The Gladiator

As the fishing boat approached one of the ramps that emerged from the sea, Ya

He judged the approach carefully, and when the boat was no more than fifty feet from the shore he called out, ' Now '

The sail flapped up and billowed freely in the wind, and the fishing boat rapidly lost way through the water. Just before it grounded, Ya

'What's all this then?' the optio called out. 'You gypos know you ain't allowed to land here. Off limits. Military only, so piss off.'

Cato felt his temper rise. After eight mostly sleepless days of being confined to the small fishing boat, he was desperate to be on dry land again. He was about to tear a strip off the optiofor insubordination when he realised that he was so tired he was not thinking clearly. His clothes, and those of his men, were grimy, and they had not shaved since leaving Gortyna. It was no wonder the optio had mistaken them for common fishermen.

'What are you waiting for?' The optiofolded his arms. 'Get lost before I have the lads give you a good hiding.'

Cato cleared his throat. 'A word to the wise, Optio. Best to check the lie of the land before you blunder into it. I'm Tribune Quintus Licinius Cato, and these men are my escort.'

The optio's eyes narrowed as he scrutinised the bedraggled men standing in the boat. He shook his head. 'Bollocks you are.'

Cato reached down for his leather tube, pulled the lid off and took out his letter of commission, signed and sealed by Sempronius. Read it.'

The optio glanced at the sea lapping a short distance from his boots and shook his head.' No, you bring it here. Just you mind. Those others stay in the boat for now.'

Cato eased himself over the side and splashed down into the knee-deep water. He surged ashore and thrust the letter at the optio.

The other man took the document, unrolled it and sca

'That's what it says. I have to see Legate Petronius immediately'

'Now just wait a minute, sir. What is going on?'

Cato fixed him with a firm stare and there was iron in his tone when he replied. 'Optio, do I really have to explain myself to you?'

The optio chewed his lip a moment and then saluted. 'Sorry, sir. I am at your command.'

'That's better. Now, I want my men fed and rested. Have your section look after them. You will take me to the legate.'

The optio nodded, then detailed his companions to help secure the boat and escort the arrivals to the garrison's barracks. He turned back to Cato and bowed his head. 'If you'd follow me, sir.'

He led Cato up the ramp and through a towering arch decorated with a frieze of Egyptian deities. On the far side was a large courtyard with an elegant colo

The optio turned to him as they strode across the courtyard, smiling at the wobbly gait of the tribune. 'Been at sea a few days then, sir?'

Cato nodded.

'Mind telling me what you and your lads were doing in a fishing boat?'

'Yes.'

'Oh?' The optio was puzzled for an instant before he got the point. He clamped his mouth shut and they continued in silence, climbing the dazzling white steps towards the palace entrance. The sentries advanced their javelins in salute as the optio passed, and tried to look straight ahead and not pay any attention to the bedraggled man, reeking of fish, who accompanied him. Inside the entrance was a large hall, filled with petitioners waiting for their chance to put their grievances to the legate or one of his officials. At the end of the hall was a large doorway, flanked by eight more legionaries. A table stood in front of the doors, seated at which was a centurion in a light tunic. His vine cane lay in front of him. He was reading through one of the petitions when the optio and Cato approached the desk.

'Yes?' he said without looking up.

The optio stood to attention.' Beg to report the arrival of Tribune Quintus Licinius Cato, sir.'

'Yes, just wait a moment,' the centurion muttered automatically, before he realised what had been said. He looked up, glanced at the optio and then switched his gaze to Cato.' Him - a tribune? What nonsense is this?'

'It's true, sir. He showed me his letter of appointment.'

'Did he? Let me see.'

Cato impatiently produced the document again. The centurion read carefully through it, then examined the seal closely before he puffed his cheeks out and finally returned it to Cato. 'Seems genuine.

What brings you here, Tribune? Shipwreck and rescue by a fishing boat from the smell of it.'

'I am here to see the legate, on a matter of the gravest importance.

I have been sent by Senator Sempronius, acting governor of Crete.'

'You want to see the legate?'

'At once.'

'That's tricky, sir. He's in his private bath suite. Left orders that he was not to be disturbed.'

'That's too bad. I have to speak with him now '

The centurion weighed up his orders against Cato's obvious impatience, and nodded. 'Very well, sir. Optio, take him up to the roof garden. Legate's private baths.'

'Yes, sir.' The optio saluted and gestured to Cato to follow him as the centurion returned to his petitions, working out which ones might provide him with the best chance of earning a hefty bribe.

The sentries opened the doors to admit Cato and the optio, and on the far side they entered an i

Cato followed the optio as he mounted the steps. They emerged on to a wide-open space flanked by tall walls. The sounds of the city were muffled and competed with the light splash of fountains. Palms grew in geometrically arranged flower beds and provided occasional shade over the paved walkways that bisected the roof garden. Against the far wall Cato could see a suite of buildings and the shimmer of a plunge pool. Smoke wafted up from the furnace that provided the heat for the steam and hot rooms of the legate's private bath suite.

As they approached the pool, Cato saw that a small party of men was sitting in the water chatting idly. Two more lay on cushioned benches as slave masseurs worked on their backs, gleaming with scented oil.

'What's this?' one of the men called out as he saw Cato and the optio striding towards the pool. 'We have visitors! Legate, one of the men has found himself a tramp.'

There was some laughter and the officers looked round curiously as the optio halted and stood to attention, saluting one of the men being massaged. 'Sir, beg to report that Tribune Cato wishes to speak to you.'

The legate rolled his head round towards the optio, and a brief flicker of anxiety flitted over his face as he looked at Cato. 'Tribune Cato? Never heard of him. Are you his slave? Tell your master to make an appointment to see me through the usual cha

Cato stood his ground with a determined expression. 'I am Tribune Cato.'