The gladiator Mortiferum stirred indolently in his chair and brushed a crease from his perfectly tailored tunic before speaking, casting a sidelong glance at Pilinius, and the chamberlain shuddered at the lack of life in the younger man’s eyes.
‘You want me to accept the loss of my share because our senatorial colleague here and his cronies like to play their games with the wives and children of our victims?’
He hooked a thumb at the subject of his words, who stared down at the table’s highly polished surface without any sign of emotion. Cleander shrugged, affecting disinterest in the swordsman’s statement.
‘No, I expect you to accept the loss of your share because you failed to ensure that your side of the bargain was honoured.’
The gladiator’s head turned slowly until his eyes were boring into the chamberlain’s, and while Cleander knew that the deliberate movement was all part of a well-practised persona, he was unable to suppress a shiver of fear at the malevolence that radiated from the man’s expression.
‘You know that I could be over this table and breaking your neck before you could summon your guards?’
Forcing a smile onto his face, Cleander shook his head.
‘I think not. I gave very explicit instructions before entering this room with exactly such an act of foolishness in mind. If any of you offer me violence, then you will all be physically restrained, at whatever the cost in guardsmen since they are a commodity of which I am blessed with a fairly inexhaustible supply. Not killed, gentlemen, but rather deliberately kept alive and imprisoned, after which all of your families will be gathered here to watch you being crucified in a private arena. And then, while each of you twists and writhes on his cross, your loved ones will be violated in the most appalling ways you can imagine in front of you, before being ripped to pieces by savage animals which will literally eat them alive. Not the usual lions and tigers though, I have something far more entertaining in mind for that eventuality.’
He paused, enjoying the silence that had fallen across the room.
‘The dog, while far less effective as an instrument of execution than a lion, is a far more terrifying prospect when employed in numbers. All one needs to do for a really good show is to paint the most sensitive parts of the victim’s anatomy with a nice thick paste of blood and set half a dozen ravenously hungry animals loose upon them. Need I describe the unendurable agony that your family members will undergo while their helpless writhing bodies are being torn apart under such loathsome circumstances? I would have thought that you in particular might enjoy the irony involved in that image, Senator Pilinius.’
The praetorian, the senator and the gang leader were all in his pocket, that much was evident from their stunned expressions, although the gladiator merely sat back, his malevolent stare steady on the chamberlain. Cleander grinned back at him.
‘And there it is, eh Death Bringer? To have control of brutal men it is simply necessary to promise the application of even greater brutality to those they cherish. And nobody does brutality quite like the Roman state, which makes the whole thing rather simple. But that’s not enough for you, is it? You have no family other than your brother, do you, nobody for me to threaten with the most degrading of deaths? You think you’re immune from this leverage. So for you, great champion of the arena, I have a different fate planned. You and your brother will both be crucified, but you’ll be cut down from your crosses before you choke yourselves to death, to ensure that you’ll be compos mentis for what will follow. You will be cut to pieces very, very slowly, one thin slice every hour over a period of months. Imagine, first your fingers, one coin-thin piece at a time, then your toes, and then, one cut after another, your limbs, with each wound promptly cauterised to prevent you bleeding to death. I’d imagine that it might take the best part of a year for you to die, and all the while you’ll be cursing yourself for succumbing to a moment of anger. When you’re not screaming in agony and then babbling out your insanity, that is.’
He raised an eyebrow and waited, keeping his face utterly immobile as the gladiator stared back for a moment before nodding slowly.
‘Good. I’m glad we understand each other. Be clear, gentlemen, that should any mysterious fate befall me, no matter how innocent you may all seem in the matter, the punishments that I’ve described will be delivered with swift and brutal efficiency. Call it my last wishes.’
He stood, rolling the scroll up.
‘And let’s have no recriminations, eh? The missing items are more than enough to cover your respective shares, so sort it out between you and prepare yourselves for the next time the emperor calls upon your services. After all, I think I can state with some assurance that you don’t really do the things you do for the money, do you?’
‘So, Centurion, my son died an honourable death?’
Sigilis had waited until the story of the battle on the ice had been fully recounted before swiftly turning to Marcus, knowing that Scaurus would be more inclined to protect him from any unpalatable facts. Well aware that he would be likely to face the question at some point, Marcus had long since rehearsed the answer that would disguise the fact that the senator’s son had died with a spear in his back.
‘He died in combat with overwhelming numbers of the enemy, Senator, beset on all sides. Your ancestors will have been proud to receive him into their company.’
Sigilis stared hard at him, and the young Roman fished inside his toga, pulling out a heavy gold pendant which he held out to the older man.
‘When I was able to recover his body, this was still around his neck. I expect he would have wanted it to be returned to you.’
The senator looked down at the yellow disc lying on his palm, the finely detailed representation of the god Mars standing on a field of vanquished foes. He swallowed, shaking his head slowly.
‘That pendant has been in my family for generations, all the way back to the conquest of the Dacians, when Trajan decided to bring that accursed land into the empire. My grandfather had it made with gold he took from a nobleman he killed on the battlefield, and passed it on to my father when he served. I wore it in Caesarea, and Lucius took it in his turn when he joined his legion. He was my only surviving son, after the plague from the east took both of his brothers from me, so there are no members of my family left to bring it further honour. Wear it for me, and every time you remember my son you will perpetuate his memory.’
Marcus nodded, folding his fingers around the heavy metal disc.
‘Your son wrote something on the ice before he died, using his own blood. Something he wanted me to remember …’
Sigilis raised an incredulous eyebrow.
‘With his blood?’
Marcus nodded soberly.
‘As I said, Senator, he was a strong-willed man. He was dying, he knew that much, but he was determined that I should act upon something he had told me a few days before. It was-’
The senator’s voice was suddenly cold.