The Gladiator

'How so?'

'The poor bastard was in agony, but the real problem is that he had handed power over to one of his men, Glabius.'

'Let me guess. Glabius is enjoying the opportunity, and isn't keen on having to move aside for Sempronius.'

Cato smiled thinly. 'Exactly. And since he has surrounded himself with friends, and a small army of bodyguards, he's in a good position to dictate his terms. So the senator has had to compromise. He is sharing power with Glabius for now. Glabius has authority over Gortyna, while Sempronius has taken charge of the rest of the province.'

'Great.' Macro frowned. 'Just what we need. A bloody turf war between two politicians while the world around them goes to the dogs.'

'True, but it won't last,' Cato continued. 'Sempronius has sent messages to every cohort and garrison detachment on the island informing them of the situation in Gortyna, and that he has taken temporary command of all available military forces. Once they're on our side, I don't think Glabius is going to cause any trouble. Then we can deal with the slaves and restore order.'

'That's easier said than done. If the rest of the slaves on this island are anything like that lot back there, then we've got a hard fight ahead of us, Cato. Believe me. If they get properly armed and organised then they're going to be a tough nut to crack.'

'Sempronius doubts it,' Cato replied.' Hereckons they won't amount to much unless they acquire some kind of leader.'

'But they have. I saw him.' Macro recalled an image of the man he had seen giving orders to the slaves.' He looked like a hard case. A gladiator possibly. There's something else.'

'Oh?'

'He seemed to know me.'

'Really?' Cato raised his eyebrows.

'Yes. He looked at me. As sure as day, he recognised me.'

Cato was quiet for a moment.' Do you know him?'

'I don't think so.' Macro frowned. 'I don't know. We may have met some time, but I can't place him. It certainly wasn't in the legions.

He was young. No older than you, I'd say. From the scars on his face he's been in a fight or two.'

'Then perhaps he is a professional fighter, possibly a gladiator.

There won't be many of those on the island, so we should find out who he is quickly enough, once we get back to Gortyna and put the word about. Still, if he is a gladiator, and he is leading that band of slaves who attacked you, then you're right, we've got a problem.'

'A problem?' Macro laughed drily. 'We're in a province devastated by an earthquake and the largest wave I have ever fucking seen. The governor and nearly all his lackeys are dead. The people are going to get very hungry unless some one sorts out a proper supply of food.

There's only a handful of decent soldiers left alive on the island and now we've got a budding Spartacus on the loose… and you suggest we have a problem. Well, I'm simply delighted that the legions are still recruiting the brightest and the best. That's all I can say'

Cato shrugged.' Could be worse.'

'Could it? How exactly?'

'We could be back in Britain.'

Macro was silent for a moment before he pursed his lips and conceded, 'There is always that.'

'The question is, what does our gladiator friend hope to achieve from his rebellion?' Cato mused. 'For the moment he's free, and so are those who follow him. The first impulse would have been to run to the hills to avoid recapture and punishment. They would know that it would only be a matter of time before a powerful force was sent to hunt them down. But the earthquake has changed everything.

Now there's a lot more to play for.'

'What do you mean?'

'You said it yourself, Macro. We've only a handful of men to take them on. We have the remains of towns to protect, and our hands are full keeping order and trying to feed the survivors. We're in no shape to take on a slave rebellion, small as it is right now. If this gladiator can persuade more runaways to join him, not to mention all the other slaves who have stayed behind, then who is to say how ambitious the man might be come?'

Macro digested the suggestion and puffed his cheeks out. 'Are you suggesting he might make a play for the whole island?'

'Who knows? He might. But he might try and cut a deal with Sempronius for his freedom, and the freedom of his followers.'

'He won't make that one fly!' Macro snorted. 'If Rome starts setting slave rebels free in Crete, then who knows where that might end? Sempronius would never agree to it.'

'Quite. And when he doesn't, our gladiator is going to be faced with some difficult choices. If he surrenders, then the ringleaders will be crucified. That will be just the start of the reprisals. So he will have to find some way to escape from Crete, or take us on. That's the real danger. Unless we get reinforcements, then he will have the upper hand. If he wipes us out — '

'Bollocks! That's not going to happen.' Macro laughed.' Once Rome hears what's happened here, they'll send out an army to crush the rebellion in double time.'

'No doubt. But by then the damage will be done. Word will go right round the empire that the slaves of Crete rose up and seized it from the hands of their masters. Now that's an example that might just inspire other slaves in every province under Roman rule. There's the problem. Sempronius can't afford to let this get out of hand.

Neither can we, for that matter. If things go pear-shaped, you can be sure that the emperor will be looking for people to hold responsible.

Do you really think he would stop at the senior political figure in Crete? Sempronius would be the first for the chop and my guess is we wouldn't be far behind.'

'Shit… you're right,' Macro muttered and glanced towards a distant hillock where a small band of slaves was still shadowing the column. 'Why is it always us that land in the shit? Always us.'

Cato looked at his friend and smiled. 'I asked you that question once.'

'Really? What did I say?'

'You looked at me, in that barely tolerant way that you do, and said,' Cato cleared his throat and did a passable imitation of the tone of voice Macro adopted with the thickest of his recruits,' Why us?

Because we're here, lad. That's why!

Macro stared at Cato. 'I said that?'

'You did. Quite a good aphorism I thought, at the time. Very stoic.'

'Load of shite, more like. If I say anything like that again, then feel free to kick me up the arse.'

'If you insist.'

There were no more attacks on the column as it approached Matala. In the gathering dusk the slaves who had been watching them turned away and vanished into the shadows stretching across the landscape. There was one last precaution for Macro to take before they returned to the town. He ordered a brief halt as the chains were replaced on Atticus and he was secured to the driving bench. One of the auxiliaries took over the reins. Atticus glowered at Macro and raised his foot to shake the heavy iron links from side to side.

'What is the reason for this, Centurion? I don't deserve this. Not after all I have done today'

You have been useful,' Macro agreed. 'But you're a proven troublemaker, and right now I can't afford to let you stir the shit up amongst the people of Matala.'

'I risked my life to obtain the food in these wagons.'

'Sorry. You know how it is with leopards and spots. I don't think I can trust you. Not just yet.'

'Then when?'

'When I decide, and not before.'

'I suppose you will say that my being held in chains is for the good of my people?'

'Your people?' Macro chuckled.' When did they be come your people? You are your own mouthpiece, not theirs. Now then, do be a good prisoner, eh? I would hate to have to convince you to behave.'

He held up a clenched fist. 'If I make my point clear.'