The Gladiator

Entire ports and coastal villages destroyed.'

'It's true,' Sempronius replied. 'We landed at Matala, what's left of it. That's where we learned that the governor was injured. I've come to see what the situation is.'

'It's bad enough, sir. There's hardly an officer left in the garrison; most of them were at the governor's palace when the earthquake struck. Only a handful of his guests escaped from the banquet hall when the ro of fell in and buried the rest.'

'Where is the governor?'

'He's at the palace stables, sir. The stables survived well enough to be used as a hospital. That's where we've been taking the injured.'

Sempronius paused a moment. 'What's his condition?'

The sentry pursed his lips.' The official word is that he'll recover.'

'But?'

The sentry glanced round and then lowered his voice. 'That's not what my mate in the palace guard says. If you want to speak to the governor, you'd best do it quickly, sir.'

'Very well, let us pass.'

The sentry nodded and turned to call to his men.' Open the gate!'

There was a deep groan as the men thrust against the timbers of the right-hand door and it began to open. The groan changed into a grating sound and then a shrill squeal before it came to rest and would not budge any further. There was a gap just wide enough for the horse to pass through and the sentry shrugged apologetically.

'Sorry, sir, but the masonry has shifted and that's as far as she'll move.'

Sempronius nodded his thanks and edged the horse through the gap. Inside the city was the familiar panorama of shattered buildings and rubble strewn across the paved main street. There were more people amid the ruins and damaged buildings than there had been at Matala, and for the first time Cato began to feel a small measure of hope. Some settlements had evidently not been as badly affected as he had feared, but then, he mused, Matala had prepared him for the worst. The horse picked its way along the main street towards the heart of the city, past a marketplace where scores of stalls had collapsed and their ruined wares lay strewn about them, picked over by survivors. As they approached the centre of the city, the large civic buildings crowded the street on either side, and where they had collapsed Cato saw that great columns of stone had toppled like skittles, their sections laying scattered across the street and the steps leading up to where the temple doors had stood.

The governor's palace stood at the very centre of Gortyna, on the intersection of the two main streets. There was a tall outer wall, pierced by an impressive double-arched gatehouse, and inside a vast paved courtyard opened up on the other side. The palace, a fine building of white stone, looked as if it had been mauled by siege engines. There were great gaps in the walls and only a few expanses of tiles gave any indication of the original lines of the roof.

Sempronius sucked in his breath. 'It's a wonder anyone survived that.'

'Yes,' Cato muttered. 'That looks like the stables over there.'

He pointed to a narrow walled yard to one side of the main building-A small crowd stood or squatted outside, some holding infants or supporting others as they waited to be seen. Two army medics in black tunics were assessing the patients and admitting only those with the worst injuries. It was clear that the mood of the crowd was sullen, and Cato heard angry grumbling as they approached the stables.

'Make way there!' Sempronius called out. 'Make way, I said!'

The crowd parted in front of the horse and the expressions of those closest hardened as they stared up at the riders.

'The young 'un's wounded,' an old man growled. 'See there, on his leg.'

'Bastard's jumping the queue,' another voice called out, and at once there was an angry murmur sweeping through the crowd, and those still ahead of Sempronius refused to give way.

'Take your turn like the rest of us!'

Sempronius glared in the direction of the last shout. 'I am a Roman senator, damn you! Now do as you are told and move aside.'

'Fuck you!'

'One rule for the rich, another for the poor!' another man shouted.

'That's right!' Sempronius shouted. 'That's how it is. Now clear a path before I clear it for you!' He drew his sword to emphasise his words and dared anyone in the crowd to defy him. The people glared back, but as Sempronius kicked his heels in to move the horse on, they parted before him.

As he reached the arch and passed through into the courtyard, a man raised his fist and cried out, ' Bloody aristocrats! Our people die out here and they look after their own!'

The anger was taken up in other shouts and bitter cries, but Sempronius kept his face fixed in an expression of haughty contempt as he walked the horse up to a rail and slipped from the saddle to tether it. Cato dismounted beside him, wincing as a shaft of pain shot through his leg. He clasped a hand to his thigh as he looked round and saw a man in a dark tunic with red trim on the sleeves emerge from one of the stalls.

The man gestured towards Cato's leg. 'I'll have a look at that.' He wiped some blood off his hands with a soiled rag as he approached the new arrivals.

'Romans?'

Cato nodded.

The surgeon pointed at Cato's bandaged thigh.' How did that happen?'

'We ran into some escaped slaves. One of them stuck me with a pitchfork.'

'Nasty. I'd better see to it.'

'Later. We need to speak to the governor.' Cato gestured to Sempronius. 'We have urgent business with him.'

'So does everyone.' The surgeon laughed mirthlessly. 'But he's in no condition to see anyone right now, poor devil.'

'That's too bad,' said Sempronius. 'I must insist that he sees us. Immediately'

The surgeon shook his head. 'I can't let you disturb my patient.

You'd better go and see Marcus Glabius if you want to know what's going on.'

'Who?'

'Glabius is in charge now. He persuaded the governor to appoint him as his successor yesterday'

'What office did this Glabius hold before?' asked Cato. 'Civil administration? Military?'

'Neither. He was one of the province's tax collectors.'

'A tax collector?' Sempronius could not hide his disgust. Why on earth did Hirtius hand power over to a bloody tax collector? Surely there must have been an official on his staff he could have turned to?'

'No, they were all at the banquet when it happened. For some reason Glabius was late arriving. Otherwise... 'The surgeon wearily ran a hand through his hair. 'In any case, they're close friends and business associates. Do I need to spell it out for you?'

Cato could guess the arrangement easily enough. Governor Hirtius sold the tax concession to Glabius for a knock - down price.

In exchange, the two of them had a private arrangement whereby Hirtius quietly pocketed a percentage of the tax squeezed out of the islanders and any merchants who paid duties on cargoes leaving or arriving in Crete. A common arrangement throughout the empire, and one of the means by which provincial governors amassed a fortune during their term in office. It was an illegal practice, but since provincial governors accused of malpractice had the comfortable prospect of being tried before their peers, and those who aspired to be governors in turn, there was little prospect of prosecution. That said, governors had to be careful not to exact too much from a province lest their wealth provoke a dangerous degree of interest from the emperor. It was not unknown for an emperor to dispose of a wealthy Roman in order to confiscate his property.

'Just take us to the governor,' Sempronius said firmly.' Right now '

'If that is your wish.' The surgeon bowed his head. 'This way, sir.'