The Gladiator

He led Cato up the ramp and through a towering arch decorated with a frieze of Egyptian deities. On the far side was a large courtyard with an elegant colonnade running around three sides. Opposite the arch, a hundred paces away, a wide flight of steps rose up to the entrance of the main palace. A section of legionaries stood outside, shields and javelins grounded as they took their watch in the blazing sunshine. Another arch to the right opened out on to a busy thoroughfare of considerable breadth that was thronged with people and pack animals. The din of the street was partly muted by the colonnade, but even so, the hubbub of a teeming population reminded Cato of Rome.

The optio turned to him as they strode across the courtyard, smiling at the wobbly gait of the tribune. 'Been at sea a few days then, sir?'

Cato nodded.

'Mind telling me what you and your lads were doing in a fishing boat?'

'Yes.'

'Oh?' The optio was puzzled for an instant before he got the point. He clamped his mouth shut and they continued in silence, climbing the dazzling white steps towards the palace entrance. The sentries advanced their javelins in salute as the optio passed, and tried to look straight ahead and not pay any attention to the bedraggled man, reeking of fish, who accompanied him. Inside the entrance was a large hall, filled with petitioners waiting for their chance to put their grievances to the legate or one of his officials. At the end of the hall was a large doorway, flanked by eight more legionaries. A table stood in front of the doors, seated at which was a centurion in a light tunic. His vine cane lay in front of him. He was reading through one of the petitions when the optio and Cato approached the desk.

'Yes?' he said without looking up.

The optio stood to attention.' Beg to report the arrival of Tribune Quintus Licinius Cato, sir.'

'Yes, just wait a moment,' the centurion muttered automatically, before he realised what had been said. He looked up, glanced at the optio and then switched his gaze to Cato.' Him — a tribune? What nonsense is this?'

'It's true, sir. He showed me his letter of appointment.'

'Did he? Let me see.'

Cato impatiently produced the document again. The centurion read carefully through it, then examined the seal closely before he puffed his cheeks out and finally returned it to Cato. 'Seems genuine.

What brings you here, Tribune? Shipwreck and rescue by a fishing boat from the smell of it.'

'I am here to see the legate, on a matter of the gravest importance.

I have been sent by Senator Sempronius, acting governor of Crete.'

'You want to see the legate?'

'At once.'

'That's tricky, sir. He's in his private bath suite. Left orders that he was not to be disturbed.'

'That's too bad. I have to speak with him now '

The centurion weighed up his orders against Cato's obvious impatience, and nodded. 'Very well, sir. Optio, take him up to the roof garden. Legate's private baths.'

'Yes, sir.' The optio saluted and gestured to Cato to follow him as the centurion returned to his petitions, working out which ones might provide him with the best chance of earning a hefty bribe.

The sentries opened the doors to admit Cato and the optio, and on the far side they entered an inner hall. Corridors stretched away to the right and left, and directly ahead a staircase led up into the sunlight.

Cato followed the optio as he mounted the steps. They emerged on to a wide-open space flanked by tall walls. The sounds of the city were muffled and competed with the light splash of fountains. Palms grew in geometrically arranged flower beds and provided occasional shade over the paved walkways that bisected the roof garden. Against the far wall Cato could see a suite of buildings and the shimmer of a plunge pool. Smoke wafted up from the furnace that provided the heat for the steam and hot rooms of the legate's private bath suite.

As they approached the pool, Cato saw that a small party of men was sitting in the water chatting idly. Two more lay on cushioned benches as slave masseurs worked on their backs, gleaming with scented oil.

'What's this?' one of the men called out as he saw Cato and the optio striding towards the pool. 'We have visitors! Legate, one of the men has found himself a tramp.'

There was some laughter and the officers looked round curiously as the optio halted and stood to attention, saluting one of the men being massaged. 'Sir, beg to report that Tribune Cato wishes to speak to you.'

The legate rolled his head round towards the optio, and a brief flicker of anxiety flitted over his face as he looked at Cato. 'Tribune Cato? Never heard of him. Are you his slave? Tell your master to make an appointment to see me through the usual channels. That is, via my clerks' office. Now go.'

Cato stood his ground with a determined expression. 'I am Tribune Cato.'

'You, a tribune? I don't believe it.'

'I have already presented my written authority to two of your officers. I can produce it again, if you wish.'

'Later. First, tell me what a tribune is doing in Alexandria. Who sent you? Narcissus?'

Cato could not help smiling at mention of the emperor's private secretary. Aside from being Claudius's personal adviser, Narcissus also ran a formidable network of spies and assassins to protect his master.

'I haven't come from Rome, sir. I sailed here from Crete.'

Petronius's nose wrinkled. 'You stink of rotting fish.'

'A fishing boat was all that could be found to bring me here. Now send these people away, Legate Petronius. We must talk.'

'Send them away? How dare you?'

'I must speak with you alone, on a vital matter. I have been sent here on the orders of the acting governor of Crete.'

'Acting governor? Has that fool Hirtius been replaced?'

'Hirtius is dead, along with the majority of the senior officials of the province.'

'Dead?' The legate pushed the masseur away and rolled round to sit on the bench facing Cato.' How? '

'There was an earthquake on the island. He was entertaining his officials and local dignitaries when it struck. Much of the palace collapsed, burying Hirtius and his guests.'

'Earthquake?' The legate raised his eyebrows. 'There have been rumours in the city about Crete being destroyed by a giant wave.'

'The island's still there. But there was a wave, and between it and the earthquake nearly every city and town has been reduced to ruins.'

'So who's in charge now?'

'Senator Lucius Sempronius. We were travelling together when the wave struck. The ship was forced to head for the nearest port, and that's when we learned that the disaster had struck the island. He took charge of the situation.'

'Sempronius?' the legate mused.' I knew him once. A fine officer.

So he's taken charge in Crete? Well, good for him. But forgive me, how can I be certain that you speak the truth? You've just washed up from the sea with some fanciful tale of disaster. Why should I believe you?'

Cato took the ring from the leather tube around his neck and handed it to Petronius. 'There, recognise the crest?'

Petronius held it up and examined the design, a wolf's head over crossed forks of lightning. He nodded. 'It belongs to Sempronius. All right then, why has he sent you here?'

Cato looked meaningfully at the other guests, all of whom had been listening to the preceding conversation in avid silence. 'Sir, I really must insist on speaking to you alone.'

'Alone, eh?' Petronius stared at Cato for a moment before he clapped his hands.' Out! Leave us! At once.'

His officers and other guests hurriedly climbed out of the pool and, picking up their robes from the benches and seats that surrounded it, made off towards the far corner of the garden, where a terrace overlooked the harbour. Once the last of them was out of earshot, the legate waved the optio away. 'Stand over there, at the end of the pool. If I call for you, come running.'