Gladiator: Fight for Freedom

4

The next morning was hot, although the sky was hazy enough to hide the mountains on the mainland across the narrow strip of sea from Leucas. The air was still and, apart from the light rhythmic sawing sound of the cicadas, all was quiet. Hundreds of crows were swooping from one patch of trees to the next, like swirling scraps of black material.

‘There’ll be rain,’ Aristides remarked, squinting up into the sky. ‘I can feel it.’

Marcus nodded. He had been helping Aristides select ten of the younger goats to be sold in the market in Nydri. It had not been easy as the animals were skittish for some reason and the two of them had to move very carefully in order not to alarm the kids. Once a noose had been dropped over their necks it had been easy enough to lead them to join the others in the stock pen a short distance from the farm. They had just caught the last one and now they were resting in the shade of an olive grove.

‘Cerberus will need a walk soon,’ Aristides continued. ‘He’s been shut up in the storeroom all morning.’

Marcus nodded again. He had made sure that the dog was out of the way while they rounded up the goats. ‘I’ll see to it in a moment.’

He looked out down the slope. A mile away the cluster of red roofs and white walls of Nydri lay by the sea, a metallic blue today with lighter and darker patches where the faint breeze rippled the surface. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

‘It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?’

Aristides looked at him with a surprised expression. ‘Why, yes, I suppose it is.’

‘Sometimes I think I would like to live here forever. On the farm, with my family. That includes you, Aristides.’

The old man smiled. ‘That’s a kind thing to say. But you will be a young man in a few years, keen to leave home and see the world for yourself. Have you thought of what you might like to do?’

Marcus nodded once more. ‘I’d like to be an animal trainer. Like you.’

Aristides chuckled. ‘I am just a slave, Marcus. I was born a slave. All my life I have been the property of other men and never had the chance to do what I wanted, or go where I willed. I was theirs to treat as they willed. Not all masters are as kind or fair as your father. Trust me. You would not want to be a slave.’

‘I suppose not.’ Marcus stared out to sea again for a moment. ‘Father wants me to be a soldier. He says he still has some influence with General Pompeius and can get me enrolled in a legion. If I am a good soldier and prove my courage, then I could become a centurion like him.’

‘I see.’ Aristides nodded. ‘And would you like that?’

‘I think so. I’ve heard him tell stories of his years in the legion. I would be proud if I could be like him. And he would be proud of me.’

‘Yes, I imagine so. What does your mother think?’

Marcus frowned. ‘I don’t know. Whenever I talk about it, she goes very quiet. I don’t understand why. I thought she’d want me to be like him.’

He felt something lightly tap his shoulder and looked up. ‘Here’s the rain.’

More drops fell, and they saw that the cloudy sky had darkened over the mountains behind the farm and a veil of rain was coming down the slope towards them.

‘You go back to the house,’ said Aristides. ‘I’ll stay here and watch the goats. We don’t want them panicking and trying to escape from the pen.’

Marcus nodded and quickly rose to his feet. The rain was now falling steadily, pattering through the leaves on the trees. Marcus hurried across to the storeroom, slipped the latch and ducked inside. At once there was a clicking of toenails across the paved floor as Cerberus bounded over to him, jumping up to lick his face.

‘Enough, boy!’ Marcus laughed, then remembered what Aristides had told him about being firm. He hardened his tone. ‘Sit!’

Cerberus instantly sat down, and his bushy tail swished once and then was still as he looked up at Marcus, waiting for the next instruction.

‘Good boy.’ He stroked the dog’s head and Cerberus’s tail started wagging again.

Outside the rain was now coming down hard, drumming on the rooftiles and dripping through wherever it found a gap. A dazzling burst of light lit up the gap in the door. Marcus stared outside. The rain slashed down like thousands of silver rods and with the dark clouds overhead it was hard to see beyond a hundred paces. A terrible crash of thunder shook the air and Cerberus flinched, then let out a frightened whine.

Marcus knelt down and put an arm over the dog’s back. He was trembling. ‘Easy, boy. It’ll soon pass.’

But some time later the rain had still not eased at all. Marcus stood in the storeroom and watched as it continued to pound down on the farm. Every now and then lightning would freeze the world in garish white, and the thunder would rip through the heavens. Marcus found it impossible to avoid the thin trickles of rain coming through the old roof, and all the time Cerberus became more afraid. At length, Marcus decided it would be better to shelter in the house. The kitchen would be warm, and there might be some scraps he could use to comfort Cerberus.

‘Come on, boy.’ He patted the dog’s side. ‘Come!’

Easing the door open, Marcus braced himself and then ran down the side of the storeroom towards the gate, with Cerberus at his heels. He dashed through the courtyard to the entrance of the house. It had taken him no more than ten heartbeats to reach shelter, but his tunic was drenched and Cerberus’s flanks were streaked with matted fur. At once, Marcus knew what was about to happen.

‘Cerberus, no!’

But it was too late – the dog shook himself, spraying the entrance corridor with drops of water, just as Marcus’s mother emerged from her room to see who had entered the house.

‘What on earth!’ She held up her hands to shield her face from the spray of droplets.

Cerberus finished shaking and looked round at his master with his tongue lolling out.

Livia lowered her hands and glared down at her son as she hissed, ‘What is that wet dog doing in my house?’

Another figure emerged from the far end of the corridor, and Titus laughed as he took in the scene. ‘No shelter from the rain indoors or out, it would seem!’

His wife turned her glare towards him. ‘I’m glad you think it’s funny.’

‘Well, yes, it is.’ Titus scratched his head. ‘Very funny, actually.’

He winked at his son and both of them laughed. Livia scowled. ‘Men and boys, I don’t know which are worse. If I had my way -’

She was interrupted by a panicked cry from the gateway. The laughter died in Marcus’s and his father’s throats.

‘Master!’ Aristides shrieked.

Livia clutched her hand to her face.

Titus ran down the corridor into the courtyard and Marcus followed him. Over by the gate, the goatherd was slumped against the archway. An arrow protruded from his chest. Blood spread down his tunic. He leaned his head back and groaned as the rain splashed down on his face and straggly beard. As Marcus and Titus reached him and knelt at his side, his eyes flickered open. He raised a hand and grasped Titus’s sleeve.

‘Master, they’ve come back!’

He coughed, and frothy blood hung from his lips. He groaned again as he dropped Titus’s sleeve and shuddered. Looking up, through the gate, Marcus stared along the track, now running with tiny rivulets. He saw movement under the olive trees. With a blinding flash of white, another bolt of lightning lit up the sky and there, frozen like statues, he saw several men armed with spears and swords – one had a bow, which he was holding up, ready to loose an arrow towards the house. Marcus saw the arrow fly, even as the lightning vanished, and just before the thunder crashed out he heard a thud. He looked down and Aristides stared back, wide-eyed. The arrow had struck him in the neck. The bloodied arrowhead had burst out the far side, a hand’s breadth from the skin. The goatherd opened his mouth, but there were no words, just a gush of blood before he slumped to one side.

Titus reacted instantly. ‘Get my sword!’

Marcus ran back towards the hall, where the weapon hung from a peg. He glanced over his shoulder to see his father heaving the solid wooden gate round on its hinges to close it. Through the narrowing gap Marcus could dimly see the men bursting from the cover of the olive trees and sprinting across the narrow strip of open ground towards the gateway. He turned away and ran into the hall, slipping on the flagstones. His mother grabbed his arm.

‘What’s happening?’ She saw the goatherd lying on the ground. ‘Aristides?’

‘He’s dead,’ Marcus replied flatly, then pulled free as he reached up and grabbed his father’s sword by the hilt, wrenching it free of the scabbard.

‘What are you doing?’ Livia asked in alarm.

Marcus did not reply, but clapped a hand to his thigh as he glanced at Cerberus. ‘Come!’

The two of them rushed out of the hall into the rain. On the other side of the courtyard Marcus could see that his father had almost managed to shut the gate. But by the time Marcus reached him, the first of the attackers was squeezing through the gap.

‘Father! Your sword!’ Marcus held it out, hilt first.

Titus snatched it, threw his left shoulder into the gate and thrust his blade around the edge. There was a howl of pain and the pressure on the gate eased momentarily, allowing Titus to push it back several more inches. Marcus braced his feet and added his weight against the door.

‘Marcus! Get out of here,’ his father growled through gritted teeth. ‘Run. Take your mother and run. Don’t stop for anything.’

‘NO!’ Marcus shook his head, his heart torn. ‘I’m not leaving you.’

‘By the Gods! Do as I say!’ Titus’s angry expression crumpled into fear and anxiety. ‘I beg you. Run. Save yourselves.’

Marcus shook his head again, his feet scrambling on the wet ground as he tried to help his father. On the other side, the attackers were steadily forcing their way in. Cerberus stood behind his master, barking wildly. Inch by inch, Marcus and his father were being forced back. Titus tried the same trick as before, stabbing round the corner of the gate, but this time they were ready and his blade was parried away with a sharp ring of metal on metal. He hurriedly drew his arm back and looked down at Marcus.

‘We can’t stop them. We have to fall back. Grab Aristides’ staff, then be ready to fight when I step away from the gate.’

‘Yes, father.’ Marcus felt his heart beating wildly. Despite the rain coursing down his face, his mouth felt dry. Was this how soldiers felt in battle? he wondered briefly. Then he ducked down, scurried around his father and snatched up the staff lying beside the body of Aristides. His eyes met those of the nearest of the men outside. The man’s lips parted in a sneer and he reached a hand towards Marcus.

‘Cerberus! Take him!’

The dog responded to the command at once, pouncing through the gap and jumping up to seize the man’s hand in his powerful jaws. He bit down hard and bone and flesh were crushed between his teeth. The man screamed and tried to snatch his hand back but he could not break free. Marcus called out again.

‘Cerberus! Leave!’

The dog released its grip and backed away, snarling. With a last fruitless thrust of the gate, Titus paced backwards to his son’s side and went into a crouch, sword held ready. ‘Hold the staff like a spear,’ he said hurriedly. ‘Strike at their faces.’

Marcus nodded and tightened his grip as the gate, with no resistance from the inside, suddenly flew open. Two of the men fell sprawling into the courtyard. Titus leapt forward, striking one with a vicious cut to his shoulder. The bone cracked as the blade bit in. Then he yanked it free and slashed to the side, slicing into the face of the other man. He toppled to his side, hands clutched to his head as he howled in agony. More men spilled through the gap, and one of them thrust his sword at Titus. The veteran just managed to parry it in time, but was caught off-balance and had to fall back a pace.

Marcus stepped up and thrust the staff into the face of the man who had tried to strike a blow. He felt the impact jar his arms, right up to the shoulder. The man’s head snapped back and he fell to the ground, unconscious, his nose crushed by the end of the staff.

‘Good work!’ Titus yelled, his lips drawn back in a frightening grin.

For a moment the other attackers hesitated, but then Thermon’s voice sounded from the back. ‘What are you cowards waiting for? Get them!’

As they rushed forward, Marcus yelled. ‘Cerberus! Take ’em!’

There was a blur of drenched fur as the dog jumped in, snapping at legs and hands. But there were too many of them. They came forward in a mass. Titus managed to strike once more, thrusting deep into a man’s belly, before he took a spear point in his shoulder. He stumbled back, then another man hacked at his sword arm and the blade cut through, shattering the bone. The sword dropped from his fingers. Another blow caught him in the knee and with a grunt he slumped down.

‘Father!’ Marcus glanced round, lowering the staff a little. He stared at his father in terrible anguish.

‘Keep your weapon up!’ Titus bellowed. ‘Face front!’

His booming voice caused the attackers to pause, and they stood back, in an arc around him, weapons poised. Marcus was at his father’s side, staff raised once again, daring them to take him on. Cerberus had sunk his teeth into another man and was savaging his arm until the man, who was wielding a long club, swung it down and smashed it on to the dog’s head. Cerberus dropped to the ground and lay on his side, his head in a puddle, as the rain splashed around his muzzle.

‘Cerberus!’ Marcus called out in horror – but the dog lay still. Marcus wanted to go to him, but just then Thermon pushed his way through his men and stood in front of Titus.

He smiled cruelly as he patted the flat of his sword against the palm of his spare hand. ‘Well now, Centurion, it seems the situation is reversed. How does it feel to be beaten? To lose your final battle?’

Titus looked up, blinking away the rain. ‘You can’t get away with this. Once the governor hears what you’ve done, he’ll have you crucified. You, your men here and Decimus.’

Thermon shook his head. ‘Only if someone is left to tell the governor what happened.’

Titus stared at him for a moment and then muttered, ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

‘Really?’ Thermon pretended to look surprised. Suddenly he swept his sword arm out and thrust with all his strength. The tip of the blade punched into Titus’s chest, burst through his heart and crunched against the ribs in his back. Titus let out a gasp and then a deep sigh. Thermon braced his boot against Titus’s shoulder and yanked his blade free.

‘Father!’ Marcus looked down in disbelief as his father’s body slumped against his leg and then Titus toppled face first on to the ground. ‘Father!’ Marcus cried shrilly. ‘Don’t die! Don’t leave me! Please… Please don’t die.’

At once someone snatched his staff away. Rough hands grabbed him by the arms and pinned them to his sides.

There was a scream. Marcus turned and saw his mother, hands clasped either side of her head as if she was trying to shut out a bad sound. She screamed again. ‘Titus! Oh my Gods! Titus…’

‘Take her!’ Thermon ordered. ‘Put ’em all in chains. Then search the place for any valuables. Decimus wants anything that can be sold.’

Marcus looked down at his father’s body, numbed by what he saw. But then, as one of Thermon’s men strode towards his mother, he felt something snap inside. He bit down on the arm of the man holding him. The man cried out and loosened his grip, and Marcus snarled as he clamped down with his jaws and lashed out with his feet.

Thermon turned towards him. ‘Someone deal with that little brat.’

The man with the club, the one who had struck down Cerberus, nodded and turned towards Marcus. Without a moment’s hesitation he raised the club and swung it at the boy’s head. Marcus never felt the blow. His world suddenly exploded into white and then there was nothing.