‘Victory to the Blades! The first round of drinks are on the Jackles.’
That brought another cheer as the crowd broke up and hurried towards the bars that ringed The Pit. Marcus watched as Milo patted the winner on the back and then climbed the slope towards the largest of the inns. He sat down at the head of a long table outside the inn and banged his fist on the wooden top.
‘Wine! Now!’
A moment later a thin, grey-haired man in an apron came scurrying out with a large jug in one hand and a tray of silver goblets in the other. He set them down on the table and poured the wine, handing the first cup to Milo with a bow of his head. The spaces along the table were quickly filled by other men, and Marcus was reminded of Clodius and his henchmen at the Dolphin. Same thugs, different sides. . he thought.
All around The Pit the other gang members were filling the inns and starting to drink, amid cheers, occasional shouts and trading of insults. Most of the people who had watched the fight were dispersing back into the alleys, apart from some who squatted down to talk or play dice. The giant who had lost the fight was left where he had fallen to sleep it off. Marcus walked over to a mule-tethering post opposite the inn where Milo was drinking and leaned against it while he observed the leader of the Aventine gangs.
The young gang that Marcus had encountered earlier sauntered over towards the inn and leaned against the wall beside it as if they were part of Milo’s inner circle. As soon as the first jug of wine was emptied, Kasos went inside for a fresh jug and topped up their drinks, making sure to top up Milo’s cup first. Then he rejoined his companions leaning against the wall. As Marcus watched, a plan began to form in his mind and he eased himself down to sit cross-legged on the ground, while he waited for an opportunity.
The day wore on and the sun rose high above the tenement blocks, baking the air trapped inside The Pit. As it became hotter, Kasos and his friends disappeared up one of the alleys to find some water. Marcus stood up, his heart beating fast as he nerved himself to carry out his plan. He casually strolled round the ring of inns and stopped to lean on the wall — taking up the position that Kasos had left shortly before. The men round Milo’s table were deep in their cups and some had already fallen asleep, slumped across their arms and snoring loudly. Milo and the others were still going strong, however, and Marcus watched as one of them poured the last of the current jug into his cup and frowned irritably.
At once Marcus pushed himself away from the wall and hurried inside the inn. It was low ceilinged and crudely constructed tables and benches lined the walls. Marcus strode boldly up to the counter and rapped his knuckles on it.
‘More wine for Milo!’
The innkeeper emerged from a back room and looked at Marcus suspiciously. ‘And who are you, boy? Where’s Kasos?’
‘He had to go. Milo sent me instead.’
‘I’ve not seen you in here before.’
‘You’re keeping Milo waiting,’ Marcus replied quickly. ‘Shall I tell him you won’t let me take the wine to him?’
‘What?’ The innkeeper’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘No! Stay there, young ’un.’
He turned and hurried into the back room, emerging a moment later with a fresh jar which he thrust into Marcus’s hands. ‘There. Now take it to him quick as you can. Go!’
Marcus couldn’t help being impressed by the fear that Milo inspired in people, and at the same time it made him more aware how dangerous his mission was. What would Milo do to him if the gang leader discovered his identity? Marcus tried to shake off his fear as he stepped outside and approached the table. He tilted the jar to fill Milo’s cup. The gang leader didn’t look up until he raised the cup to take a sip. Then he frowned.
‘Who are you? Where’s that toe-rag, Kasos?’
‘I’m Junius, sir. Just standing in for Kasos,’ Marcus replied, using the name Festus had given him as part of his cover story.
‘Junius, eh?’ Milo looked him over. ‘I’ve a good memory for faces. I’ve not seen you in The Pit before, have I?’
‘No, sir. I only arrived today.’
‘Indeed? And where have you arrived from exactly?’
Marcus paused a moment before replying. ‘Campania, sir. I ran away from home.’
‘An escaped slave perhaps? There’ll be a reward for your capture, if you’ve escaped.’
‘I’m not a slave. I’m an orphan, raised by my uncle on his farm. But he treated me like a slave so I ran away.’
‘And you came to Rome to seek your fortune no doubt,’ said Milo with an amused expression. ‘Like all of the other half-starved runts who fetch up in the slums. But you seem in good shape. Hard work on the farm agreed with you.’
‘It agreed with my uncle more, sir.’
Milo laughed. ‘Very good. . Now be on your way, boy.’
‘Let me work for you, sir,’ Marcus said quickly, in a pleading tone.
‘Work for me? What do you think you can do that these men can’t, eh?’ He gestured to the men lining the table. Those who were still conscious grinned blearily. Milo shook his head. ‘I have no use for you.’
‘I’m hard-working,’ Marcus persisted. ‘I can read and write and I can fight.’
‘Well, you’ve certainly got guts stepping into Kasos’s shoes, I’ll say that for you. Now you best be off before he returns. Oh, too late!’ Milo chuckled as he nodded towards the gang of youths emerging from the alley. ‘Ho there, Kasos! Where have you been? If it wasn’t for this lad here my cup would have run dry.’
Kasos looked about to apologize but he paused as he recognized Marcus. ‘You. . I warned you.’
‘You know this boy?’ asked Milo.
‘He was bothering my lads earlier. I had to teach him a lesson and show him who’s boss around here.’ Kasos caught himself and bowed his head to Milo. ‘Besides you, of course.’
‘It seems your lesson has fallen on deaf ears, Kasos. What are you going to do about it?’
‘I’ll deal with him,’ Kasos snarled. ‘Once and for all.’
He made straight for Marcus, fists clenched and eyes blazing. Marcus stood his ground, then at the last moment hurled the jar at the older boy’s feet. It was still heavy with wine and it crushed Kasos’s toes before exploding on the ground, sending sharp fragments of the jug in all directions and splashing red wine all over Kasos. He let out a yell of pain that was quickly cut off as Marcus punched him in the jaw with all his might. Kasos’s head snapped to one side and he staggered back a pace. Marcus hit him again and again, throwing his full weight into the punches, which connected hard with the bigger boy’s jaw. Kasos wobbled as he struggled to recover from the furious attack, raising his hands to protect his face. Marcus switched his aim, striking low, into the stomach, trying to wind the other boy and put an end to the fight as quickly as he could.
His blows were beginning to tell as Kasos gasped for breath and stumbled back, slipping on to his knees. Marcus hammered him on the side of the head again, until Kasos collapsed on the ground and threw his hands up, trying to protect himself from further blows.
‘That’s enough!’ Milo snapped. ‘Let him be.’
Blood rushed through Marcus’s head as he took a step back, fists clenched, ready to fight on.
‘Quite the little firebrand!’ Milo said admiringly. ‘You’re the first boy to knock Kasos down in a while. So you’re a good fighter, just like you said. I’ve plenty of those, but I can always use a promising new recruit. I take it you’ve got no home, so you can stay here at the inn. Tell old Demetrius that I said so.’ He nodded in the direction of the inn. ‘He’s to give you a corner to sleep and food, and you can serve me wine at the table. I may find other uses for you later. Like I thought — you’ve got guts.’