Then Procrustes realized what he had led his men into. ‘Get out, boys! It’s a trap!’
Festus cupped a hand to his mouth as he stood up behind a rock at the edge of the clearing. ‘Let ’em have it!’
Swinging his sling up, Marcus whirled it overhead as he picked a target. One of the men had charged by him so closely that Marcus had feared he would tread on him. But he had blundered past and was now clearly outlined against the fire just twenty paces away. Three other men had made it as far as the fire. The rest had fallen victim to the wooden spikes and other traps concealed about the clearing. Marcus took aim and released his shot. The heavy stone caught the man right between the shoulder blades. Stunned by the impact, he slumped forward on to his knees. Further round the clearing Marcus saw Lupus taking his shot. His aim was rushed and the missile struck his target on the forearm — a painful wound, but not crippling. Festus had drawn his sword and was charging down the path from the opposite end of the clearing. His blade tore into the stomach of the nearest gang member. With no clear target left, Marcus drew his own sword and charged towards the man who had kicked one of the dummies.
The man turned as he sensed Marcus’s approach and he saw that it was Procrustes. The gang leader limped round and Marcus glimpsed the blood flowing from the wound in his foot where the Greek had impaled it on a spike. Then Marcus raised his sword and charged home, hacking at the man’s head. Procrustes parried the blow and thrust Marcus to one side. Scrambling to a stop, he managed to keep his balance and turned back towards the gang leader.
‘So, I must deal with one of the Roman’s whelps before I cut down the man himself,’ Procrustes sneered.
Marcus did not reply but came on in a crouch, sword point up and to the side, as he had been trained. The gang leader thrust at him, but Marcus saw the blow coming and swerved to the side, hacking down into his opponent’s forearm before swivelling round and inside the reach of the man to thrust his blade up with as much strength as he could summon. It was a purely instinctive move, and he had made no conscious decision to kill the gang leader. Yet the point of the sword pierced Procrustes’ throat, driving up through the skull into his brain. His face was close to Marcus, and his eyes were wide and staring as his head trembled uncontrollably. His jaw sagged as he muttered incoherently. Then his fingers released their hold on his sword and it thudded to the ground.
There was a hot rush of blood as Marcus wrenched the blade free and stepped back, shocked by the violence he had unleashed. Procrustes slumped to his knees with a horrible keening noise, then toppled over beside the fire, his stunned expression washed in the red glow of the embers as his blood pooled around him. Marcus stood over him, chest heaving, every muscle in his body tensed.
‘Marcus,’ Festus said gently.
He looked up and saw the bodyguard a short distance away, a concerned expression on his face.
‘It’s over,’ Festus said. ‘Lower your sword, boy.’
Marcus blinked as the battle rage began to drain from his body. He saw that he had instinctively raised the point of his blade towards his comrade, and lowered it and took a deep breath.
‘All right now?’ asked Festus.
‘Yes. Fine. I’m fine.’
Festus looked down at Procrustes, whose body was twitching gently as the last of his life drained out of him. ‘Pity. I had hoped to finish him myself. Three are dead, including him, and the rest are wounded. Good work, Marcus. And you, Lupus.’
Marcus saw his friend emerging from the gloom into the dim pool of light cast by the fire. He carried a sword and blood dripped from the end of the blade. Marcus saw that he was trembling. Around them he could still hear the cries and moans of the wounded.
‘What now?’
Festus shrugged. ‘We could finish them off. Or we let them live and send ’em back to Leuctra.’ He paused and looked at Marcus. ‘Your choice.’
Marcus was surprised. ‘My choice. Why?’
‘Because I think you are ready to make some of your own decisions. It’s time to decide what kind of a man you will become.’
Marcus frowned. Why was Festus doing this? And why now? His mind was too tired to think clearly and he raised a hand to rub his brow as he considered the choice Festus had given him. It made sense to finish the gang off and bury the bodies. They would be discovered eventually, but hopefully by then Marcus would have found his mother and returned home. On the other hand, he was sickened by the bloodshed he had witnessed over the last two years and had no desire to add to it.
‘We let them go.’
Festus searched his face for a moment and nodded.
‘What about the dead?’ asked Lupus. ‘What do we do with their bodies?’
‘Leave them where they are. If anyone cares about them, they’ll come and find them. Not our problem.’
The four survivors from the gang were set free from the traps and their wounds dressed with cloth from the tunics of their dead comrades. One of them had been stabbed in the stomach by a concealed stake and was coughing up blood and moaning, supported by two of his companions. Marcus realized it was unlikely that he would live.
Festus stood in front of them, regarding them with contempt. ‘So much for your attempt to murder us while we slept. Your leader is dead, along with two more of your gang. We could have killed you all. But we’re not murderers or cowards who strike in the night. So you get to live. But I want you to remember this. Go back to Leuctra and warn your friends what happened. Let them know that if we pass this way again and find the town still in the hands of your gang, then we’ll complete the job we started tonight. Is that understood?’
The men stared at him, their fear evident in their expressions.
‘I said, is that understood?’ Festus repeated loudly. ‘Or do I have to carve the message into your chests with my knife?’
The men nodded quickly.
‘Then get out of my sight, before I change my mind. GO!’
They turned and stumbled down the forest path leading back to the road, the mortally injured man groaning in agony as his companions dragged him away. Marcus watched until they had disappeared into the darkness. Suddenly he felt utterly exhausted as the nervous energy drained from his body.
‘You boys did well tonight,’ said Festus. ‘Now get some sleep. It’ll be dawn in a few hours. I’ll stand the last watch.’
Lupus nodded mutely and made his way back to the fire to retrieve his cloak that had been used to shroud one of the dummies. He settled down close to the embers but Marcus hung back beside Festus. The man turned to look at him.
‘What is it?’
‘Did I make the right choice?’ Marcus asked.
‘Only you can know that.’
Marcus sighed. ‘But what would you have done?’
Festus thought briefly before he answered. ‘I’d have killed them.’
‘Oh … Then I made a mistake.’
‘No. You did the right thing from your point of view. I’m different. Perhaps if you had lived as long as I have then you might have decided differently. There’s no right or wrong in this, Marcus. Only a difference in perspective. Now get some rest. We’ve still got a full day on the road ahead of us when the sun rises.’