The Gladiator

Julia nodded a little uncertainly and was silent for a moment before she continued.' How long do you think we'll be here?'

Macro stepped aside from the column of soldiers and undid the strap of his helmet before removing it and wiping his brow. 'Difficult to say. There's plenty of shipping that puts into Crete, so word of what has happened here will reach Rome soon enough.'

'I haven't noticed any new ships in the port since we arrived.'

'True,' Macro conceded. 'That wave must have had a wide effect.

It's possible that it did for the ships close to the island. Perhaps there will be others who have heard the news and are wary of landing in Crete. But some one will put into one of the island's ports sooner or later. They'll get the story, and carry it onwards to Rome. Once the emperor grasps the scale of the damage that's been done here, then he'll be sure to send help.'

'Help? What kind of help?'

'Troops, food, and a replacement governor as soon as he appoints one. When they arrive, then your father and the rest of us can leave, and take the first ship back to Rome.'

'And how long will it be before help arrives?'

Macro frowned as he made a rough estimate of the distances involved. 'Realistically, I'd say it'd be two months before the first ship comes from Rome.'

'Two months? Two months!' Julia gestured towards the tents.

'With the amount of food we have, those people aren't going to last two months. There has to be some quicker way to get help. What about the closest provinces? Egypt, Cyprus or Greece?'

'They will do what they can. But the trouble is, I imagine they'll be wary of doing anything without requesting permission from Rome.'

Julia shook her head. 'That's madness.'

'That's bureaucracy, miss.'

'But we have to help these people.'

'We are helping them. What they need is order, and that's what I am giving them. Once that is established then I can deal with the food and make sure that everyone is fed as well as our stocks allow.

It's going to be tough, on all of us. Mollycoddling a civilian mob is not the kind of situation I'm used to handling, to be honest, miss.'

'So I can see,'Julia responded in an acerbic tone as she nodded towards the column escorting Atticus. 'That was very well handled.

I'm sure that little incident has helped to win the people round.'

'Now that is out of order.' Macro frowned. 'I'm not standing for election, miss. I just want to do the best for those who have survived.

I want to give them a decent chance to live through this and get back to some kind of normal existence. If that means I have to use methods that don't go down well with the mob, and troublemakers like Atticus there, then that's just tough.'

'On you? Or them?'

'On all of us.' Macro repositioned his felt skullcap and put his helmet back on. 'If that's all, miss, I have work to do.'

He strode off after his men, still fastening his helmet straps. Julia watched him for a moment, knowing full well that she was in the wrong. She had been acquainted with Macro long enough to know that however direct and harsh his methods might seem, his purpose was always well-meaning and fair. By the time she had decided to make her apology, Macro had already entered the headquarters building and disappeared from sight.

Julia slapped her hand against her thigh, furious with herself, and then turned away from the acropolis and gazed out across the tented slope. The crowd that had gathered to hear Macro's announcement was slow in dispersing, and little knots of people still clung together, no doubt voicing their anger. Macro had authority over them for the moment, she reflected, but when the food began to run out, hunger and despair would tear apart the present fragile order. She shuddered at the prospect, and then slowly made her way back through the gate into the acropolis. There was nothing for her to do. She had volunteered her services to help the cohort's surgeon tend the wounded, but he had rebuffed her curtly, saying that the hospital was no place for a senator's daughter. When she had tried to argue the case, pointing out that she had performed such duties during the siege at Palmyra, the surgeon had bitterly remarked that the people of the east were barbarians. Different standards applied in Crete.

Much as Julia hoped the surgeon was right, she had seen enough of the world to know that any civilisation was only ever a few meals away from anarchy and the bloody chaos that would inevitably follow. The thought immediately made her long to be reunited with her father and Cato. She felt a pang of longing for Cato and wished he was with her, making her feel safe.

'I hope you haven't called me here to waste my time,' said Macro as he placed the torch in an iron bracket and sat down on the bottom step of the cistern to look at Atticus. The Greek was chained by the ankle to the rock wall. His white tunic was streaked with filth. He had been in the prison for only one night, and the dark, the damp stench and the isolation had acted on him with impressive speed.

'You told the sentry it was important.'

'It is. I want to offer you a deal.'

'Really?'

Macro smiled thinly. 'What kind of a deal? Are you going to promise to be a good boy if I let you go?'

'Yes. I'll behave.'

'I see, and why should I trust you to behave? You see, I have no more faith in your word than you have in mine.'

Atticus licked his lips nervously. 'I know where to find food.'

'So do I; we keep digging in the ruins.'

'I mean, I know where we can find a lot of food. Enough to feed the people for many days.'

'Oh. And where would this food be?'

'The farming estate of a friend of mine.'

'Where?'

'On the coast, not far from here. The estate belongs to Demetrius of Ithaca.'

'We've already tried there. I sent a patrol yesterday. They came back empty-handed. It seems the slaves, or their brigand friends, had got there ahead of us and emptied the grain pits.'

Atticus smiled. 'That's what you think. Demetrius is a cautious man. Being close to the sea, he was always worried about raids from pirates. So he kept his valuables, and nearly all his produce, in a small compound a mile or so from the main estate. The entrance is easily missed, and the compound is protected by a palisade. I dare say that Demetrius will have headed there the moment the earthquake ended.'

'Assuming he survived.'

'I don't doubt that he did. He's a resourceful man.'

'I assume that you could lead us there.'

'In exchange for my freedom… and a reward.'

'Once you give me the directions to this compound,' Macro responded. 'If you're right, then I'll think about letting you out.'

'Nothing doing. You either let me show you where it is and let me go, or you can starve for all I care.' Atticus gestured casually.' Of course you could always torture me to reveal the location and then have me quietly killed.'

Macro nodded slowly.' Not a bad idea, that. A red-hot poker up the arse is usually pretty good at loosening tongues. I could give it a go, if you like.'

Atticus looked hard at Macro, trying to gauge if the other man was joking, but there was a dangerous glint in Macro's eyes and the Greek swallowed quickly. 'I'll show you where it is, and then you can set me free.'

'I'll think about it.'

'I won't co-operate unless you guarantee my release,' Atticus said with as much defiance as he could manage.

'It's too late to strike a deal, my friend. You've already told me you have something I want. I don't suppose for a moment that you want to take that knowledge with you to the grave. So, it's just a question of torturing you until you give it up. And if, by some miracle, you are a much tougher bastard than I take you for, then you might die before spilling your guts. I shan't complain if there is one less mouth to feed… once we've finished pulling you to pieces, a bit at a time.'