The Gladiator

'A problem?' Macro laughed drily. 'We're in a province devastated by an earthquake and the largest wave I have ever fucking seen. The governor and nearly all his lackeys are dead. The people are going to get very hungry unless some one sorts out a proper supply of food.

There's only a handful of decent soldiers left alive on the island and now we've got a budding Spartacus on the loose... and you suggest we have a problem. Well, I'm simply delighted that the legions are still recruiting the brightest and the best. That's all I can say'

Cato shrugged.' Could be worse.'

'Could it? How exactly?'

'We could be back in Britain.'

Macro was silent for a moment before he pursed his lips and conceded, 'There is always that.'

'The question is, what does our gladiator friend hope to achieve from his rebellion?' Cato mused. 'For the moment he's free, and so are those who follow him. The first impulse would have been to run to the hills to avoid recapture and punishment. They would know that it would only be a matter of time before a powerful force was sent to hunt them down. But the earthquake has changed everything.

Now there's a lot more to play for.'

'What do you mean?'

'You said it yourself, Macro. We've only a handful of men to take them on. We have the remains of towns to protect, and our hands are full keeping order and trying to feed the survivors. We're in no shape to take on a slave rebellion, small as it is right now. If this gladiator can persuade more runaways to join him, not to mention all the other slaves who have stayed behind, then who is to say how ambitious the man might be come?'

Macro digested the suggestion and puffed his cheeks out. 'Are you suggesting he might make a play for the whole island?'

'Who knows? He might. But he might try and cut a deal with Sempronius for his freedom, and the freedom of his followers.'

'He won't make that one fly!' Macro snorted. 'If Rome starts setting slave rebels free in Crete, then who knows where that might end? Sempronius would never agree to it.'

'Quite. And when he doesn't, our gladiator is going to be faced with some difficult choices. If he surrenders, then the ringleaders will be crucified. That will be just the start of the reprisals. So he will have to find some way to escape from Crete, or take us on. That's the real danger. Unless we get reinforcements, then he will have the upper hand. If he wipes us out — '

'Bollocks! That's not going to happen.' Macro laughed.' Once Rome hears what's happened here, they'll send out an army to crush the rebellion in double time.'

'No doubt. But by then the damage will be done. Word will go right round the empire that the slaves of Crete rose up and seized it from the hands of their masters. Now that's an example that might just inspire other slaves in every province under Roman rule. There's the problem. Sempronius can't afford to let this get out of hand.

Neither can we, for that matter. If things go pear-shaped, you can be sure that the emperor will be looking for people to hold responsible.

Do you really think he would stop at the senior political figure in Crete? Sempronius would be the first for the chop and my guess is we wouldn't be far behind.'

'Shit... you're right,' Macro muttered and glanced towards a distant hillock where a small band of slaves was still shadowing the column. 'Why is it always us that land in the shit? Always us.'

Cato looked at his friend and smiled. 'I asked you that question once.'

'Really? What did I say?'

'You looked at me, in that barely tolerant way that you do, and said,' Cato cleared his throat and did a passable imitation of the tone of voice Macro adopted with the thickest of his recruits,' Why us?

Because we're here, lad. That's why!

Macro stared at Cato. 'I said that?'

'You did. Quite a good aphorism I thought, at the time. Very stoic.'

'Load of shite, more like. If I say anything like that again, then feel free to kick me up the arse.'

'If you insist.'

There were no more attacks on the column as it approached Matala. In the gathering dusk the slaves who had been watching them turned away and vanished into the shadows stretching across the landscape. There was one last precaution for Macro to take before they returned to the town. He ordered a brief halt as the chains were replaced on Atticus and he was secured to the driving bench. One of the auxiliaries took over the reins. Atticus glowered at Macro and raised his foot to shake the heavy iron links from side to side.

'What is the reason for this, Centurion? I don't deserve this. Not after all I have done today'

You have been useful,' Macro agreed. 'But you're a proven troublemaker, and right now I can't afford to let you stir the shit up amongst the people of Matala.'

'I risked my life to obtain the food in these wagons.'

'Sorry. You know how it is with leopards and spots. I don't think I can trust you. Not just yet.'

'Then when?'

'When I decide, and not before.'

'I suppose you will say that my being held in chains is for the good of my people?'

'Your people?' Macro chuckled.' When did they be come your people? You are your own mouthpiece, not theirs. Now then, do be a good prisoner, eh? I would hate to have to convince you to behave.'

He held up a clenched fist. 'If I make my point clear.'

'Your merest threat of violence is powerfully eloquent,' Atticus replied coolly. 'You have me for now, Macro, but when I am released I will pay you back, with interest.'

'Of course. I'll look forward to it.' Macro slapped the rump of the nearest horse from the team drawing the first wagon and the animal jolted forward. The auxiliary cracked his whip and the rest of the team broke into a walk. As the wagon lurched forward, Atticus toppled backwards on to the sacks of grain piled behind the driver's bench, causing Macro to laugh.

'Bit hard on him, don't you think?' asked Cato.

'Perhaps.' Macro shrugged. 'But I'm not taking any risks, not until we have the situation in hand.'

'Who knows how long that will be?'

The column trundled round the last bend in the road, and there before them lay the ruins of Matala and the refugee camp. As the people caught sight of the loaded wagons with the wounded perched on top they began to call to their friends and family and hurried through the tents and shelters towards the road. As he watched the surge of humanity sweep across the slope, Cato glanced round at the thin screen of soldiers and cavalry.

'Decurion!' he called out to the commander of the squadron.

'Have your men close up round the wagons. Keep those people away'

'Yes, sir!'The decurion saluted and turned to pass the orders on to his men. The riders nudged their mounts in towards the side of the road so that the wagons were protected from the approaching crowd.

Cato glanced ahead. There was still half a mile to go before they reached the ramp leading up to the acropolis. The first people drew up across the road, fifty paces ahead of the front of the column.

Macro hauled himself up beside the driver of the leading wagon and cupped a hand to his mouth.

'Make way there!'

After a moment's hesitation, the townspeople shuffled aside, and stood and stared at the laden wagons with hungry eyes. More and more people arrived to swell their ranks, and inevitably the pressure from behind forced those at the front back towards the road. The driver of the first wagon instinctively allowed his horses to slow down for fear of running into the nearest civilians.

'Clear the way!' Macro shouted again.' Move back, damn you!'

As those closest struggled to do as they had been ordered, there were angry shouts from the back from those who feared they would miss out on any food that might be distributed. Macro turned to the decurion.