Gladiator: Fight for Freedom

8

The wagon soon passed out of the sprawling slum that surrounded the town and emerged into open countryside. Stratos stood on the bank of a river that flowed out towards the Ionian Sea. On either side of the lazily flowing current the land was covered with fields of wheat as far as the slopes of the forested hills that rose steeply from the plain. Soon the wagon was labouring up the narrow track that had been cut into the slope of a hill. The tall pines on either side created pleasant shade and the warm air was filled with the scent of the trees. The slope was thickly carpeted with soft brown pine needles, broken up by clusters of ferns and the odd outcrop of rock. There was no one else in sight and the wagon had not passed anyone along the route so far. Marcus and his mother were far from relaxed, however.

‘This spot will do,’ Livia muttered. ‘Marcus, I’m going to pretend to be ill. I’ll do what I can to make it look convincing, but you must do your part. You have to convince him that you think I’m dying. Can you do that?’

Marcus nodded. ‘I’ll do my best.’

‘Then let’s hope your best is good enough.’ She smiled encouragingly. ‘He’ll stop and come to have a closer look. You have to persuade him to open the cage. I watched him do it when we arrived in Stratos. I don’t think his eyes are good. He leaned forward to see as he fitted the key to the lock. That’s the moment we must strike. When I say “now”, we kick the door of the cage back into his face, as hard as we can. If we take him by surprise, then we can get out of here before he recovers.’

‘Then what, mother?’

‘Then we run, like the wind.’

‘No, I meant where do we go?’

She frowned briefly. ‘We’ll think that through later. Best to find General Pompeius, I should think. If anyone can see that we have justice, and have Decimus punished, then it has to be Pompeius. He has great power and, besides, he owes Titus a favour.’

‘What favour?’ asked Marcus.

‘Titus saved the General’s life in the final battle against Spartacus. Pompeius has to honour that debt.’ Livia eased herself away from the side of the cage and lowered herself into the soiled straw lining the bottom. ‘Ready?’

Marcus nodded, but he wasn’t sure. His heart beat more quickly.

His mother worked up some spit and then began to force it out of her mouth in a sticky, foaming dribble. She curled into a ball, clutching her hands to her stomach. She winked at Marcus, then rolled her eyes up and began to shudder as she let out a low, animal groan. The effect was quite startling and even though he knew she was acting, Marcus could not help becoming alarmed. He gripped her shoulder and cried out in a concerned tone. ‘Mother?… Mother?’ Then his voice rose to an anguished pitch. ‘Mother!’

The driver glanced round. ‘Keep yer mouth shut, you.’

‘My mother’s sick!’ Marcus cried out. ‘She’s really sick. You must help her!’

His mother started to shake violently and roll from side to side as she groaned in apparent agony.

The driver sighed with frustration and pulled back on the reins. ‘Whoah! Whoah there, blast you!’

The mules clopped to a halt and stood patiently in their traces. The driver lowered the reins and twisted round to look down into the cage. ‘What’s wrong with ’er, then?’

‘She’s sick.’ Marcus swallowed nervously and made a frightened face. ‘I think she’s dying. Please, help her!’

‘Dying?’ The driver squinted. ‘She ain’t dying. She’ll have to get over it when we stop for the night.’

‘That’s too long,’ Marcus replied desperately. ‘She needs help now.’

‘Help? Well, what can I do? I’m just a bloody wagon driver.’

Marcus thought quickly. ‘If she dies, you’ll have to answer to Decimus. I’ll tell him you just sat there and watched it happen.’

The driver scowled at him, then climbed down from the bench and walked back along the side of the wagon. There was a faint rustle of straw as Marcus’s mother braced her sandals against the iron bars of the cage door. The driver paused as he reached the back of the wagon.

‘So what’s wrong with ’er?’

‘I don’t know,’ Marcus replied anxiously. ‘She needs shade, and water.’

‘Hmmm.’ The driver scratched his head doubtfully.

Livia started to make retching noises.

‘Don’t go and be sick!’ the driver growled. ‘You go and puke your guts up in this heat and we’ll be stuck with the stink of it for the rest of the journey.’

‘Then let her out,’ Marcus snapped. ‘Before she throws up.’

The driver thought a moment. ‘All right, then. But just her. You stay in the cage and I’ll get her out.’

Marcus nodded.

The driver groped for the thong around his neck and brought the key out. Then he squinted again and leaned forward to fit the key into the lock. Marcus tensed his muscles as his heart beat wildly. At the same time he forced himself to look as though his only concern was for his mother, as he held her hand in both of his. There was a metallic rattle as the key started to turn, then a loud click as the bolt slipped back.

‘Now!’ Livia screamed. As she kicked her legs out, Marcus threw himself towards the door of the cage, crashing into it hard. The iron bars of the door flew back, smashing into the driver’s face. He cried out in pain and surprise and fell on to the road. Marcus scrambled out of the cage and jumped to one side, away from the driver, who sat on his backside in the road as blood streamed from his broken nose. Livia grabbed the edges of the cage door and thrust herself out, landing heavily beside Marcus. She grabbed his hand.

‘Run!’

They sprinted to the side of the track. Behind them the driver heaved himself up on to his feet and bellowed, ‘Stop!’

It was a foolish reaction, and one that allowed Marcus and his mother to gain a few more paces before the driver started after them, heavy sandals scrabbling over the rutted earth of the road. Livia had started towards the side of the road and now they were slithering and sliding through the soft heaps of pine needles as they scrambled down the slope.

‘Stop!’ the driver shouted after them. ‘Stop right now, or I’ll beat the living daylights out of you when I catch yer!’

Marcus risked a glance back and saw that the driver was perhaps thirty feet behind them. He was slightly ahead of his mother and pulled her hand. ‘Come on!’

She grimaced, struggling to keep up over the difficult ground. Around them the slope was dappled by shafts of sunlight passing between the branches of the pine trees, the contrast between light and shadow making it hard to concentrate on the ground ahead.

That was when it happened.

With a sudden cry Marcus’s mother pitched forward as her foot struck a rock buried in the soft pine needles. She hit the ground hard, driving the breath from her lungs as she rolled down the slope. Marcus dropped to his knees at her side.

‘My ankle!’ she hissed through clenched teeth. ‘Ohhh, my ankle.’

Marcus glanced down and saw that the flesh was torn along the side of her foot and blood was pulsing out of it. She squeezed his hand tightly as she tried to stand. At once she let out a scream of agony and collapsed back on to the ground. Biting back on her pain, she stared at her son. ‘Run, Marcus. Run!’

He shook his head frantically. ‘No! I can’t leave you.’

She released his hand and thrust him away. ‘Run!’

The driver was only a short distance away now, a triumphant look in his eyes. Marcus returned his mother’s gaze. ‘I can’t leave you. I can’t.’

‘Run!’ she shouted. ‘Save yourself. Find Pompeius. Go!’

She pushed him away again and struggled up on to her knees as she turned to face the driver. Marcus backed away a few paces, then turned and ran. His heart filled with fear for his mother, but at the same time he knew that she was right. If he stayed, they would both be taken. If he escaped, then he might find some way to rescue her. He took one last look back, and saw his mother throw herself at the legs of the driver. She wrapped her arms round the man’s knees and cried out, ‘Run, Marcus.’

Then her voice was cut short as the driver angrily tried to thrust her aside. Marcus ran on, down the slope, heading for a place where the pine trees grew more closely together and would make it harder for the driver to follow him. His mother cried out again, her voice growing more distant and deadened by the forest. ‘Run!’

‘Stop, you little bugger!’ the driver shouted.

Marcus reached the thicket and rushed on, thrusting the slender branches aside and ignoring the scratches to his hands and arms. The shouts behind gradually became more faint and then there were only the sounds of his feet scuffing through the pine needles, the swish of the branches and the deep sobs of despair that were wrenched from him as he fled, further and further away from his mother.