Arena

CHAPTER THIRTY

‘What the hell do you want?’ Macro thundered at the aide.

‘Why, I’ve come to offer my wishes for your forthcoming bout, Optio,’ Murena replied in his arrogant voice. He paused before adding, ‘Or should I say … Hilarus.’

‘You’ll never get away with this!’

‘But we already have. Speaking of which, how do you like your new name? Hilarus has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?’

Macro seethed behind his visor. A chorus of angry snarls emanated from further down the passageway, where the wild beasts were kept in cages ahead of their scheduled appearances in the arena. Macro and Pavo had passed the chambers earlier, and the stench of fear and shit filled the air.

‘Once the Emperor has finished addressing his loyal subjects,’ Murena continued, ‘the games will formally begin. Then you’re on. Of course, you are featuring in the beast fight, not the animal hunts. Cavorting after antelopes and chasing donkeys hardly befits two such talented swordsmen.’

‘This is a bloody insult!’ Macro thundered.

Murena laughed. Footsteps trampled towards the exit located on the other side of the arena as the acrobats, dwarves and gladiators retreated from public view.

He turned to Pavo. ‘As for you, gladiator — you will die. In this fight, or the next. Or the one after that. It makes no difference, I won’t make the same mistake twice. Your luck has run its course.’

‘You can’t kill me. Not in front of the mob. I’m a hero in their eyes. If they see me die at the hands of a wild beast, they’ll turn on Claudius.’

Murena chuckled harshly. ‘I don’t think so. You see, the mutiny in Capua has turned the mob against the gladiators. Nothing agitates them as much as fear of another Spartacus-style uprising.’ The aide looked casually at his manicured fingernails. ‘You were at Capua at the time of the mutiny, which marks you out for special treatment. Now every drunken fool in the Subura believes that you are a traitorous wretch. They’ll cheer your death.’

‘That’s a lie!’ Pavo bristled with rage. ‘The mutiny had nothing to do with me. The Thracians were to blame.’

‘Try explaining that to the mob. As far as they’re concerned, gladiators are all the same. Scum.’ There was a sinister gleam in the aide’s eyes as he went on. ‘Why else do you think we allowed you to fight under your own name? The mob has turned against you.’

Macro narrowed his eyes. ‘You bastard! You’ll pay for this.’

Murena laughed stolidly. ‘It’s a little late in the day for empty threats, Optio. Besides, should you ever dare to speak the truth about what happened in Capua, I’m afraid we will have to inform your superiors in the Second Legion that you participated in a beast fight. You don’t need me to remind you of the consequences should they learn of your scandalous participation in the gladiator trade.’

A shrill note pierced the air, signalling the start of the beast fight. Macro looked round briefly as a leopard clawed viciously at a wild bull. The two creatures were tied together by means of a chain wrapped around their torsos, forcing them to enter into a violent confrontation. The leopard clawed again. Now the bull scrabbled back to the arena wall, sounding ghastly bellows of pain as blood fountained out of a glistening wound on its flank.

‘Where’s my son?’ Pavo asked Murena.

‘Appius? At the imperial palace. He won’t live to see his third birthday.’

‘You mean-’

Murena nodded. ‘Your son is to be killed tomorrow.’

Pavo stepped back from the aide. His flesh crawled with abject terror. ‘He’s just a child … an innocent child.’

The aide waved a hand. ‘I’m simply honouring the promise I made to you in Capua. You foolishly declined our offer and now Appius will be flung to the beasts. This time tomorrow, the entire Valerius family will be dead.’

Pavo was aghast. Tears welled in his eyes. Macro felt a stab of pity for the gladiator. The punishment might be excessive, he mused, but anyone who threatened the Empire had to suffer the consequences. Punishing a child, though? That was a step too far. He turned back to the aide. Pavo was speechless, overwhelmed with shock.

‘What about our weapons?’ Macro asked.

‘Ah, yes, about that.’ Murena shifted awkwardly. ‘There has been a slight change to the details of your bout … You will be entering the arena unarmed.’

Macro’s features darkened behind his visor. ‘That’s not a beast fight! That’s how condemned criminals are sent to die. We’re beast fighters. We should be equipped with spears and swords.’

The aide twitched with discomfort. ‘And you shall have them, Optio. Just not at the start of your bout. I have seen to it that weapons will be distributed around the arena.’

‘But that’s not on!’ Macro protested. ‘The lion will cut us down before we have a chance to arm ourselves.’

Murena frowned. ‘I don’t appreciate your tone of voice. The mob is bored of ordinary gladiator fights. They want something new. As the sponsor, Claudius is under tremendous pressure to conjure up new methods of killing. Death being the only sure way of keeping the mob entertained. We must satisfy their barbarous urges if we are to hold a successful games and shore up support for Claudius. Otherwise all the hard work we have put into enhancing the Emperor’s reputation will be wasted.’

‘Tragic,’ Macro replied sharply.

The aide appeared not to hear the optio. ‘Besides, you’re both wearing a full complement of armour rather than the standard tunic worn by the beast fighters. That should afford you plenty of protection.’

A roar sounded in the arena as the leopard finally overwhelmed the bull.

‘This can’t be happening,’ Pavo murmured, his voice stricken with grief.

‘Oh, but it is. Good luck,’ Murena replied. A cynical grin creased his face. ‘Or not.’

Pavo stared despondently at Murena as the aide turned his back on the two men and headed up the stone steps. A moment later two manacled beast fighters were herded towards Macro and Pavo by a handful of Praetorian Guards. Both fighters wore similar heavy armour and helmets. An excited murmur rippled through the crowd as the announcer dashed off the formalities ahead of the next bout. The guards grabbed Pavo and Macro by an arm each and shoved them towards the gate with the other pair of beast fighters.

An attendant gazed out across the arena, watching attentively for the signal from the umpire to usher the men on to the sand. The beast fighters huddled tightly together while one of the Praetorians unlocked their chains under the watchful eye of his comrades.

‘That Greek snake,’ Macro spat, soothing his reddened wrists once his chains were released. ‘And this bloody armour doesn’t help. I can hardly move.’

‘I suspect there’s a good reason for that,’ Pavo responded sourly. ‘Murena wants to get us both killed.’

‘Bollocks!’ Macro was incredulous. ‘I’m a decorated soldier, lad, personally awarded my medal by Emperor Claudius himself. The pride of the Second Legion. They’ve got no reason to want to kill me.’

Pavo considered. ‘You’re the only other credible witness to what really happened at Capua. The only one who can prove we’re both innocent. Murena said so himself. Could they trust you to hold your tongue?’

Macro snorted and snapped his gaze ahead as the attendants opened the gate. Nerva clapped impatiently at Macro and Pavo and the other beast fighters.

‘We’ve got a big crowd today and every single one of ’em wants to see some blood. So give them what they want. And remember, the Emperor has paid good money to put on this show. Don’t let him down by getting killed right away.’

‘Perish the thought,’ Pavo muttered drily.

Macro gripped Pavo by the arm. ‘Do me a favour, lad.’

‘What’s that?’

‘If by some fucking miracle we make it out of here alive, don’t ever tell anyone I had to fight as a bloody gladiator. It’ll be the ruin of me.’

Pavo nodded. Then the guards shoved the fighters in the back, thrusting them through the open gates and into the arena.