The Gladiator

'I doubt that,' Cato responded. 'It is growing in strength every day.

Sir, I can see you don't grasp how critical the situation is. The slaves slaughtered one thousand of our men in a single attack. Some how Ajax has managed to fashion an army out of them, and I fear he has ambitions to free every slave on the island.'

'Then let Rome deal with it. If the situation is that critical, then the emperor will need to assemble an army to put the rebellion down.'

'But he won't have to if we act now ' Cato paused and decided to try a new tack. 'Sir, if you fail to send help to Sempronius, then Crete will be lost. As you say, it will require a large army, and perhaps years to recover the island and stamp out every last nest of rebels. The cost to the emperor will be vast. But what if he realises that the revolt could have been crushed if forces had been available to intervene earlier? You said it yourself: being the emperor's man in Egypt is a tricky business. If you fail to act now, you are sure to disappoint the emperor, and, as you say, we know how that ends.'

Petronius glared back. 'Are you threatening to blackmail me?'

'No, sir. Neither I nor Sempronius will have to. The lost opportunity will be apparent to everyone, and sadly the mob does like to have some one to blame whenever there is bad news.' Cato paused a moment. 'Act now and you could emerge as the man who saved Crete.'

The legate sat back and folded his arms. 'And what if I so denude Egypt of forces that a rebellion breaks out here in my absence and we lose this province? How do you think the mob will react to that, Tribune?'

'That is a remote possibility,' Cato conceded. 'But you have good order here at the moment. It's not likely to happen.'

'But if it did?'

'Then you are dead either way, sir. The best thing to do is save Crete, and save it quickly, then have your men return to Alexandria.'

'You make it sound so easy'

'I am merely stating your options as I see them, sir.'

Petronius stood up and walked slowly around the pool, head bent in thought, hands clasped behind his back. By the time he returned to the table, his mind was clearly made up. 'I can't leave Egypt. If anything happened in my absence, the emperor would have my balls for breakfast. And I'm not prepared to give you all the forces you ask for. So let's compromise, Tribune. I have eight cohorts of the Third Legion here, with an auxiliary and cavalry cohort in a camp twenty miles from the city. If I keep two of the legionary cohorts in Alexandria I should be able to maintain order. As for the other units, I will have to shift men around the delta region, but it should be possible to manage. That's my offer then. Six cohorts of legionaries, and one each of cavalry and auxiliaries. In addition to the naval squadron. Take it or leave it.'

Cato considered. Would two and a half thousand legionaries and a thousand auxiliaries be sufficient to destroy Ajax and his army of slaves? There was no question that quantity was no substitute for quality and the heavily armed legionaries could carve a path through the poorly equipped ranks of the slaves. Even so, they would be massively outnumbered. There was little point in committing a force that lacked the strength to see the task through. On the other hand, if Sempronius could strike quickly enough, he might inflict a victory on the rebels before they grew too established. Cato cleared his throat.

'That is a generous offer, sir. I am sure Senator Sempronius will be eternally grateful to you.'

'Bollocks to Sempronius. I just want Narcissus kept off my back.

Now, if that's agreed, I suggest you get some rest. Make sure you have a long bath and a good shave while you are at it. I'll give the orders for my forces to concentrate in Alexandria. I suspect my staff officers are going to be kept busy over the next few days. That's no bad thing.

Do them good to get back to some soldiering for a change.'

'Yes, sir.' Cato felt as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. 'Thank you.'

'Don't thank me. Not yet. I don't think any of us can rest easy until that gladiator is captured and nailed to a cross.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The first attack on Gortyna took place only a few hours after Ajax returned to his camp. His closest comrades had never seen him so angry as he swept past his bodyguards and into the half-ruined farmhouse that he had chosen for his headquarters. He tore off his cloak, and hurled it to one side as he made for the jug of wine and hunks of bread and cheese that had been left out for his supper. There were some of his men who made every effort to enjoy the finest foods that they had been able to loot from the wealthy villas that the slave army had sacked. Ajax did not begrudge them such indulgences. After a life of servitude, they had every right to taste freedom in all its forms. He preferred a simple diet, one that would feed his body and not spoil it, and he made no secret of his plain fare, knowing that it would bind his followers closer to him.

Now he forced himself to sit down at the table and pour himself a cup of wine. He drank it deliberately and then poured another and dipped his bread in before chewing it methodically, staring at the cracked wall in front of him. The owner of the farm had obviously been a man of some wealth, but limited taste. The walls of this, his dining room, had been covered with murals depicting a bacchanal orgy. Directly in front of Ajax was an image of a pair of gladiators, a secutor like Ajax himself, in a wary crouch as he faced a net-wielding retiarius. Arranged around them were the guests, drinking and gorging and laughing as they urged the gladiators on. One of the women, heavily made up, was holding the penis of a man as she watched the fight with an excited expression. In the centre of the party sat the host, a fat, jolly bald man wearing a leaf crown awry on his shining pate as he raised a cup in the air, filled to overflowing.

'Bastards!' Ajax roared, snatching up the jug and hurling it against the wall with all his might. The jug exploded, sending shards of pottery and jets of wine in all directions. The mural was instantly covered in dark liquid that ran down the wall so that the images were distorted by a red film. Ajax's heart was pounding as he stared at the wall with wide, terrifying eyes. Behind him there was a creak as the door swung on its hinges.

'General? Are you all right?' Chilo asked anxiously. There was a pause as he saw the remains of the jug and the wine on the wall.

'General?'

For a moment Ajax remained still, fighting back the rage that burned in his heart. The memory of his slavery was still like an open wound, and above all thought of the indignities and pain that he had suffered was the image of Centurion Macro, one of those responsible for the crucifixion of his father, and the cause of Ajax being sold into slavery. Macro, and that other one, the tall, thin officer his own age, and the legate who had commanded them, Vespasian. Even if the others were beyond his reach, serving elsewhere in the accursed empire of Rome, Macro was at hand, and at his mercy. Ajax muttered an oath to every god he held sacred that he would avenge his father, he would avenge himself and he would make sure that Macro was made to suffer every torment that could be conceived before he was allowed to die.

Chilo coughed. 'General? Is there anything I can do?'

Ajax sucked in a deep breath and turned round. Chilo commanded the best men of the slave army. They had been equipped with the pick of the captured armour and weapons. 'Yes. Summon your men. Have them formed up. We have some ladders, I recall.'

'Yes, General, some, but they are in sections and will need to be securely lashed together before we can use them on the walls of Gortyna.'