'We're having trouble with one of the tigers, the big female,' the head keeper explained one day. 'She's usually quiet as long as you keep her fed, but she almost took Rodan's arm off yesterday and nobody's been keen to go anywhere near her since. Can you have a look at her?'
At night, the big cats slept in cages surrounding a deep, stone-lined pit, but during the day the cages were opened and they roamed free where the Emperor's privileged visitors could view them.
Rufus was surprised to see Callistus and his son among the watchers by the low wall overlooking the pens. He smiled in recognition. Callistus ignored him, but the boy — what was his name? Gnaius — grinned back, before turning again to watch the big cats that so obviously enthralled him. Rufus made his way to the narrow stairway leading down to the cages. The sharp, pungent scent of the cats thrilled him, as it always had, reminding him of his days with Fronto, but that memory brought with it an overwhelming sadness he struggled to throw off. Fronto was gone. There was nothing he could have done. Nothing he could do. Unless… No, he must not even think of it.
'This way.' The voice of the Gracus, the head keeper, brought him back to the present and he buried the image of treason where it belonged. 'She's over here. We didn't let her out with the others.'
Rufus approached the cage slowly, careful not to surprise or antagonize the tigress. She was lying on her side in the straw, and managed only a lethargic snarl when she noticed him. He stood for a few minutes, studying her carefully in the poor light from the torches which lit the chamber. Her eyes had none of the demon fire that characterized her kind, and he could see she breathed in short bursts, the way an animal does when it is in pain. As if to confirm his diagnosis, she turned to lick the pale fur of her belly. He waited a little longer, but he was already confident that he knew.
'Either she is pregnant, in which case you must let nature take its course, or more likely she has colic.' He explained how the condition could be treated, and Gracus thanked him.
The forlorn little cry came as he turned away towards the stairs. On its own, it was an innocuous sound, but his disbelieving mind knew it for what it was and it froze him to the spot. It was followed a second later by an anguished scream that seemed to fill the chamber.
'Gnaius!'
The blood drained from the handler's face. 'The boy! I told him to stay away from the edge.'
Rufus was first to recover. 'How can I get into the pit?'
'But the cats, they — '
'We don't have time.' Rufus gripped him by the front of the tunic. 'How do I get in?'
Gracus pointed. 'Through here.'
The handler fumbled with the padlock holding shut an empty cage, and was about to lead him through when a thundering roar shattered the silence.
Rufus recognized the sound, knew he had only seconds to act.
'Get out of the way.' He shouldered past the handler and ran through the cage until the length of the pit was spread out before him.
It was almost fifty feet across, with smooth stone walls two and a half times the height of a man. Still that might not have been proof against a springing leopard, so they had placed two-foot iron claws all the way round the rim to stop any potential escape. The claws were situated just under the low parapet that topped the wall.
The boy must have been leaning over the parapet when he lost his balance. The fall should have been enough to kill him, but Rufus could see he had landed on a thick bush growing against the base of the wall. It saved him from serious injury, but he was badly stunned, and, worse, bleeding.
It was the scent of blood that had triggered the hunting instinct of the lioness.
There were three of the big cats in the pit, and Rufus took time he couldn't afford to study them.
Two of the tawny cats, a black-maned male and a lioness little more than a cub, showed more curiosity than aggression towards the small intruder on their territory. His first instinct was to ignore them. The mature female was different. She was crouched, head and shoulders low over her front paws, muscles bunched, ready to attack. Only the fact that the boy was not moving had saved him so far. Rufus watched him closely, saw the little chest rise and fall. Then a tentative hand reached up towards the wound on the boy's head and he let out a loud groan as he felt the graze on his scalp. The lioness's ears twitched.
Experience had taught Rufus to recognize the signal of an impending attack. Very slowly he walked into the centre of the pit.
He kept his eyes on the big female, willing her to stay where she was. At the edge of his vision he could see Callistus's ashen face among the ring of watchers round the parapet.
Each pace took him further from safety.
A snarl ripped from deep in a massive chest close behind him, then again a second later from his right. The dark-maned male was stalking him. His back tensed at the thought of the raking claws and gaping mouth. He was level with the crouching female now, and perhaps fifteen paces from Gnaius. It might as well have been a mile.
She had been concentrating on the prey before her, and only now realized there was another presence in the pit. She turned her great head towards him, spitting her fury, nostrils flaring, and he could see the smoky hatred in her eyes. But captivity had made her familiar with humans and Rufus knew that gave him a slim chance. If she would only hold off her attack until he reached the boy he might somehow get him to one of the hands now reaching down from above.
He maintained his steady pace, ensuring his eyes never met hers and willing himself not to show the terror that seized his muscles and chilled his blood. Ten paces, five; he was going to reach the boy. He was close enough to see the blood matting the dark hair where he had struck his head on the stone floor. At the very least he might be able to protect him until the handler brought help. Then Gnaius gave a little whimper and tried to stand.
The lioness roared and he knew the next time she gave song she would charge. He increased his pace but didn't dare run, even though he knew his time was measured in moments. He was a few steps from the boy when she roared again and he heard the skitter of her long claws on the stone as she came.
She moved so fast she was little more than a blur and he barely had time to pick Gnaius up. No chance of throwing the boy towards the reaching hands now. His mind only had time to register gaping jaws filled with yellowing fangs before he raised his free hand in a hopeless gesture of defence.
The lioness was quick, but the black-maned male was quicker. He hit her in the ribs just as she was taking off in the leap that would have brought her teeth to Rufus's throat, and his weight and momentum knocked the breath from her body and bowled her head over heels to the far side of the pit. The blow stunned her, but she got shakily to her feet, snarling at her attacker, and Rufus heard his black-maned saviour roar his defiance as he ran with the boy for the open cage where he had entered.
Once he reached the safety of the bars, he slammed the cage door shut behind him and sat with his back to the lion pit with the slight figure of Gnaius warm in his arms. He felt sick, but he also wanted to laugh. Now the danger was past it seemed so funny, so utterly atrocious, to have walked unarmed and unprepared into the den of three grown lions.
'I…'
He looked up to see Gracus. The handler would not meet his eyes and Rufus realized he had not moved since Gnaius fell. There would have been no rescue. That made him want to laugh even more.