The Gladiator

Macro glanced down at his stew with a look of suspicion. He lowered his bread, dripping with gravy from the stew, on to his platter and turned towards the slave.

'You there, step closer.'

The slave started forward nervously, eyes flickering round the Romans lying on their couches around the table. Sempronius glanced at his daughter and Julia raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Macro wiped the smears of gravy from his lips. 'Slave, you have heard the news about Prefect Marcellus's defeat, I take it.'

The slave nodded quickly.

'Do you take comfort from this news?'

'Master?'

'I asked you if you took comfort from the news. You're a slave. So what is your view of the rebels' victory? Do you rejoice at it?'

The slave glanced down and shook his head.

'Look at me,' Macro ordered, and the slave reluctantly raised his head enough to meet Macro's gaze. 'Surely you are on the side of those who would set you free? Well? Speak up, man.'

The slave's anxiety was clear as he struggled to make a reply.

Macro waited patiently, and at length the slave spoke. 'Master, I want freedom. So do many slaves. But I have savings and I plan to buy my freedom one day. It is the only way for me. Those slaves who join Ajax may have their freedom now, but I think they must live in dread of being returned to slavery. That is not freedom. When I eventually have my freedom, I shall want to be free from fear as I am free from slavery.' He paused, and looked round at his masters. 'I have made my choice. Those who follow the gladiator have made theirs.' He turned back to Macro. 'Is that all, master?'

Macro thought for a moment, then nodded. 'Leave us.'

The slave bowed his head and backed away from the table.

'He's lying,' Macro muttered.

'Well, what did you expect?' asked Sempronius. 'A frank admission that he sympathises with Ajax? It was unfair to put him on the spot like that.'

'Perhaps.' Macro pushed his plate away.

'I wonder how Cato is faring?' Julia intervened.' He must have reached Alexandria by now. What do you think, Father?'

Sempronius thought a moment and then nodded. 'I'd have thought so, provided all has gone well. Which I am sure it has,' he added hurriedly, before dipping his spoon into the stew, fishing out a piece of meat and popping it into his mouth. At once, his face contorted in agony. Macro jumped to his feet and stepped towards the senator, glancing at the slave as he did so.

'Sir! What's the matter? Are you all right?'

Sempronius held up a hand to stay Macro and nodded. He swallowed, then reached for his wine to quench the pain in his mouth.' Damn, that stew's hot!'

Macro let out a sigh of relief and returned to his couch.

Julia was looking at him curiously as she delicately blew across her spoon. 'What is up with you?'

'It's nothing. I just thought… Never mind.' Macro quickly changed the subject, with a forced smile. 'I'd be willing to bet that Cato is even now sitting at a fine banquet with the Legate of Egypt, busy talking him out of his entire garrison. You know what he's like.'

Julia smiled. Yes, he can be most persuasive.'

Sempronius frowned and Macro burst into laughter before he could stop himself. For a moment the senator continued frowning, then gave way to the impulse and joined in. With all the strain of the previous days and the grave concerns over the arrival of the slave army before the hastily repaired walls of Gortyna, it did both men good to laugh. When it had died away, Macro topped the other man's cup up with wine and raised his own in a toast.

'To Cato. May he prove big enough for a tribune's boots, and return to us at the head of a great army'

'I'll drink to that.'

'And me.' Julia raised her cup. She took a sip and then spoke softly.

'By the gods, I miss him so much.'

Macro nodded. He didn't want to say anything for fear of seeming to miss a comrade more than was properly acceptable. All the same, he mused, he would rather have Cato at his side as he prepared the hotch-potch of defences and defenders to face the enemy.

Sempronius drank from his cup and then set it down.' How are things coming along, Macro? Those new men proving to be of any use?'

'They're doing well enough. Most have managed to work out which end of a sword to hold. They'll never make good soldiers, or even adequate ones, in whatever time we have available to us before the rebels decide to attack. I've appointed Centurion Micon to command them. It'll give him a chance to redeem himself. All in all they won't amount to much, but they'll be better equipped than most of the slaves they'll encounter.'

'Although you can be sure that this man Ajax will have distributed the kit he recovered from the bodies of Marcellus and his men.'

'That's true,' Macro conceded. 'In which case, I give Centurion Micon's lads no better than an even chance when it comes to a fight.'

Sempronius sighed wearily.' Not a great help, then.'

'I can only hope they prove me wrong.'

The conversation was interrupted by three distant blasts on a trumpet, the alarm signal that Macro had arranged. He rose quickly to his feet, followed by the others, and abandoned the meal as they made their way out of the administration building and across the acropolis to the tower above the main gate. Men were stumbling out of their barracks, kit in hand, and racing to their positions on the wall. Macro ran up the worn stone stairs and emerged on to the platform, hurrying across to the parapet. Below him the city sprawled across the plain. One of the men who had been on watch thrust his arm out towards the west.

'Over there, sir.'

Macro shaded his eyes as he stared into the setting sun. At first the glare concealed the approaching enemy from sight. He was surprised that the rebels were coming from the west. Marcellus's column had been massacred away to the east. Where had they been? he wondered. Then he dismissed the concern as his eyes began to pick out the details of the enemy marching across the plain towards the city. There were two columns, one making directly for Gortyna and the other angling to the south to march round the city and take up position to the west, Macro guessed.

'Ajax has finally decided to take the bull by the horns.'

'Yes,' Sempronius replied, panting as he caught up. 'So it seems. An apposite metaphor, by the way'

'Really?' Macro glanced at his superior.

'This is the island where bull-leaping had its origins, Macro. In the old times, that was the phrase used to describe the moment when the acrobat was ready to face a charging bull and grabbed its horns at the last moment before somersaulting over the bull's back.'

Macro stared at the senator for a moment. Cato was going to have a lot in common with his prospective father-in-law. The two of them were sure to spend many long winters' evenings together swapping such useless nuggets of information. He sighed. 'That's fascinating, sir.'

Julia glanced sidelong and smiled at Macro as her father continued.

'The trouble is that the metaphor is the wrong way round. It is we who are facing the bull, not Ajax. And I fear that unless we are all as nimble and determined as the proverbial acrobat, we are going to be ground into the dust by the first charge.'

Macro shook his head.' No, sir. I ain't going down that easy. The rebels are just slaves. They lack training and there's no question of them having any siege equipment. For the moment, we have the advantage.'

'I hope you are right.'

They continued to watch as the slave army deployed around the city. The clouds of dust kicked up by their feet and the hooves and wheels of the sprawling baggage train filled the air with a warm orange haze. Sempronius told his daughter to remain on the acropolis while he and Macro made their way down to the city gate to inspect their opponents more closely. Macro made a hasty calculation of the size of the enemy force before the light made estimation too difficult.