Gladiator: Fight for Freedom

1

THE ISLAND OF LEUCAS, TEN YEARS LATER

Marcus knew there would be trouble the moment old Aristides came running into the courtyard early one summer morning. Marcus had been playing happily with Cerberus, trying to train the coarse-haired hunting dog to sit and then lie down at his command. But Cerberus had just cocked his head to one side, tongue hanging out, and stared blankly at his young master. As soon as he saw Aristides, he bounded over to the old man and wagged his tail.

The goatherd was gasping for breath, and leaned on his staff and swallowed until he had recovered enough to speak.

‘Three men.’ He pointed a trembling finger towards the track that climbed the hill from Nydri. ‘Big men…soldiers, I think.’

Marcus’s father was sitting at the long weathered table in the shade of a trellis entwined with grapevines as thick as his wrist. Titus Cornelius had been busy working on the accounts of the farm, but now he lowered his stylus on to the waxed slate and rose from his bench to stride across the small courtyard.

‘Soldiers, you say?’

‘Yes, master.’

‘I see.’ Titus smiled faintly before he continued in a mild tone. ‘And what would you know about soldiers, old man? Animals, yes. But soldiers?’

Aristides straightened up and stared directly at his master. ‘Two of them have spears, and they’re all carrying swords.’

Marcus glanced at his father, noting the brief flicker of anxiety in his expression. Marcus had never seen his father look worried before. His craggy face was marked by several scars, relics of his service in the legions of General Pompeius. He had been a centurion – a battle-hardened officer – when he had taken his discharge and left the army. He had bought the farm on the island of Leucas and settled down with Marcus’s mother, who had given birth to him a few months earlier. Since then Titus had made a steady income from a small herd of goats tended by Aristides, and the grapevines that covered his land. Marcus remembered happier times when he was a small boy, but for the last three years the rains hadn’t come and drought and blight had ruined the crops. Titus had been forced to borrow money. Marcus knew it was a lot – he’d heard his parents whispering about it at night when they thought he was asleep, and he continued to worry about it long after they had fallen silent.

The soft shuffle of feet made Marcus turn to see his mother emerging from her room to one side of the courtyard. She had been weaving a new tunic for him, but had abandoned her loom as soon as Aristides had spoken.

‘They have spears,’ she muttered, then stared at Titus. ‘Perhaps they’re going into the hills to hunt boar.’

‘I don’t think so.’ The old centurion shook his head. ‘If they’re hunting boar, then why carry swords? No, this is something else. They’re coming to the farm.’ He took a pace forward and patted Aristides on the shoulder. ‘You did well to warn me, old friend.’

‘Old?’ The goatherd’s eyes twinkled briefly. ‘Why, I am less than ten years older than you, master.’

Titus laughed, a deep hearty laugh that Marcus had known all his life and always found reassuring. Despite a hard life in the legions, his father had always been good-humoured. At times he had been tough with Marcus, insisting that he fight his own battles with some of the children down in Nydri, but there had been no doubting his affection.

‘Why are they coming here?’ his mother asked. ‘What do they want with us?’

Marcus saw his father’s smile fade. ‘Trouble,’ he growled. ‘That’s what they want with us. Decimus must have sent them.’

‘Decimus?’ As Livia spoke, Marcus saw her raise a hand to her mouth in horror. ‘I told you we should have had nothing to do with him.’

‘Well, it’s too late for that now, Livia. I’ll have to deal with him.’

Marcus was scared by his mother’s reaction. He cleared his throat. ‘Who is Decimus, father?’

‘Decimus?’ Titus sneered and spat on the ground. ‘Just some blood-sucking swine whom someone should have taught a lesson years ago.’

Marcus stared back blankly and Titus chuckled, reaching forward to ruffle his dark curls fondly. ‘He’s quite a piece of work, our Decimus. The richest moneylender on Leucas, and thanks to his influence with the Roman governor, he’s now the tax collector as well.’

‘An unfortunate combination of businesses,’ Livia added quietly. ‘He’s ruined several of the farmers around Nydri already.’

‘Well, he won’t ruin this one!’ Titus growled. ‘Aristides, bring me my sword.’

The goatherd raised his eyebrows anxiously and then hurried inside the house as Cerberus stared after him for a moment and then trotted back to Marcus’s side. He stroked the dog’s head affectionately. Livia moved to grasp his father’s thick arm.

‘What are you thinking, Titus? You heard Aristides. There are three of them, armed. Soldiers, he said. You cannot fight them. Don’t even think about it.’

Titus shook his head. ‘I’ve faced tougher odds and won. As you know well enough.’

His mother’s expression hardened. ‘That was a long time ago. You haven’t been in any kind of fight for over ten years now.’

‘I won’t fight them if I don’t have to. But Decimus will have sent them to collect money. They will not leave without it.’

‘How much money?’

Titus looked down and scratched the back of his neck. ‘Nine hundred sestertii.’

‘Nine hundred!’

‘I am behind three payments,’ Titus explained. ‘I’ve been expecting this.’

‘Can you pay them?’ she asked anxiously.

‘No. There’s not much in the strongbox. Enough to see us through to the winter, and then…’ He shook his head.

Livia frowned angrily. ‘You had better explain everything to me later. Marcus!’ She turned to her son. ‘Go and fetch the money chest from beneath the shrine in the atrium. Now.’

Marcus nodded and made to run into the house.

‘Stay where you are, boy!’ Titus called out, loud enough to be heard for a hundred paces in every direction. ‘Leave the chest where it is. I’ll not be forced to pay a single coin before I am ready to.’

‘Are you mad?’ asked Livia. ‘You can’t fight armed men alone.’

‘We’ll see.’ Titus responded gravely. ‘Now, take the boy and go indoors. I’ll deal with it.’

‘You’ll get yourself hurt, or killed, Titus. Then what will become of Marcus and me? Answer me that.’

‘Go indoors,’ Titus commanded.

Marcus saw his mother open her mouth to protest, but both of them knew the steely look in Titus’s eyes. She shook her head crossly and held out a hand towards Marcus. ‘Come with me.’

Marcus stared at her, then at his father, and stood his ground, determined to prove his worth to his father.

‘Marcus, come with me. Now!’

‘No. I’m staying here.’ He drew himself up and placed his hands on his hips. ‘Cerberus and I can stand at father’s side, if it comes to a fight.’ He wanted the words to sound brave but his voice quavered slightly.

‘What’s this? Stay?’ Titus asked, bemused. ‘You are not yet ready to take your place in the battle-line, my boy. Go with your mother.’

Marcus shook his head. ‘You need me. Us.’ He nodded at Cerberus and the dog’s ears pricked up and he wagged his bushy tail.

Before Titus could protest, Aristides came out of the house. In one hand he clutched his staff. In the other he held a sword scabbard, from which a leather strap dangled. Titus took the weapon and looped the strap over his head, shifting his shoulder until he was satisfied that the sword hung well and that the hilt was within easy reach. Aristides went over to the gate and kept watch on the road that led down the slope towards Nydri. Suddenly Titus snatched at the sword handle and ripped the blade out in one motion, so swiftly that Marcus flinched. He let out a small cry. Cerberus growled.

His father glanced at him with a smile and sheathed the sword. ‘Easy there, I was just checking that the sword drew swiftly. It’s why I keep the scabbard and blade oiled – just in case.’

Marcus swallowed nervously. ‘In case of what, father?’

‘In case of moments like this. Now, you leave this to me. Go into the house until I call for you.’

Marcus stared back defiantly. ‘My place is at your side, father. I can fight.’ He grasped the leather pouch and thongs of the sling tucked into the belt fastened around his waist. ‘I can hit a hare at fifty paces with this.’

His mother had been watching the two of them. Now she called out, ‘For pity’s sake, Marcus! Come inside, now!’

‘Livia,’ her husband cut in. ‘You go. Take shelter in the kitchen. I’ll speak to Marcus. He’ll come to you directly.’

She made to protest, then saw the fiery light in his eyes and turned away, her sandals scuffing over the flagstones. Titus turned back to Marcus and smiled fondly. ‘My boy, you are still too young to fight my battles. Please, go with your mother.’

But it was too late. Before Titus had finished speaking, there was a sharp hiss from Aristides. The goatherd cupped a hand to his mouth and called out as loudly as he dared, ‘Master! They’re coming!’