Cleander pulled a thoughtful face.
‘It would make for a nice tidy end to this whole thing …’
Flamma shook his head and leaned closer to the chamberlain.
‘I’ll tell you what would be even neater. Imagine a fight between this boy and myself, eh? The reigning champion against a man who retired unbeaten as the darling of the crowd? Imagine being able to tell your gladiator-obsessed emperor that you’ve procured Flamma the Great for one last fight.’ He winked conspiratorially at Julianus. ‘And to sweeten the cake, what if I guarantee to take the fall? There’ll be a lot of money washing around for a fight like that, and there’ll be a lot of it on me, retired or not. I’ll even stay here in the ludus until the fight if you like, so that you’ll have no fear of me backing out. What do you say?’
‘No!’
He turned and looked at Marcus, who was staring at him with a look of desolation, then back at Cleander.
‘Do we have a deal?’
The chamberlain nodded, his eyes alive with the profit to be had from the veteran gladiator’s offer of self-sacrifice. Flamma bowed.
‘Very well. And now if you’ll excuse me for a moment, Chamberlain, I think I can make the lad see sense. It would be better if he were to leave here quietly, I presume?’
He walked slowly across the sand to where the younger man stood shaking his head.
‘There’s no other way, you can see that?’ Marcus opened his mouth to retort, but Flamma shook his head with a sad smile. ‘There’s that look I never thought I’d see again. Every time I used to put you on your arse as a twelve-year-old you’d give me that same stare, as if you were working out how to fuck me up, given half a chance. And look at you now …’ He smiled apologetically at Marcus. ‘I owe you this, Marcus, you, and your family. I should have done something when they were taken, but to my shame I kept my head down. This way I can get you out of here and find some peace for my conscience. And trust me, that little shit Velox won’t be walking out of the arena unscarred.’
Marcus shook his head in bafflement.
‘But if you think you can beat him, why offer to let him kill you?’
The big man smiled, putting a hand on his former pupil’s shoulder and leaning in close. He spoke into his dejected friend’s ear for a moment or so, until Marcus nodded slowly with a look of resignation on his face. Flamma turned back to Cleander with his hands spread wide.
‘See, I told you I could persuade him. He leaves, with his brothers in arms, and I stay, to fight just as soon as you like. Tomorrow might be best, to give the gamblers the least amount of time to brood on this unexpected match.’
‘Eager to die, are you old man?’
Flamma smiled into the face of Velox’s obduracy.
‘Eager to put your skills to the test, more like. You’re a dancer, boy, I’ve seen you fight, and all you do is jump around and wave your swords about like the womanising lightweight you so clearly are. I come from a different school. And I will educate you, before I die, I promise you that.’
Marcus stalked up to Velox, his body stiff with unresolved rage.
‘You crave revenge for your brother. I will have revenge for my family. We will meet again …’
The gladiator nodded tersely.
‘And when you least expect it.’ He tossed a trinket onto the floor between them, a panther’s tooth on a fine gold chain, pointing to an identical pendant around his own neck. ‘I had that made to offer as some form of consolation for your defeat this evening. Take it, and wear it for the rest of your life, Aquila, to match the one round my neck. Every time you touch it remember that I’ll be hunting you down. You’re marked for death at my hands.’
Marcus knelt, picking up the pendant.
‘I’ll wear it. Feel free to come and test your desire for revenge against mine, if you can get past Flamma.’
Cleander spoke before the gladiator could make any further retort.
‘And if we’re done with these slightly tiresome demonstrations of undying enmity, I think it’s time for the emperor to have an opinion on the matter of this proposed death match. I would ask Procurator Julianus what he thinks, but he is after all an employee of the state, and I can assure you that the state very much likes the sound of what’s on offer. Your proposal is accepted Flamma, and you’ll be accommodated in the imperial palace until the time comes for the fight. I’d imagine that Commodus will be keen to meet you in the morning, given his penchant for your trade. Which means it’s time for us all to be on our way.’
Dubnus and Horatius stepped out of the shadows, and Marcus realised that his fellow Tungrian was wearing a look verging on distress. He turned to the procurator, putting a hint of iron into his voice.
‘Julianus!’
The procurator turned to him, clearly affronted at being addressed in so pre-emptory a manner by a man he had considered to be his property until a moment before.
‘Corv-.’ He corrected himself. ‘Aquila. What more do you want from me, having murdered my champion?’
‘There is a woman, a slave girl, called Calistra, who has formed an association with my brother here. He will not leave her behind to face a life of abuse at the hands of your men.’
Flamma nodded.
‘Call her a down payment on my cooperation if you like.’
Julianus looked at Sannitus, who shrugged, his bafflement with the turn of events evident from his nonplussed expression.
‘She’s no loss.’
The procurator shook his head, then closed his eyes and waved a hand in apparent surrender.
‘Fetch the woman.’
An awkward silence fell on the group, and Horatius walked across the sand to where Marcus had dropped one of his swords. Stooping, he picked the weapon up and stood for a moment looking down at the dead gladiator before turning away with an unreadable expression. As he walked back across the arena Dubnus caught his eye momentarily, frowning at the unexpected look of hatred his comrade shot at him. Opening his mouth to say something, he realised that his friend’s stare was focused on the back of Marcus’s neck as the sword’s blade slowly rose from its place at his side. Before he could react Horatius was upon his erstwhile brother in arms, wrapping his arm around Marcus’s face as he put the sword’s point under his chin, the weapon’s shining iron length laid against the Roman’s chest, ready to thrust up into his jaw.
‘What …?’ Flamma reacted first, raising his own sword to strike at the former centurion, but Horatius swivelled, pulling his helpless victim with him. ‘I’ll have your liver out for this!’
Marcus’s captor sneered over his victim’s shoulder, pushing the sword’s point up into the Roman’s throat until the skin around it was white.
‘All in good time. First I have a score to settle with this bastard!’
A tiny movement to Dubnus’s left caught his eye, an almost imperceptible movement by the guardsman closest to him. He caught the man’s eye, frowning as he realised that the soldier was smiling faintly as he edged away from his fellows. Flamma raised his sword, clearly calculating whether he could kill Marcus’s captor without condemning his friend to death as well.
‘What score would that be, Horatius?’
Horatius snarled at Cleander’s question.
‘I think you know, Chamberlain! It was you who ordered the murder of Legatus Perennis!’
The older man nodded.
‘In point of fact, it was the emperor who ordered your commanding officer’s execution, but yes, I gave the detailed orders. It comes as something of a disappointment to discover that you managed to make it all the way to Rome, despite my having ordered that you were to be hunted down and killed.’
Horatius laughed tersely.
‘Your men were looking for a military officer, not a shit-encrusted farm worker. I stole a horse and took my chances, riding by night for the most part, and then when I was close enough to Rome I swapped it for a ride into the city with a farmer delivering his crop. Just another thick bastard brought along for his muscle, or at least that’s what the men on duty at the gate saw.’