Arena

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The beast fighters stepped out on to the sand. Grey clouds pressed low in the sky, carrying the threat of rain. Pavo glanced at the scene in front of him. Exotic trees and shrubs had been planted around the arena to recreate the look of a forest during an animal hunt. Several sword points and spear tips glinted amid the foliage close to the gate at the opposite end of the arena. Attendants frantically cleared up the mess from the animal fight, four of them dragging out the disembowelled bull while another pair hurriedly tended to the blood splatters, one sprinkling fresh sand over the blood and the second spraying rosewater on top. Two animal handlers had snared the leopard in a net and now dragged the beast back to the opened gate at the opposite side of the arena. Pavo glimpsed the lion in a steel cage in the mouth of the tunnel, its eyes glowing menacingly in the gloom. Once the leopard had been removed from the arena, the guards slammed the gate shut.

The four beast fighters were ushered towards the middle of the arena by the Praetorians, who accompanied them to make sure they didn’t rush for the scattered weapons before the lion was released into the arena. Pavo winced with pain. The wound on his left shoulder had formed a pinkish scar and had failed to heal properly in the weeks after the mutiny in Capua. His shoulder felt stiff and heavy. A cool breeze fluttered over the arena. Macro stared at the galleries through the eyeholes on his helmet.

‘Bloody hell,’ he sputtered. ‘I’ve never seen this place so full.’

Pavo raised his eyes. The optio was right, he conceded. The official capacity of the arena stood at twenty thousand, but many more spectators appeared to have crammed into the galleries for the opening of the games. Each of the four levels was packed, and even the walkways leading to the various exits were heaving with people eager for a glimpse of the fighters. The fifth tier of spectators was by far the most tightly packed, crammed shoulder to shoulder on the crumbling terraces above the more spacious galleries below. The mob swigged from jugs of wine which they passed to one another, their cheeks red from the close heat of so many bodies crammed together. The air was filled with the din of the crowd as they chanted about the sexual persuasions of the gladiators, to the mild irritation of the more privileged citizens seated on the lower tiers. The lowest was filled with magistrates and imperial high priests, with a parapet separating the spectators from the arena floor.

Above the gallery was the imperial box. Pavo spotted the Emperor seated in his ornately decorated chair, flanked by his German bodyguards, his distinctive purple toga draped across his frail shoulders. Pallas stood to the right of the Emperor and gazed down, grinning smugly. Murena stood at his side. He was frowning at the row of senators seated in the gallery above the imperial box. Pavo followed the direction of his gaze. One of the seats was unoccupied, he noticed. He spied the object of Murena’s irritation at the entrance to the gallery. A grey-haired figure strode gracefully towards the empty seat, his piercing gaze fixed ahead, seemingly oblivious of his fellow spectators, the stripes on his fine tunic distinguishing him as a senator. His companions stood up obediently to make way for him, and as he took up his seat, he turned and stared down at Pavo. There was a glint in his eyes that stayed with the young gladiator.

Pavo quickly forgot about the man as a hail of boos and jeers rained down from the crowd.

‘Die, you Thracian shit!’ a spectator taunted Macro above the din.

‘Fucking traitors!’ another screamed.

‘Shit,’ Macro grumbled. ‘Looks like Murena was right. The mob’s turned against anyone associated with Capua.’

The attendants promptly exited the arena. In their hurry to keep the games on track, they had left some of the bull’s innards on the sand, along with the lead chain that had bound the two beasts together. Pavo watched them depart. At the same time the umpire gave the signal to the animal handler positioned behind the opposite gate to release the lion from its cage. The gladiator felt his neck hairs stand on end as the Praetorians and the umpire scurried for the same exit as the arena attendants. Now Pavo was alone with Macro and the two other beast fighters. No sooner had the gate slammed shut than one of the fighters broke away from the group and ran towards the scattered weapons, stumbling along, burdened down by the heavy armour over his burly frame. Turning his head slightly, Pavo focused his gaze on the gate opposite. A cavernous roar echoed from the dark passageway beyond. Macro turned to follow the fighter, but Pavo slapped a hand around his thick wrist and held the optio back.

‘Get off me, lad! The weapons are over there, we need to grab them!’

‘Wait!’ Pavo hissed. ‘Look.’

The gladiator nodded at the lion encased in the steel cage. A moment later the animal handler slid the locking bar loose. The gate sprang open and the lion bolted out of the shadows into the arena. A roar went up in the crowd as the lion pounced on the beast fighter who had sprinted towards the weapons scattered across the opposite side of the arena from Pavo and Macro. The speed and ferocity of the attack drew a breathless cheer. Pavo stood his ground with Macro and the third fighter, his chest muscles tightening in fear as the lion pinned the fighter to the sand under its paws and started mauling his arm. The man let out a muffled howl as blood squirted out of a fresh wound and gushed over the sand. The lion yanked its head furiously from side to side, tearing at strips of flesh.

Screaming in pain, the trapped beast fighter tried prising apart the lion’s jaws in a frantic effort to pull his arm free. The lion clawed at his hand, gashing his forearm. The man immediately clasped his other hand over the wound, lowering both hands from his face. In the blink of an eye the beast lunged forward and sank its teeth into his neck. Blood flowed freely out of the wound and spilled to the ground. The beast fighter’s cries were mercifully choked off as the crowd screamed at the lion, imploring it to rip the face off its victim. Even Macro felt his iron resolve falter at the spectacle. Up in the imperial box, the Emperor jumped to his feet, clapping wildly as the lion disembowelled the fighter and began tearing at the entrails.

‘If only we could somehow get past that monster and grab the weapons,’ Macro said, staring forlornly at the swords and spears lying out of reach. ‘Then we’d soon gut it like a bloody fish.’

Pavo turned to his former mentor. ‘Macro … I mean, Hilarus,’ he corrected himself quickly, remembering that they were not alone. ‘I know how to defeat the lion. Just follow my orders.’

‘You? Order me about? Piss off! Taking your advice was what landed me in this bloody mess in the first place.’

‘My father had an estate in Antium,’ the young gladiator began.

‘This is no time for stories about your childhood, lad.’

‘Listen to me! My father used to take me game hunting. He was an enthusiastic collector of wild animals. He brought many species back from his travels. Deer, ostriches, even the odd hyena. I know how to fight these beasts. How to trap and kill them.’

Macro nodded at the lion feasting on the beast fighter’s guts. ‘In case it escaped your attention, Pavo, we’re not fighting hyenas. This is a fucking lion.’

‘The same principles apply. The only way to survive is if we work together.’

‘The Roman is right,’ the third fighter cut in. He spoke in heavily accented Latin. ‘That beast just cut Cygnus to pieces. It’ll kill us too, unless we do something.’

Pavo glanced at the third fighter. The voice sounded oddly familiar to him but he couldn’t quite place it.

‘All right, lad,’ Macro said grudgingly. ‘You’re in charge … for once. What’s the plan?’ He hated the idea of taking orders from a high-born brat. But he had no experience of killing wild beasts. He knew he had little choice but to place his faith in the young gladiator.

Pavo thought for a moment.

‘The lion is faster and stronger than us. We’ll never beat it in a straight fight. We need to lead it into a trap. I’ll distract the beast. That should give you both a chance to grab the weapons. Then I’ll lure it towards you. As soon as it’s in range, you spike it.’

Macro shook his head. ‘Sounds like an idiotic plan to me.’

‘If you’ve got a better one, feel free to share it.’

‘He knows what he’s talking about,’ the third gladiator said. ‘We should do as the Roman says.’

Pavo glanced at the third fighter. That voice again. Where had he heard it before? He dismissed the thought as the lion tossed aside what was left of the beast fighter and set its piercing gaze on the other men in the arena. Pavo crept towards the discarded metal chain, careful not to make any sudden movements that would attract the lion’s attention.

‘I don’t know what you’re doing, but for gods’ sakes make it quick, lad!’ Macro said, keeping his voice as low as possible. ‘This bastard looks hungry.’

Pavo grabbed hold of the bull innards and smeared blood over his arms and legs. The strong smell choked him. Then he heaved the chain off the sand as the lion prowled towards the fighters, flicking its eyes from one to the next, as if deciding which would provide it with the heartiest meal. Filling his lungs, Pavo shouted at the lion and whipped the end of the chain towards it. There was a dull clank as the chain struck the lion on the side of its face. The blow temporarily stunned the beast. It half turned and snarled aggressively at Pavo, lifting its muzzle to sniff the air and licking its lips at the smell of blood clinging to the gladiator. Now it turned fully from Macro and the third beast fighter, narrowing its eyes at Pavo.

‘Now!’ he shouted to the two men.

In a swift motion Macro and the third fighter sprinted around the rear of the lion and raced towards the weapons scattered at the far side of the arena. Sensing movement behind it, the lion let out a full-throated roar and swung away from Pavo and back towards Macro and the third fighter. Pavo lashed out at the beast a second time. The lion roared as it spun back around. The dark slits of its eyes narrowed with animal rage as it hunched low, its tail beating on the sand in anger. Then it burst forward at Pavo, kicking up a cloud of sand as it pounded across the arena at a frightening speed. His throat constricting with fear, Pavo cast the chain aside, turned on the spot and ran as fast as he could away from the beast. He glimpsed Macro and the third fighter drawing near to the scattered weapons.

Even though Pavo was a natural athlete, and had practised sprint sessions under Macro’s tutelage in Paestum, the body armour weighed down on him and hindered his pace, as if he was wading through mud. He could feel the ground trembling underfoot as the beast hurtled towards him. Its snorts and snarls reverberated inside his helmet. He spied Macro directly ahead of him picking up a spear and turning towards the lion. He glanced back and saw that the beast was leaping at him, its claws extended, its teeth bared.

‘Do it!’ he cried.

In the same breath he dived out of the way and Macro launched his spear at the lion. Pavo rolled on to his side as the lion gave out a deafening roar that sent fear trembling down his spine. Looking up, he saw the beast land with a dense thud directly in front of Macro. There was a hollow crack as the spear sticking out of its belly clattered against the sand and snapped in half under its collapsing weight.

‘Yes!’ Macro said, thumping a fist against his thigh.

His triumph was cut short as the lion spasmed briefly before lurching to its feet, roaring defiantly in spite of the splintered shaft protruding from its belly. Pavo looked on disbelievingly as the lion struck out at Macro, swatting the stocky optio aside with ease. He tumbled to the ground next to Pavo, a large gash visible across his thigh. The younger man glanced up as the lion drew close to the two fighters, groaning in pain.

‘Shit,’ Pavo muttered darkly. ‘We’ve had it.’

A cold dread gripped him as the beast moved in for the kill. The thought of being ripped apart by the lion froze the blood in his veins. The arena trembled, the crowd rising as one to catch a glimpse of the gladiators on the verge of death.

‘Come on, you bastard!’ the third fighter yelled, jabbing a spear tip into the lion’s back.

The lion jerked its head from side to side in an effort to shrug off the spear. The third fighter ripped the weapon out of the beast as it spun away from Macro and Pavo. Fresh blood dripped from the spear tip and a bright red gash streaked the lion’s back. In the next instant the lion sprang forward at the fighter. The man grunted as the beast clawed at his chest, its massive weight pressing down on top of him. He fell back against the sand and the spear was wrenched from his grasp. Now the lion let out a deep roar as it angled its jaws at the prone fighter’s neck. The fighter stretched his arm towards the spear, but the weapon lay tantalisingly out of reach.

‘Kill it!’ the third fighter begged his companions.

Pavo knew he had no more than a moment to act. He scraped himself off the ground and snatched up a spear lying on the sand close by. A short distance in front of him, the lion opened its jaws wide as it prepared to make its second kill. Planting his feet firmly, Pavo trained the spear point at the beast. His senses were heightened. He was keenly aware of the venomous pitch of the crowd, the shimmer of the sand under his feet. He flooded his lungs with air and launched the spear. The lion jolted upright in pain as the tip plunged into its back, blood splattering its golden mane. There were audible gasps of disbelief from the spectators as the animal rolled on to its back and pawed at the air, panting irregularly as it died.

Relief flushed through Pavo. The feeling quickly faded as discontented murmurs spread through the crowd. The spectators were furious that the fighters had survived, denying them the spectacle of the lion ripping the rest of the men apart. Conflicting emotions stirred inside Pavo, his elation at defeating the lion tempered by the grim certainty that he had succeeded only in delaying his own death. He glanced up at the imperial box, where Pallas and Murena shifted uncomfortably on their feet. Pavo couldn’t help but notice that the stern-faced senator who’d arrived late seemed pleased with the result. Below the senator Pallas muttered discreetly to his aide. Nodding promptly, Murena shot up from his seat and disappeared down the nearest set of steps leading from the galleries.

‘Get this fucking thing off me!’

Pavo snapped his eyes back to the third beast fighter. He was waving his arms and legs for help, pinned beneath the dead weight of the lion. Pavo hurried over to the man and rolled the lion off his chest. He offered his hand. The fighter brushed it away.

‘Don’t expect me to thank you for saving my life, Roman,’ he growled scornfully. ‘The only reason I agreed to help defeat that beast is because I didn’t want it to kill you … I wanted to save that pleasure for myself.’

Pavo went white behind his visor as he noticed the familiar brand scarring the man’s forearm: the mark of the house of Gurges. At last he placed the dull, heavily accented voice of the beast fighter.

‘Amadocus …?’ he said falteringly. ‘Is that you?’

‘Who the fuck else?’

The gate crashed open behind Pavo. Several guards poured out of the passageway. Nerva followed them, the official marching purposefully towards the beast fighters. He was stopped in his tracks by Murena calling out his name from the passageway. The aide pulled Nerva aside and began issuing orders to him.

Pavo looked back to Amadocus. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

‘Fighting in the games, what does it fucking look like? No thanks to you, Roman. Gurges went bankrupt after you beat Denter. I was sold to a lanista who owned a travelling troupe. Greedy bastard couldn’t wait to get rich off my back. He threw me into the arena while I was still injured. I lost my bout, nearly paid with my life, too.’

Several attendants dragged the lion towards the opposite gate. Macro clamped a hand over the wound on his thigh, blood trickling between his fingers.

‘My injuries ended my career as a champion of the arena.’ The Thracian shook his head at his missing fingers. ‘The lanista sold me off to participate in the beast fights. Told me it was that or the mines. You’re the reason I ended up here, Roman. I swear as soon as I get the chance, I’m going to kill you.’

Murena waved Nerva away. The official hurried over to the beast fighters and nodded impatiently at Macro.

‘Hilarus! Present yourself to the infirmary and get that wound cleaned up. The imperial aide will be along shortly. He wants a word with you.’

‘Great,’ Macro muttered under his breath. ‘Just what I need.’

‘What about me?’ Pavo asked.

Nerva flashed a sinister grin at Pavo and Amadocus in turn. ‘You two are to return to the antechamber with the other gladiators. You can watch the animal hunts while you’re there. If I were you, I’d enjoy the show. Once those idiots are done prancing about, we’ve got a treat in store for the crowd. You’ve killed the lion — now let’s see if you can do the same to an Atlas bear.’