

Summoning some of the city's blacksmiths to his headquarters on the acropolis, he introduced them to one of the legions' favourite defensive weapons. There had been a small box of caltrops buried away at the back of the armoury, and Macro picked one out for his small audience to see. He held the four-pronged piece of iron up and then dropped it on the desk in front of him, where it landed with an alarming thud that made the blacksmiths jump.

'There.' Macro pointed. 'See how it lands with one point facing up? It'll do that every time, and if you scatter those in grass the enemy will not see ' em until they tread on them. The spike goes through the foot and cripples the victim. It'll break a charge almost every time.' Macro gazed at the caltrop fondly. 'Lovely piece of kit.

Saved my neck more times than I care to mention.' He looked up.

'The question is, can you make these in quantity before Ajax and his mob turn up?'

One of the blacksmiths came over to the desk to have a closer look. He picked it up, felt the weight and nodded. 'Easy enough to make, but can I suggest a refinement?'

'Be my guest,' Macro invited, intrigued to know how the Greek could hope to improve on the Roman design.