The Gladiator

There was a brief silence as Ajax fought to control his rage. The temptation to smash open the lock to the cage and drag the Roman out of his filth and slaughter him tested him sorely. He clenched his fists and shut his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment until the rage had passed. Then he stood up and turned to walk away.

'Wait!' Macro called out. 'Tell me, what are your plans for us? Me and the lady'

Ajax half turned and smiled coldly. 'To let you suffer for as long as possible. When being confined in that cage has driven you half mad, then I will have you killed, Centurion. As slowly as I possibly can. I want you to die by inches, and I want you to feel the agony of every moment of that death. As for the woman, since she is of no use to me now that her father has abandoned her, she can suffer here with you, and then my men can have her. They have developed something of a taste for the flesh of well-bred Roman women.' Ajax looked at her and smacked his lips.' Of course, if I am fortunate enough to capture Gortyna first, then I will make sure that your father, the good senator, is there to witness the shaming of his daughter.'

'Bastard!' Macro kicked out with his feet, crashing against the bars of the cage. 'You fucking coward! I swear to all the gods that if you touch one hair of her head, then — '

'What? Then what?' Ajax laughed. 'You'll come and haunt me?

Perhaps I should make you watch as well, before I have you killed.'

Macro clenched his teeth and a low keening sounded in his throat. He grasped the bars of the cage and shook them with all his strength.

'Macro!' Julia suddenly snapped.' Macro! Look at me!'

Macro tore his gaze away from the gladiator and fixed his eyes on hers.

'He's baiting you, Macro. Don't let him. Don't give him the satisfaction. We must be better than him. Stronger.'

Ajax smiled. 'You can play the brave aristocrat now, my fine lady, but we'll see how long you last once my men get their hands on you.

Now I must go. I've enjoyed our little chat. Really I have. I'm sure we will speak again soon.'

He waved at them in mock farewell, and walked off to find a horse and begin his daily inspection of the defences of Gortyna.

When he returned to the farmhouse in the middle of the afternoon, Kharim was waiting for him.

'Chilo is dead,' the Parthian reported plainly.

Ajax lowered his head and nodded. 'Did he die by his own hand?'

'Yes.'

'That is what he wanted. Where is he?'

'Inside. I have given orders for his body to be wrapped in linen for burial, but I thought you might want to see him first.'

Ajax was still for a moment and then shook his head.' He is dead, and I will remember him. That is enough. Give the orders for his burial. Find him a grave somewhere quiet, where his body won't be discovered by the Romans.'

Kharim stared at him, delicate brows slightly raised in surprise.

'You think they might beat us, then?'

'They might. Nothing in this life is certain, my friend. If the rebellion fails, I will not have his body treated as a trophy. Nor mine.

Or yours.'

'I understand.'

'Good. Now, I need to eat. I'll be in the garden if anyone needs me.'

Kharim bowed his head. 'Yes, General.'

Ajax spent the rest of the afternoon there, sitting on a bench, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped and supporting his chin. He stared at a small shrine to a household god in the corner of the garden as he reflected on the progress of the rebellion. The idea of leading a rebellion had never occurred to him when he had taken the chance to regain his freedom after the governor's palace had collapsed. In truth he could have escaped at any time since his arrival in Crete, but the prospect of being on the run for the rest of his life, and of a terrible punishment if he was caught, had dissuaded him from such a course of action. The earthquake had changed everything. At first he had thought it would be the perfect chance to disappear, to be thought lost amongst the ruins with so many others. He had pla

That arrogant aristocrat in Gortyna had refused to negotiate any agreement that resulted in the freedom of the rebels. If that could not be guaranteed, then what was the purpose of the rebellion?

Centurion Macro was right. In time, Rome would send a powerful army to crush the slaves, and the consequent retribution would be terrible indeed. With a heavy heart Ajax realised that he must lay the matter before his closest followers. If the rebellion was to achieve anything, then he had to be certain that those who looked to him for leadership clearly understood and shared his aims.

When the commanders of the war bands arrived at the farmhouse, their mood was subdued. Word of Chilo's death had swiftly gone round the rebel camps and many openly grieved for him. They filed into the garden and sat on the spare benches, or squatted on the ground in a loose semicircle in front of Ajax. Kharim and some others had brought a small brazier out from one of the farm's store sheds and lit a fire in the middle of the garden. Ajax examined the faces of his closest men by the glow of the flames. They were all hard men, from widely differing backgrounds. Some were ex-gladiators, like him, while others had been gang leaders on estate farms or on the chain gangs that loaded ships, or had worked the quarries and mines of the island. One had been a stonemason, condemned to fashion the tombs of the wealthy while looking forward to the common grave of a slave pit when his own time came.

Another had been the strong man of an entertainment party, delighting wealthy Romans with displays of his strength, little knowing that he would one day crack the skulls of their compatriots as freely as he crushed walnuts in his bare hands.

Despite the variety of their former lives, they were now united in a common cause, and all looked to Ajax to lead them to a better life.

He cleared his throat as he rose to his feet and ran a hand through his curly black hair.' My friends, today we lost a man who was as a brother to us all. Forgive me, but my heart is heavy with grief, else I would welcome you here with wine and meat, and perhaps Chilo would have a song for us.' He saw that some of the men smiled fondly at the memory. 'But Chilo is gone and I am in no mood for pleasantries. My heart is made heavier still by the need to face up to certain truths. Truths that I must share with you this night.'

He paused briefly and sighed before he spoke again.' The Romans will never give us freedom. Nor will they ever leave us in peace. That is certain.'

'Then we shall take our freedom,' the stonemason, Fuscus, growled. 'And if they object, why, then we shall just have to take their lives instead.'

There was a chorus of approval at these words and Ajax nodded.

'A fine sentiment, and one that has served us well so far, Fuscus. But I fear that we have already achieved as much as we could hope to. We have defeated the Romans in battle, we have sacked one of their cities, and the remaining Romans are bottled up behind their fortifications. We are the masters of this island. For the present. Now we must ask ourselves what is the true purpose of our rebellion.'

'You sound like a philosopher,' a voice called out, and some of the men chuckled.

Ajax forced a smile. 'I am no philosopher. I would rather act than think. Yet now is the time when we must think. We ca