The gladiators roared with excitement as the boy’s lifeless body was removed from the table and carried off, thrown on a pile of brutalized bodies. As this was done, the gladiators who had won their small bet, guessing how long the Roman would last before he passed out from the pain, collected their earnings from their comrades. Then, a moment later new wagers were placed as the same two gladiators returned with another Roman. This one was older and more defiant as he fought against his captors, spitting and swearing in their faces.
Elsewhere, in the center of the camp, around a series of fires were small stakes the height of a man. Strapped to them were more Roman soldiers. Some had already been burnt alive, while others were still in the process of being cooked, as their agonizing screams carried over the camp, mixing in with the rest of the prisoners own cries. A few others that weren’t dead yet were being cut to pieces, body part by body part, starting with their fingers, ears, nose, toes and genitals, which were then stuffed into the Roman’s mouths, muffling their agony.
The biggest sport the gladiators had put on was mock games. They had dug a small pit into the earth and had forced twelve Romans into the arena. Each man was nude and was given six daggers to fight with. The Romans were hesitant at first, refusing to reach for the daggers as they stared at their comrades, wondering what they could do. No doubt they had been offered their lives if they should fight, and be the last man standing. However, few of the men would kill their brothers as a number of them refused to take up the daggers, even if it meant their own deaths. Unfortunately, not all the soldiers stood united as some did rush over to the weapons in the dirt, and turned against their brothers.
“How many of our men do you think are down there?” Cato asked as his enraged eyes watched the madness below him.
“Hard to say, perhaps a couple hundred; certainly enough for them to keep this up for a few more hours,” Gaius answered.
“We are going to do something, right?” another soldier asked; he already had his gladius out, seemly ready to charge down the hill and take the camp all on his own if given the order.
Gaius turned away from the rogue camp and looked over at his men, who gazed at him eagerly.
“Cato, get back to the horses and ride to our lines. Find Valerius and get him here, as quickly as you can.”
Cato smiled as he nodded his understanding before he slowly crept back down the hill, then darted off into the darkness, running as fast as he could to where they left their horses.
Gaius turned his thoughts back to the slaves down below. He hoped that he wasn’t too late to save most of those men. He wished he could have found the camp hours earlier, but no matter, he was going to do something about what he was seeing even if he had to storm that compound on his own.
Forty minutes later, Cato returned with Valerius and another detachment of riders. Gaius had returned to where he had left his horse, having left two men behind to keep an eye on the gladiator camp.
“Any changes?” Valerius asked.
“None so far. The gladiators haven’t noticed our patrol or my men watching over their camp,” Gaius replied, still keeping his voice low even though they were a quarter-mile from the camp.
“What about numbers, theirs and our prisoners?” Valerius then asked as he was already working out a plan in his head.
“We have a more accurate count now. From what we can see, there are at least three hundred and thirty of our men down there give or take; probably more we can’t see. As for the gladiators, most likely no more than two hundred, maybe three, but most are drunk, and a few others already asleep from what we can see. I’ve noticed women as well, runaways most likely.”
“Defenses?”
“It is a basic camp, not much of an outer wall, no trenches, sparse lighting, and a dozen watchmen from what I can tell.”
“And no sign of any Carthaginians?”
“None — These gladiators act alone, apparently.”
Valerius raised his hand to his chin and settled his fingers over the rough stubbles as, he thought briefly to himself. He could see in Gaius’ eyes, and the eyes of those men around him that they were eager to get down there and do something to save their captive comrades, but he knew any action on his part would not only put his legion, what little he had left in danger, but it would slow their march back to Rome as well. He had to reach the city before Hannibal’s army did. Rome could not hold without his men behind its walls, nor was there any way they could hope to engage a larger force out in the open, which is what he may be forced to do if he came behind Hannibal’s lines, if the city was already besieged. Valerius sighed, knowing there was no way he was going to leave Romans to die to such a horrid fate as the ones that the gladiators were given them.
“We will have to do this quickly,” Valerius began. “I will take the first cavalry cohort along with two centuries of infantry and ride to the north of the camp, and attack in one hour. You, on the other hand, will have to take your men, a dozen, no more, and sneak down into the encampment, and eliminate the watchmen. We cannot allow those bastards to raise any alarms as we’re approaching. We only have a short time. The sun will be up in four hours, and I want the gladiators dead or scattered, the Roman prisoners secured and put with the rest of our column, and all of us back on the road to Rome by sunrise.”
Gaius smiled.
“Don’t worry. We’ll be done long before that.”
Valerius grinned as he turned and got back up on his horse, as did the rest of his men who had followed him.
“I’ll see you on the field then,” Valerius smiled as he turned and rode off.
“Come on, we’ve got gladiators to kill,” Gaius said as he ran back to the hill that overlooked the camp.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The killing within the camp had not subsided since Gaius, and his soldiers had first discovered it over an hour ago. He, along with a dozen men had made their way down the surrounding hills, and was so far undetected. He had informed his men what Valerius had instructed them to do, and not a one of them had questioned the orders. Each eagerly followed into the lion’s den, so to speak.
He and his dozen troopers had removed their armor and most of their other gear, opting for stealth over protection. They had muddied their faces and arms and took with them only their gladius’ and daggers. Gaius then broke his men into four groups, three men each, and gave them their assignments. So far, as he and his company moved along the outer perimeter around the camp, they had not been spotted by the few sentries they saw.
Most of the gladiators were still celebrating their games, using the captured Romans for their amusement. Gaius had seen what these men were already capable of, and ever since he had found the estate that had belonging to Decima Felix Titus, he had prayed to the gods to give him the chance to track these men down and expense justice. Even the Gauls, Spanish or the Carthaginians did not treat Roman prisoners as these men were now. They would at least have the decency to kill them outright, or at the very least, torture these men for a purpose, to learn more about their enemies. No, these gladiators took special care to showcase their hatred for Rome and its people. He doubted that even the gods of the underworld could be so cruel.
As the screaming within the camp continued, Gaius was about to get his first chance to spill the blood of the gladiator bastards, as he inched quietly towards two sentries, which spent more time talking to each other than keeping their eyes out towards the surrounding darkness.