‘There’s another job on today. Have you heard?’ the first man grumbled as he cracked his knuckles.
‘Eh? What’s that?’ asked his friend, sitting opposite.
‘Milo’s taking the Blades and the Scorpions down to the Forum this morning. Seems that Cato is prosecuting one of Caesar’s followers, Calpurnius Piso. Accused of corruption what else — when he was governor of Sicily. It’s a dead cert that Clodius will have some men there to break up the trial. So we’ve got to keep them away, and shout down any witnesses for the defence.’
‘Shouldn’t be too much trouble,’ his friend said, shrugging. ‘Just give ’em a bit of a battering and that’ll sort it out.’
‘Aye.’ The first man nodded and then looked up sharply as Marcus hovered at the table. ‘What d’you want? A tip? How’s this: get lost sharpish before I knock your head off. ’
‘Har, har,’ his friend chuckled. ‘That’s a good ’un.’
Marcus quickly retreated and continued serving the other customers until there was a blast from a horn outside. Milo’s voice bellowed, ‘Come on, you scum! Stir yourselves! There’s work to be done. Blades and Scorpions — on me! The other gangs aren’t needed today.’
The men hurriedly abandoned their breakfast and headed outside.
‘Hey!’ Demetrius shouted after them. ‘You haven’t paid for that! Stop! Stop. .’
No one spared him any attention and soon the inn was empty, except for two workmen squeezed into one corner who had risen late and were eating as fast as they could. Demetrius scowled at the gang members as they assembled round Milo. ‘Scum. .’
He glanced round hurriedly in case anyone had overheard and saw Marcus. ‘Clear up this mess. Scrape what’s left back into the cauldron.’
While Marcus collected the bowls and cups, Demetrius stumped off to the rear of the inn, grumbling to himself. Outside, Milo stood on an upturned tub as he addressed his men.
‘I’ve seen corpses with more life in ’em than you lot! Stand up straight, clear your heads and listen! We’re going up against Clodius and his gutter scum from the Subura again.’
There was a ragged cheer from his men and Milo continued. ‘Caesar and his cronies mean to command the streets of Rome. If we let him become too powerful, then he’ll turn on the gangs and destroy them one at a time until no one stands in his way. Brothers, are we going to allow that to happen?’
‘NO!’ His men roared back.
‘No! By the gods!’ Milo shouted back. ‘Rome belongs to the gangs and I’ll die before I let some upstart aristocrat take the city from us.’
Marcus wished he could warn Festus, but realized that by the time he could reach Caesar’s house it would be too late, and if he was missed at the inn it would arouse suspicion. No, he needed to stand his ground. If he could just get closer to Milo, then he was certain he’d discover information that would be even more valuable to Caesar.
Milo continued. ‘There are some gangs who have taken Caesar’s gold. The Subura gangs have rolled over, like the mangy dogs they are, at the feet of Caesar. The only real men left in Rome are here! Now take up your clubs and your blades and let’s show the scum from the Subura who controls the streets. Go in hard. Show no mercy and do not dishonour those tattoos on your shoulders.’ He punched his fist into the air. ‘Honour to the Blades and the Scorpions! Death to our enemies!’
His men roared with approval and Milo waved them towards an alley leading from The Pit to the heart of the city. He shouted more encouragement before jumping off the tub to head in the opposite direction, towards the top of the Aventine Hill.
Marcus watched them go and continued clearing the tables. He took the bowls and cups to the trough at the back of the inn where he quickly rinsed and stacked them to dry. As he walked past Demetrius the innkeeper muttered, ‘Good riddance to ’em.’
Demetrius kept him hard at work, clearing up after the morning meal, then chopping more firewood for the small blaze to keep the cauldron simmering throughout the day. There was no chance for Marcus to leave The Pit and warn his master about Milo’s plans to disrupt the trial. But Marcus doubted if a warning would make any difference. The gangs of both sides would clash and Rome would take another step towards chaos. He would have to stay in The Pit until the gangs returned. Then he would wait on Milo and his leaders again, until he discovered their more secret plans to destroy Caesar.
20
At noon, Marcus’s chores were finished for a while and he sat down at the long bench overlooking the open ground. The midday heat had driven most people to seek shade indoors, but Marcus closed his eyes and soaked up the warmth, his mind briefly slipping back to the years he had spent growing up on the farm on the island of Leucas. The surrounding hillsides would be covered by blossom now, stirred by the Ionian winds that caressed the islands with their cooling touch. There was a place where he would sit with the shepherd who tended the goats. Together they’d watch the small trading ships enter the bay at Nydri, and those further out, making passage between the beautiful tree-covered islands that dotted the brilliant azure sea. Cerberus, his dog, would sit at his feet, head between his paws as his eyes slowly closed in contentment. Marcus savoured the memory, refusing to dwell on what had come afterwards to ruin it.
‘What are you bloody smiling at, runt?’
Marcus opened his eyes to see Kasos and his gang standing a short distance away. A shiver ran up the back of his neck, but he kept calm and tried not to look afraid.
‘You’ve got nothing to smile at,’ Kasos continued. ‘So wipe it off before I do it for you.’
Marcus stared at him, noting the bruises on his face. ‘You talk too much.’
‘What?’ Kasos narrowed his eyes. ‘Is that supposed to be clever?’
Marcus shrugged. ‘Statement of fact. Now if you’ve finished, I’m having a rest and don’t want to be disturbed.’
Kasos snarled. ‘I am disturbing you. I think you owe me an apology.’
‘An apology?’ Marcus laughed.
‘You don’t fight fair. You went for me when I wasn’t ready. That ain’t acceptable. It ain’t acceptable by a long way.’
‘I didn’t know there were rules.’
‘Get on your knees and say you’re sorry.’
Marcus looked at Kasos and was reminded of Ferax, the Gaulish boy who had made his life a misery at the gladiator training school. Marcus had put up with it for a long time because he lacked the confidence to tackle the bully. Only when they were pitched against each other in the school’s arena had that fear finally gone. This time he wouldn’t stand for it. He stood up and took a couple of steps towards Kasos and shook his head. ‘No.’
Kasos gritted his teeth. ‘You’ll regret that, gutter boy. No one takes my place at Milo’s table and lives.’
‘Well, there you’re wrong,’ Marcus replied coolly, though his heart pounded and he had to will his limbs not to tremble. ‘I have, and I’m quite alive. Unless you want me to teach you another lesson, I suggest you take your friends and go.’
‘You’re going. Not me. Tell you what, if you up and run off now and never come back, I’ll let you. Otherwise, you fight me. Fairly this time.’
‘Fairly?’ Marcus cocked an eyebrow. ‘That means just you. Your friends stay out of it.’
Kasos snorted with derision. ‘You think I need their help to beat you to a pulp?’
‘It looked that way yesterday,’ Marcus replied, deliberately winding up his opponent. Anger was the worst enemy of a gladiator, he had been taught. Anger dulled the mind just when it needed to be sharp and alert. He watched with satisfaction as the blood drained from the other boy’s face.
‘Tell you what,’ he continued. ‘Let’s agree the stakes. If you win, I leave The Pit for good. If I win, then I lead your gang and you leave.’
‘If I win, you’ll leave this world forever,’ Kasos snarled. ‘What weapons do you want to use?’ asked Marcus. ‘Fists, clubs, knives, staves?’
Kasos raised his club and swung it through the air. The wood was dark and hard with age. The shaft tapered evenly, shaped with great care, and the heavy end was studded with nails. The club had a loop in the other end, which passed over Kasos’s wrist. It looked a formidable weapon, Marcus decided, as he turned to fetch his own from the inn before rejoining the others outside. He lowered himself into a crouch and raised his club.