A soft moan of despair caught in his throat and Marcus clenched his eyes shut, struggling to drive all thought from his mind so that he could get the rest he so desperately craved.
11
They continued on the road to Athens. Sleeping in a cheap inn at Coronea the first night, Marcus resumed training Lupus in the morning and evening while the scribe grumbled about his aching muscles. But the atmosphere had changed between them. Cheerful conversations were now less frequent and they trudged on, each wrapped up in his own thoughts.
As promised, Lupus did not raise the subject of the Oracle’s prophecy again, but that did not stop his searching glances at Marcus, most of which the latter noticed but pretended to ignore. Festus led from the front, seldom looking back at the others as he strode on, setting a fast pace. Only when they stopped for a rest, or to refill their canteens from a mountain stream, did he enter into any exchange. But now Marcus saw a suspicious glint in the man’s eye every time he looked at him. Marcus still felt shame over his deception as well as fear that he would have to guard against Festus in the days to come.
Late in the afternoon on the day after leaving Coronea they came to the modest town of Leuctra. A local religious festival was taking place and all the cheap inns were full. The only rooms left were in a far more expensive inn on the town square and Festus gritted his teeth in frustration as he broke the news.
‘There’s nothing for it. We’ll have to spend another night in the open.’
Lupus looked up at the sky. Clouds had been rolling over the mountains during the afternoon and threatened rain. ‘I had hoped we’d be sheltered tonight.’
‘Can’t be helped,’ Festus replied tersely. ‘Better we go now and see what we can find in the country close to the town.’
Marcus intervened. ‘Or we could place a little wager on ourselves and win enough to cover the accommodation for tonight. What do you think?’
Festus was about to refuse when a distant rumble of thunder echoed off the surrounding mountains. He looked around the town square and saw that although many of the stalls had packed up for the day there were still plenty of people about. He weighed up their options then nodded to Marcus. ‘All right. Same drill as before. Let’s get to it.’ They moved to the base of a statue of Hermes that dominated the square and removed their cloaks, then took out the training weapons from their packs. Lupus stood over the possessions, a thick stave in his hands.
While Marcus stood back a step, Festus raised his hands and began his patter. ‘My friends, hear me! Good people of Leuctra I am honoured to visit your famous town. No doubt there are many men here who are descended from the great warriors who served noble Leuctra in the wars against Persia …’
As Festus continued, Marcus surveyed the crowd and saw the usual bands of youths, as well as a group of thuggish-looking men at a table outside a wine shop. There would be no problem finding contenders among these people, he decided. The men at the wine shop turned to hear Festus.
When Festus issued his challenge, their leader, sitting at the end of the table, made a comment and his cronies burst into laughter. He was a powerfully built man with a shock of dark hair and he wore studded leather bracers. Easing himself on to his feet, the man gestured for his gang to follow and approached the small crowd in front of Festus. Four of the local youths had already volunteered and had moved to take up the wooden weapons. The man and his surly-looking followers pushed their way through the crowd.
‘Put those down,’ he ordered the youths.
One of them, a tall, well-built teenager, turned round with an angry expression, fists clenched. But as soon as he saw who had spoken he quailed and Marcus saw his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously as he stammered.
‘Sorry, Pr-Procrustes. I didn’t know it was y-you.’
‘Well, now you do, you and your boys can shove off.’
‘Y-yes. Of course.’ The youth turned to his companions. ‘Let’s be off, b-boys.’
They hurriedly dropped the training swords and withdrew into the crowd. Caesar’s bodyguard flashed a polite smile at the man called Procrustes.
‘I take it that you are stepping forward to challenge myself and the boy, sir?’
The Greek glared back. ‘No. I’m stepping forward to put the boot in, Roman. You don’t come into my town and play your games without asking for my say-so first. That’s how it works in Leuctra.’
‘I apologize most humbly.’ Festus bowed his head. ‘I was unaware of the protocol.’
‘Protocol?’ Procrustes laughed harshly. ‘Hear that, boys? We’ve got a proper Roman gentleman among us today. Well, Roman, I’ll tell you what. You leave me your baggage and your purse and get out of Leuctra at once, and I’ll let you off the beating I usually hand out to those who don’t abide by the correct, er, protocol.’
Marcus could see Festus’s fingers twitch slightly, a telltale sign that he expected violence to explode at any moment. He glanced at Lupus and nodded discreetly towards Festus’s pack as he whispered, ‘Arm yourself.’
Festus continued smiling as he addressed the Greek. ‘And if I refuse to hand over all our worldly goods? What then?’
‘Then me and my boys will give you a hiding you’ll never forget.’
‘I see.’ Festus looked him up and down. ‘I take it you are the local crime lord.’
‘That’s a nice way of putting it. But I see myself as more of an extra-legal businessman.’
Festus forced a quick laugh. ‘You have a ready wit. That is good. But do you have a ready eye for a fight, sir? As I am not prepared to give up our belongings, let me make you an offer. You and three of your men take on me and my lad, Marcus, here. If you win, you take our stake: ten, say twenty, denarii. If we win, you pay us the same.’
Procrustes thrust out a muscular arm and poked Festus in the chest. ‘I will not be insulted by such an easy challenge. I shall take on you alone. And to make it interesting I’ll take your wager. But let’s fight for a man’s stake. If you lose, you lose everything you have, including those two.’ He nodded towards Lupus and Marcus. ‘They’ll fetch a decent price at the slave market in Athens. If you beat me, and you won’t, then I’ll pay you a hundred denarii. Leaving aside the boys, that’s worth more than twice the value of your kit. What do you say?’
‘And if I refuse?’
‘Don’t refuse,’ Procrustes said in a low menacing voice. ‘Not if you want to live to see another day.’
‘Then what choice do I have?’
‘None. And there’s one other thing. It’s just you and me. The boys stay out of it. I want them in good condition once I’ve seen to you.’
Festus considered this for a moment and then nodded. He handed the Greek a wooden sword. ‘Better get your friends to clear some space.’
While Procrustes bellowed the order to his gang, Festus approached Marcus and Lupus and spoke in an urgent undertone as he thrust his purse into Marcus’s hand. ‘If I lose, get out of here as fast as you can. Run and don’t stop for anything. Then make for Athens. The governor there should help you.’
Marcus shook his head. ‘We stay with you. Let’s leave the town. All three of us.’
‘I can’t, Marcus. We make a run for it now, we’ll not get far in the crowd. This way, there’s a chance.’
Marcus looked at Procrustes as the latter swung his sword to test its weight and balance. ‘He knows what he’s doing. This won’t be like the usual fights.’
Festus chose a training sword and followed the direction of Marcus’s gaze. It was clear from the way that he carried himself and the ease with which he wielded the double-weight weapon that the gang leader was a seasoned fighter.
‘He’s been in the arena,’ Marcus decided. ‘That, or he’s been a soldier at some time.’
‘Then at least he’ll put up a decent fight for the crowd and present me with a genuine test of my skills,’ Festus said calmly. ‘Something that’s been sorely lacking in the towns we’ve passed through, so far.’