The Gladiator

Suddenly, the slaves on the left of their line turned away from the approaching wagons and stared down the road towards Matala. An instant later some were backing away, and then the first of them threw down their weapons and ran diagonally across the field away from the road, making for the nearest grove of olive trees. The panic spread along the line, and before the Romans even reached the barricade the last of the slaves had fled.

'What the hell?' Macro turned to look down the road as the wagons halted. Once the rumbling of the wheels and the grinding tramp of boots had stilled, he could hear a new sound, the distant thunder of horse hooves pounding along the road. Around a corner in the road came the first of the horsemen, wearing red tunics and Gallic helmets, urging their mounts on. They carried spears, and shields were slung across their backs, except for the rider at the head of the column. He was dressed in scale armour and wore the helmet of a centurion, his crest swept back as he led his men towards the junction.

'They're ours!' Macro beamed. 'Ours!'

Behind the wagons the second party of slaves was melting away.

Except for their leader and his companions. He stared at the approaching horsemen for a moment and then back at the wagons.

When he saw Macro, he raised his sword in a mock gladiator's salute and then turned to follow the rest of the slaves running for the safety of the olive trees.

Macro turned his attention back to the approaching horsemen as they slowed to a trot and approached the barricade. The leader reined in, and steered his mount round the obstacle to the wagons on the other side.

'Centurion Macro,' a familiar voice called out. 'What on earth have you been up to?'

'Cato!' Macro the gods. What the bloody hell are you doing here?'

CHAPTER ELEVEN

'Sempronius sent me back to fetch you and Julia,' Cato explaineds as he slipped down from the horse's back, wincing as he jarred his injured leg. He strode stiffly towards his friend and clasped Macro's hand.' He needs us in Gortyna.'

Macro had noticed the limp and nodded at Cato's leg. 'You all right, lad?'

'Some bastard stabbed me in the thigh, but I'll live.' Cato glanced past Macro to the wagons, and saw that some of the animals and men had been injured. 'I spotted the slaves as we rode up. Looks like they've been giving you some trouble.'

'That's putting it mildly.' Macro grimaced.' They were throwing themselves at us. I'd never have believed slaves would fight so hard.

Anyway, Gortyna's the other way. You came from the direction of Matala.'

Cato nodded. 'I went there first. Centurion Portillus told me where you had gone. The senator and I passed here a few days ago and saw there was trouble. I thought it would be as well to make sure you were all right.'

'Well, we are now.' Macro pointed towards the cavalry squadron on the other side of the barricade.' Who are that lot?'

'Fourth Batavian, stationed outside Gortyna. They lost half their mounts in the earthquake, as well as over a hundred of their men.

Given the dangers on the road, the senator decided on an escort.'

'Dangers? I take it this isn't the only place the slaves are making trouble, then?'

'No.' Cato lowered his voice. 'There are uprisings all along the southern side of the island. Mostly on the big estates, but many of the slaves have run away from the towns as well. It's only to be expected that they would take advantage of the situation. There have been several reports of them attacking farms and smaller settlements. They even attacked a small detachment Sempronius sent to an outpost to guard the estates along the road from Gortyna.' Cato gestured towards the column behind Macro. 'But this? You must have nearly a hundred men with you.' He glanced towards the trees, where the slaves had taken shelter. Already a handful had reappeared along the fringe and were watching the Romans warily. 'They're getting ambitious. We'd better get your column on the road to Matala as quick as possible.'

While some of the Batavians formed a screen opposite the olive trees, the rest dismounted and helped Macro's men clear the barricade away from the road. A short time later the column was trundling along the road to Matala, the Batavians riding a short distance out on either flank to deter any further attacks. Cato had ordered one of his men to lead his horse as he marched alongside Macro.

'How are things at Gortyna?' asked Macro.

'Not good. The city wasn't as badly damaged as Matala, but just about every senior official and officer was killed or wounded when the governor's banquet hall collapsed.'

'Is the governor still alive?'

Cato shook his head.' He died a few hours after we arrived. Might have been better if he had been killed outright.'

'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.'