The Gladiator

Chilo wiped the blade on his tunic.

'Bastard,' the centurion who had accompanied Sempronius growled. He drew his sword and stepped forward.

'Put that sword away!' Sempronius shouted.

The centurion ignored him and advanced towards Chilo. 'Let's see how good you are against a man who can fight back!'

'Leave him!' Sempronius grabbed the officer's shoulder. 'I gave you an order, Centurion Macro! Leave him.'

Ajax froze. He was still for an instant, then twisted round in his saddle and stared at the Roman officer. 'Macro? Centurion Macro?'

His heart was filled with a rush of emotions. Bitter hatred, rage and a strange joyful exultation. His limbs trembled with excitement and there was an almost inhuman desire to throw himself on Macro and tear the Roman to pieces. Blood pounded through his veins as he raised his hands, fingers clawed, as if he would wring the other man's neck. Then the moment passed, and self-control struggled to control his thoughts. Not now. Not while there were higher stakes.

'Ajax, the pirate's son.' Macro nodded slowly, sword raised and braced to defend himself against any sudden attack. 'You remember me, then?'

There was a keening groan in Ajax's throat as he fought to restrain his rage.

'I remember you well enough, lad,' Macro continued. 'And I remember your father. When this is over, you'll share his fate. By the gods, I swear it… Unless you want to fight me now. Come on!' He raised his sword.' Man to man.'

Ajax was breathing deeply. His senses were heightened to a feverish pitch of sound, sight and smell, just as they always were in the arena when the signal to fight was given. Slowly, slowly he forced himself to calm his desire to hurl himself at Macro. Instead he eased his sword hand to his side, and sat erect, still staring fixedly at the Roman.

'We will have our fight, Centurion. Not here, not now. But the time will come. No god, no fate, no person would deny me the right to kill you with my own hands.'

Ajax abruptly turned his horse away and kicked his heels in, galloping back towards his army. His heart was filled with overwhelming resolve. When Macro was defeated, he would learn what it meant to die in the most humiliating, agonising manner, just as Ajax's father had done.

CHAPTER TWENTY

'Just what did you think you were doing back there?' Sempronius snapped the moment they reached his headquarters in the J acropolis. 'You were goading him. You saw his expression at the end there. He was insane. For a moment I thought he'd go for you with his bare hands.'

'Might have been better for us if he had, sir,' Macro replied coolly.

'Then I could have had him. With Ajax gone, how long do you think that ragbag army of his would hold together?'

Sempronius gave him a calculating look. 'What makes you think you could have beaten him? The man looked as tough as any fighter I have ever seen in the arena, and he's been trained to kill.'

'So have I. And I've had rather more experience at it. Besides, what good would all that gladiatorial training have been if he had lost his head and thrown himself into a fight?'

Sempronius nodded. 'I see. That's what you were counting on. That's why you provoked him.'

'Of course, sir. First rule of war — always try and get the enemy to fight on your terms.'

'Well then, I owe you an apology. For a moment I thought you had lost control of yourself.'

'Me?' Macro looked pained. 'Lose control of myself?'

'In any case, thanks to your intervention, I doubt that Ajax is going to be predisposed towards sparing anyone if he does take Gortyna.' Sempronius sat down behind his desk and turned to gaze over the city. Macro had given orders for torches and braziers to be lit along the wall, in case the rebels made any attempt to attack under cover of darkness. The usual watch had been doubled and the rest of the men were quartered in houses close to the walls. Some half-mile outside the city were clusters of camp fires, arranged in a great arc that enclosed the hills to the rear of it. As soon as night had fallen, several sections of men had been sent out from Gortyna to start sowing the caltrops along the approaches to the weakest lengths of the wall. Now there was a tense stillness as the defenders beheld the enemy host and waited.

Sempronius turned away from the window. 'If the city falls, he will take his hostages and kill the rest. I am sure of it.'

'Then we must make sure that we hold Gortyna.'

'Easily said, Macro. We have to think through all the choices open to us.'

Macro's eyes widened. 'You're not seriously considering surrender?'

'No,' Sempronius replied. 'But it is an option, none the less. We'll have to put the situation to the ruling council. They have to be told.'

Macro shook his head. 'Sir, if we let a bunch of civilians have their say, well, it's obvious they'll take the offer to save their skins.'

'Then we must persuade them that Ajax is not to be trusted.'

Why ask them in the first place? Just tell them we ain't giving in, and we'll fight the rebels until the last man, or until Cato returns with reinforcements.'

'We have to keep them on our side even though I doubt that the idea of fighting to the last man is going to win much support. We'll have to play up the idea of the city being relieved.' Sempronius yawned and ran a hand through his grey-streaked hair. 'Either way, we must assemble the council and explain the situation. I'll have them brought here within the hour. I want you with me.'

Macro's shoulders slumped for an instant. 'It'd be better if I remained on the wall, sir. In case the enemy try anything on.'

'No. You'll be here. That's an order. If this city can be defended, then they'll need to hear that from a professional soldier. We have to talk them out of considering surrender, so you'd better be persuasive, Macro. The last thing we need is a divided city at our back when we face the rebels.'

The city's councillors entered the office with anxious expressions and took their places on the benches that Sempronius had ordered for them. He had considered making them stand, but had decided that it would be better if he stood and they sat. It was an old technique for establishing authority that he had learned from his Greek tutor of rhetoric. As the last of thementered and settled on to the benches, Sempronius glanced at Macro sitting on a chair in the corner of the office. The centurion was leaning forwards, elbows on knees and fist supporting his chin as he stared down at the floor with a resigned air. Sempronius frowned briefly, then turned back to his audience, who were talking in muted tones.

'Thank you for coming, gentlemen…' He waited for them all to fall silent and focus their attention on him. 'As you are no doubt aware, the rebels have arrived to lay siege to Gortyna. Some of you will have heard that my senior military officer and I met their leader, Ajax the gladiator, at dusk. He gave us his demands, namely freedom, and free passage out of the empire for him and his followers.'

'Then why don't you agree to his terms?' One of the councillors, a fat merchant, leaned forward. 'Give him what he wants and get him away from us.'

Several of his companions nodded and muttered their agreement.

Sempronius fixed his gaze on the man. 'Polocrites, isn't it? Olive oil exporter.'

The man nodded, and folded his arms, as Macro muttered to himself, 'Like father like son. No stomach for a fight.'

'It isn't as simple as that, Polocrites. Even if I agree to his demands, Ajax wants to take hostages to ensure that we keep our side of the deal. To that end he wants us to surrender the city and hand ourselves over to him. It is his intention to keep his hostages until he has made good his escape from Roman territory'

As the import of his words sank in, another of the councillors spoke up. 'That's preposterous. He can't hope to take the entire city with him. How would he feed such a multitude? How could the rebels stop themescaping?'